Category Archives: producers

Two fishmongers

Posted on March 15, 2008 | 2 comments

David Felce, fishmonger, at his stall, in profile

A fishmonger is like a hairdresser – a gal is only meant to have one at a time. Bristol Farmers’ market is blessed with two wet fish stalls, each in sight of the other. This makes any pretense of exclusivity hard to maintain.

On Wednesday my mission was to buy the ingredients for a fish soup, including mussels. This meant a visit to both fishmongers.

I went first to David Felce‘s (see above). I bought raw monkfish cheeks (enough for one and a half people) and smoked haddock (two fillets) smoked by the fishmonger himself.

Feeling disloyal to David, I sidled over to the Handpicked Shellfish Company. Outside a gale threatened, so both stalls were huddled in the same area, even closer together than usual. (The above pic was taken the week before when David’s stall was outside, as normal).

I am new to buying shellfish – it is not in my tribal background. In fact the old testament decrees no. Listen, why should that stop me? I bought mussels (1kg) and 100g of (cooked) prawns.

The mussels are well scary. They can cause food poisoning if they not fresh. So, you have to buy fresh ones, alive. Why did I take on this dish (because Nigel Slater inspired me last Sunday)? Read on.

2 Comments

Posted in food, producers, recipe idea

Tagged Bristol farmers' market, fish soup, mussels, nigel slater, treyf

Sausage and soup

Posted on March 14, 2008 | 2 comments

Bowl of beetroot-red soup beside half-eaten sausage

Lunchtime in Corn Street. Unusual sight. It was Wednesday, Bristol’s farmers’ market day and – was I dreaming? – the street was empty. Where were my familiar local real food stalls?

Turned out a gale threatened and officials had sent the street traders to shelter in Saint Nicholas’ market. I found spelt loaves in its medieval stone portico, wet fish under its Victorian glass roof.

Time for lunch at the (covered) Rolls Royce cafe, smack-bang in the middle of Saint Nick’s daily bustle.

So I ordered smooth parsnip and beetroot soup, inventively seasoned with horseradish and ginger and respectably seasonal. It was so good I thought it was home-made (now that’s an accolade). The soup in fact hails from the Yorkshire Provender (soon to offer organic ones).

The Rolls Royce café is so community-minded, it lets you eat food you have bought elsewhere in this food kaleidoscope of a market.

I never eat pork, right, for atavistic reasons. But for some unaccountable reason, I let myself be persuaded by “Try the maple and pork, you won’t regret it,” from the man who left his office job to set up on his own selling organic, local and incredibly tasty sausages.

Did I regret eating the pork? No. Its sweet taste and yielding softness left little room for guilt, and combined with the seasonal soup, seemed delectable.

However, I confess: I didn’t want to tell you.

2 Comments

Posted in eating well on a budget, food, producers

Tagged farmers market, local food, seasonal food

Law of attraction

Posted on February 15, 2008 | Leave a comment

Spilt olive oil and reminder note to buy more

Valentine evening began on a real food lover note. A salad of organic fresh leaves from Better Food and sprouted radish from Aconbury, with sunflower seeds and vinaigrette. Steaming brown rice mixed with flakes of roasted organic salmon.

Listen, the fish is oak smoked by David Felce in his own kiln. The royal real food lover (my mother) says his smoked organic salmon is the best. It’s a family aspiration to have a good fishmonger. Can a girl have two? Bristol Farmers’ Market fulfills that role twice over – more on my next shopping trip. (Pic of David Felce below).

The Law of Attraction deems positive thinking can manifest wishes. I had duly “visualised” us grooving in a club. But post-dinner, things started to unravel. Winkler unprepared for travel action google-maps for directions, only to find the disco hall in disappointing darkness. Expectations of Valentine-harmony menace to take a dive. The only answer is funky Cheltenham Road on Bristol’s East Side.

11pm. The Valentine diners have dined. Bar one30 has had a tough night – the DJ was chef and the glass washer broke. But nothing dinted their welcome. It was like being at a festival – raw and real. The mixologist created a dream cocktail from my particular predilections: Baileys Irish Cream, Amaretto and honey vodka poured over crushed ice and sprinkled with ground cinnamon. Wow. (Seriously. Wow.) We named it Cocktail Zizi after one of my personalities.

When we left, the manager blew kisses, and the mixologist apologised for the chaos. Mike said, “It is much more interesting being at the edge of Valentine’s Day.”

Real bread

Posted on February 7, 2008 | 5 comments

Spelt bread stall

I live in several places at the moment and today it’s Bristol’s turn. Hello city, I say, saluting its stone buildings, built to impress. I am at its medieval trading centre and, time travellers, Corn Street is still buzzing centuries later.

Every Wednesday, Bristol’s farmers’ market takes over the historic street and here’s the glorious thing: its stalls are bursting with real food bounty.

I buy fresh halibut from David Felce, the fishmonger (see mini pic below). I won’t talk about fish right now. (Except to say I pan fried the halibut gently for five minutes in olive oil. I usually use butter so that was an experiment. Served it with purple sprouting broccoli. Yup, it was good, she says smacking her lips after dinner. Simple and seasonal.)

The god of convenience has blessed me. My local Bristol farmers’ market also hosts the best bread in the world.

The Common Loaf Bakery uses spelt and rye, flours that have not been hybridised out of their natural existence like wheat has.

I bought a four-seeded (sesame, linseed, sunflower and poppy) spelt loaf and a spelt fruit bread laden with figs, prunes and raisins soaked in sherry, plus hazelnuts, dates, cloves and nutmeg. Not to mention the Celtic sea salt.

Hand crafted artisan bread. It doesn’t get more real than that. (I love those Christians with Hebrew names who make the bread, and keep the price down by living as one family. Respect.)

While in Pie Minister, Bristol’s pie shop, I pick up a copy of Fork.

Promising “no celebrity chefs,” its strap line says: the real food magazine.

Sounds just down my street…