Category: Fodderblog

Pizza Is Like Shakespeare: The Stable, Bristol

Bristol isn't ever going to struggle for good places to eat. From gastro to pub grub, the city is stuffed with nice spaces to tie on a nose-bag. On our visits to the city by the sea, I've always been impressed by the range of fab eateries on offer and their increasing focus on local provenance. One of the best recent examples of that philosophy has been, of all places, a pizza joint.

The Stable is part of a small chain of restaurants dotted around the south-west with a pretty unique USP. They've come up with a food and drink pairing that I'd never considered–pizza and cider. After a lunchtime visit, I'm a convert to the cause.

I mentioned provenance, and The Stable is dead serious about sourcing locally. The all-important crust is a sourdough made from organic British wheat. The meat and seafood falls well within locavore metrics, and the huge range of ciders and perries is all from the lower left of the country. They offer drinks by draft, bottle and mini-keg with a limited range of beers and wines and softies. The staff are friendly and knowledgable, affably offering me a couple of tasters to help me make up my mind.

Cider and pizza? Well, yeah, think about it. A beer with your margherita is a big wallop of wheatiness that'll leave you with a fat dose of bloat. Cider doesn't give you that, and you consequently find the food much more digestable. The lighter, crisper flavour just seems to cut through the richness of the toppings with a cleanliness that beer or wine simply can't. It's a deliciously logical pairing.

Pictured, my Longhorn Jim, approximately 15 seconds after it hit the table.

The pizzas are thin-crust and loaded with goodies, firing out with admirable speed from a brace of hefty wood-fired ovens. The generosity of the topppings means the most sensible option from getting the pizza into your feed hole is American-style: grab a slice, fold the pointy end over towards the crust and munch away. With my Longhorn Jim, heavy with ground beef, chorizo and ham (I'm a lapsed vegetarian, can you tell?) the crust was just strong enough to take the moisure from the tomato sauce and copious amounts of paprika-spiked oil to make it from wooden paddle to gob. TLC's Avonmouth Angler, though, was so heaped with smoked salmon and mackeral that she had to resort to a knife and fork. Mean while, DocoDom's Portishead Porker was every Englishman's dream: bacon, mushroom, tomato and a fried egg, breakfast on a pizza base.

Already hugely popular of an evening, The Stable seems well on its way to becoming a bit of a Bristol favourite, calmly buzzy at half twelve on a Sunday afternoon. Unflappable service and great grub in a spot that puts you right in the middle of Bristol's shopping and cultural hub? Bit of a no-brainer, frankly. The four of us were more than happy: sipping, nibbling and considering how The Stable were putting a wryly British spin on the Italian classic. Much like Shakespeare, pizza stands up to pretty much any setting into which you care to place it.

The Stable

 

Red Rags

Cold, wet weather needs some warm, robust cooking. While my love for the one-pot stew knows no bounds, there are times when a shank, steak, chop or pile of sausages are the only thing that will do. Sure, there's nothing wrong with some steamed veg on the side. But I think we can do a little better than that.

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p>I've been cooking red rags for a while now, and it's a dish that came out of experiment and necessity–that is, the need to use up tired veg that are lurking in the fridge and giving me guilt-trips. And while we're at it, one of those ingredients that seemed like a good idea over Christmas, but is now seriously outstaying its welcome.

It couldn't be simpler, really. The base is half a red cabbage and a whole red onion, which you cook down gently in a heavy, lidded pan with a knob of butter. They're shredded to the same sort of size, probably a bit chunkier than if you grated them. A mandolin does the job in seconds, but watch your fingers. If you have a couple of carrots, throw them in as well. If you have raw beetroot, even better.

Give your veg 15 minutes or so under a low heat, until it's softened but still has texture and bite. Now for the magic. It's two months after Christmas, and I bet you still have a half bottle of ready-mulled red wine knocking around. You know, that spiced, sugery stuff that never quite tastes as good as you think it's going to. It's not the greatest drink in the world, but when added to slow-cooked braises the sugar and spices mellow and transform into something with a lot more character. A glass or so of that over the veg, please, enough to cover. If you were sensible enough to steer clear of the ready-made, use normal red and chuck in a cinnamon stick. I haven't tried the muslin parcels of mulling spice, but I'd imagine you could use those at a pinch.

With the lid off now, bring the pot up to a fast simmer and let the liquid cook down to a sweet coating for the veg. Check the flavouring. If it's all a bit too sugary for your taste, throw in a little lemon juice or vinegar to balance things out.

The end result is a shining tangle of rich red deliciousness that's perfect sitting next to sausage and mash, a lamb shank, a pork chop, maybe even a hunk of monkfish. It's fantastic with game, of course. It'll keep in the fridge for a week or so. Cold, it makes a brilliant relish with strong cheeses and a good slice of ham. I'm thinking about making a pickled version just for that purpose. And of course, if you assemble the raw vegetables and bind them with a mix of mayo and creme fraiche, you have a fresh, crunchy ruby slaw, the uses of which are nearly endless.

In winter months I always have a red cabbage in the fridge just to make red rags. It's possibly my favourite vegetable dish for this end of the year. Easy to make, and with flavour to spare, it's going to brighten up your winter plates no end.