In week 8 of the Leiths Confident Cooking course we deboned wood pigeon and made strudel from scratch.

Apple strudel

I really enjoyed this class. It never occurred to me that we would be making the filo pastry for the apple strudel from scratch. Nor that making filo would be so much fun. Who knew?

The ingredients for filo were simple: plain flour, salt, egg, water and oil. We mixed the ingredients to make a soft dough and then had to whack it repeatedly to strengthen the proteins and make it elastic. This was awesome stress release as we could be quite vigorous and there’s really no chance of overdoing it, although occasionally the pastry flew off and hit the floor. The instructors implemented a ‘five-second rule’ to ensure the dough was not wasted.

It reached the right consistency when we could pull the dough like a long elastic band without it snapping. We then put it aside while we prepared the filling - apple, currants, sultanas, raisins, brown sugar, cinnamon, ground cloves, browned breadcrumbs, lemon zest and juice.

After 15 minutes we each rolled our pastry out flat with a rolling pin, before easing our fingers underneath and dancing them around to stretch the dough until it until it was paper thin. I’ve seen pizza makers do something similar with pizza dough but this is much thinner. We worked in pairs for this last bit as we ended up with more than a square foot of pastry. The result was thin, large sheet of filo. We trimmed the edges, brushed it with melted butter and then put the filling. Then we rolled it up using the same method as for the roulade or sushi.

It’s possible to do individual servings but as I was making one big strudel, I followed the suggestion to arrange the strudel in a traditional horseshoe shape. Then the strudel baked it in the oven for 40 minutes until golden brown. The result was mind-bogglingly good - it would have been even better with some ice cream or crème anglaise but it was great on its own.

NB This post is labelled vegetarian for the strudel - the next dish is meat based.

Wood pigeon and black pudding salad

I wouldn’t dream of eating one of those dirty pigeons from Trafalgar Square but these little birds are quite a different beast altogether. This was partly a lesson in knife skills - the birds came whole and we learnt how to slice off the breast. Our instructor commented that this would be useful if any of us have friends with husbands who shoot - although a much bigger bird, you can apparently deal with a pheasant the same way and it saves you the trouble of plucking it. This was well meant but I did find it amusing - dealing with gifts of pheasants from husbands of friends who attend country shooting weekends is not generally a part of my life. Still you never know.

I discovered I really liked the taste of pigeon - it’s very dark and gamey, a lot like venison. We fried the pigeon and also smoked bacon cut into lardons and chunks of black pudding - separately so we didn’t contaminate anything with burnt bits. The meats went into the salad with lamb lettuce, croutons and balsamic dressing.

I must admit it did taste good though I remain dubious about the black pudding. Objectively speaking the black pudding tasted great. Subjectively speaking I was never not conscious of the fact that I was eating congealed blood. I’m not particularly sure I would make this - it’s not worth the effort for one, and I wouldn’t serve it at a dinner party unless I knew my guests were fans of black pudding. However, I might explore other possibilities for pigeon and would certainly order it at a restaurant.

This week was my favourite Leiths lesson so far. We made chilli squid salad for our savoury dish and individual amaretti pavlovas for dessert. They were both amazing and very photogenic, as you can see. I took my camera along for the first time and I’m almost tempted to just let the pictures speak for themselves. Instead I’ve given you pictures and words - including a primer on how to clean a squid.

Individual amaretto pavlovas
We made the pavlova cases first. It’s very similar to a meringue with a base of whisked egg whites and sugar but pavlova mix also includes cornflour, vanilla essence and vinegar (or lemon juice). This gives it a chewy consistency that is slightly different to the brittleness of old-fashioned meringues. We also put in a pinch of salt, which is good for very fresh eggs as it mimics albumen and makes the egg whites stronger. The trick with meringues or pavlova is to be patient and add the sugar in a little at a time, whisking the whites back into stiff peaks each time. We divided our mix into four blobs and created an indentation in the middle with the back of a spoon. We baked on silica paper as it will stick to greaseproof paper and left them in the oven for about 45 minutes. We waited until they were completely cool before attempting to remove them from the paper, if they are still warm the pavlova can break and half stays on the paper.

We came back to the pavlovas after the squid. Our teachers filled and decorated a couple as a demonstration to us, while we took home the filling: whipped, sweetened cream; raspberries; rasberries coulis; chocolate cake soaked in amaretto; and crumbled amaretti biscuits. (Other suggestions included mint and chocolate shapes made from melting chocolate and piping it through a paper cone - which the teachers demonstrated but we didn’t get the chance to attempt). The pavlovas should be filled just before serving otherwise the cream can make the meringue soggy - though apparently if you fill the pavlova case with a chocolate lining, this makes it impervious to cream. My fiance and I had a pavlova each for dessert the following night and I have stored the other two cases in an airtight container in the cupboard - apparently they’ll keep for weeks.

Chilli salt squid with feta, rocket and black olives

To prepare the squid, we started by cleaning the squid. I done this before and I actually really enjoy it. Although I get some strange looks when I tell people I like it, I’ve also found that I’m definitely not the only one. It’s very tactile and sensual and because it’s utterly alien and nothing like a mammal, it’s not gruesome at all. It sounds gruesome but in real life it’s fine - nothing like the chicken livers. The best bit is pulling out the quill - it looks like a plastic feather and is delightfully odd.

Here’s a quick lesson on squid if you have never prepared it before. You can usually get your fishmonger to do this if you prefer, but I recommend trying this at least once - it’s not that hard.

• * The edible bits are the wings, the head and the tentacles and you want to throw away the internal organs, the eyes and beak and the quill.
• * You can basically pull the wings off, or cut them if you prefer, and this is edible; slightly tougher than the rest of the squid because it’s what they use to swim but still very good.
• * Then you cut off the tentacles under the eyes and put the tentacles aside to use. If the beak stayed with the eyes then fine, but if it came with the tentacles then you will have to pick it out and discard it.
• * Then you pull the eyes and organs (which are yellow and gooey) out from inside the head (it will come apart easily) and discard.
• * You are now left with the tentacles, head and wings. Use a piece of kitchen towel to rub off the membranes.
• * You might want to cut the tentacles to standardise the length. The head can either be sliced into rings like calamari, or you can slice it open, score it and cut small chunks for cooking.
• * Don’t worry if there is black ink everywhere - this is edible. You can wash it if you like but make sure you dry it completely if you are deep-frying to avoid vicious oil spitting.

I have cooked squid previously and my usual method is to marinate it in lemon and black pepper and then cook it on the barbecue or lightly fry it. I cook it for just enough time for it to turn white and then it’s done; over-cooked squid is rubbery and nasty.

At Leiths we followed a cracking recipe for chilli salt squid with feta, rocket and black olives by Marianne Lumb. It’s deep fried so it’s not as healthy but it’s incredibly tasty and would make a lovely starter at a dinner party or a light supper. We coated the pieces of squid in a little flour mixed with sea salt and chilli powder (cayenne pepper is also an option). We were warned not to use too much flour as otherwise it can go gluggy. We had a pot full of cooking oil that we brought the boil and we could judge the oil was hot enough when it took 15 seconds for a piece of bread to go brown. If it takes less time, the oil is too hot; if it takes more time, it’s not hot enough and the bread/squid will simply soak up excess oil. Then we cooked the squid in batches, taking care to lower it into the oil with a slotted spoon to avoid splashing. It took about 20 seconds (slightly longer than the bread) for the squid to go golden brown, at which point we removed it from the oil and left it to drain on kitchen towel with a little salt sprinkled over the squid to help absorb oil.

The squid was amazingly good - tender and crisp around the outside with a lovely tangy flavour. Even better when served in a salad with rocket, black olives, feta and lime juice. Yum! We ate the squid salad in class since it doesn’t keep well.

Next week: Wood pigeon and black pudding salad; apple strudel. Don’t forget to subscribe.

It’s a double-whammy of Leiths posts as I try to get up to date before the class tomorrow night. It’s hard to believe it’s week six already - more than halfway through the course!

Last week the menu was pork tenderloin with sage and madeira sauce, accompanied by crushed new potatoes and peas. We had a dessert for the first time since the second week - citrus fruit compote with spiced caramel sauce. The good news - for my tastebuds, that is, not my waistline - is that we have desserts every week now until the end of the course.

Pork tenderloin with sage and madeira

The pork tenderloin was a triumph. Apparently it’s called ‘tenderloin’ in the United States, while in the UK it’s either called ‘tenderloin’ or ‘fillet’. But those are the only two names it’s known by. It’s very lean, which is great because it’s healthy, but it also means that you have to cook it with great care to ensure it doesn’t get over-cooked and tough.

We trimmed the pork fillets of membrane and outer fat and browned them in a pan with half a tablespoon of sunflower oil. Then we transferred it to a roasting tin and put it in the oven at 190C (350F/Gas Mark 5) for 15-20 minutes.

In the mean time, we poured off any excess fat (there wasn’t any in my case because the meat was so lean and I’d trimmed off any visible fat). Then we added the Madeira and reduced by half, before adding the chicken stock. It didn’t thicken so we had to add a little beurre manie - basically flour and butter - to develop the syrupy consistency. Apparently sherry would also work in place of Madeira.

The pork is done when you put a knife through the meat and it comes out hot where it would have touched the centre of the meat. A lot of people think that it’s dangerous to have underdone pork, just as it’s dangerous to eat chicken that is not properly cooked. The Leiths teachers said this was no longer the case - apparently this perception dates from the days when pigs were fed swill and were prone to gut parasites, but this is not allowed any more and it’s perfectly safe to eat it slightly pink. (However, the Food Standards Agency disagrees).

We set the pork to rest slightly and served it with the sauce, scattered with chiffanaded sage, and accompanied by new potatoes crushed with peas. I opted for olive oil with the potatoes rather than butter. It was amazingly good - lean yet tender and full of flavour. I would definitely make that again.

Citrus fruit compote with spiced caramel

The dessert was quite tricky because we had to make caramel sauce, which involves slowly dissolving sugar in water. Once it’s dissolved, we turned the heat up and boiled without stirring until it turned a dark caramel colour. It is incredibly tempting to stir it but this is risky as it can make the sugar re-crystalise. Once it hitsthe right colour - and not a moment later - we had to remove it from the heat and pour in cold water, taking care not to get burnt by spitting sugar. Then we added spices, including bay leaves, star anise, a cinnamon stick, coriander seeds, lemon zest and root ginger, and left it to cool (to be strained the next day). We were told this would keep in the fridge for weeks.

The fruit compote was slightly easier. We sliced the kumquats finely to avoid big chunks of bitter fruit and peeled and cored the pineapple. The oranges and pink grapefruit were a test of our knife skills, as we had to remove the peel and white pith but keep them separated into attractive segments.

I think of a compote as cooked fruit. This was not cooked, though it was warmed slightly when we poured over the hot caramel sauce. Either way, it was definitely tasty! I really liked the spiced caramel - it would be great over ice cream. It was nice with the fruit as well and it’s good to have a vegan dessert recipe up my sleeve for when the occasion demands it.

Cupcakes have been very chic ever since the Magnolia Bakery moment in Sex and the City. There’s usually a queue around the block at this unassuming bakery in Lower Manhattan. There’s a spin-off further uptown, not to mention a host of copycats like Little Cupcake Bakeshop in Brooklyn and the Buttercup Bake Shop in Midtown. London is right on trend with the famous Hummingbird Bakery in Notting Hill, which my friends in West London swear by, or Treacle in Tower Hamlets, near the Colombia Road Flower Market.

Cupcakes are everywhere in the blogosphere as well. In the past week alone, I have seen rich chocolate cupcakes with vanilla bean icing on Love and Olive Oil, ice cream cupcakes and raspberry almond cupcakes with chocolate ganache on Joy the Baker, Persian love cupcakes on Gigi Cakes, and After Eight mint chocolate cupcakes on Rosie Bakes a Peace of Cake.

I think one of the reasons they are so popular is that they are just so damn cute! See these coconut lemon curd cupcakes on Cafe Lynnylu to see just how photogenic they can be.

But to me, it’s totally a matter of style over substance. I am committing food blog heresy here but I think cupcakes are totally overrated. Surely I can’t be the only one?

They look pretty but they generally taste rather boring - dull and dry with excessive amounts of icing to compensate. I have had cupcakes from these famous bakeries and I have had well made homemade cupcakes and my attitude is the same. Give me real cake any time.

Proper cakes are far more interesting - they are usually much moister and have greater complexity of flavour and texture. Cupcakes have their uses - they’re great if you are catering for a fifth birthday party - and I’m not saying they actually taste bad (if I had to pick a favourite flavour it would be red velvet). However, there isn’t a cupcake on the planet that wouldn’t taste better as a full-size cake.

If you want individual serves then muffins, tarts or cookies are fine. But miniature cakes just defeat the purpose - assuming the purpose is to taste good, rather than look pretty, that is.

My second week at Leiths just about kept me fed for the rest of the week! I had quail with peas for dinner both Wednesday and Thursday night and then took the cake to a friend’s dinner party last night.

Chocolate and ginger roulade

In the kitchen we started with dessert - a chocolate and ginger roulade. Also called a swiss roll, this is basically a cake layered with cream and other fillings and then rolled to make a log. We used whipped cream and ginger jam for the centre but the beauty of the recipe is that you can use anything - jam, fresh berries, chestnut cream - so the varieties are endless. The other nice thing is that it doesn’t include any flour - the cake is just eggs and chocolate and sugar - so it’s suitable for people on a gluten-free diet (though not a weight-loss diet unfortunately!).

To make the roulade, we melted chocolate and water over low heat. Apparently if you use a high temperature then the chocolate can acquire a bitter flavour or worse, separate. The only thing we needed to separate was the eggs - five of them. The Leiths teachers are full of useful tricks - for example, cracking the eggs on the bench rather than the side of the bowl helps prevent leakage of yolk into the whites or vice versa. You carefully transfer the yolk back and forth between the two halves of shell, letting the white run out into the bowl. The key is to make sure you don’t get any yolk in the egg white, though a bit of egg white in the yolk is not the end of the world.

We blended the yolk and sugar and then added the chocolate to make a lovely mousse. Separately we whisked the egg whites until they had stiff peaks and then gently folded the whites into the mousse, trying not to lose all the air. We spread the mixture out on a paper-lined tray and baked it in the oven, meanwhile whipping the cream and mixing it with ginger jam. When it was done we tipped it upside down on a rack to cool and covered it with a damp tea towel to prevent cracking. The final part, which we actually did at the end when we were done with the quails, was to spread it with cream and then use another sheet of paper to roll it, similar to the method for rolling sushi and taking care not to roll the paper up in the cake! Voila! It was very tasty too.

Quails with peas

The main was quails cooked with peas and pancetta. We used thick, old-fashioned pancetta so we had to cut the rind off and then dice it, but it would probably work with other varieties or with bacon. We browned the pancetta, the onions and garlic, and the quails (all separately) and then cooked it with sage and garden peas in stock and white wine. It was a little bit fiddly but it would be great for a small dinner party as the result was quite impressive - the meat was tender and juicy and the pea and pancetta sauce was incredibly flavourful.

I’m excited about next week - we’re making a Sri Lankan red chicken curry and Indian dhal.

I am mostly a self-taught cook. I learnt the basics from my mum and dad and since then my cooking repertoire has expanded through cookbooks and magazines, sharing recipes and ideas with friends, and playing around in the kitchen inventing new dishes from random ingredients. I guess it’s been a moderately successful approach as I like to think that I am a competent cook if not a spectacular one. I have my weak spots (I’ve never made custard, for example) but I also have my strengths (salads, Italian and Asian food).

That’s all going to change because I have signed up to do a course at Leiths School of Food and Wine in west London. I wanted to do it partly because I’ve been getting into food writing (both blogging and articles) and mostly just because I thought it would be fun. I’m just doing an amateur course but even that was a 10 week commitment and a bill in the vicinity of £600.

I chose the Confident Cooking course rather than the Beginners course as I thought it was better to challenge myself than to waste the money on learning things I already knew. That’s lucky as I think it’s definitely going to be a challenge! My first class was last night and we supposedly started off easy, with choux pastry, aubergine and prosciutto gougere, and chocolate and sour cherry biscuits. I found the choux pastry quite challenging actually - we had to melt butter in water, then bring it to a rising boil, then remove it from the heat, quickly add sifited flour and, in the words of the instructor, “beat it to billy-o”. Then we had to slowly add beaten egg until it would “easily but reluctantly” fall off the spoon. Fortunately there was lots of help on hand and it turned out fine. We get to take the food home afterwards so my fridge and pantry is stocked with goodies and I’m going to fill the pastry case with the gougere tonight and bake it for my dinner.

I’ll report back every week on what we make and how I’m finding the course, so please subscribe to make sure you don’t miss future posts in the series.

If you are visiting the West Country in England, there is one thing you should know. It is compulsory to eat cream tea in Cornwall and Devon. Seriously.

Cream tea is scones with jam and clotted cream and proper black tea in a teapot. In Australia we usually call this ‘Devonshire tea’ but this is wrong on two counts. Firstly, there is great dispute between Cornwall and Devon over who first invented the artery-clogging afternoon tea, so some might argue it should be called ‘Cornish tea’. (Just as there is now dispute between the two counties over the origins of Cornish pasties, and between Australia and New Zealand over pavlova). Secondly, the key to cream tea is that it is made with clotted cream. Whipped cream is just not the same.

Clotted cream is made by cooking the cream to reduce the liquid, and it is thick and yellowy, often with crusty bits. It tastes quite different to butter and doesn’t have the same melting properties. A scoop of clotted cream looks like vanilla ice cream, but unlike ice cream or whipped cream, you can serve it with hot apple pie (for example) and it won’t melt.

When I went to Cornwall, I was told a legend about the origins of clotted cream. The story goes that a Phoenician sea king who had been blown off course taught the secret of clotted cream to a Cornish housewife. This may even contain a kernel of truth since the Lebanese and Turks still make something very similar today. But, apparently there is another legend from Devon, involving a princess who lived in an oak tree and some ‘piskies’.

Cream tea is to be found all over Cornwall and Devon. This one (eaten yesterday) is from a little tea house in a village in Dartmoor, Devon. My favourite places are farm houses that serve homemade cream teas during the summer, but the tea rooms in the towns are not bad either. I have had cream tea in other parts of the country as well but it’s not the same - in the Cotswolds it felt like a honey trap for the tour buses and American tourists. It was lovely in Yorkshire but it was a full meal with sandwiches as well.

I do believe it’s a crime to go to Cornwall or Devon and not partake of at least one cream tea. But a mini cream tea is definitely allowed - the serves tend to be generous and it’s all rather filling and fattening.

Forced rhubarb is available in England at this time of year. It’s notable mainly for the stunning colour, which ranges from pale pink to fuschia. The main crop rhubarb, which comes later in spring, is a darker, cherry red.

This month’s In the Bag event, which focuses on seasonal eating, has forced rhubarb as the star ingredient, along with orange and sugar. (Last month, the theme was pears, almonds and lemon and you can see my effort here and all the other recipes over on the A Slice of Cherry Pie blog, which hosts the event).

There is a debate among cooks about the best way to cook rhubarb and what the desired consistency is. Some cooks go to great lengths to ensure that rhubarb holds its shape. Recently I had a rhubarb trifle at Alastair Little’s in London, which featured small, defined chunks of rhubarb. Angela on A Spoonful of Sugar recommends oven poaching rhubarb to ensure this effect.

“This is the only way to cook rhubarb in my opinion. It preserves the gorgeous colour of the rhubarb and also keeps the shape of each piece intact - I suspect that many a child has been put off rhubarb by being served stewed rhubarb which is generally a rather dubiously coloured puree with stringy bits in it.”

I don’t subscribe to this school of thought. There’s certainly an aesthetic difference and some people think it is prettier with the rhubarb intact. However, I think that it compromises the flavour. Rhubarb is very tart and requires sweetening. I believe the rhubarb needs to fall apart in order to blend properly with the sugar - otherwise you end up with chunks of tart rhubarb sitting in syrup.

To my mind, the best and simplest way to cook rhubarb is to slice it into small chunks about 2cm long. This counteracts the stringiness, which usually comes from the cook trying to stew huge long chunks of rhubarb. Then put it in a pot with the juice of half an orange, stirring occasionally to prevent it sticking to the bottom. Do not add any water as the rhubarb will release water when cooking. If you are not using the orange juice, you could add a couple of tablespoons of water but that’s all. When the rhubarb is soft and starting to lose its shape, add sugar. How much sugar depends on your personal taste and the flavour of the rhubarb, but I used about 50g (half a metric cup) for 400g rhubarb and that seemed about right. Adding the sugar at the end, rather than during cooking, helps preserve the colour (as you can see in the picture).

The cooked rhubarb is lovely served hot with vanilla ice cream or cooled and mixed with custard or whipped cream (or yogurt if you’re trying to be healthy!) to make a rhubarb fool. The blend of tartness and sweetness is sublime, and fruit and cream is a classic that is hard to beat.

Rhubarb & Orange Cream Pudding

The whole point of these events is challenge and innovation, so I decided to try something new. (It also requires the rhubarb to be puréed, thus side-stepping the whole texture debate). I based this dessert on my aunt’s orange flummerie but I had to alter the recipe to accommodate the stewed rhubarb, which is not pure liquid. I also decided to made this with agar agar rather than gelatine. Agar agar is a flavourless Japanese gelling agent made from seaweed and it’s a vegetarian substitute for gelatine.

This recipe is also surprisingly low in calories and fat. There is sugar and cream but the recipe serves 4, so each person is getting 12.5g sugar (50 calories) and 12.5g double cream (55.6 calories; 5.9g fat).

Ingredients

Forced rhubarb, 400g

One orange, juiced and half zested

Caster sugar, 50g (adjust quantity to taste)

Agar agar, 2 tablespoons

Water

Greek yogurt, 50g

Double cream, 50g

Blanched almonds or hazelnuts to serve (optional)

Method

1. Wash and chop rhubarb into 2cm chunks. Cook with half the orange juice, according to the instructions above, then stir in the sugar. Leave to cool. (This step can be done in advance).
2. Blend the rhubarb in a food processor.
3. Pour 1 cup (250ml) water into a small saucepan and sprinkle with agar agar flakes without stirring. Heat and then simmer for 2-3 minutes, stirring occasionally.
4. Add the rest of the orange juice and one teaspoon of orange zest to the rhubarb and top up with a little water to make 1 cup (250ml)
5. Pour the hot water and agar agar into the rhubarb and orange mix and stir thoroughly. Leave to cool.
6. Once it is tepid to cool, spoon in the yogurt and cream, and fold it into the jelly mix, which will be starting to set.
7. Transfer to 4 serving bowls or glasses, and cover with plastic food wrap before transferring to the fridge.
8. Serve with a garnish of blanched almonds or hazelnuts.

Notes

This was my first time using agar agar and it worked very well but it sets a lot more quickly than gelatine. You can’t fold in the dairy until it’s cool (or the dairy will curdle), but leave it too long and the jelly will already be solid. Check after about 20 minutes.

If you prefer to use gelatine, then you will need to read the instructions as the ratio of liquid to gelatine may be different. You will need to add enough gelatine based on the rhubarb being liquid, but dissolve the crystals in boiling water. You could also use packet jelly if you prefer but would suggest lemon flavour is best as it is not too sweet.

Results

The pudding was a pretty pale pink and tasted sweet and tangy. The texture was creamy and mostly smooth, with the occasional fleck of orange zest or titbit of rhubarb. It reminded me a little of the mango puddings you get in Chinese restaurant, though not quite as sweet (I believe they use sweetened condensed milk).

Everyone is familiar with Mexican food in some guise but usually what we get in the English speaking world and Europe is actually Tex-Mex - an Americanised version of Mexican food. I’m told that nachos, for example, is not traditional in Mexico, that the burritos are usually smaller and skimpier on the fillings, and that tacos have soft shells.

In Sydney, nachos were ubiquitous on café menus throughout most of the 1990s, though the trend seems to have died off now. They might not be traditional but they were very good - a rich spicy red kidney bean stew, crunchy corn chips, melted cheese and spicy homemade guacamole. Imagine my disappointment when I went to the United States for the first time and encountered the liquid cheese horror of Taco Bell!

That is not fair, of course. The US has some fabulous Mexican - or Tex-Mex - food. I encountered it in Brooklyn, in Mexican Town in Detroit, and of course, in California where the cuisine really comes into its own.

In London, one of my favourite places for a burrito is the Daddy Donkey cart on the Leather Lane street market in Clerkenwell. It’s not cheap - it costs around £5 - but they keep the quality of their ingredients very high. You can get either a wrap or a salad bowl and they have chicken, beef, pork or vegetarian options. The meat is always tender, the salad crisp, the guacamole fresh and tangy, and the black beans and rice marvellously satisfying. Buy it to take back to your desk or grab a seat on one of the picnic tables beside the van.

Restaurant Review: Taqueria

Sometimes you want to sit down for a meal and the sad truth is that London is starved of good Mexican restaurants. Enter Taqueria in Notting Hill.

I have never been to Mexico but I’m pretty sure that the food here is as authentic as you’ll get outside Mexico. It’s quite unlike any Mexican food I’ve had anywhere else, with homemade tacos and light, fresh toppings.

The website says the restaurant makes everything from scratch, from Mexican chorizo to the hot chocolate, which is ground in house. They go to great length to source Mexican ingredients - the parent company, Cool Chile Co imports dried chiles and herbs, masa harina (tortilla corn flour), corn husks and pozole (a stew made from hominy - a type of dried maize) directly from Mexico, while the Mexican chiles are from Dorset-based Peppers by Post. They use organic chickens, British meats and cheeses to supplement the Mexican ingredients.

The food is very good indeed. The best thing to get are the tacos, which come in pairs. If you have a group of people you can order an assortment of tacos and try a few different flavours. The portions are not huge so you will need 2-4 tacos per person, depending on whether you have appetisers or dessert as well. Flavours include “carnitas” (shredded slow-cooked pork, green salsa, diced onion, coriander), “spinacas y queso” (browned cheese with spinach and red salsa on large tortillas) and “camaron” beer-battered prawns, avocado mash, chipotle mayonnaise, Mexican salsa, limey shredded cabbage, doubled tortillas. Vegetarians are catered for but the selection is not overly large.

For the drinks, I recommend the Horchata, a rice milk drink flavoured with almond and cinnamon. It’s sweet and smooth and quite delicious. The Flor de Jamaica, or hibiscus juice, is quite nice as well, tasting, not surprisingly, quite like hibiscus tea.

It will be difficult to leave without doing dessert as well. My favourite is the “plátanos con cajeta”. A banana split by another name, it features fried plantain (cooking banana), coconut ice cream, cajeta (goats milk toffee) and toasted almonds. It is simply perfect. There is also a hibiscus pudding, ice cream or sorbet, and the classic option of churros (doughnut sticks) with Mexican hot chocolate.

The service is occasionally patchy but generally good and it’s always friendly. Aside from a slightly overdone taco on my last visit, the quality of the food is exceptional.

Taqueria
Address: 139-143 Westbourne Grove, London W11 2RS
Tel: +44 (0)20 7229 4734
Web: www.coolchiletaqueria.co.uk

Mexico is my third country to feature on my UN food challenge, after Ghana and New Zealand. There are 189 countries to go…

Who can resist these beautiful macaroons from Yauatcha? See how pretty they are in their box with all the different colours lined up. Even the packaging - a hard box with a ribbon and a frosted stiff plastic bag - is gorgeous.

After reading about the macaroons in Time Out and blogging about them yesterday, our fate was sealed. We had to try them out. It’s an enormously decadent treat - one box of 18 macaroons cost about £25 - but oh boy, are they good. So far we’ve tried a blue one with a blackcurrant filling, a white speckled one with a sesame paste, and a green tea-flavoured one.

At those prices, I can’t see us bringing them home terribly often, but they would make a lovely gift for someone. Meanwhile, I’m definitely going to try making them.

Yauatcha
Address: 15-17 Broadwick St, W1F 0DL
Tel: +44 (0)20 7494 8888
Tube: Oxford Circus or Piccadilly Circus