Getting cosy Under the Stairs, Edinburgh

Posted on April 1, 2013 by Delia

Sometimes you just have to eat somewhere that has a fish tank built into its fireplace.

It was a cold, sorry – I mean a BITTERLY cold day in Edinburgh – when I found myself desperately googling ‘warmest pub in Edinburgh’ and ‘warmest place to eat in Edinburgh ever’ and ‘make me warm in Edinburgh NOW’, when I realised I couldn’t feel my fingers anymore and Google hadn’t provided. So I did what we used to do a few years back and looked around frantically for somewhere to hibernate.

For those of you in Northern Europe who are currently suffering a similar fate – how are you coping and what survival strategies are you employing? For those of you elsewhere or reading this in the future I am writing during the period of time that I am sure will be known as The Great Easter Freeze of 2013… I mean, let’s be honest there is no way Jesus would have risen 2013 years ago if the weather had been like this.

Anyhow, I digress. So with numb fingers and a distant memory of feeling my toes, I headed down Merchant Street in Edinburgh (just behind the lovely statue of Bobby, the bonniest dog of Scotland who sat on his master’s grave for 14 years after he died…. Ahhhh!) And it was down that little road that I spied some railings with a sign reading ‘Under the Stairs’ and in the window below, a big comfy looking chair.

I shuffled my frozen feet down the stairs and tentatively pushed open the door. Immediately I was greeted by array of retro sink-into-me armchairs and the fire place/fish tank feature. I knew I had struck gold.

Glancing around, I realised this was one of those rare places that doesn’t really have a ‘bad table’ in the house. Table picking can be a tough gig. Too often when walking into a restaurant you immediately spy the two good tables – perhaps by the fire, with the comfiest seats etc – which are always taken, leaving you with the remainder of the room and its cold, drafts tables packed too closely together, by the door – the loo – the mad woman muttering to herself.

Under the Stairs offered no such predicament. The large cosy room, with its thick and battered wooden floor boards, offered a plethora of mismatched, cobbled together tables and chairs – each as lovely as the next.

The man behind the bar greeted me in a warm, Scottish drawl and told me to sit wherever. I immediately wanted to try out a few tables before settling on one – they all looked so good.

In the end I settled for one that boasted both a fabulous old armchair (they just don’t make them like they used to, do they?), and an old lampshade that gave off a warm, orange glow. Feeling very pleased with myself I perused the menu.

This is where Under the Stairs gains a few more brownie points. It has a fabulous selection of sharing plates… Anti pasti, cheese boards, breads and dipping oils etc that can be ordered until midnight. I am constantly seeking establishments that will cater to both my food and wine needs at all hours, if only I lived a little closer.

The rest of the menu also appealed – from the imaginative twist on a veggie burger (black bean, spring onion an mushroom burger), to the venison casserole and salmon and cous cous fish cakes, I was torn.

With most dishes costing about £8.95 it’s definitely a cheap lunch option in Edinburgh.

But it was this sign that caught my attention:

And this one:

Two things. One, they had my sandwich and soup and I needed them back and two, red wine must always be pondered.

So I pondered and I ordered and I sat in my Grandad’s chair, listening to David Bowie, plotting how to steal the Scottish Crown Jewels over a large glass of Rioja. I’m joking, I’m joking… I was drinking Cabernet Sauvignon.

The food arrived and I decided it was definitely the best use of £5.95 that I have put the pound to for some time. Ladies and gents, allow me to introduce you to my soup and sandwich.

Aren’t they lovely? Divine? As soon as we were ‘reunited’ I realised I had unknowingly missed them my whole life.

The soup, a spicy parsnip and puy lentil number, was delightfully coarse and rich with a heart-warming chilli kick to it. Meanwhile, the sandwich was door stopping – huge slices of granary bread were filled with Cajun marinaded chunks of chicken breast, accompanied by a sweet, caramelised onion garnish and garlic mayonnaise. There was no corner cutting.

As I finished my lunch, the tank cleaning man came in to tend to the fish. As I watched him remove water, add water, and do his thing, I couldn’t help but feel they definitely have the best spot in town. If I was a fish I would want to be by the fire, swimming around Under the Stairs.

Food Facts

My soup, sarnie, and large glass of Rioja came to £12.80.

If you want to get involved you’ll find Under the Stairs at 3a Merchant Street. Bell them on 0131 466 8550.

Weekend Cottage with a Hot Tub in Suffolk: Perfect for Four Little Piggies

Posted on February 10, 2013 by Delia

Everybody has a little piglet in them. Whether it’s behaving like hogs at the trough, indulging in a little dirt and mud every now and then, or perhaps thinking you’re a little bit cleverer then your pen mates sometimes, we’re not as different to our curly-tailed friends as you may think.

So it was quite appropriate after a two and a half hour journey from Nottingham to Suffolk (pigging out on pretzels and banana cake) that four little piggies arrived at Piglet’s Place, in a little village called Culford in Suffolk.

Matty and I are desperately trying to make sure we spend lots of time with our loved ones before we depart on our trip across Central Asia, and that is exactly what brought us to Culford with our good friends Gemma and Marco. We had a boot full of booze and grub, and a new, shiny pen to play in for the weekend.

Formerly a pig barn, Piglet’s Place has been somewhat spruced up in recent years.

We walked in, bagsied bedrooms and furiously filled up the fridge for the weekend.

But Piglet’s Place is more than just a posh pigs pen, it is a posh pigs pen with a hot tub. I have decided that cottages with hot tubs in the UK are the perfect answer to dealing with the uncertainties of British weather. I don’t mind battling the horizontal rains on a walks that leave you exposed to the elements for hours on end, but I do want to warm up afterwards. And hot tubs are the perfect way to soothe those aching trotters after such countryside adventures. It’s one of the few British outdoor activities where it doesn’t matter if its raining – in fact it is almost better if it is, just take a shower cap instead of an umbrella.

To be fair, the hot tub is more like a nightclub under the stars… It has flashing disco lights (I know, amazing), you can be in it until 3am – and you don’t wear many clothes. It might just be my new favourite club.

But it was the little touches that made this cottage stand out from the rest. Sitting on the work surface of the kitchen, in a cute little blue tin, sat a homemade cake, freshly baked for us.

Let me repeat that – they had baked us a cake! It was delicious and we ate it for breakfast.

So aside from eating, drinking and hot tub dancing, there is plenty to do in this corner of the world. Surrounded by acres upon acres of beautiful countryside there are plenty of walks to enjoy – and it is also near the quaint town of Bury St Edmunds, which is home to the Greene King brewery and has lots of lovely pubs and restaurants scattered across its cobbled streets. Oh, sorry that’s eating and drinking again, isn’t it?

We went for a lovely 6.5 mile walk across Thetford Forest, filled with tall, skinny trees as high a the sun and was quite delightful.

Me (on the left) with Gemma and Marco being naughty piglets. Do not try this at home folks.

A pretty river runs through the forest.

Sun worshipping.

This little piggy got numb fingers (me).

This little piggy led the way (Gemma).

This little piggy walked in the road (Marco).

And this little piggy went (for a) ‘wee, wee, wee’ all over the forest (Matty).

Then it was over to Bury St Edmunds for an ale or two. The pretty town boasts a wonderful old abbey that dates back to 633 and was over-run by the town’s people in 1327 who destroyed the Abbey Gate and killed several monks, as well as decapitating the abbot as he tried to flee. The placard, telling the story of the abbey, read like it had almost been written by the town’s people themselves – clearly quite proud of their rebellious history.

Abstract shot of the old abbey.

The Abbey Gates as they stand today.

All in, it was the perfect retreat for four little piggies… who did not want to drive ‘all the way home’ on Sunday afternoon.

Traveller’s Tips

Piglet’s Place is run by the lovely Steve Flack of Home Farm. He has about three properties on the farm and they also share a swimming pool, which opens in the summer. At least two of the properties have private hot tubs – we originally intended to book The Dairy, which is a smaller two-bed cottage with a hot tub. There was some confusion with our booking but Steve ended up offering us five star Piglet’s Place (which has three bedrooms) for £182 for two nights, which was the price of The Dairy at this time of year.

To make a booking or find out more click here.

There are some fab pubs within a one to three mile radius of the cottage including the Cadogan Arms at Ingham, the Woolpack at Fornham St Martin and the Three Kings at Fornham All Saints. We ate at the Cadogan Arms, which is more like a gastropub restaurant than your average spit and sawdust style ale house. The food was exceptional – we enjoyed perfectly cooked medium rare steaks and beautiful tempura squid. The wine list is very good and a two course meal with plenty of wine cost about £40 per head.

PS And I can’t believe its taken me this long to mention this – Piglet’s Place is a working farm and they have an amazing shed of cows that you can go and hang out with. Amoozing!

World in Pictures: Hyson Green, Nottingham

Posted on January 26, 2013 by Delia

What is it about leaving a place that makes you fall in love with it all over again? As we prepare for our big journey across Central Asia I find myself looking around at all the little things I have on my doorstep, and appreciating them more than ever.

The things that make me smile, things that hold so many memories, and things I will miss…

I want to make it clear that curry is not the ONLY thing I will miss. I’m sure my body will get used to eating fatty morsels of meat on kebab sticks as we travel over the ‘stans, I’m sure it will be fine. There will be no tears – or waking in the middle of the night, interrupted from dreams where I was about to tuck into a spicy melt-in-your mouth lamb curry with a freshly baked, soft naan bread to my side – none of that.

The problem is, I live in Hyson Green – home to some of Nottingham’s finest curry houses. If you are reading this and have not yet sampled such delights then can I suggest you grab your purse and go straight away. Now. My personal favourites are Kabul (where Mantu, steamed dumplings of chopped lamb, onions and herbs topped with yoghurt, is an absolute must) and Desi Express, which has an array of delicious curries and the amazing takka-tak dishes, where the meat is chopped up as it cooks on a large metal grill. It literally makes the sound ‘takka-tak takka-tak takka-tak’ as the chef chops away, which incidentally is a beautiful sound. A curry and a naan bread in both establishments will set you back £5.

So, yes I am a bit worried there might be some curry-starved-tantrums on the Silk Road. But just to prove that is not all I will miss about this lovely ‘hood, here are a few pics I’ve taken in recent weeks of my other favourite things…

The Forest Recreation Ground… thank you for the wine-fuelled summer evenings and crisp, snowy walks

Oh Gregory Boulevard, we’ve had some times, haven’t we? You look prettier in the snow.

Thank you tram for stopping at the end of my road and sometimes making me a little bit less late to things.

Asda, we’ve had a love-hate relationship, but thank you for always serving me wine at 21:59.

You’re one of my favourite doors in Nottingham (and no, I have not been behind it)

Hyson Green, you have buildings of all shapes and sizes. I like your eclectic style.

And I love your rows of red-brick terraces with big bay windows

Errrrm… you have some nice trees?!

The fabulous New Art Exchange: For art, music, craft and FOOD.

Hello My Name is… Hyson Green

Art on every corner.

And yes, there probably will be another post yet on the colourful vegetable stalls, Indian-sweet stores and ahem, curry houses of Hyson Green. Talking of which, I’m getting peckish… time to “make the most” of what’s down the road, eh?

What have I missed? Feel free to share your favourite haunts.

Urban Exploring in Nottingham: The Great Northern Railway Warehouse

Posted on January 3, 2013 by Delia

I have become one of those people who looks at an empty, derelict building and thinks: ‘Can I get in there?’

I’ve even specifically cycled to buildings just to ‘stake’ them out.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately as my mother would see it, I’m not a very good law breaker and am easily deterred. For instance on a recent stake out to the old Radford Mill site near Garden Street in Nottingham I walked away within minutes after seeing the Warning: Guard Dogs on Site sign.

If I stop to think about this it’s probably fairly unrealistic that dogs have just been kept at this old mill for god knows how many years… But am I going to risk it? Not a chance.

More recently, as Matty and I walked home from town after a few ales, we passed the old Forest Mills buildings off Alfreton Road, which are currently being pulled down by the council. We skulked around the edge of the site, threatening to go home and get our camera – ‘and just get in there’, and making other such brave comments. It was then a bloke appeared out of the shade and said ‘you wanna get in?’ – as if selling tickets for entry.

‘Yeah, yeah’ I muttered, desperately trying to disguise my Home Counties accent for something a bit more street.

‘Don’t think much is left in there,’ he said darkly, as much to himself as to us. ‘I know a bloke that got in that one,’ he said, turning his arm 180 degrees across the dark sky, towards a 1960s tower block that had just been emptied and was earmarked for demolition. ‘He stripped it, got about £5k of lead,’ he continued.

‘Crikey,’ I said (I couldn’t help it, it just slipped out), thinking I’d probably written stories about his mate.

‘Anyway, you want to get in? I can get you in’, he said, our eyes falling back to the site we had been scouring just minutes earlier.

‘Errr yeah, that would be great,’ I found myself saying. ‘Although not tonight, we’ve, errr, got to meet some mates now.’ And with a dramatic glance at my watch and a slightly over-zealous gasp, we were off on our way home.

You get my point. As fascinated as i am by old empty buildings that are laced in history and scattered with little pieces of life from another time, I’m just not really cool enough for all this ‘urban exploring’.

But if a door is left open, that is another matter.

My first experience of ‘urban exploration’ was when I stumbled across this old corn warehouse in Nottingham, which used to belong to the Great Northern Railway. Built in 1850s, it has stood empty for years and was pretty much gutted by a fire that ripped through the building in 1996.

I was doing a spot of homework for my photography course and wandered over to its main entrance, on Manvers Street, to take a few snaps.

But as I was taking pictures of these seemingly impenetrable gates I was interrupted by a couple of teenagers. Truth be told, I was lying on my back at the time, trying to get some ‘arty shots’ that never actually worked out.

‘You into urban exploration?’ I suddenly heard. Lowering my camera down from my face, I saw a girl and a boy peering down at me.

I think I might have said something intelligent like ‘what’s that?’ as I peeled myself from the floor, ignoring all the stones and grit stuck to my skin.

‘We go into old places and record it, take pictures and stuff,’ replied the girl, who must have been about 14 tops. ‘We can take you in here if you want’, she added, pulling away a wooden panel at the side of the locked gates.

I was tempted. I nearly followed them in, but I held back, a little unsure about my new friends.

‘Just don’t go in on your own,’ one of them warned me. ‘Full of skag-heads and homeless people. Two women were murdered in here,’ she added.

And with that as their parting shot they trampled over the wooden panel and into the unknown. I gingerely put my head through. There was a grassy hill leading into the unkempt grounds with weeds almost the size of trees and grass as long as wheat…. I decided to just perch on the hill and take a small picture.

I knelt down into the grass (avoiding the needles) to change my camera lens and at that penultimate moment where both lenses are off and the camera is naked to the elements, I heard rustling and voices. I looked up to see a bloke and a girl walking towards me. Holding eye contact with my camera only, he greeted with me with an ‘Alright’ while her eyes rolled around in their sockets. As I took in the dark rings around their eyes, and their pale, hallowed faces, I felt certain that they could hear the loud thumping of my heart as I debated whether to try and run back down the hill or just play it cool.

I attempted the latter, I think I squeaked an ‘alright’ back as I ~~casually~~ furiously changed my lens. They staggered past me and were soon lost in the jungle-like weeds ahead. I turned on my heels and ran the hell out of there.

Two days later I was back. With back-up… in the form of Matty. And after walking through the needle-strewn grass we reached an entrance of sorts….

As we approached it, we heard someone call out. As we have discussed before on this blog, I am a massive scaredy cat, so news that we had company naturally terrified me.

The man shouted down, ‘I just wanted to let you know I’ll be coming down the stairs. It’s pitch black in parts so I didn’t want to alarm you.’

Well, what a lovely chap, I thought. But as we walked into the darkness and started climbing the stairs I did think, ‘it’s probably a trick, what if he’s just luring us in…’

Suddenly I found myself thinking of the two homeless women that were found in the building in 2005. Was this how it started for them, I wondered.

We soon passed him on the stairs and he was most pleasant.

So… what did we see?

Passing all the dark, leaking, empty rooms – one of which had numerous tents in it – we finally stepped onto the roof.

See Matty is a much cooler ‘urban explorer’ than me and my mental, over active imagination.

Nevertheless, as we headed back down the rickety stairs (at a quicker pace past the tent room) and into the wilderness, stepping over bottles of Buckfast and fag packets, I mentally made a note to add ‘urban explorer’ to my CV.

If you want to see some more impressive explorations, take a look at this site called 28 Days Later, which has some wicked stuff on it.

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: This is, of course, a fictional tale. Under no circumstances have I ever considered breaking and entering and certainly not trespassing. These pictures were borrowed from someone naughtier than me. And no, that’s not Matty in the picture, it’s his pesky doppelgänger, who gets us in all sorts of trouble.

Chino Latino, Nottingham: Food Porn on a Plate

Posted on November 11, 2012 by Delia

WARNING: This post contains serious food porn. If you’re feeling peckish right now I suggest you eat something substantial before reading…

I first stumbled across Chino Latino at the Nottingham Food and Drink Festival this summer, when Old Market Square is transformed by dozens of stalls offering delicious treats from around the world. I was a bit of an embarrassment that week if I’m honest… I gave up any lunch-making ambitions and shamelessly ran to the square at noon every day to get my fill.

It was on one of these days that I noticed Chino Latino’s little stall that had chefs rolling sushi and impressively tossing ingredients around in a large wok. They had some gorgeous little dishes on offer and I went for the wasabi prawns. To this day I still talk about these prawns… There were about five of the giant, juicy fellas, dressed in a spicy, wasabi dressing, sitting in a large shell. They were divine.

That weekend when my friend Nicki visited I took her straight down to the square for a prawn fix.

She LOVED it

I pledged then and there that I would dine at Chino Latino before the year was up. And when it comes to food I never break a promise.

Finally, on a chilly, autumnal Tuesday evening last week I made it. Eating so early in the week can often be challenging when it comes to atmosphere, but I needn’t have worried about that. The restaurant, which sits underneath the Crowne Plaza Hotel on Maid Marian Way, was absolutely heaving, although I think its warm, dim lighting with red tones would still create an inviting atmosphere when empty.

The menu is basically a list of all my favourite things. It’s ‘Asian fusion’ so has a fabulous selection of small bites including sushi and dim sum as well as more international favourites like tempura, duck pancakes, chicken wings and Thai fritters. That’s even before we get to the ‘main courses’, but it’s the kind of place that encourages sharing, and we all know how I feel about that, so you don’t even have to order a main – you can just order lots of little dishes.

The staff were wonderful. And that means a lot to me. I spent years working as a waitress so I know how easy it is to be nice and helpful (bar the occasional nightmare customers who deserve every filthy look they get) – but unfortunately so many waiting staff seem to disagree with this. Not so at Chino Latino, our friendly waiter explained we could just order small plates, or one main plate with a few of the smalls – or just whatever we fancied. There were no rules. And I love nothing more than a good waiter with no rules.

Afters much ‘umming and ahhhhing’ we settled on about four small plates, a main to share and a delicious bottle (or two) of Chianti. The latter, the Chianti Superiere II Leo made in Ruffino, Italy, was a warm, spicy number with cheeky plummy after tones.

Our waiter explained that the food would be served as and when it was ready but said he would put breaks between some dishes. I was impressed by his foresight and managed to ignore the fancy pants within me who wanted to stipulate which dishes arrived when. I decided to trust him.

And sure enough, first up was the vegetable tempura. The very dish I would have asked to arrive first.

Juicy is not normally a word I would use to describe vegetables. Crunchy, fresh, green – yes, but not juicy. However, I have to say these vegetables were just that – chunky slices of aubergine, red pepper, courgette and sweet potato were deep fried in the lightest of tempura, allowing the oils to seep through and bring out the deep and unique flavours of each veg. With a light, sweet soy sauce to dip them in, I have never enthused so much about vegetables.

From the juicy, light veg, we tucked straight into some naughty dim sum of foie gras and shiitake mushrooms. I’ll let the picture do the work here…

Imagine breaking into those steamy buns?! The foie gras gave it a wonderfully rich edge but the mushrooms brought it down a ‘meaty’ peg or two, making for a mighty fine dumpling.

Meanwhile the scallops (pictured above – but again now to make sure you really understand them) were equally special.

Meaty and juicy, the pan-fried scallops were perfectly cooked and drizzled in a rich soy sauce. Their melt-in-the-mouth texture was enhanced by the creamy yuzu aioli and complemented by the crushed, crunchy wasabi peas sprinkled on top.

The crispy duck was also a raging success. Served whole and carved at our table, we happily rolled up little pancakes of meat, cucumber slices, spring onion slices and hoisin sauce.

And then, just when we thought it couldn”t get much better, we were served a basket of beef. That’s right, a basket of beef. Served piping hot but perfectly pink, the slivers of fillet came with a selection of three dips; wasabi, teriyaki and a garlic and chilli. And if that was not enough, you could actually eat the basket. It was made from threads of sweet potato, I might refuse to take any other kind of basket in the future.

This beautiful basket of beef was our “main course” dish

After initially rubbing our bellies and declining dessert, curiosity got the better of us and we asked to see the menu (for research purposes only you see). Upon perusing our options I immediately found a small, fifteenth of a stomach that was free for dessert and while it pains me to admit there wasn’t quite room for the chocolate and ginger fudge cake or the passion fruit cheesecake with blowtorch marshmellow (both of which I will have to return for), I did sign us up for the homemade exotic sorbets to “cleanse the palate”.

These little balls of rasberry, lychee, guava and mango sorbet were a taste sensation. My friend Lorna, who hath protested she needed no dessert just minutes earlier, cried: “Can you feel the goodness going into you?” as she sooped the sorbet up by the spoonfuls.

I can conclude that Chino Latino has not only made it into my all-time top three Nottingham restauarants, but is easily jostling for the first place position. It does come at a price with small plates ranging from £7 to £12 and mains from £11 to £25, but if you’re looking for something a little bit special to top the taste charts then it’s worth every penny. If, on the other hand, you’ve not got the budget for that then we’re only a (cold, bitter) winter away from the Nottingham Food and Drink Festival and my shell of meaty prawns only set me back about £4.

Iberico, Nottingham: The King of Tapas in his Castle of Churros

Posted on October 30, 2012 by Delia

There’s a new word that’s entered restaurant vocab of late. It has just quietly slipped in, unannounced, and often comes up during those precious moments when you’re scanning the menu, desperately trying to absorb what’s on offer, keen to make sure you make the right decision. Fomo.

Fomo, my friends, means the Fear Of Missing Out and it’s a growing condition. It tends to strike when two people are torn between the same dishes. When one makes a decision, the other turns to her decisively (and a little bit bitterly) and says: ‘Well I shall have to have the same otherwise I’ll be riddled with fomo.’ Ok she might not say riddled, but you get the idea.

To be fair, it has a point. There is nothing worse than spending an entire dinner staring at someone else’s food, wishing it was yours.

But this is why I am such a fan of tapas. Specifically, tapas at Iberico in Nottingham.

Tucked away under Nottingham’s busy pavements in the caves of the Lace Market, this is the perfect place to while away an evening ordering two, three, four even five small dishes. And obviously the Spanish designed tapas so that you also get to share all the dishes ordered by your dinner companion too. It’s perfect for a fomo-free night of nibbling.

It’s white, low-arched ceilings create a warmth that feels almost unimaginable when pacing the pavements above on a cold winter’s day, and the cosiness is further intensified by the restaurant’s soft lighting and the Arabic mosaic tiles that adorn the bar.

Apologies for the poor quality of the pics, the cosy, warm lighting played havoc with my camera

But it is the quality of the food that makes this place stand out from the crowd. You will find all the tapas regulars on the menu like patatas bravas, chorizo and totrilla but you will also find an endless list of ever-changing imaginative dishes like its infamous black cod in spicy miso, the scallops with smoke cured pork belly and cauliflower foam or beef skewers with truffle sauce. To put it bluntly, Iberico makes La Tasca taste like fast food. So it is no surprise to learn that it has just picked up a pretty impressive food gong – the Michelen Bib Gourmand, which is an accolade given to “good value” restaurants by the most respected food guide in the world.

Dishes are priced at anything from about £4 to £8, which I agree is good value for the quality here – but as my belly is so often dwarfed by my big, greedy eyes, it is easy to walk away with a bill larger than one would reasonably expect for two people. However, on my most recent trip I sampled the early-bird menu which took this problem right out of my hands.

For just £13.95 you can have two tapas dishes and two chunky slices of their delicious Catalan bread (imagine crusty door-step toast made from the softest bread, smothered in a herby, garlic tomato paste). It works. Plus dessert is also included.

The early-bird menu also scores points because it doesn’t just leave you with the cheap dishes to choose from. We ordered the pan fried squid with chorizo jam, jamon croquetta, the sausage and bean cassoulet with confit of duck and the wild mushroom, kale and chilli empanadilla. It was hard to pass on the delicious sounding roasted cauliflower in curry mayonnaise with almonds and rice and the grilled hake with piquillo pepper, green olive and lemon salsa – but that is just testament to the great selection on the bargain menu.

The wine menu is equally impressive and we ordered a beautiful bottle of Montepulciano that arrived at the perfect temperature, despite the almost icy weather outside.

And after about 15 minutes or so our food began to arrive. Iberico serves the dishes as soon as they’re ready so be prepared to finish one dish before the last has arrived, but it does mean you can enjoy each dish while its hot and fresh from the pan.

The cassoulet was the perfect winter warmer. The duck confit gave a delicious rich flavour, while the chunky pieces of chorizo and stewed beans contributed to its rustic and robust texture. And the squid was just as impressive. It’s reassuring to be offered squid without its usual coat of batter, instead the delicate flavours of the al dente pan-fried squid were accentuated simply by salt and pepper – and a sweet, sticky chilli jam on the side.

The mushroom patties (aka empanadilla) were fab. These delightful little parcels of crumbly puff pastry were stuffed with finely chopped marinated wild mushrooms and the kale, which it was served with, had a nutty sweet flavour. I was a little bit in love.

And the jamon croquetta fingers were equally delightful. Their crispy bread-crumbed shells broke away to reveal a creamy, cheesy béchamel dotted with ham. I remember loving Findus crispy pancakes as a kid but returning to them years later and realising, with horror, that they were awful. However, I must confess that these croquettes are, to my matured taste buds, what Findus was to my five year-old self; a guilty, creamy pleasure.

And then it was time for dessert. Just look at this…

Like a castle with turrets of Spanish doughnut; the churros was something special. The fried dough-pastry fingers were perfectly crispy on the outside, sprinkled in cinnamon sugar, but beautifully melt-in-the-mouth soft on the inside. And the hot chocolate dip (yes it comes with hot chocolate dip) was wonderfully rich, thick and creamy. I was in heaven.

So there you have it, the essential guide to dealing with fomo; you can order, taste and fall in love with everything on your table… without any fear in the world.

DISCLAIMER: If you’re eating from Iberico’s standard menu you will be spoilt with a huge selection of tasty tapas. The cheese board is to die for and the black cod is amazing. In fact, unless you are dining with a small group of people, and can order at least 12 dishes, you may still suffer from fomo. Sorry about that.

Food Facts

The express early evening menu is available from 5.30pm to 6.45pm Monday to Friday, and we had to vacate our table by 8.30pm for the evening diners. It costs £13.95 for two tapas dishes, the Catalan bread and dessert (the churros and hot chocolate incurred an extra £2 supplement).

You can also get the same deal at lunch time during the week for £11.95.

Iberico World Tapas lives at the Shire Hall, High Pavement in the Lace Market and you can call them on 0115 9410410.

World in Pictures: Lenton Flats, Nottingham

Posted on October 19, 2012 by Delia

The Lenton Flats in Nottingham are like the Eiffel Tower to Paris, the Shard to London, or the Empire State Building to New York.

Of course I’m exaggerating, they never quite made it as a tourist destination, but nevertheless the five 1960s tower blocks dominate Nottingham’s skyline, well if you live in that part of town anyway.

But not for much longer. Nottingham City Council is pulling the whole lot of them down… They are going the way of the dodo.

In my job as a reporter I went out there for resident reaction (yes I was the person ringing all the buzzers until someone let me in), which gave me the opportunity to explore a place that will soon become a little piece of history that separates generations. And contrary to the popular belief that no one would want to live in these ‘eyesores’, I found people in spacious, well looked after flats with tenants who were sad to leave. Yes, they said it was cold in the winter but they had raised their children here, their grand-children lived round the corner, Mavis upstairs is their best friend.

But the council says they are not financially viable and I’m sure they’re not. They are building new, warmer homes in their place. But as I walked around the estate that has been a landmark for so long, and a home to so many, I found myself singing ‘The Way of the Dodo’ by The Streets. And here are my pictures… to the lyrics.

I’m right behind you but don’t expect me to ride like it’s a race

Conspiracy theories – we all see these

Just another brother trying to love my son and mother

Scramble for the top, for the bottom of the ceiling

For the kids let’s make the rules

It’s not that I don’t care, just that I’m way too caught up with breathing air to grieve the trees

I can’t imagine the day when things have actually faded away

World in Pictures: Goose Fair, Nottingham

Posted on October 7, 2012 by Delia

In Nottingham autumn is not marked by the change in the colour of leaves, nor the need for a scarf. No, no, it is marked purely by the arrival of a goose. When the goose lands on the Mansfield Road roundabout you know the season has officially changed and its time to crack open the winter wardrobe.

The Goose Fair, one of Europe’s largest travelling fairs, rocks up at the Forest Recreation Ground every October. This weekend it’s the fair’s 718th visit and to celebrate the milestone I’ve put together a few of our pics from the past couple of years (and drunk a bottle of Chianti). Add hundreds and hundreds of people, the smell of sweet, sticky candy floss in the air and five different booming songs playing from rides all around you, and then, and only then, will you get a true picture of the infamous Goose Fair.

What came first – the goose or the mushy peas?

The Kiosk in Sherwood: The Best Breakfast in Nottingham

Posted on September 5, 2012 by Delia

I am a breakfast diva. I take breakfast extremely seriously. Not because ‘it’s the most important meal of the day’ and ‘it gets your metabolism going’ blah, blah, blah. No, I take it seriously because I always wake up starving and I love eating, so naturally I want the first thing I eat to be brilliant.

And now I have found the perfect place to deal with this slightly high maintenance morning manner. It’s called The Kiosk in Sherwood, Nottingham.

Tucked away off Mansfield Road down Winchester Street, you will find this little gem which, as it’s name suggests, is little more than a small kiosk with some outdoor furniture and a large umbrella to protect you from the elements. If this description conjures up images of greasy truck stop on the A1 then think again. The Kiosk itself is a small, but delightfully cosy, open-plan kitchen where you will find Beth, and perhaps one or two others, cooking away. There is space for two or three people at the deli counter as you walk in, which has an array of mouth-waiting homemade delights.

The attention to detail is incredible; everything from the cute little brown paper table number that you are given after ordering your food to the funky watering cans that line the windowsills, it is irresistibly quirky.

So much character, right down to the salt and pepper pots.

The breakfast menu seems to change every day (according to Matty, who regularly sends me gloating texts reporting what he’s eating when he’s off during the week). But when I finally got round to visiting recently there was a Middle Eastern style breakfast on offer.

Gazing over the large chalk board propped up against the wall, I was spoilt for choice. The Persian potato patties with tahini and toast sounded delicious, but what was the Middle Eastern fried egg all about? And how could I turn down the Lebanese breakfast with yoghurt, olives, tahini, feta and pita bread with tomato salad when it was followed by ‘this is really lush’ in brackets.

Fortunately for me the line underneath said: ‘A little bit of everything – £5’. Anyone who caters to my chronic indecisiveness deserves a gold star for that alone. So we ordered and took our seats on the little terrace, trying to ignore our rumbling bellies.

Matty chilled in the deck chair…

Nicki was really hungry.

Now I had heard about Beth before arriving at the Kiosk. People talk and in a small city like Nottingham, word gets around quickly if you’re very good – or very bad – at anything. For Beth it is the former, she has a reputation for just popping up and cooking fabulous food at different locations across the city before disappearing again. So naturally, there is some buzz about her having a place of her own, which we can visit as often as we please.

And what a cute place it is. The terrace is lined with luscious green herbs.

Needless to say when the food arrived it did not disappoint. I’m not sure which part to rave about the most – the middle eastern fried egg that was impeccably runny with spices folded into the whites, or my chunky Persian potato pattie that was gone within minutes of it all arriving. The home made baked beans were the perfect accompaniment and as I mopped up the last of the flavours on my plate with the pitta bread, I declared it the best breakfast in Nottingham. And I do not say that lightly.

Where else can you finish breakfast with a slice of homemade syrupy, nutty baklava that melts in your mouth? I will be back. Oh, and if you’re worried about eating outside in the winter, Beth said she is looking into getting some ‘structures’ built, so watch this space!

Nottingham Contemporary Cafe: When Art becomes Food

Posted on September 3, 2012 by Delia

I have to admit some art galleries intimidate me. When people talk about the likes of the Tate Modern and the Louvre in excited tones, I nod in agreement. I do not tell them that the first thing I look for is the board that tells you which floor the cafe is on. And I definitely do not tell them that I have been to the cafe of any good art gallery about 10 times more than I have visited the exhibitions. Until now.

An all-time favourite cafe of mine is that of the Tate Modern’s, which can be found on the sixth floor of the former Bankside Power Station; boasting stunning views across London with a wonderful selection of food and fine wines. And I can’t tell you how delighted I was when I realised that you could walk all over the roof of the Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art in Nice. Just thinking about endless floors of art makes me crave a pastry of some kind and a frothy coffee.

So whenever I tell people I have visited the Nottingham Contemporary, the chances are I didn’t explore its three impressive galleries of regularly-changing modern art. No, no, I probably went straight down to its wonderful cafe on the basement floor. And when my two friends Nicki and Nick came up from from London recently, that’s exactly what we did.

The Contemporary is a wonderful airy space that opens out onto a lovely, large terrace area for alfresco snacking. Its exposed concrete walls are decorated with quirky, arty features and its high ceiling exacerbates the size of the room.

See, you can get your art fix without even leaving the cafe!

Perfect for a light lunch, the cafe has a ‘buffet table’ of salads, pasta and noodle dishes, and freshly baked tarts. You buy a small or large plate, for about £6 and £8 respectively, and you can fill it as high as you want. Almost like a really posh Pizza Hut salad bar.

Our salad plate did not disappoint. We tucked in to a delicious spicy brown rice and pea salad, which was reassuringly al dente. Packed with kidney beans and chick peas, it had fresh herbs shredded through it with crunchy vegetables mixed in. We also enjoyed a kale and green vegetable salad, a wholesome dish that would have made Popeye proud. Meanwhile the sweetness of the honey roasted butternut squash was the perfect antidote to the crab and sweetcorn tart, which had a wonderfully strong fish flavour. I hate a bland tart.

The menu also has a good mix of sandwiches (of the chunky ciabetta and doorstep style) as well as a mix of grilled meats (I intend to go back for the lamb kebab) and burgers, if you fancy something a bit heavier. We opted to also share a spicy bean burger and chunky chips, which was mouth wateringly good. The crispy coating of the burger held the spicy, mushy bean mix together perfectly and the chips were served piping hot.

Just to round things off, we opted for a slice of the coffee and walnut cake and a rhubarb and ginger cheesecake slice. Both disappeared from the plates quickly. Here’s a little pic of the coffee cake, which was wonderfully moist, before it was devoured. I didn’t even get a chance to photograph the cheesecake…

The exhibitions at the Contemporary change every few months. The salad bar, I am told, changes every month. And while the roasted butternut squash may not have the same mystery as the Mona Lisa, nor the coffee cake have the longevity of Van Gogh’s Sunflowers, these muffins my friends, are my Water Lilies.

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World in Words

By a girl who loves to write, eat and explore…

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