Strange Pairings

Earlier in this blog I mentioned the combination of steak and blackcurrant sauce, until recently the strangest pairing I've ever come across. And no, it didn't work. It was in fact a waste of a good piece of meat, and for that matter of good berries. Last week on holiday in Santa Maria, Cape Verde I (again unwittingly) sampled something far weirder, or at least to my mind it was. 

Seeking some local foods rather than the largely 'international' fare served at our hotel I opted for wahoo (a meaty fish related to mackerel, though with a more delicate taste and firmer flesh) with banana. That more or less worked, but intriguingly it was served with - Brussels sprouts. The mini cabbages were well cooked, not soft, not hard, and may even have gone with the fish had it been unadorned. But - and this may not come as a huge surprise - sprouts and banana did not prove a winning combination. In a strange way, however, I was pleased to find something so unusual. But I still left all bar a few of the green things untouched. 

I cannot believe that sprouts are grown in Cape Verde, but stand to be corrected. And I cannot fathom why they should have been seen on menus there. As a former Portuguese colony that connection doesn't explain it either. And how did the chef think they would work? 

Equally out of place, but marvellous, were the strozzapreti eaten at a restaurant - Valeria's - recommended to us by fellow guests. It was so good we dined there three times. Why there should be what proved to be a superb if (because?) simple Italian restaurant in a stand of shops between hotel and town in this African backwater is hard to imagine. Strozzapreti (it means priest stranglers, so a good start as all right thinking people would agree - if not, check out how parts of the US Catholic church have been fighting changes to statute of limitations changes relating to child rape over recent years, and wonder why) are sort of gnochi/dumpling things. Badly made such foods are like lead, well made they are sublimely toothsome. These were terrific, and the creamy courgette and prawn sauce lubricated them to perfection. 

The one actually (I think) local dish that stood out during our stay was octupus and potato stew. It, like anything fishy, was helped down by the Cha de Fogo white wine from another of the Cape Verdean islands. I cannot understand why the airport duty free shop sold the usual inspid spirit brands, and loads of Aussie plonk, but not that, something the country should be very proud of. 

A Sprout is Not Just for Christmas

On my hobby horse of food and fashion again. When was the last time you saw the words 'Brussels sprouts' in a restaurant review, or 'swede'? Parsley root (which used to be called simply Hamburg parsley until it became cheffy) perhaps, or pak choi; salsify and scorzonera on occasion. But not those humblest and most flavoursome of veg. The trouble is that with the swede there is not much to do with it beyond the default mash with butter (with or without carrots) and maybe a sprinkle of herbs; and the sprout has such a powerful flavour that it needs something robust as the core of the meal or it will dominate the plate. As lamb shanks are now in the foodie world snobbishly relegated to mere Gastro Pub fodder robust is not too frequently encountered in reviews either.

We had swede and sprouts with the beery beef and mushroom pie last night. They held their own, went well together and with the pie, and made it feel balanced somehow. Stuff fashion.

I like Gastro Pubs btw, the nearest thing we have to a proper bistro culture here; some of what pass for bistros in Britain tending to be so far up themselves they can see out through their own mouths. And you can usually get decent beer in GPs, which totally illogically you can't very often in a brasserie in the UK. The word means brewery. The otherwise brilliant Paul Heathcote had here in Preston what was called for a time a brasserie: the beers were (a few years back but think this is right) Heineken, Budweiser, and maybe Amstel. If his wine list had consisted of Bull's Blood, Liebfraumilch, and Mateus Rose he would have been ridiculed (except by someone who thought it was post-Modernist irony).