Tom Illic is a restaurant literally around the corner from the flat. It is at the end of our road, and since we have lived in the flat for a month now we felt that it was definitely time to try it.
It seems to have won every award going, from Square Meal to Toptable, to a Michelin recommendation. It was a surprise dinner from the Boyfriend as part of my weekend of spoiling. We got there at 8pm on Saturday and it was packed. With a lively but not obnoxious crowd of all ages - there were elderly couples, big families celebrating birthdays, several tables of young couples and even a family of four with two kids under 10.
The atmosphere was fun. The service was swift, polite but unobtrusive. The menu looked a little pricey, but there was also a very reasonable set menu that looked just as good.
I started with chicken livers pan fried with caramalised red onion and artichoke. It was delicious. Flavoursome without being overpowering and the chicken livers were tender and rich and perfectly paired with caramalised red onion. The bread which came to the table meant that I could spread some of the chicken as a pate - and it went wonderfully with the nutty walnut brown bread.
We both had the sea bass with crushed new potatoes and broccoli. On the face of it this sounded a little dull (fish, mash and greens). But it was far from that in reality. Covered in a well seasoned and mildly spicy dressing the whole dish worked brilliantly. The broccoli was firm and not over cooked, the sea bass steamed to perfection, and the crushed new potatoes were well seasoned and a little crispy on the outside - just perfect.
The Boyfriend had pudding - pineapple tarte tatin with coconut ice cream. He loved it, though it was a little tangy for me (I don't really like pineapple so it was never going to a winner). Being nosy however, I had a good gander at the puddings around and would definitely have gone for the assiette of derserts - a mini portion of each.
Being full of antibiotics meant that alcohol was off the agenda, but the wine list was a good'un. I would have pushed either for a bottle of the Chablis, or, as we were celebrating a nice bottle of prosecco.
Showing posts with label dinner. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dinner. Show all posts
Monday, 29 November 2010
Tuesday, 8 December 2009
Countdown to Christmas: Christmas Dinner
Every year since the very start of university we have cooked a Christmas dinner. And every year it is fraught with trials and tribulations; the carrots are not in batons but circles, there is not enough gravy, there is too much gravy, there are brussel sprouts, we forgot yorkshires, the oven is too small, the turkey has not defrosted in time, etc. But every year it all pulls together, and everyone arrives, and sits down, and shuts up, and we have a wonderful dinner til we are full with food, drink and laughter.
And this year was no different. After the necessary disaster (no Christmas dinner is complete without one) of the turkey going off, and needing to get a new one, the Wiganer arrived safely (she was my sous chef), we went shopping, made mince pies (see previous blog) and got ready for the epic feat of cooking Christmas dinner for 12.
The first hurdle was the turkey. It was a beast of a bird, weighing in at 7.4kg. And this year we decided to steam it. So we lifted it into the disposable roasting dish (M&S £1.99 and worth every penny) and I filled it with my homemade stuffing (again, totally worth doing as it was delicious) and surrounded it with onions, garlic, celery, wine and stock. And covered it with butter and bacon.
Turkey was then popped into the oven, where he stayed for 3 hours straight. We didn't need to baste him once, and he was juicy and yum, and not dry one little bit.
While turkey was cooking we peeled (thank God I got the peeler; many of the carrots peeled by knife looked as though they had barely survived a massacre) and chopped (discovering in the process how tough parsnips really are- we bent one knife just trying to hack one in half) and prepared everything else until all we had to do was roast/boil/bake/heat up everything.
Next we did the tree. With an owl on the top (we have no star or angel). Wearing tinsel bandannas/belts. And singing along to Christmas songs, courtesy of the Wiganer (although, along with the classics - Mariah, Wham, etc, we were also treated to Elvis "I ain't nothing but a reindeer" and some very Catholic hymns) until the house looked festive to the extreme.
Lastly we did the table. Now, the Christmas table is important. Everything, from the decor, to the seating plan, to the amount of elbow space allotted per seat needs to be considered. I'd bought a second table - a gateleg (yes, a technical table term - it has flaps and folds out) one from ebay - £7, to add to otherwise inadequate table (which seats 6 at a very tight sqeeze). They were both then covered with tablecloths (easy cleaning) and each place was set with a napkin, and cracker (although not everyone had a knife - we were one short, but the helpful boyfriend managed to supply an extra). And I sprinkled some fairy sequins/confetti over everything (and yes they were fairies, not weird bugs, thank you guests that greeted the table with "Oh! Where did you find mosquito shaped confetti"). And finally arranged the varied assortment of chairs (I drew the short straw and was left with IKEA's cheapest "stool" - otherwise known as an upsidedown bucket.
By the time all of this was done, the turkey was brown (pour on melted butter and roast minus the tinfoil for 20mins), and it was time to move on to the rest of the vast feast. We did the veg, and the potatoes, and the stuffing (3kinds) and sausages and yorkshires, and gravy. And by the time everyone had arrived (the latest arrivals being the ones that lived the closest) and everyone was seated, we served up like mega-glam dinner ladies (bowls of things on the tables would simply not fit).
And then we were all sat down, and it was ready to eat,
drink,
and be merry...
And sitting there, with everyone chatting and eating and drinking and laughing, I really felt a true sense of happiness, derived from the achievement of cooking a roast for 12, of everyone being there, of no major fire-related incidents (granted, there was one, but it was negligible) and of seeing everyone, old friends, new friends, boyfriends and best friends.
And this year was no different. After the necessary disaster (no Christmas dinner is complete without one) of the turkey going off, and needing to get a new one, the Wiganer arrived safely (she was my sous chef), we went shopping, made mince pies (see previous blog) and got ready for the epic feat of cooking Christmas dinner for 12.
The first hurdle was the turkey. It was a beast of a bird, weighing in at 7.4kg. And this year we decided to steam it. So we lifted it into the disposable roasting dish (M&S £1.99 and worth every penny) and I filled it with my homemade stuffing (again, totally worth doing as it was delicious) and surrounded it with onions, garlic, celery, wine and stock. And covered it with butter and bacon.
Turkey was then popped into the oven, where he stayed for 3 hours straight. We didn't need to baste him once, and he was juicy and yum, and not dry one little bit.
While turkey was cooking we peeled (thank God I got the peeler; many of the carrots peeled by knife looked as though they had barely survived a massacre) and chopped (discovering in the process how tough parsnips really are- we bent one knife just trying to hack one in half) and prepared everything else until all we had to do was roast/boil/bake/heat up everything.
Next we did the tree. With an owl on the top (we have no star or angel). Wearing tinsel bandannas/belts. And singing along to Christmas songs, courtesy of the Wiganer (although, along with the classics - Mariah, Wham, etc, we were also treated to Elvis "I ain't nothing but a reindeer" and some very Catholic hymns) until the house looked festive to the extreme.
Lastly we did the table. Now, the Christmas table is important. Everything, from the decor, to the seating plan, to the amount of elbow space allotted per seat needs to be considered. I'd bought a second table - a gateleg (yes, a technical table term - it has flaps and folds out) one from ebay - £7, to add to otherwise inadequate table (which seats 6 at a very tight sqeeze). They were both then covered with tablecloths (easy cleaning) and each place was set with a napkin, and cracker (although not everyone had a knife - we were one short, but the helpful boyfriend managed to supply an extra). And I sprinkled some fairy sequins/confetti over everything (and yes they were fairies, not weird bugs, thank you guests that greeted the table with "Oh! Where did you find mosquito shaped confetti"). And finally arranged the varied assortment of chairs (I drew the short straw and was left with IKEA's cheapest "stool" - otherwise known as an upsidedown bucket.
By the time all of this was done, the turkey was brown (pour on melted butter and roast minus the tinfoil for 20mins), and it was time to move on to the rest of the vast feast. We did the veg, and the potatoes, and the stuffing (3kinds) and sausages and yorkshires, and gravy. And by the time everyone had arrived (the latest arrivals being the ones that lived the closest) and everyone was seated, we served up like mega-glam dinner ladies (bowls of things on the tables would simply not fit).
And then we were all sat down, and it was ready to eat,
drink,
and be merry...
And sitting there, with everyone chatting and eating and drinking and laughing, I really felt a true sense of happiness, derived from the achievement of cooking a roast for 12, of everyone being there, of no major fire-related incidents (granted, there was one, but it was negligible) and of seeing everyone, old friends, new friends, boyfriends and best friends.
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