Today feels like a huge step forward for our nascent food business. After today it is still a dream, but suddenly there is a lot more clarity to the vision. Nick and I visited Borough market in London, a foodie haven where many of the vendors are either the producers themselves or have the most amazing first-hand knowledge of the producers and the products that they are selling.
The quality and the diversity of what was on offer were so inspiring, and the passion and understanding of the produce was something I hadn’t really ever seen in the same way before. A good example was on the Cannon and Cannon stand where we sampled various salamis. The pork and caraway, we were told, had a particularly soft, buttery texture as the pigs were fed on whey from the neighbouring cheese farm. The hint of juniper made the salami an excellent pairing to gin and tonic. The beautiful, melting texture was immediately apparent; the proof of its excellence as an accompaniment to a G&T had to wait until we got home, but was worth the wait.
We particularly wanted to visit the meat stands. Marc at Northfield Farm was especially friendly and helpful. All his meat looked beautiful but I was especially taken by the Waygu x Angus. His brother had bought a couple of stores (young cattle of around a year) to finish on the farm, to see how they looked and sold. The meat had an amazing marbling and having heard so much about waygu I had to bring some home to try.
My other indulgent purchase was a fresh black Italian truffle (Italian, rather than British, as the lovely man at Turnip had informed us that the aroma and flavour of the Italian truffles are superior. On sniffing the aroma was definitely more alluring, so one came home with me. All the way home on the train I kept getting wafts of the amazing, intoxicating smell.
It was fantastic to feel so excited about what I had seen. I was bubbling over with ideas and enthusiasm and couldn’t wait to get the children to bed and start cooking. Charcuitere and G&T kicked us off. I wanted to serve some of the fillet as a carpaccio with truffle shaved over, a recipe that I had seen somewhere and which had stuck in my head. I also want to taste the beef cooked so after I had sliced about a third of the fillet into the thinnest wafers I could manage with my so-so knife skills, the rest was destined for the pan.
I lightly dressed some mixed organic leaves bought from the market, topped with the beef and shavings of truflle. Both Ross and I were slightly underwhelmed by the truffle. A faint earthy woodiness came over, but nothing like the depth or intensity that I expected given its’ extraordinary perfume. The beef however was sublime. I couldn’t really put my finger on exactly why it was so good but there was something about it that made it stand above any other beef I had ever eaten. It was the same cooked – I seared it for around a minute either side and served it with more of the leaves, saute potatoes and topped with a little nugget of butter into which I had chopped a little truffle, to see if a gentle warming intensified the flavour. Again the meat was outstanding, with a crisp outer and a melting, rare middle. The steak had cost twice as much as regular fillet would from a butchers , at just over £12 for a steak (a more palatable way to digest the price than just under £80 a kilo). Was it worth it? Yes. For a special occasion, for the feeling of having something exciting, something that was the best it could be in the kitchen and on the plate. Next time I might ditch the truffle and buy two steaks, although the one small piece of meat actually fed both of us comfortably (with a slice of apple pie afterwards), and a huge slab might have been gilding the lily.
But for me the greatest excitement wasn’t this piece of amazing meat, but the idea that the next chapter of my life is going to be dominated to a greater or lesser extent by trying to produce something similar.