Wednesday Food Blogging

A Proper Taste of London

London's Regent Park transformed into giant picnic area

Daughter Number Two and I went to Taste of London last night. It's a food extravaganza, similar to those in other cities. Except that this one was London. Some of the best restaurants in the world were showcasing the best efforts of their famous chefs at this giant picnic in Regent's Park.

Of course I wouldn't be caught dead at many of London's best restaurants, and not just because I can't afford them. The more you pay for a meal, I've discovered, the more unlikely it is to be vegan.

So, with the caveat that I was unlikely to find anything remotely vegan, I ventured forth, camera in hand. It helped that I had VIP tickets from British Airways, one of the sponsors of the event. That allowed us to jump the queue and have a free glass of champagne inside the VIP lounge (as well as avoid the rain). We also had a pocket full of crowns—the paper money exchanged for drinks and tidbits at the event. Most items cost between 6 and 10 crowns, the equivalent of £3-5. That wasn't a bad deal, until we ended the evening with 2 crowns (£1) left over, and nothing to spend it on. Since it's impossible to buy single crowns, we resigned ourselves to losing out on our "hard-earned cash"—when we got there, we played a scratch off card and won 10 crowns—but then my daughter noticed an Alsatian beer stand offering a glass of beer for 2 crowns. We happily chugged it down, awarding Meteor Beer the "Best Deal Award" at Taste of London.

The thing is, Taste of London is really all about drinking. I'm pretty sure there was more alcohol served than food. Even much of the food was actually alcohol in disguise—like the Champagne slush we enjoyed, or the chilled strawberry and Champagne soup. Get the idea?

Not that either of us are complaining. We got to taste Georgian wines, sip exotic cocktails, quaff decent beer, and nibble on Champagne infused slush. Fortunately, London's new ban on tube drinking says nothing about being falling down drunk when you get on.

But about the food: To make it easier, we circled all the vegetarian items in the brochure we were given, which listed the participating restaurants and their three offerings. Most of them were dessert, but again, who's complaining?

With a plan in hand, we headed straight for the asparagus dish we'd circled first. It wasn't bad, for cold asparagus, but then it's impossible to serve bad British asparagus. The mayonnaisey sauce was easily avoidable, but then, anyone can boil asparagus and top it off with a lemon slice.

Next, we tried the bean curd from Snazz Sichuan. If that's the best this Chinese restaurant can do, I won't be going back. Of course, I already knew Chinese restaurants in London are disappointing. Maybe it's revenge for Hong Kong.

Fortunately, Café Spice offered something considerably better. I'll quote: "Dahi Batata Saev Mumra Poori: Crispy puffed poories filled with crushed potato seasoned with a trio of chutneys and served sprinkled with roasted puffed rice and chickpea vermicelli". If I were to chose one of the restaurants serving here, I'd go back to this one. In addition to the other awards Cyrus Todiwala, the executive chef at Cafe Spice, has won, I'll give him the Best Vegetarian Taste of London Tidbit award. Those poori easily won out over the asparagus. In fact, I think they were better than the Mai Tai from Appleton Estate Rum.

After that we concentrated on dessert, and a couple of chocolate cakes later, we forswore dessert for drink. I picked up a handy guide to Bordeaux wines, and a few other pieces of info, such as a map of Vienna and a free Delicious magazine (they normally spell their name with a lower-case d, but that looks stupid).

All in all, it wasn't a bad evening out—at about the cost of a West End show, even with the frequent flyer discount BA gave us. If you're a vegan teetotaler, however, you're probably better off buying a bunch of asparagus before the season ends and cooking it yourself. Or saving up for a trip to Cafe Spice for those poori.

More photos below.

Nando's: Veggie burgers a chicken lover will love

Daughter Number Two and I went to the new mall in High Wycombe this afternoon—though it's hardly a proper mall. It's more of a covered shopping centre, with a roof to keep out the rain but not the cold and wind. And it was quite cool today—glad I had on two sweaters.

Anyway, that quibble aside, it was much nicer than what existed before. And it has a few restaurants, including a Nando's. I'd never eaten there before, thinking it catered more to carnivores than to herbivores, but DNT told me they had a very good veggie burger.

She was right: it was one of the best I've had, and I should know: I've had three this week. Yesterday's offering at The Bounty, a pub on the Thames (only reachable by footbridge) was hardly edible. It was one of those veggie patties of mashed potato origin. Mushy and tasteless—and those were its good points.

Anyway, the one at Nando's came (by request) with pineapple. What a wonderful thing to add to a veggie burger! It did raise its ceiling by another half inch, making it a huge mouthful. And I can't help thinking that, if meat eaters tried one of these, they'd realize there's nothing frightening about vegetarian eating. And with their special Peri-peri sauce (available in 4 different heat levels) this veggie burger is really something a vegetarian can be proud of. (The sauce is vegan, too.)

And to think, I used to complain about how difficult it was to get a veggie burger here, whereas in the US it is the ubiquitous veggie item on most restaurant menus. Move over risotto, there's a new meal in town. Or something like that.

The optional side order of chips (fries) with Peri-Peri spice were pretty good too. And the both of us ate—with a Sangria for her—for 16 quid. Not bad at all.

There was a Wagamama across the way, which is also welcome news, since they offer several vegan options. (DNT was tired of Wagamama, since I drag her there every time we go out.) Although I'm not typically a fan of chain restaurants, it's nice to know I can eat at Nando's, which are creeping up everywhere in Britain now. I've just checked their website—they sure do brag about their "chic" chicken, which is very off-putting to vegetarians. On the other hand, they offer more vegetarian and vegan options than most restaurants. And I think that humanizing their chickens may very well encourage people to order from the cruelty-free side of the menu.

Especially when it's as good as the veggie burger I had today.

De Waaghals in Amsterdam

De Waaghals, on Frans Halsstraat in Amsterdam

I have to say the highlight of my trip to Amsterdam was eating at the vegetarian restaurant De Waaghals. This is partly due to poor planning, and partly due to the fact we only spent part of the day in Amsterdam. After finding the line for the Anne Frank house too long, and being run out of Westerkirk, and then finding the canal boat tours booked until late evening, and the Heineken Brewery across the street closed until September, we ended up successfully checking off the last item on my list of Things To Do In Amsterdam: eat at one of its many vegetarian restaurants.

De Waaghals is located very close to the Heineken Brewery, so, finding our options limited, we walked by, hoping to secure a reservation for later in the evening. Not only could we do that, but it turned out the place opens at 5 p.m.—an opening hour virtually unheard of in the rest of Europe, but welcome to Americans weary of walking Amsterdam's lovely streets.

The menu, while not particularly vegan friendly, was a welcome change from the British vegetarian restaurants, where the thinking seems to be that cheese and dairy are best in large quantities. I was a bit leery of the "French Specialty" which is currently featured on the ever-changing menu, but was pleasantly surprised when it turned out to have very little dairy—a hint of Gruyere in the stuffed courgette, and a Hollandaise sauce over the spring vegetables. Since living in Europe, I've reluctantly become a 98% vegan, which means I make exceptions when eating out. Otherwise, I'd be limited to eating in very few restaurants here—even British Chinese restaurants aren't at all vegetarian friendly. So, knowing I wouldn't be dealing with a plate drenched with cheese, I happily ordered the French Specialty, which came with lentil and watercress soup, a courgette stuffed with walnuts and Gruyere, a mushroom croquette, potato and leek terrine, and the aforementioned vegetables.

My husband had the de Waaghals classic: "saffron-flavoured pasta with truffle cream, mixed vegetables stewed in red wine with sun-dried tomatoes, beans and olives, and roasted onion with almond and cheese stuffing, spinach and endive stir-fried in garlic oil with pine kernels". There was also an Indonesian dish on the menu, which may very well be vegan. Incidentally, Indonesian food is plentiful in The Netherlands, as Indonesia used to be a Dutch colony.

Both our meals were excellent, and of sufficient portions to make a typical TGI Friday's meal look skimpy. The selections were refreshingly creative enough to make this jaded vegetarian compliment the proprietress, who happened to be British. Actually, I begged her to return to Britain and open a restaurant. My biggest complaints with British vegetarian food is its heavy reliance on dairy and its lack of any innovation, a problem not in evidence here. In fact, I had the pleasant dilemma of trying to decide between several dishes and appetizers that all sounded intriguing.

I'm convinced, if all vegetarian food were this interesting and well prepared, more people would be tempted to give up meat for good.

So now I have many reasons to return to Amsterdam: visit the Anne Frank house, take a canal boat trip, climb the tower at Westerkirk, tour the Heineken brewery, and visit de Waaghals again. Because who knows what will turn up on their menu next time?

For photos of our meals, peek below.

Greens Restaurant, Manchester

Deep Fried Oyster Mushrooms with Chinese Pancakes and Plum Sauce

When I mentioned to my husband that I wanted to go to TV chef Simon Rimmer's vegetarian restaurant in Manchester, he replied that would be no problem—he had an upcoming conference in Manchester and we could stay overnight and visit the restaurant. (Manchester is almost a 200 mile drive or a two hour train ride from here.) Great. The conference was in December, he said, but then I found out he meant next December.

So I waited another year, and was rewarded, finally, with a visit to the once-industrial city of Manchester, home of Man United, and to Greens Restaurant, home of delicious vegetarian food.

The wait was worth it. I had my doubts—previous experiences with veggie restaurants in the UK had made me skeptical. And Simon Rimmer isn't a vegetarian himself.

But he does apply an innovative approach to vegetarian cooking, at least with a couple of the dishes we ordered. Sadly, there were only a few vegan dishes on the menu. I didn't ask if others could be made vegan, I was happy to order the deep fried oyster mushrooms as a starter, which came with Chinese wraps, plum sauce and green sticks of cucumber. The oyster mushrooms had a crunchy texture, which made them a surprising—and delicious—alternative to mock duck in similar dishes. My only regret was that I ran out of wrappers before I ran out of mushrooms. One more wrapper would have evened things out.

The carrot soup my husband got stood out in particular contrast to the carrot soup I had in Paris. Sorry, score one for the English. They do know their root veg.

For a main dish, I ordered a pumpkin and aubergine curry. It was good, though curry seems to be a ubiquitous vegan choice on UK menus. My husband ordered the vegetarian black pudding. I'm not sure if it the sausage was vegan, but the bite I had would definitely convince a carnivore of the error of his ways—black pudding, for those of you uninitiated in the ways of entrails, is blood sausage. It was served with smoky tomato sauce, butter beans and cannelini beans over toasted brioche. (This, without the brioche, probably could have been made vegan easily.) Complete with mushrooms, it was reminiscent of the ever-popular "full English breakfast", an appreciation for which I have not developed, mainly because I can't fathom the concept of beans, mushrooms, and tomatoes for breakfast. Dinner, though, is a fine occasion to serve such fare.

Desserts were small, a tiny apple and cinnamon crumble for me and crème brûlée for him, enhanced by a glass of Armagnac. Fortunately, neither of us were hungry, so the idea of paying £5 for such small puddings didn't cause our jaws to drop.

Afterward, I had a discussion with the Canadian server about the state of vegetarian eating in the UK. She agreed that North America has surpassed Europe when it comes to vegetarian, and particularly vegan, eating—Rimmer's restaurant being a noteworthy exception to the overly "healthy" approach most veggie restaurants seem to take toward vegetarianism. We like to indulge as much as the next person, especially when eating out. No need to spare the salt and extra-virgin olive oil when cooking for us, and although we may wear acrylic jumpers and pleather boots, we don't like mushy veg any more than your kids do. Those deep fried mushrooms—now, that's the idea!

I'd like to see more effort put toward the vegan side of things, but otherwise, Greens was definitely worth a trip to Manchester. If you go, make a reservation for 6:30 and arrive at 6:15 in time to snag one of the few parking spaces on the street. Stay in your car until 6:30, though, when on-street parking is allowed. Although West Didsbury is only 4.5 miles from the city centre, you'll have to leave an hour early due to the massive traffic in Manchester.

•Greens Restaurant, 43 Lapwing Lane, West Didsbury, 0161 434 4259

Vegetarian in Paris, Part Deux

Le Grenier de Notre-Dame, located on a quiet little street a block from Notre Dame cathedral.

The first time was serendipity. The second, quite deliberate.

During our last visit to Paris, my husband and I happened upon Le Grenier de Notre Dame purely by chance. I wrote about that experience here, a post which gets lots of Google hits from people searching for vegetarian restaurants in Paris—not willing, apparently, to depend upon serendipity to guide them.

So, I was eager to return and see what had changed at Le Grenier in the last two years. The answer was, not much. Upon walking in, I felt right at home. Standing behind the counter were the same waiter, the same owner, an open iBook in front of him (perhaps reading my review?). The same intimate interior, decorated, again, for Christmas. The menu seemed familiar too, though I had a hard time reading it (unfortunately, a vegan diet doesn’t improve the vision). There seemed to be an English description of the plats written, inexplicably, in white type underneath the French version. There were helpful photos, however, for the vision and language impaired.

I ordered L’Escalope de Seitan, a tender piece of breaded and lightly fried seitan. My husband got the paella and our friend ordered Moroccan couscous, served in a proper tagine. We also ordered a couple of starters, and aperitifs of Champagne and kir. The food was wonderful, quickly warming us up on a cold Parisian night, and the atmosphere was equally warm. When we discovered our table candle was fake (a Phillips safety candle) the waiter came over and demonstrated how it worked. By this time, the wine had had its effect and I dissolved in giggles. I guess you had to be there.

The place seems to be popular with Americans, as the other diners all spoke with American accents. We met an old friend of my daughter’s there, a student now living in Paris, who confirmed how difficult it is to get a vegetarian meal in France. Since eating animal products contributes in such a major way to global warming, it’s a shame that more restaurants don’t make it easier to eat lower on the food chain.

Meanwhile, there’s Le Grenier de Notre Dame, and a few others in Paris that cater to vegetarians and vegans.

The next night, after a miserable rainy afternoon, I dragged my husband from a warm hotel room to Le Potager du Marais in Les Halles, near the George Pompidou Centre. I didn’t know it until we arrived, but they serve food all day, a rarity in Paris. We could have gone earlier when we were wandering aimlessly around the district, but instead we waited until shortly after 7 p.m., showing up without reservations. Not a good idea, although they did find room for us at a table reserved for later. The restaurant has one long row of tables, jammed next to each other, seating about 25. You’re forced to sit right next to other diners, a common occurrence in tiny European restaurants. Don’t let that deter you; French diners are very quiet. Still, it’s a little disconcerting to have to pull out the table in order to squeeze in.

The menu at Le Potager is almost all vegan, with a few non-vegan plats. The carrot soup I started with was nothing special—I suspect they simply juiced some carrots and heated the whole thing. For our mains, I had the nut roast, served with under-cooked potatoes, and my husband had a lukewarm gratin of root vegetables. They probably took it out of the microwave too soon, though, at 16 euros a plat, you expect more than microwaved entrees.

The service was friendly; if we’d complained I’m sure those problems would have been fixed. However, the appetizer of mushroom paté almost made up for any shortcomings in the entrees. It was richly flavored, with hints of tarragon and ceps (porcinis). The best thing about Le Potager du Marais is its location and the fact it’s open before 7 p.m., allowing you to dine after you've exhausted yourself tramping around Paris.

But when I return to Paris—and I hope that's soon—I’ll definitely be heading back to Le Grenier de Notre Dame. Although serendipity doesn’t strike twice, good food, fortunately, is more consistent.

Le Grenier de Notre Dame: 18, Rue de la Bûcherie, Tel: 0143299829

Le Potager du Marais: 22, Rue Rambuteau, Tel: 0142742466

A Vegetarian in Rome

The Pavarotti-like proprietor of La Tavernetta in Rome, showing off his porcinis.

It's been more than two weeks since I returned from Rome, and I can't stop thinking about the food. I'd decided to divide my article about Rome into two, one on Rome itself and another on the food, which was almost the best part for me.

And what better way to introduce my new food blog, which I've at long last decided to split off from the main WDIK site?

Enough of the starter; let's get to the main dish:

First of all, a vegetarian has little trouble eating in Rome, and a vegan can easily navigate from the often disgusting* animal parts on the secondo piatto to the primo portion of the menu, where the pasta and risotto are found. And then there's pizza, which can be ordered without cheese—Romans aren't fond of the drippy American style pizzas; they prefer them slim and crisp.

But I wanted something more exotic than pizza or spaghetti my first night in Rome. I headed for Africa, an Ethiopian-Eritrian restaurant near Termini train station. Despite getting lost on the way (we took a wrong turn from inside the station) we were still the first to arrive at 7 p.m. when the restaurant opened. Ordering was easy; we requested two vegetarian meals, which came with an assortment of vegan dishes served in little piles on top of two pieces of spongy injera bread, and a starter of falafel.

By the time we left, the restaurant was full, and so were we. Injera is deceptively light, but the sour sponge fills up your tummy in no time. I guess that's part of its appeal. We loved our food, although I was slightly disappointed that for a while it seemed like I'd never want to eat again in Rome, unless I was willing to give bulimia a go.

Amazingly, after a good night's sleep and a very forgettable breakfast at the hotel, I was hungry again the next evening. I'd scoped out Il Margutta, a vegetarian restaurant I'd read about in the guidebooks and online. Just to be sure, I walked by that afternoon and checked out the menu. It seemed affordable to me, contrary to the warnings online, so I made a reservation for 7:30—opening time—and we came back in the rain, again, the first customers to arrive.

Il Margutta is located in possibly the poshest part of Rome, on Via Margutta, a back street lined with antique shops and art galleries. It's between the Spanish Steps and the Piazza del Popolo, a tidy walk from our hotel, but that, I was beginning to discover, was a good thing.

Perusing the menu was like glimpsing heaven, pages and pages of vegetarian, dormouse-free delights. In addition to the a la carte starters, primo, secundo, and desserts, there were several 5-course meals designed by the chef. The vegan meal was only €36, while my husband's cheesier selections were around €45. Not bad for five plates of food, each of them innovative and impeccably prepared. Mine featured seitan kebabs—seitan so tender it melted under my fork—floating on a shallow pool of chickpea cream. The remaining courses were also delightful, and I heard no complaints from my husband on his side of the table.

The olive oil they served at the table deserves a special mention. I was on a mission to find fresh-pressed olive oil, which I'd read was available in the fall months, and at Il Margutta I was pretty sure I'd found it, so I asked where I could purchase it. The owner, who was constantly prowling around the main dining room, made me a deal: two bottles for ten euros each. But by the time we were ready to leave several hours later, our server had left and the two who replaced him were busy with the now-packed restaurant. We had enough trouble getting our bill, much less the olive oil I had so wanted.

Ah well. Did I mention the sorbet?

The next day I made a beeline to Campo de Fiori, the largest open air market in Rome. My beeline included getting lost at the Presidential Palace, a visit to Trajan's Markets, and a quick tour of Palatine Hill, so I got there around noon-thirty—they close at 1:00, although it was nearer to 1:30 when they started pulling down the marquees. I was on a quest to find the elusive fresh olive oil, and fresh porcinis, which I'd never even seen before.

Fresh porcinis are huge, a real giant of a mushroom. Not sure how they'd make the trip back in my suitcase, I only got two. I also picked up some squash blossoms, but they didn't survive the trip. One seller convinced me to buy some fresh capers—much larger than their jarred cousins, about the size of small olives. They weathered the trip just fine, and made a fine Pasta Puttanesca when I came home.

The olive oil I found at a shop nearby, from a seller who spoke a little English. His prices were much better than at the touristy shop nearer the hotel, where I also stopped for Limoncello. Lugging all this around made me very hungry, of course, so I stopped in a pastry shop on Via Veneto, where I had some tea and some roasted almonds I'd bought on the street near the Spanish Steps. (The roasted chestnuts sold on street corners would have been a good option too.)

That night we had dinner in Frascati, a suburb of Rome, in a restaurant with ancient wine cellars we were allowed to tour. We saw no wine, just some puzzling signs in German that indicated you must only drink the water. Or something like that. The meal was arranged by the conference my husband was attending, so I didn't get much say in the matter. Still, it was atmospheric, even if the white wine did taste like water. (Possibly a ploy to fool the Germans.)

The last day our flight was at 9:30 p.m., which meant eating in a normal restaurant was impossible: they all seem to open at 7:30. But with the help of the hotel magazine, I found a place famed for the owner's resemblance to Pavarotti, as well as the fact it was open all day, from noon.

Lovely. We headed straight to La Tavernetta Sistina, Via Sistina 147, right off Piazza Barberini. The owner was holding forth in the main dining room, but we were led to a cozy back room, filled with Americans who couldn't wait until a properly late hour to eat. The plate of grilled vegetables we ordered as a starter made us forget it wasn't yet dinner time. My fettucini with funghi was my last, adoring taste of porcinis, a fine end to the ultimate foodie trip.

(For a more challenging foodie travelogue, you can read A Vegetarian in Paris. For more on eating in Rome, try 101 Cookbooks' recent post or Herbivoracious' report on Roman food.)

*A note of warning: Modern Romans eat much like their ancient forefathers, loathing to waste any part of the animal. And as I discovered while waiting to board the plane, dormouse (known as glis glis in the UK, found only in a triangle in the Chilterns after once being brought over by Roman invaders) is considered a rare (and illegal) delicacy, so I was on my guard.