Breakfast at Bill's place

One thing led to another last weekend and we ended up on Youtube.  We ended up on Youtube watching, no that’s not quite correct, watching and singing, Ian Moss’s all time Australian pub rock classic, “Tucker’s Daughter” (1989).

My first innate reaction was to sing louder.  My second was to be thankful I wasn’t the outback daughter of Ole Man Tucker and the object of Ian’s affection.  My third was to set off a multimedia juke box of classic 80’s and 90’s Australian tunes whilst debating: Johnny Diesel’s greatest hit? “Right on the Tip of my Tongue” or “Crying Shame”, discuss.  

Dream Boat Retrospective - Johnny Diesel despite torn off denim sleeves and subsequent identity crisis

Unless you are a foreign member of the Ian Moss fan club or an Australian descending through the 25-40 year old age bracket, you’re probably about as lost as my British friend Jo was while this archive of antipodeon chart toppers played out.  Jo understands that we didn’t attend Erinsborough High, that we call shrimps prawns and that pants aren’t pants they’re undies. But I am fairly sure she didn’t understand why we still, after 20 years, know every word to Darryl Braithwaite’s “One Summer”.  And just who is this Darryl Braithwaite anyway?!?

Contrary to our play list, I was glad I’d crafted a menu for the night that displayed no consistent cultural reference.  After fresh ricotta, Manuka honey and toasted walnuts we followed with a Way to Decadent in a Good Way Rabbit and Pork Lasagne. But it was finally ending on the left-field British high of sticky toffee pudding that gave Jo a brief caramel and culturally familiar reprieve.  We also had to stop singing during dessert as it’s incredibly hard to consume pudding, sauce and ice cream whilst effectively using an air-mic. 

While I’ve been assured Jo did have a great time at dinner (and probably afterwards at our expense recounting our unselfconscious antics to her more civilised British friends) the medium of nostalgic mullet anthems highlighted one of the many or few fissures diverging the British and Australian experience.   This sometimes-cultural divide between we convicts (of which I’ll erroneously include myself despite being first generation Australian) and The Motherlanders appeared before me again a few days later. But this time, it was personal.  

Ricotta hotcakes with fresh banana and honeycomb butter

While being served an exceptionally tasty butter-rich bacon-crispy plate of breakfast happiness my ears were forced to endure this statement: “Avocado has no place on a breakfast plate.  It’s just wrong!” 

Now hold on a minute Mr!  Avocado is what you say? Why you little [fist raised]….and it was at about that point of incredulousness that I got distracted by the crispy crispy salty bacon and lost my train of thought entirely…and then I was back:  Avocado is the number one draft pick for breakfast plate side orders for 9 out of 10 Australian diners.  That statistic in no way represents thorough or un-bias research but it was as true as it needed to be at the time before I got distracted by the creamy creamy buttery eggs…and then I was back: Avocado makes a breakfast plate, it’s the perfect duvet to a bacon, the greatest spread on sour dough toast, the perfect fresh substitute for over-cooked spinach or slippery slimy button mushrooms which are the eternally sad side-kicks of the core English breakfast characters. Avocado, it’s just right!

Unfortunately, no avocados were harmed in the making of this breakfast bun

I could swiftly see I wasn’t going to sway any voters with my New World argument for the monosaturated monolith so we entered a social treaty whereby the purveyor of that delicious British breakfast accepted the existence of, without agreeing with, my culinary dissent and we both returned to the bacon on which we very happily agreed.

After this polling failure you can imagine my joy when the long awaited opening of Bill Granger’s only European venture, Granger & Co (175 Westbourne Grove, London W11 2SB, http://grangerandco.com/, +44 20 7229 9111) came to fruition around the corner from my home here in Notting Hill.  Now Bill, he’s a man who understands the avocado.  In fact, it’s his number one side offering for eggs or toast.  Oh, and look at that, it’s his number two side for eggs or toast too – avocado salsa.  I’ll have both thanks Bill – no mushrooms, no spinach for me please.

The Full Aussie Breakfast: How did those pesky mushrooms get on there? 

The scrambled eggs at Granger & Co are super light and not at all too rich (there could be an argument for or against this state of affairs, but let’s carry on), the bacon is incredible, the breakfast plates loaded with full Aussie goodness and not a baked bean in sight. The ricotta hot cakes are just like Sydney…hang on a second…the whole place is just like Sydney.  The tables, the staff, the menu, the huge windows…should I be judging my own lack of originality in enjoying this replica establishment as much as I do? I am really enjoying it and judging at the same time. But mostly I’m enjoying.

Judging AND stirring as demonstrated by my more competent friend

Looking around, the dining room is packed. The wait for a table is over an hour and the confusing sunshine outside is offering those smug people seated in the window a lame excuse to inappropriately wear their designer frames inside. I detest them, but am too preoccupied trying to stir the Callebaut chocolate chips through my hot chocolate to care. I can’t judge and stir at the same time.

The bustling hum of the largely Australia via Nottinghill crowd is broken only by the intermittent steam of the coffee machine, the odd squawk of a Queensland ex-pat’s laughter or the conga line theme song rolling through my head: “I love av-o-ca-do! I love av-o-c-a-do! Ah dah dah, dah dah, dah dah”. 

Avocado and Breakfast: Best friends for ever xo xo

I haven’t been back yet for lunch or dinner service but the menu looks like a solid Bill-style offering of tasty BBQ and casual fragrant mains. Chilli pork ribs, whole baked fish, crispy duck with plum sauce.  No big surprises, nothing avant-garde but plenty of trouble choosing. 

I still think Peter Gordon's Providores serves up the best breakfast meets brunch in the whole of London.  I’ll also eternally love any breakfast offering me bacon and butter in perfect excessive harmony. Who knows if I’ll ever convince the avocado disbelievers out there that Granger & Co is worth the long wait for a breakfast table adrift a sea of Ralph Lauren? But it’s the simple good food and effortless Australian style of Granger & Co which just made me and Tucker’s daughter smile on that sunny Saturday morning…but please, you in the window, take those sunglasses off!!  

@missdevour13

Mr Fritter's Wild Ride

Ms Pillsbury, I need my OCD t-shirt back.  I could also do with a copy of Finn’s “Can’t Dance” ensemble, but then the key compulsive message may be lost…as I’m sure it is already to those who do not identify as Gleeks…or even casual users of Glee. It’s addictive.

I like order.  Create process. Build frameworks and construct paths.  In mess I find method.  It’s madness. I recall loosely my Barbie’s colour coded wardrobe and chide myself for not filing that recollection more clearly in my childhood annals. 

It’s not actually that bad (smile cringe combo)…no, really.  I’ve managed to limit my web-diagnosed condition to something more akin to OCKD. Obsessive Compulsive Kitchen Disorder is a lesser-known condition inflicting millions of chefs and kitchen professionals worldwide. OCKD is an anxiety disorder characterized by intrusive thoughts that encourage intense repetitive behaviours such as fastidious plating, fanatical mise en place prep and a strict adherence to work station cleanliness.  

This condition, if left untreated, can lead to serious and life altering results for sufferers: rave reviews, Michelin stars and publishing deals have been know to result in the most extreme of cases.  In my case, I just have a very clean kitchen.

As MC Skat Kat and Paula Abdul know well, the appeal of opposites is irrefutable…unless you subscribe to one of those “Owners who look like their dogs" websites in which case you’ll know narcissism transcends the boundary of species…and that you should never buy a bulldog.

My balance comes in the form of Julio “Don Juan” Estevez. The kitchen alter ego invented by my boyfriend for introduction to the blogosphere.  I have a feeling the whole persona may pre-date me and has probably featured prominently on dance floors way before tight white chinos were casually endorsed by Ralph Lauren and introduced to the non-Latino fashion conscious community.     

Anyway, Julio is a kitchen vigilante. A wild man with bi-carb and as unpredictable as my Dad’s soufflés.  Whilst popular for his choice of kitchen attire, he is most renowned for his epic dish Tuna Fantastique. I’m unable to pass onto you the four key (translate only) ingredients but can confirm that despite my initial and patronising scepticism the dish is in fact worthy of it’s proper noun.  He is also credited with inventing not just Jeans and Thongs but also Crepes and Hummus.  I refute allegations he invented Jackets but am fairly confidant he is may be responsible for the reintroduction of Jagger Hips to modern choreography. But back to the kitchen…

Not content with single dish supremacy Julio (I’m sorry, I can’t honestly go on with the rest) recently decided to expand his repertoire to the brunch market…a necessary skill set I would imagine for post-Don Juan occasions .  The last thing I was expecting to see taking a role in this expansion was a recipe book…yet there he was, measuring cups and all, consistently unpredictable.

His mentor? Peter Gordon and “Fusion: A Culinary Journey”.  If you lament queuing for brunch on Marylebone High Street, this book is the perfect weekend solution.  Many of Peter’s signature Providores recipes are in here from his poached eggs with chilli butter to banana and pecan French Toast with vanilla verjus syrup and lardons.  I’m a little sad the recipe for his yuzu hollandaise isn’t in there but I do fear the day hollandaise enters my home on a regular basis.  

The project? Sweet corn, five spice & date fritters with tomato and avocado and my previously unknown friends over at The Tribune have kindly beat me to Peter’s recipe so if you don’t already have the book (i.e. you are not antipodeans and you enjoy the queuing process) here it is: Sweet corn, five spice & date fritters with tomato and avocado.  

Julio kicked out the dates and added a table full of additional condiments.  The little guys (yes, a continual problem I have personifying my food) were dressed in fresh goats cheese, hummus (who was complicit in his move from crepe to fritter), salsa and yoghurt and gave the juicy corn kernels the best mini pillows to hide in. New wave fritters staring in their first dish:  Mr Fritter's Wild Ride.  If ever a dish were to resemble its owner (I’m not sure there are websites for this phenomenon just yet) this would be it:

Miss Devour: She likes it neat.

Julio “Don Juan” Estevez: And he makes a mess

It’s incredibly difficult to script a finale incorporating both the Mighty Ducks and play list samples from “Essential Julio Iglesias Volume 2”. Even working in an indirect reference to Charlie Sheen, garbage bins and Perma Tans is proving tricky.   Hhhhm, perhaps I’m best just to compulsively reorganise my kitchen in anticipation of Julio’s forthcoming weekend culinary insurgence…just kidding, I alphabetised my ingredients store yesterday.

@missdevour13