Twelve. Marsh Mill Village, Thornton Cleveleys

We went because Jonathan recommended it – to The Times – and enjoyed the experience very much. It may take a few more words than usual to do it justice. The key to its success is attention to detail. The restaurant describes itself as “urban chic”. That’s pretty accurate and the surroundings are a bit like sitting in Purves and Purves on the Tottenham Court Road, so good taste all round. The ceiling is high so the space is just a bit on the chilly side in mid-January but that’s good justification for tucking into hearty soups and stews. The wine is retrieved from a rack that climbs the wall. Staff use a sliding ladder to do this. A little bit of opera enacted without the aria. The entire restaurant is, thankfully, non-smoking.

Something to nibble
Three different sorts of breads presented without request to keep the hunger pangs at bay. It’s easy to disguise poor bread by putting “stuff” in it (you know, cheese, olives, that sort of stuff) but this was both good quality bread and flavour-packed “stuff” – the onion bread for example had more than a mere hint of onion and a crunchy crust that was crystallised, yet savoury; served with fresh butter of course in the shape of 1 and 2 (twelve).

The hors d’oeuvre
Smoked mackerel mousse. Light but pungent; how do they pack in so much flavour? Served with a little pile of ultra-light corn (?) crisps, a little stack of salad leaves and chive and a hint of light lemon sauce. Went very well with another basket of bread and presentation that is pleasing to the eye.

The entrée
Braised beef with herb dumpling. Just right for a winter’s evening. Tender (of course) and savoury enough to have a hint of liver taste behind it. Delicious. The dumpling was unique in being both light yet filling; onions and carrots in the casserole along with a bulb of fennel and served with more carrots and cauliflower and boiled, glazed potatoes. Interesting contrast between the softer texture of the vegetables in the casserole – perfect consistency for veg that have been cooked along with the meat – and those presented separately, which were cooked as near perfect as you can get, so still firm without tending towards raw. My companion would have preferred a green vegetable to balance the colour but at least we had so much we had to leave some.

Pudding
I chose the Victoria sponge with rhubarb compote served with a crème anglaise. Another pudding with a tip of a mint plant. I continue to wonder what happens to the rest of the plant but as soon as I lifted it from the pudding top I could smell the mint. Lovely consistency of steamed sponge, creamy taste to it, even without the crème. Rhubarb in a lovely red, thick, syrupy sauce. Pity to finish. My companion chose the three local cheese plate to go with a glass of port (I was driving later). I had a sliver of each – marvellous to find such diverse and unique cheeses from the Fylde coast. One smoked, one slightly blue (mixed with a cheddar according to the host) and one cream. Served with homemade biscuits and chutney.

Wine
The host offered us two recommendations. She clearly knew her onions and suggested something that could stand up to the beef without overwhelming the mackerel mousse: a Costieres de Nimes (Domaine Pastouret, 2002) and my companion thought it so good he asked for the supplier’s details so he could order a case – and got them (but we’re keeping it secret).

Coffee for me, Irish coffee for my companion (with Tia Maria as there was no Kahlua). Good, strong, rich.

Bill. We used the Market (fixed price) menu and got good value. £59 for the two of us.

Attention to detail – the key to this restaurant’s attraction. See the note about the butter, above. It runs through the food, the service, the surroundings, the staff, who are clearly handpicked. The host was Caroline Upton, clearly at the helm front of house. The food is served always by two people: one to hold the tray with the food on, the other to lift it off and place it in front of you – without having to ask who is having what. The little pieces of wrapped rock that come with the sugar don’t have Blackpool through them – they have “Twelve”.

http://www.twelve-restaurant.co.uk/

Changing of the Guard at the Trappeurs Restaurant

I got the essential Bob Dylan CD for Xmas and took it ski-ing in the Alps last week. One track stands out for me. Changing of the Guards from the album Street Legal (stored somewhere in my attic). Being as the other CD I took was Rod Stewart's greatest hits I played the Dylan CD many many times. No matter how many times I listened I still don't understand the words. But let's look at food.

Sixteen years,
Sixteen banners united over the field
Where the good shepherd grieves.
Desperate men, desperate women divided,
Spreading their wings 'neath the falling leaves.

Montalbert in the french alps is a hidden gem. One night club (which is cheesey and not well inhabited), a dozen restaurants and hundreds of studios for skiers. The entire village is 6 minutes walk from end to end and it's at the end of a cul de sac with no though traffic. The lifts give you access to the entire Paradiski area which is bigger than outer mongolia googleplex squared and has hundreds of kilometres of pistes.

Fortune calls.
I stepped forth from the shadows to the marketplace
Merchants and thieves, hungry for power,
my last deal gone down.
She's smelling sweet like the meadows where she was born,
On midsummer's eve, near the tower.

Trappeurs cafe was the best in the village. It was also the most expensive. However the quality was very good. First day, nackered after a long day in airports, they gave a free glass of local vin blanc followed by a salade toscane (mozzarella and tomatoes with herbs and an amazingly peppery olive oil dressing), noix st jacques with compote of a green vegetable and an orange vegetable which were probably mixtures, but the presentation was outstanding and the scallops were chunky and delicieuses. Also had their house speciality Mont d'or Roti which was cheese roasted in its plywood case (which rendered it both runny and crusty au meme temps)accompanied by charcuterie and potatoes, far too much to eat and a fantastic dish.

The cold-blooded moon.
The captain waits above the celebration
Sending his thoughts to a beloved maid
whose ebony face is beyond communication.
The captain is down but still believing that his love will be repaid.

Wine was disappointing. I was persuaded to try a Mondeuse local variety at 21 euros and it would struggle to make our local co-op in the remnants bin. Pichets of wine were expensive Cotes du Rhone at 17 euros a bottle (co-op £4).

They shaved her head.
She was torn between Jupiter and Apollo.
A messenger arrived with a black nightingale.
I seen her on the stairs and I couldn't help but follow,
Follow her down past the fountain where they lifted her veil.

Desserts were amazing. Their café gormand was 5 euros and you received mini creme brulé, a mini chocolate brownie, a glass full of chantilly cream and a black coffee.

I stumbled to my feet.
I rode past destruction in the ditches with the stitches still mending
'neath a heart-shaped tattoo.
Renegade priests and treacherous young witches
were handing out the flowers that I'd given to you.

Last day was almost as good.

The palace of mirrors
where dog soldiers are reflected,
The endless road and the wailing of chimes
The empty rooms where her memory is protected
Where the angels' voices whisper to the souls of previous times.

Delices de foie gras - small but beautiful.

She wakes him up
forty-eight hours later, the sun is breaking
Near broken chains, mountain laurel and rolling rocks.
She's begging to know what measures he now will be taking.
He's pulling her down and she's clutching on to his long golden locks.

Pavé de saumon plus the most amazing jacket potato with local cheeses

Gentlemen, he said,
I don't need your organization,
I've shined your shoes, I've moved your mountains and marked your cards
But Eden is burning, either get ready for elimination
Or else your hearts must have the courage for the changing of the guards.

Fondue de Montagne for 2 people. Massive cheese and humungous assiette de charcuterie (dictionary note coin de montagne means a bedroom without a door)
Truite de Beaufort

Peace will come
with tranquility and splendour on the wheels of fire
But will offer no reward when her false idols fall
And cruel death surrenders with its pale ghost retreating
Between the King and the Queen of Swords.

Finished with a genepi. Been wondering all week what this was and found out that it's a plant that grows only at altitude and produces a liqueur (but in my experience the french could produce a liqueur from anything and a genepi wasn't that cracky. Especially at an inflated 8 euros a glass)

Brilliant food but at a price. The ambience was worth extra and the chef complimented me on my french (you even use the correct tense!).

I still don't understand the words...

Mais l'année prochaine...

Lunch at Carluccio's, Smithfield, London, 17th January 2006

A small miracle. Say "Ravioli" and you've said everything but how do they do it? The pasta pillows are perfectly al dente and, like the pillow on your bed, soft where they are supposed to be (not soggy) and just firm enough where they need to be too (in the middle!). Such depth of flavour in the pasta alone that you don't really need any other ingredient in the meal but, of course, you get the spinach and ricotta filling with its own flavours, and the sage and butter sauce that (and this is the miracle) stays a perfect "creme anglaise" consistency throughout the meal while losing non of its flavours. As it cools there is no coagulation, just further delight. Served alongside a fresh salad of crispy cos lettuce, cherry tomatoes, thinly sliced tiny red onions with a balsamic vinaigrette to counterpoint the flavours and a basket of mixed, fresh breads (a meal in themselves with olive oil to dip in and herbed olives to complement) . With a refreshing bottle of Pinot Grigio to bring clarity to the pallete with its light, almost citrus flavour, you can't go wrong here.

All served up by waiters as authentic as the food in a bright, lively restaurant with bags of life and pleasure all around. A small miracle.

Lalousis, Dewsbury

A little bit of the mediterranean in Dewsbury.

Invited by friends to the new Year's eve party without knowing what was involved or what it would cost. Arrived at 2030 to see New Year Menu £40 per person chalked on the board. Hmmmmm. Also arrived in the bar area which was the only way in to the restaurant and had to fight through a dozen or so people smoking as if they were due to give up for 2006. Very unpleasant.

Once inside and seated it improved a lot. To my knowledge not one person out of the 141 in the restaurant smoked inside it. (Yes that's 141 times £40 which makes £5,640 before anyone bought any drinks).

Short menu because of the date I suppose; Meze was pretty good, tara - rather sweet, tatzi - not enough cucumber, meatballs good, sausages good, dolmades good. Plenty of variety and plenty of it. No caesar salad at all.

Mains were a choice of kleftico, stifado, Chicken or choice of veggie options. Good but the accompaniments were clearly mass produced and suffered from it.

Throughout this there was a steady stream of real greek music from er... a CD player. True there was a guitarist who sang along but the bazouki player had gone on holiday (to Greece!) and was unavailable.

Deserts and coffee were ordered at the same time and coffee arrived 15 minutes before deserts (but hey! this is greece - let's chill out...). Variety of generic deserts not a trace of greek yoghurt with walnuts and honey. ((actually it's Dewsbury, West Yorkshire but once inside it was quite like the real thing))

The meal was slow (but hey! etc); halfway through the evening the waiters started dancing and did it very well. Several diners also tried it and enjoyed themself. The CD must have been on long play mode as most dances lasted 10 minutes when most diners would have prefered 3 minutes.

Towards 11pm a 2 by 2 table was produced and head waiter danced on it with head waitress. Being as the table was small this meant that both performers had to cling on to each other for fear of falling. Soon there was queue of eager diners wanting to dance very closely with either of the 2 principals.

Even later restaurant owner and his family led another dance and many joined in. There was the inevitable conga (greek style) led by the chef (as the kitchen closed at 11-15).

All in all it was a very enjoyable evening - a tad expensive but a place I'd go to again.

Unfortunately at midnight the new year arrived and instead of real people doing real things and enjoying themselves we then had to listen to 20 minutes of stereotypical new year music with ersatz jollity and friendship which degenerated into a disco of every bad disco record of the last 3o years cleverly cut together so everyone could dance non stop.

I sat in the corner and pretended to be grumpy old man ( which I found to be remarkable easy to do).

Sofra, Tavistock Street, London, 29th December 2005

With its roots in Turkey, Sofra describes its influences as stemming from the Mediterranean, the Middle East and even the orient. It's good, wherever it comes from, and fair value for money for London.

Larger than its Mayfair branch, the Tavistock St. restaurant still manages a friendly atmosphere and is comfortably furnished. Convenient for after-theatre eating. The menu could be a little more helpful by laying out a glossary in an annexe but as things stand you have to work out what some dishes are by scouring the other sections to see if they are described. You could always ask, of course, but what Englishman likes to do that? I chose the two-course menu deal.

Appetisers A basket of warm, crusty, Mediterranean herb bread, with humous and olive oil in which to dip it, while we perused the menu. Very good - even though we weren't famished.

Starters Eschewing the tempting Albanian Liver, I chose the selection of Mezes; half a dozen delicacies such as humous, lentil kofte (lentil balls with spring onion, herbs and olive oil according to the menu), börek (filo pastry filled with cheese, spinach, herbs), felafel and so on. A little dull, I thought, and slightly meagre.

Main Course I chose Izmir Kofte: minced beef and lamb patties cooked with potato and tomato sauce. Presumably the combination of mince and beef reflects its Lebonese influence. The dish came with steaming hot rice. It presented as a sort of Turkish Irish Stew really. Absolutely delicious and filling as is needed in December. I could easily have stopped half way through but greed got the better of me and I wolfed down the lot. I even helped out one of my daughters with her left-over Spinach and Feta Borek (one of the many veggie options available). Everybody very happy with their meals.

Wine At London prices you can't be too chosey but we went for the house red because it is Turkish (described as Yakut/Angora I can only assume it comes from these two areas). It was a great success; soft and long-lasting taste) and because we work on the principle that each restaruant choses its house red carefully to impress.

Value for money Four of us ate - though three of us with only two courses and one with only one course with wine and nothing else, including the appetisers - for £65.

Caesar Salad - was available. I'm sorry I didn't try it now.