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Japanese summer is relentless, especially in the cities. The concrete jungle absorbs the sun heat while millions of air-conditioners pump out typhoons of hot area in the streets. It is in fact so bad that it is a national custom to send "midsummer heat fatigue" (natsubate) greeting cards inquiring how others are managing.
Unagi-don, grilled eel fillets served on top of hot rice, is supposed to provide strength to withstand the exhausting heat. There is even a special day, Doyou no Ushi no Hi, when its consumption is deemed especially beneficial.
Whether a commercial gimmick or Oriental wisdom, unagi-don is a superbly delicious dish. In fact, I enjoy it even more in winter. I cook it the Kansai way: cutting the eel's belly and basting the grilling fillets with tare made of sake, mirin and shoyu. Unlike epicurean Kansai merchants, stuck-up Edo (Tokyo) samurais hated that practice as it reminded them of seppuku (commonly and incorrectly known as harakiri).
The recipe is really simple:
- If you have a whole eel: cut of the head, gut it, cut it in 6-7 cm pieces and removed the spine. Don't worry about the small bones.
- Mix shoyu, mirin and sake half a cup each. Marinate the filets for at least an hour.
- Grill the filets, regularly turning them over and basting with the marinade. Depedning on your grill takes up to 20-30 minutes.
- Serve on top of freshly cooked Japanese rice. For the authentic taste only use short-grained japonica, long-grained jasmin and basmati just wont' be right.
I cooked the venison sausages I bought at the Southwark Slow Food Festival the best way I know how: with juniper sauce. It is a variation of the classic bourguignonne for game dishes. Juniper berries give that foresty, coniferous fragrance that goes well with the powerful flavour of venison, boar or pheasant. Potatoes boiled in jackets are there just to soak in the juices and aid the enjoyment of two major flavours.
Picnics are my passion. Strangely, I hardly know any people who are also into this sort of food exhibitionism.
Perhaps, because good picnics take lots preparations and logistics. Carrying crystal glasses in a bicycle bag is, pardon the pun, no picnic.
Seafood is another passion of mine. I arrange assiette de fruits de mer myself: oysters, crayfish, Greenland shrimp, scallops, prawns, bulots, amandes, bigourneaux. I have no idea what one calls the last three in any other language but French. Probably nothing or something Latin as it must be only the French who eat them.
You only need good baguette, mayonnaise, vinegar with chopped shallots to go with it and some dry cider to wash it all down. There scarcely be enough room for raw milk Camembert (the only real one!) at the end of this feast.
You won't believe it but it takes up to three hours to finish this platter as the sun goes down and the city gets engulfed by the purple twilight, the most beautiful light ever. By the time we are done, the table is a mess of cracked shells, shrimp heads and squeezed lemons and we smell fishy.
"Yeah!" The swarthy waiter confirms that I can, in fact, have some more milk. Fifteen minutes later it arrives with a reminder that we have to vacate the premises shortly as a private party will be starting.
The tea room of the Grand, Brighton's poshest hotel has none of the intimate quietness you expect from 5-star hotels. A raggle-taggle army of waiters dashes around finger-licking customers. The constant clatter and clink-clank rises to the high wrought-iron ceiling. Coats are piled on the arm-chair backs, gusts of chilly draft travel across the carpeted orangery. It has the atmosphere of a café at a railway station where travellers just drop by for a 23-pound cup of tea to kill time before their train.
To give credit where it's due, the tea is flavourful, the sandwiches and muffins are tasty and the cakes, if a tad on the greasy side, are decent. But you can get the same at your neighbourhood tea room and it will only set you back a few quid. Posh places charge more for the exclusive atmosphere and best quality of everything. Sadly, the Grand does not deliver either.
De Vere Grand Hotel is on the seafront at 97-99 Kings Road, Brighton. Full Afternoon Tea at £22.50 per person plus service.
P.S. De Vere is not related to Bubbles De Vere from Little Britain. I think it should though.
