A Night to Remember

Prep time (all photos courtesy of the talented Barry Craig)

Apologies for the delay in finishing my supper club story, the time to contemplate, mull over, and basque in the glowing feeling that it brought hasn't made itself available until now. 

So, where was I? Prep - I don't wish to bore you with the intricacies of slicing paper thin pieces of beetroot to save them from a nearly untimely end, or the countless scales that Tom scraped off our lovely namesake, but needless to say there was plenty of chopping, boiling, rolling, filet-ing, and raucous laughter during those few hours before our guests arrived. Barry snapped plenty of shots of our prep time, so here's a smattering of action shots for your viewing pleasure...

Every good chef needs a glass of wine and an
iphone in their hand...

Hard at work frying things (I think)

I may or may not have arranged everything on the
counter by ingredient and course order...

The moments flew by and before we knew it, our first guests were arriving. They were greeted with a hug and a teacup cocktail of Bison Grass vodka, sparkling elderflower and cucumber and the sounds of the evening's soundtrack. Mingling in the entrance and watching us cook was somewhat daunting, so we soon pulled back the curtains to reveal their dining area for the night... 

Our found wood, mismatched chairs, cutlery and china came together thanks to some brilliant photo studio lighting by our guardian angel Barry. With a centrepiece of strewn ropes, fresh flowers, and candle filled jars, we did our best to set the makeshift mood for the night's culinary antics. 

The room filled, our guests chow down

The Menu

A little hand-drawn pictogram menu by yours truly

Right, enough faffing about, let's get down to the grub. The kitchen was a different world to the dining room, as Tom and I whirled around the space in a sort of pas de deux, cranking out five courses at what felt like warp speed (and helped by a shot or two of Bison Grass vodka along the way...). Miraculously, there were no major faux pas, the food came out relatively on time, and we even managed to make it look decent (although sadly don't have any pictures of the food itself - definitely a lesson for next time!). With five courses on the table, our guests scarfed down on:

First

Seared scallops with roasted beetroot and asparagus, crispy bacon and basil pesto

Second

Pan fried sea bream with sauteed shaved fennel and grilled oranges

Main

Duck three ways - confit, honey roasted and ravioli, with roasted butternut squash puree, sauteed kale and wild garlic, and a lingonberry jus

Dessert

Almond and fresh fig tartlets with honey and clotted cream

Surprise

Home smoked cheese with red onion marmalade and buttermilk rye bread

I'm not sure how we did it, but for the first time, we delivered 5 courses to 14 people with only a little bit of spilled duck fat along the way (our kitchen became a veritable ice rink half way through...). 

During the cheese course, we were able to sit down briefly with our guests, raise a glass and thank them profusely for being our first guinea pigs in this whole supper club experience. We also asked them to nominate someone they thought deserved a feast, and the nominee will be invited to a future dinner to celebrate them being a great person!

As the guests left and clean up began, the buzz of the evening set in and by the time we wandered home at half past 1am, my legs barely able to carry my body anymore, I still managed to feel like I was floating. The whole experience was even more exhilarating than I anticipated - it was the feeling you get when you've exerted yourself beyond the point you thought yourself capable of, beyond the ability to think, until your muscles and memory simply take over (sorry, I'm getting over-zealous...). Needless to say, the whole thing was brilliant and well worth the severe exhaustion I felt for the next few days afterwards. 

We definitely learned some things from this first supper club - we will probably go for slightly simpler menus in the future, avoid having to lug a huge piece of wood up four flights of stairs, and interact with our guests better (we lost ourselves in the kitchen this time), but I'm still amazed that we managed to turn a chance idea into a real-life, successful supper club in just over 2 weeks. 

The best bit? This appears to be the first supper club of many. We've already been asked to host a dinner party for our of our guests (!!!), and we have plenty of crack pot ideas for future dinners. So watch this space, it seems The Bream Team are only just getting started... 

The Journey to a Night to Remember

I don't normally write New Year's resolutions, or if I do, they tend towards the "I'll try to eat healthier, plan to exercise more, etc..." - all very non-comital and difficult to measure in terms of success. For some reason though, this year I wrote down an actual list - not just of the vague general statements like "Dance more," and "Balance work and life better," but at the bottom of that list was one very concrete goal - "Hold a pop-up supper club." Now, this is something I've always dreamt of doing, but why this year, of all years, I chose to put it down as something to achieve, only serendipity knows. 

The fates seemed to collide between Tom and I, as our friend and co-worker passingly mentioned the two of us should talk about food together one night at the pub. Fast forward a few weeks were up at the crack of dawn meandering Billingsgate Market, leaving with a lingering smell of salt water and more fish than any normal human would buy. A bison grass vodka-fuelled conversation after our fish feast led us to the casual idea of a supper club to help rid ourselves of our large catch of bream, and surprisingly, our sober minds the next day found a date in the calendar and with two weeks to go, set to work - the Bream Team was in motion. 

The Bream Team in the element (photo by Barry Craig)

When my flatmate Barry caught wind of our idea, he quickly became our guardian angel, not only supplying us with the most ideal venue at his photography studio Taylor James, who generously lent us their loft for the event, but helping with all the annoying little tasks that one always forgets. With venue, date and fish in place, the Twitter and Facebook call for guests went out, and amazingly, within 2 days our seats were filled! Granted nearly all were friends, but still!

The weekend before was one of testing, running through our initial ideas, tweaking, making notes and plotting what was to become a 5 course feast (our first go, every course had fennel...).

The week before was spent practicing and tweaking recipes (and thus eating LOTS of fig tarts), drawing the menus, tracking down plates and cutlery (found in a stockpile of mismatched china at Tom's parent's house) and getting all our ducks in order (literally!). We even cycled down to visit Tom's cheese guy to nab a few wedges for a smoking experiment. 

Smoking our cheese with sage and thyme

Once again the gods were in our favour when hunting for a table large enough for 16, as we drove by a giant piece of wood labelled "Please Take Me," just begging to be used for our supper (although getting it up and down 4 flights of stairs was less than simple...).

Strapping out makeshift table to the roof

On the day, I was in the loft early, setting up and dancing along to our playlist for the day as Tom jet-setted across London in his lean mean green Voyager, collecting our chairs and various accouterments for the evening's feast. 

A glimpse at our place settings, including the picture-only menu

By midday our kitchen was buzzing, fish scales flying and fennel shaving as we prepped for the night ahead... (to be continued)

A Day of Fish

EDIT: BBC2 have put out a striking documentary about  Billingsgate Market, following the battles the market is facing as a one of the oldest establishments in London in a rapidly changing city, and the people who live and breath the market life. 

Wholesale markets are typically an elusive world to those not in the food industries - they hit their stride well before the sun has risen and lack the clinical packaged comfort of our grocery stores. While elusive, many of these still welcome those individuals willing to brave the dark hours and bartering banter, and offer many rewards for those who do.

Last weekend, a friend and coworker of mine ventured out just before dawn, bearing south for Billingsgate fish market, on the hunt for some fresh finds. By the time we arrived at 6:45am, the market was well past its busiest time, but a pungent smell of sea water and sea creatures lingered into the car park. We had to do a couple walk around before making our first buys, and the choice and abundance of fish was something I'd never seen before. 

Fish I'd only ever seen in books before and fish I wouldn't even know what to do with flopped over boxes of ice, staring you straight in the eye, wondering if you'd dare try to throw them in a skillet. 

Most of the fish (like this looker just above) were beyond the depth of two city-slickers with minimal fridge space, so we aimed our sights on some smaller varieties. Once our first purchase was made, a slew of others followed and in the end, we walked away with:

23 seam bream

18 scallops

1/2 a salmon

3 dressed crabs

2 sea urchins

1 live lobster

With our loot in tow, we made our way for the only thing one can eat after such a purchase - a kippers breakfast at the greasy spoon in the corner of the market, rubbing elbows with fishmongers and glassy eyed shoppers as we dove into smoked fish and scrambled eggs. 

Fish bought, stomach filled and the effect of our early morning starting to set in, a morning of lethargy, Herzog and fish freezing was in store. Lunch was round two of fish, taking my first stab at searing scallops, much to my flatmate's delight, and served simply with smoked garlic, butter and sauteed broccolini.

Dinner meant traveling to Tom's house, where most of the fish resided for 6 courses of fish-filled gluttony. 

Sea urchins were the one disappointment of the day... not sure I recommend... 

Seared scallops with sweet corn puree and crispy bacon faired much better. 

Home smoked salmon with Tom's hand built smoker was even more impressive, and coupled with some simple rocket and light vinaigrette. 

Posh fish and chips with pan fried seam bream, freshly made chips and peas with tartare sauce was up next, smoking the room up in the process but well worth the hazy view. 

Next up was our friend Henry James, a brave and valiant fellow, who sacrificed himself for us in a feat of gallantry not seen since the Knights of the Round Table. We thank you Henry, you were delicious. 

After some well deserved digestion time and several more glasses of wine (and some buffalo grass vodka), our evening was completed with a rich, gooey chocolate fondant with black cherry sauce. 

And thus completely a day of fish. 

(on the topic of fish.... look out for the next post!)