I was going to celebrate at home this year, but Stevie tempted me to Dock Kitchen with the promise of whisky matched to every course. Burns at Docks Kitchen was a little alternative – haddock carpaccio with burnt cream, homemade oat cakes with cods roe and shortbread with poached rhubarb – I never saw those dishes on the menu in Ruislip in 94.

The whiskies for the night were all from Bruichladdich. A distillery on the West coast of Islay. I visited once, in May 08. The owners’ dog took a real liking to my leg. An awkward experience. He just wouldn’t give up. Vigorous dog. The same could be said of the whiskies I tried there. Vigorous, persistent. I sipped "Waves" well cut with water, it made a suitably springy aperitif.

We started with roe and oatcakes served with "The Laddie Ten" – an unpeated Single Malt. Matured in American oak, this is Bruicladdich’s flagship whisky. Pale amber, it seemed to smell and taste of all the shades of that colour – from lemon peel to grilled peaches. It had the acidity of a Seville orange and was as creamy as coconut milk. The pairing worked on so many levels, the whisky sunk into the coarse and crunchy cakes, the creaminess of the roe was mirrored by the silkiness of the malt.

Haddock carpaccio seemed a rather brave decision to match with whisky. But haddock is no coward of a fish. Dressed with a little burnt cream it took on the whisky and managed to show off the more sensitive citrus side of the malt and a very faint sea’shelly (not weedy) character. It wasn’t as close a match as the roe, but it was much more fun.

Next up: the neeps and tatties and the prized pud. We were lucky enough to be sitting close to a real Scotsman, and I asked him whether he wouldn’t mind addressing our haggis, the famous Robert Burns poem was printed on the back of the menu. He did so with great gusto. My guests, from Latvia and Dublin had never been to a Burns night before, and while I looked on with pride, they looked rather nervous. Our reader had really gotten the hang of his carving knife and was making great gestures around and about and inside the haggis. It was getting heated and passionate, It was time for more whisky.

Cuvee A is a 16 yr old malt aged in Pauillac casks. The colour? It was rose – looking through the glass everything glowed. I looked at my guests, happy and rose tinted (and a little relieved that the real Scot had returned to his table). This whisky smelt familiar. It smelt of what I know better than whisky – wine. I would like to believe that even if I hadn’t known the casks were Baron de Rothschild’s exes, I might have guessed it right. It smelt of old Bordeaux – of libraries and music rooms, of flowers in vases drying neglected in the sun, Of light streaming through closed windows making dust dance in warm, stale air (I was pretty jolly by this stage – can you tell?)). The palate felt more structured, tighter, more austere than the Laddie. The flavours a hint heathery, a touch black treacley. With the haggis it was a formidable match. Two serious opponents and a fabulous game. The haggis powered forward with spicy bravado, the whisky took the hit and didn’t budge, then the whisky lunged, dense, dark and flavoursome, the haggis embraced the whisky in a fabulous homo-erotic finale.

With dessert we moved on to the 17 yr old Rum cask. Pale golden in colour, it was joyous, and so was I, well watered and fed and still with sweet things to come. The whisky smelt like pineapple and chocolate covered bananas, vanilla aromas and flavours from the American oak lent the whisky a roundness and softness that was notable in the Laddie, but this 17yr old felt broader and more robust on the palate. With shortbread it was heavenly, a mouthful of buttery biscuit and a sip of whisky as refreshing as sugar cane. The rhubarb broke up this cosy combination, contributing tang and bite.

I have long been a fan of drinking whisky with food. I don’t like drinking anything without eating – tea with cake, martini with olives, wine with everything. And that evening out West reminded me just how super a match for food whisky can be – even with raw fish. I returned to the docks a week after Burns to re-taste the whiskies. I read through the day’s menu and thought how beautifully the Laddie might work with flatbreads, labneh and bottarga and the Pauillac cask with the rump of Dexter beef and dauphinoise, and Id definitely give the rum cask whisky a go with the Cod cooked in Chermoula.

…Oh and I did end up dancing that night - in the kitchen, to Prince not the pipes.

Somehow Istanbulites get by with about 3 tube lines, two tram lines and a fernicular. Actually the tram was nicely air conditoned, which was a relief. You can also take it down to the docks to get a bit of sea air - nice and cool, nice to look at, and you can get fried mackerel sandwiches. There are two guys frying fillets of mackerel on a boat that listed so heavily in the waves it was miraculous that they could cook anything at all. You get your (very nicely cooked) fish in a baguette, with chopped onion and parsley, and at your tiny table, on your tiny chair, on the waterfront, you put on some lemon concentrate from a bottle and some crap salt. It's really delicious and it only costs one pound. Near the fried fish in Eminonu, if you trek up the hill, is the Grand Bazaar. It's quite a sight, and huge, but there was something a bit more sterilised, or perhaps civilised, about it than, say, those in Marrakesh. It's got neon lights and loads of stuff everywhere, like shoes or belts or cups or rugs and jewellry. They sell pretty much everything, if not in the Bazaar itself then in the surrounding backstreets which snake up the hill and round corners. Its very easy to get lost. After about two hours of walking up and down hills I came upon the spice market, which comprises several narrow alleyways crammed with big sacks of spice - allspice, dried oregano, cumin, coriander and about 8 types of dried red chilli flakes - pul biber. We use Turkish pepper flakes all the time at the Dock; It's that amazing smoky flavour that does it. Back in West London we can only get one type, but here there are different grades, different sizes, slightly differing shades of colour. It's obvious how much they love it, and here it gets sprinkled over almost everything. Hooray!

Anyway, markets are a pretty good place to eat food in general. Street food in Istanbul is brilliant. If you go to the Balik Paseri, or fish market, in Karakoy (near Taksim square, off the road that is a bit like Oxford Street), you can get fried mussels with tahini and garlic sauce. These are absolutely fantastic - you steam open the mussels, take them out of their shells, put them on a little stick, then drop them in batter (which should be kind of thicker than usual and have an egg in it) and in the hot oil. You get tahini sauce, a wedge of lemon and (if you're like me) millions of chilli flakes. There's also the guys that sell mussels stuffed with pilaf; possibly dangerous for your health seeing as they are kept out in the sun all day, but really good to eat. I reckon what you do to make it is steam open mussels in water, butter, oil and allspice, take them out of their shells, saving the juices, then make your pilaf with the mussel liquid. Half cook the rice, stuff inside the mussel ( this bit is annoying to do), put the stuffed mussel back in its shell, tie the mussel up with string (this bit is probably really annoying) and then steam until the rice is cooked. 

There are also the guys roasting chestnuts, grilling sweetcorn over charcoal, and selling simit bread - like a bagel with sesame seeds. Simit bread is good for breakfast with butter and jam. Other things that are good for breakfast are sucuk - a sort of sausage thats a bit like chorizo without the paprika: lightly spiced with cumin, pepper flakes and garlic, dried for a few weeks, and fried. Eggs come fried with yogurt, chilli and butter, or cooked in spiced tomato sauce. Or you can just have fresh cheese, olives, bread and fruit.

So I find that going somewhere on your own to eat food is thoroughly enjoyable but quite frustrating - there's only so much you can eat, but you want to try it all. The result of this problem is that one day I had three lunches all across town, and then had to have a little lie down in my hotel room before dinner. One of my lunches was lamb and rice soup - working man's fare, apparently from Gazientep. You can watch the guy make it in the place; he rubs lamb suet in a bowl, then puts the bowl on the heat with some slowly boiled lamb, cooked rice, loads of chopped garlic and loads of chilli, and the lamb stock. It's quite nice but maybe not the right thing to eat considering the weather. I think after that I had a steak at Dukkan - owned by the so-called 'butcher of Istanbul'; He's an actual butcher not a crazed killer. He told me that if you're a bit pissed, offal kebabs will sort you right out. 

Fortunately for my waistline, meze is very popular in Turkey. It's such a nice way to eat, lots of little things to share, and you can taste a lot of different things without feeling brutally sick at the end. The best place I went to was on a narrow street, one of several almost indentical restaurants with tables lining the walls of the alleyway, where a guy brings you a big tray with all the meze on it. You point out which ones look good - samphire with lemon and chilli, little piles of wild greens boiled seperately and dressed simply, aubergines slow cooked in olive oil with dill, a paste made from walnuts, dried chillies and tahini, pieces of liver fried with garlic, cumin and pepper, a salad of herbs and pomegranate molasses - and he takes the sample tray away and starts bringing your little plates over.

Now, what's good in Istanbul is grilled stuff. The Turks seem to have a knack for it. I noticed that all the charcoal fires I saw were carefully built and maintained - small coals but hot heat. I had delicious little beef kofte, spiced with cumin, in a freshly made flatbread with chips and pickled chillies in it, and was very pleased with myself. You often also see some guys going rogue: one man operations on a tiny grill, with small fresh fish barbecued whole - red mullet, bream and some other weird one, grilled with salt and served with oil, lemon and a bread cooked on the grill. Chicken wings come sprinkled with dried oregano and chilli. This way is also pretty good with octopus legs - we get them in frozen (which helps tenderise it anyway), boil them in water until soft but still a bit bouncy, and grill it over charcoal. Lemon, oregano, chilli flakes and oil, and you're pretty set up. 

One restaurant in Karakoy near the fish market specialises in grilled fish. The guy has been doing it for ages, gets his fish from a special secret cove, only cooks about 5 things and is completely brilliant. You can have grilled sole kebabs of small fillets threaded round a skewer, big grilled prawns, the ubiquitous chopped salad of tomato, cucumber and onion, or sea bass cooked in a paper bag on the grill. We did this one for our Turkish menu, and it worked really well. You have to wet and scrunch up your baking paper, then lay in your seabass, a slice of tomato, some herbs, tiny slivers of garlic, chilli and maybe an anchovy fillet, salt and lots of olive oil, wrap it up and grill it until it looks burnt. If you get it right the fish half grills, half steams in the bag, the tomato kind of melts, and there is lots of oily juice to mop up with your bread. 

There's a really wrong dessert made from funny filo-type pastry worms, sugar syrup, crushed pistachios and stringy melted cheese in the middle. It's called kunefe and its really weird. What's quite nice is tahini ice cream. And for some reason apparently the Turks are mad for profiteroles. And there's a baklava shop where the guys have stars on their badges just like in McDonalds, but each star represents a decade they've been there. One guy had four stars, he was cool.

In Istanbul, if you fancy, you can just pop over to Asia for dinner.

After a night in Pisa we were off to meet Emanuela and Marco in Radicondoli.  They have been running a smallholding for 33 years producing a wide variety of fruit and veg for themselves and even growing and milling their own wheat.  They sell olive oil, preserves, pickles, herbs wine and even soap from a small shop as well as running a cookery school and agriturismo. Very Busy People.

Autumn in Tuscany is truly stunning, and for November it was surprisingly warm.  We helped Marco and Lorenzo (their son) harvest Olives all morning.  I think we helped anyway, we were a bit slow. We spread nets out underneath each side of the tree and moved down the row after a hand operated vibrating rake thing has shaken the Olives to the ground.  We were working small trees, which were 8 years old and took only minutes to harvest.  The larger trees (25 years and older) we were told took over an hour.

Ater all that graft it was time for lunch. What a lunch.  We sat down to a hearty bowl of pasta e ceci.  A very simple dish of mashed chickpeas and broken pasta but with lashings of just pressed oil it was amazing.  For the main it was a version of vitello tonata made with roast beefsteak of veal with the cold tuna mayonnaise alongside the most perfect oil covered potatoes (patate lesse) and salad from Emmanuelles garden.  Coffee and moonshine Grappa a perfect finish to the meal then we were off to the frantoio to press the olives.

We swung past a Pecorino producer on our way to the press.  He had a few cheeses out for us to sample which he made from just a few sheep in his little plot of land.  He told us no batch was the same due to fat levels and flavour of the milk changing throughout the year as the sheep’s diets change seasonally. The differences were remarkable considering the production technique remains the same.  All of the cheeses tasted great but one stood out as the best so we squashed a couple onto our bags to take back to DK for our olive oil menu.

Arriving at the press we are amazed by how busy it was, olive farmers from all about the surrounding area waiting patiently to turn their harvest into oil.  It runs 24hours day during the harvest! With one or two sessions blocked off just for the organic producers. The olives are unloaded into a hopper and taken by conveyer belt to be washed.  Once clean they are crushed up and churned around for a bit with some added warm water to aid the oil extraction.  The mulch is then passed through one of Italy’s most famed olive centrifuges.  Then, once the husky stuff is out of the way, it is a case of separating the wastewater from the oil. The temperature is carefully monitored throughout as well as potential oxidation, good oil never heats to more than about 30 degrees and oxidation must remain low for the oil to taste really great. Marco picks his olives quite underipe so the flavour is more spicy and delicious but this lowers the yield and means he has to charge a little more.

I had to not expected the oil to be anywhere near a green as it was - it was neon, like fairy liquid. Over time though it settles down to the more familiar colour as it oxidises.  We all sit down to a bowl of ribolita and ceremoniously pour on a large helping of the new oil.  Marco and Emanuela are happy with it.  It was not a massive harvest due to the year’s dry weather but it meant higher oil content in the olives.  After all the hard work throughout the year looking after the trees and harvesting them, it all comes down to how it tastes, and this stuff tastes amazing - Oi-Oi!

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Ribolita

Serves

2 Large handfuls dried white beans such as Cannellini (soaked in cold water overnight)

2 Carrots

2 Celery Sticks

2 Onions

4 Tomatoes (fresh or tinned)

800g Cavolo Nero

6 thick slices stale bread (nice bread)

New seasons olive oil (The best you can afford)

Drain and rinse the pre-soaked beans and place a pan with water to cover and a tomato (the acid in the tomato helps the beans soften).  Do not salt the beans either as that can make them form a tough skin.  Bring to the boil then reduce the heat and allow them to simmer until soft.  Add more water if necessary.  When the beans are nicely softened (this may take an hour and a half) drain off some of the excess liquid and season.

Meanwhile, roughly chop the carrots, celery, remaining tomatoes and onion and place in a large pan over a medium heat with a glug of cooking oil and a pinch of salt added to help the vegetables sweat down.  Be sure not to let the vegetables catch the bottom of the pan, lower the heat if needed and fry slowly for 30 to 40 minutes until really soft and sweet .

Get a large pot of salted water on to the boil to blanch the cavolo.  To prepare this cabbage for the pot simply strip the leaves by pinching the central stem between your thumb and forefinger and slide the leaf off.  Blanch the cavolo until soft then drain and allow to cool.  One cool enough to handle squeeze out the excess liquid from the leaves and roughly chop.

Now it is a case of getting it together.  Add the beans and calovo to the softened vegetables and a little water.  It should be a little loose before adding the bread.  De-crust the bread and rip up into chunks and add to the pot, this will really thicken up the soup.  Check for salt and season as needed.  Give the soup a 10-15mins to come together and thicken up.

Serve in a large bowl and drizzle with the fancy olive oil you splashed out on.  Try not to be stingy; you will need about a tablespoon if not more per serving.

Ed proved himself to be the master of packing a huge amount of stuff into a slightly undersized van as we loaded up our wares at Portobello Dock before I drove, with some trepidation and with an axle very close to the ground, to the wilds of Suffolk to provide delicious sustenance to the crowd of people who had decided to spend the weekend at Jimmy’s Harvest food and musical festival.

Having never done this kind of event before there was a certain amount of guess work when it came to quantities and in hindsight we perhaps didn’t need to load our van up with quite as much stuff as we did: two tandoor ovens, one large charcoal grill, 30 large bags of charcoal, San Pellegrino aranciata and limonata to quench the thirst of thousands and enough produce to make 3000 portions of food.

We decided early on that we wanted to cook delicious Indian food at the festival and avoid the usual stodgy fare that is often the only option. As Harvest was a food festival there were some other tasty options (alongside some pretty boring ones) and we definitely had to compete to get our share of the market.

The tandoor ovens and the charcoal grill were our USP and judging by the number of repeat customers we had those that did come and try our food rated it as amongst the best food on offer.

 
Our menu was as follows:

Chaat Masala

Tempered Potatoes

Lamb Chop in Red Masala

Sardines with Chaat Spices

All served with fresh Roti bread

All the produce came from our suppliers at the restaurant…H G Walter for the lamb, South West Fish for the sardines & Natoora/Rushtons for the veg. One lesson learned on studying the figures afterwards was that using the UK’s top suppliers for festival food doesn’t make it easy to turn a profit!

Alex, Rich and Ed did a sterling job getting all the food prepped in time and found a novel use for a large black dustbin (brand new btw)…it became the proving/mixing bowl for our bread. Incidentally the dough really developed over the weekend and became deliciously sour by the last day. Sourdough roti bread is highly recommended!

The chefs were ably assisted by stand-in bread prover/Rocky Bilboa wannabe Marco and former indie band rock star/ringer Sam.

Serving the punters and generally beautifying the tent were Emma, Anna and Kate.

Stevie was around on the Sunday doing a presentation in the food area which sadly I missed as I was looking forward to seeing him wow the very gentile and polite crowd with his rock ‘n roll cooking demonstration….Reading and Leeds this was not.

Another slight downer was the terrible music on the main stage. Other than Gilles Peterson and Fat Freddy’s Drop (the Tandoor Tent took a mini break for this set) the highlight of the entire two day's of music was probably Mr Tumble doing the hokey-cokey!

Anyway needless to say that the whole weekend was lots of hard graft but also lots of fun and I for one will never forget the persistence of Rich late on Sunday night as the security guards were doing a final sweep to get rid of everyone on the site, still touting for business like a fruit and veg trader down the market. Well done Rich we nearly sold all those lamb chops!