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A Bit of a Falafel I
It had to happen at some point, and it happened big style yesterday during our Food Writing course. The chocolate really hit the extractor fan. Boston Kate had had what would be for most of us a traumatic but once in a lifetime weekend, but which for her seems to be traumatic but par for the course (it did involve flying to Ireland, treating an old lady who had had a stroke who then died, and accidentally poisoning her friend's dog). She turned up late as usual, clearly even more on edge than usual, but when Butcher Graham innocently remarked at tea break that "It can't be that bad" it all came out big time. She hates this effing place, hates the effing lot of us, and can't believe what an effing mess her life is in. When I suggested perhaps she shouldn't be in school while she felt like that I was asked what she was supposed to effing do just fail the effing course? Nicky, the food journalist who had come in specially to teach us for two days, must have wondered what sort of madhouse she had come in to.
Oh by the way, the food writing course, covering both restaurant reviews - we went out for lunch so we could write up our thoughts on Craigie's farm shop café - and how to write menus so they are understandable, is so far excellent!
A Bit of a Falafel II
Naturally I had to pop out last night to check up on the Champions League semi-final between Arsenal and Man United, and afterwards felt a bit peckish but in need of something not too unhealthy. Wandering round the corner from Doctors, my regular footie pub, I found what is probably the best takeaway I've ever been to. I ordered a falafel with chilli and avocado. The guy smiled at me and said "Sit down, I'll make a fresh one for you." Sorry, did I hear that right? I sat down, watching the aftermath of the football on the big plasma screen, then let my eyes wander round the room. Tastefully decorated, with leather backed benches, clean tables, nicely painted walls, and beautiful original cornices. My order appeared a few minutes later, and I complimented the chef and sole proprietor on the decor. "We've tried to keep it in character," he said. Surely the only takeaway in the world where this is considered a priority. We had a long chat about cookery courses while I helped myself to a few of the 15 or so salads available, then said our good nights.
Now I've never really got falafels in the past. Slightly boring and soggy vegetarian alternatives that come in plastic packets has been my experience. But as soon as I took my first bite the crunch of the crisp outside of the falafel merging with the warm and herby inside, mixed with the tang of chilli and jalopeno and clean fresh tzatziki, all wrapped in a fresh pitta, I realised this was something else. Not only that, but not a trace of fat anywhere. Definitely a serious alternative to the late night kebab, and worthy of my first fine dining restaurant review.
It had to happen at some point, and it happened big style yesterday during our Food Writing course. The chocolate really hit the extractor fan. Boston Kate had had what would be for most of us a traumatic but once in a lifetime weekend, but which for her seems to be traumatic but par for the course (it did involve flying to Ireland, treating an old lady who had had a stroke who then died, and accidentally poisoning her friend's dog). She turned up late as usual, clearly even more on edge than usual, but when Butcher Graham innocently remarked at tea break that "It can't be that bad" it all came out big time. She hates this effing place, hates the effing lot of us, and can't believe what an effing mess her life is in. When I suggested perhaps she shouldn't be in school while she felt like that I was asked what she was supposed to effing do just fail the effing course? Nicky, the food journalist who had come in specially to teach us for two days, must have wondered what sort of madhouse she had come in to.
Oh by the way, the food writing course, covering both restaurant reviews - we went out for lunch so we could write up our thoughts on Craigie's farm shop café - and how to write menus so they are understandable, is so far excellent!
A Bit of a Falafel II
Naturally I had to pop out last night to check up on the Champions League semi-final between Arsenal and Man United, and afterwards felt a bit peckish but in need of something not too unhealthy. Wandering round the corner from Doctors, my regular footie pub, I found what is probably the best takeaway I've ever been to. I ordered a falafel with chilli and avocado. The guy smiled at me and said "Sit down, I'll make a fresh one for you." Sorry, did I hear that right? I sat down, watching the aftermath of the football on the big plasma screen, then let my eyes wander round the room. Tastefully decorated, with leather backed benches, clean tables, nicely painted walls, and beautiful original cornices. My order appeared a few minutes later, and I complimented the chef and sole proprietor on the decor. "We've tried to keep it in character," he said. Surely the only takeaway in the world where this is considered a priority. We had a long chat about cookery courses while I helped myself to a few of the 15 or so salads available, then said our good nights.
Now I've never really got falafels in the past. Slightly boring and soggy vegetarian alternatives that come in plastic packets has been my experience. But as soon as I took my first bite the crunch of the crisp outside of the falafel merging with the warm and herby inside, mixed with the tang of chilli and jalopeno and clean fresh tzatziki, all wrapped in a fresh pitta, I realised this was something else. Not only that, but not a trace of fat anywhere. Definitely a serious alternative to the late night kebab, and worthy of my first fine dining restaurant review.
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