Thread: Gastroporn Board: Oblivion / Ship of Fools.
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Posted by Ariel (# 58) on
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I was just thinking of some truly memorable meals that I've had, and so as not to tangentize the recipe thread too much, have started a thread here. I hope you'll add your own experiences of surprisingly good food, whatever they were. They don't have to be fine dining: just something you found surprisingly, utterly delicious that you still remember years later. Whether it was a first taste of something, a family special, a takeaway curry, or a meal out, it'll be welcome on the thread.
---
One of my favourite food memories is of grilled lobster with chips. It sounds quite simple but it was perfectly cooked, the lobster with a wonderful tang of the sea, the chips just the right size and crisp on the outside, soft on the inside. A squeeze of lemon was all that was needed. Dessert was figs with ricotta and lavender honey. I don't remember what the wine was, but it was the perfect complement to a perfect meal.
The goulash that I had one autumn in a branch of Pierre Victoire in London was a revelation. I only ordered it because it seemed the best choice out of three menu items that didn't really appeal (I had vivid memories of the school dinner version), and I've never had anything like it before or since. Paprika can be transformative. And the rice was perfect.
Over to you...
Posted by Beenster (# 242) on
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One of the favourite things I've ever eaten is a home grown carrot. It was massive for starters and it was orange. Very very orange.
I was pretty scornful at the thought of eating carrot, thinking how average it would be with the roast lamb. Don't get me wrong, I love roast lamb. But the roast lamb paled into insignificance and the home grown carrot which tasted of - carrot. And I think it is probably the most amazing thing I have ever eaten.
I need to think of delicious cooking experiences as well.
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on
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Pinhao, on the Douro. Bit of posh riverside for the cruise boats but otherwise just an ordinary little working village: caff really grim, formica-tabled dive. Best egg salad roll ever - because, after longish wait, you realised it was because the roll had been freshly baked, the egg boiled there and then, tomato locally grown.
Tomar. Sunday evening and not much open - bar modest family restaurant again into the unprepossessing decor. House speciality Frango na pucara - chicken in an earthenware pot cooked in basically every alcoholic product of the country: wine, port, brandy. Absolutely delicious.
Posted by Og, King of Bashan (# 9562) on
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We did choir tours in England twice while I was in college. The second time, we were in residence at York Minster. The choirmaster always booked us at middle-of-nowhere hotels, partially because they were less expensive, and partially because it would keep the 18-22 year olds he was chaperoning out of the clubs and out of trouble.
The Best Western in York happened to be across the street from a fairly tame and contemporary looking pub. The first night, I wanted a beer, and it was either the pub or the hotel bar, so I wrangled up three likely suspects to cross the street. When we got there and looked at the menu, a soprano decided that she wanted desert, and ordered the brownie, a la mode.
I don't know what they put in that brownie, although I suspect it was ungodly amounts of real butter. You could not take a bite of this dessert without giggling at how good it was. The next night, we went back, and brought a few brownie virgins. And again the next night and the night after that, each time the group growing larger and larger. We must have put the pub owner's kid through college in that week on brownie sales alone. I even know people from that trip who, when back in England on subsequent visits, made special trips to the suburban pub, to taste the brownie once more.
(For all I know they got their brownies from the frozen food supplier, and had no idea why these American choristers were ordering them in droves. But I still have yet to find a better brownie that that one.)
Posted by no prophet's flag is set so... (# 15560) on
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The best thing I've had in the last deacde years was pickled pickerel. Pickerel is a fish called walleye in other places. This had been caught near Stanley Mission, Saskatchewan and pickled by a Ukrainian baba (grandmother). Absolutely the finest pickled fish I've ever had. Outside, by a fire, with beer. After a long day on the water in a canoe with sun on lakes you can drink straight from. With my canoeing buddy, dead now these 6 years (which makes me think that a lot of memorable meals include context, without which, maybe not so memorable).
Posted by lilBuddha (# 14333) on
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Not a meal, but the first thing that comes to mind is a butterscotch Pots Du Creme that caused nearly orgasmic levels of pleasure. I normally require chocolate for that, but this had a rich flavour that was simply divine. I could have eaten their entire supply, but settled for eating small bits to prolong the experience.
Posted by Palimpsest (# 16772) on
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Some friends and I did a summer road trip that went to a weird museum in Eastern Washington (Maryhill).
We stopped for dinner in a small town. There was a local Chinese restaurant that had been there a long time. A Chinese family has moved in and run the restaurant for decades.
The food was the most ordinary style of Cantonese Chinese food. Think Chow Mein and Egg rolls. Except all of the meat and vegetable dishes had incredibly flavor. The celery and onions and peppers had been picked the same day at local farms.
Posted by Welease Woderwick (# 10424) on
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A small town not far from Rotterdam [Gouda, possibly] called the Six Stars [except in Dutch] and the menu is all meat so I explain that I am a veggie so the chef comes out to have a chat with me and we settle on a savoury choux bun stuffed with vegetables in a cream sauce.
Absolute BLISS!
What friends of mine call S-O-A-P - Sex on a Plate!
I knew at the time that the place had a great reputation and then I knew why.
[eta: no, I wasn't paying the bill.]
[ 06. August 2016, 04:59: Message edited by: Welease Woderwick ]
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on
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quote:
Originally posted by Beenster:
One of the favourite things I've ever eaten is a home grown carrot.
A good home-grown tomato is one of life's small but great pleasures and will knock any shop-bought, commercial tomato into the shade, even the ones that claim to be tasty. I gave a small cherry tomato once to a colleague and watched his face alter into an expression of amazed awe as he ate it. "It's full of flavour," he said. And it was.
The pale, crunchy, flavourless things sold by supermarkets don't measure up, even when left to ripen (which a lot of people no longer realize you're supposed to do). The skin of a home-grown tomato is edible instead of leathery and the inside a delightful burst of flavour.
I've often thought more children would eat vegetables if they had the chance to eat homegrown ones; I don't blame them for not enjoying the supermarket ones.
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on
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A couple of summers ago I managed to grow potatoes and broad beans. A salad of those two, in a lemon vinaigrette, and you would be content to eat nothing else.
The sad thing is that the greater part of the fruit and veg we eat - picked unripe, chilled, packaged, flown halfway round the world - is a pale shadow of the real thing.
Posted by Welease Woderwick (# 10424) on
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That is so true, Firenze.
Watch people shopping for produce in other countries and it tells a very different story. The man paying for that meal with the choux bun in The Netherlands loved to visit UK but thought the vegetables available very poor, meat not so bad. Thankfully plastic covered, shrink wrapped everything is not yet really available over here.
Thirty or so years ago there used to be an Indian takeaway place in Upper Tranmere (Birkenhead) that used to make me off-menu stuff and their gobi-paneer was a thing of great beauty.
Posted by Welease Woderwick (# 10424) on
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I've just remembered the omelette I had once on the ferry from Caen to Portsmouth - this may not sound good to those who don't like veggie food but it was stuffed with sautéed white turnip.
It was exquisite.
Such a shame about the company on that crossing but the food made up for it.
Posted by Sioni Sais (# 5713) on
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quote:
Originally posted by Welease Woderwick:
I've just remembered the omelette I had once on the ferry from Caen to Portsmouth - this may not sound good to those who don't like veggie food but it was stuffed with sautéed white turnip.
It was exquisite.
Such a shame about the company on that crossing but the food made up for it.
Your omelette story reminds me of Fred's Bar in Famagusta (Cyprus) c 1973. Fred was the owner, barman and cook and despite (or maybe because of) the cigar he smoked all the time, he produced the world's best omelettes. Everything was pretty good, but if there was to be an Earth v Rest of the Universe omelette contest, I would put Fred up for it.
Posted by Baptist Trainfan (# 15128) on
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Talking of Cyprus ... our hotel in North (Turkish) Cyprus last month produced the most superb kebabs, beautifully marinated, lots of variety, loads of side-dishes and trimmings, ridiculously cheap and not a pitta bread in sight! We ate there every night.
Posted by Stercus Tauri (# 16668) on
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Twenty or so years ago a few of us were on a business trip in Goodyear, Arizona, and I asked at the hotel where we could find good Mexican food. At first the receptionist recommended the hotel restaurant, but I insisted on the real thing. "You really mean that?" he said. I did. He directed us to Raul and Theresa's, which was definitely on the wrong side of the railroad tracks. The place was small, rough and ready, plastic table cloths, and full of the kind of people who would give Donald Trump conniptions, all taking their meals seriously and silently. The food was cheap and heavenly, though I have to confess I can't remember what I ate; just that it was beautiful, and the beer was the cheapest I've ever seen. It was my ideal dining experience. The other engineers I was with were not impressed and the next night insisted on eating at one of those dreadful chain steakhouses in Phoenix, which I hated. I just checked with Auntie Google, and saw that Raul and Theresa's has moved and gone upscale; even has a website, so my memory is frozen in time and can never be recreated.
Posted by Piglet (# 11803) on
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As many regular Shippies know, eating out is one of our favourite things, so there could be many candidates for this thread.
At the moment, having just moved to Fredericton, we're discovering the delights of their restaurants, and in particular the fact that they appear to know how to do proper fish and chips - a skill that has all but eluded the chefs of Newfoundland.
The secret may be that they use haddock, whereas in Newfoundland practically any fish that isn't cod is generally regarded as more-or-less inedible, which is a shame.
One of the nicest meals D. and I ever had was in the Isle of Man, at a restaurant called Haworth's, where D. persuaded me to try monk-fish, and it was absolutely delicious. That meal was also notable for the cheese-board, which came round on a trolley and you selected whatever took your fancy - in our case Hereford Hop, a mild, Cheddar-type cheese which had been wrapped in hops and had a lovely nutty flavour.
I'd better stop now - I'm beginning to drool and you're probably all nodding off ... ![[Big Grin]](biggrin.gif)
Posted by basso (# 4228) on
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I remember very fondly a lunch with colleagues from work, which must be 30 years ago.
We went to a restaurant called Guaymas, in Tiburon, across the bay from San Francisco. We ate outdoors, on the deck. It was a beautiful sunny day. (That alone is a memorable thing when you're eating on San Francisco Bay.)
I had a dish of skewered baby octopus that remains the best seafood I've ever eaten. Fresh, tender, tasting of the sea.
The restaurant is still there, but I haven't been back in ages. And considering what I've learned about octopus since then, I may never order that again either. But the memory of the dish will remain.
Posted by Welease Woderwick (# 10424) on
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When I first moved here mumble-mumble years ago a veg meal [that's what it's called] at Hotel RRR on Gandhi Square in Mysore was 29 rupees, then a little under 50 pence UK money. Today it is about 100 rupees so a little over a pound UK money currently. The food is hot and fresh and varies by the day, if you can go there on a Thursday when they do a beetroot thoran [beets cooked with fresh grated coconut] as one of the four dishes and you will thank me later. For that money you will get as much rice and "curry" as you can eat - they will come round refilling your plate until you tell them enough!
It's not fancy, but it is GOOD!
Posted by Welease Woderwick (# 10424) on
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Perhaps later I'll start a street food thread - perhaps some of the best food I've tasted over the years. Despite what some of the more stupid guide books say this is something to be savoured as long as you see the process through and watch it being slid on to whatever passes for a plate with all the heavenly smells rising from the hot food!
Posted by Gee D (# 13815) on
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The safest way is to take your own paper plate to be sat on top of whatever the stall uses. And your own cutlery.
Posted by DonLogan2 (# 15608) on
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There seems to be a thread forming in the middle of this; that of freshness.
I eat a lot of fish that I have caught myself and freshness is key. Deep fried cod in batter that has only been out of the sea a few hours is so much better than any prize winning fish `n` chip shop. Last night was grilled mackerel and a week ago was buttery and lemon splashed bass (NOT, I repeat NOT sea bass!) again fresh from the sea.
Recently vegtables have leapt into the lead too, goat`s cheese and spinach empenadas (spanish pasties) that are iron rich, tangy from the cheese and encased in wafer thin pastry. Fantastic!
On top of the pent roof of my shed i have my salad vegtables, to keep them away from slugs and to give more garden room and although the rocket has bolted (Blasted off really) it is excellent for flavour and the chard with its beetrooty stems is fantastic when picked, washed, dressed and eaten within a few minutes.
Guilty pleasures...
[ 07. August 2016, 07:14: Message edited by: DonLogan2 ]
Posted by Welease Woderwick (# 10424) on
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We have many fields of spinach grown in the next village and to buy direct from the guys (or gals) harvesting the field and then come home, wash it, cook it and serve it all within 30 minutes of harvesting is very special.
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on
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Sometimes some colleagues and I get together to go fruit picking in our lunch hour at a nearby fruit farm. Cherries, raspberries, strawberries and other things, but we usually go for the cherries.
There's nothing like spending part of your lunch hour in a cherry orchard, the only sound is of the breeze rustling the leaves, and luscious, dark red sunwarmed fruit drops into your hand and basket. The cherries are usually larger than the average, as fresh as they come, and as moreish as you would expect. And getting away from a high-tech modern office environment for an hour with all the artificial light and into daylight makes a great break.
The strawberries I picked from another fruit farm last year were end of season, in amongst the thistles and nettles, but really worth it for the surprising flavour.
This is how food should be. I'm leaning increasingly towards buying fruit from smaller, independent outlets rather than supermarkets, though it isn't always possible.
Posted by balaam (# 4543) on
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White fish soup.
It doesn't sound exciting. But it was quite exquisite.
We were visiting Alnwick in Northumbria, LRP likes gardens, and there's a good one by the castle.
However we had arrived late without food, I had been at work, so we went to a gastro-pub we had passed co,omg into the town from the station. I asked waht the white fish was, ans I was told it told it depended on what had been freshly caught. The stock tasted of crab and there were small root veg and peas floating in it as well as peas and the fish, it was perfection in a bowl.
Posted by balaam (# 4543) on
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quote:
Originally posted by DonLogan2:
There seems to be a thread forming in the middle of this; that of freshness.
I eat a lot of fish that I have caught myself and freshness is key.
Let it see the moon. Caught one day, left overnight and eaten the next day is the tastiest fish.
Posted by Graven Image (# 8755) on
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I never had been fond of chili at least not the way my southern Mother made it. Hers was some sort of browned ground beef and onion with chili powder and some canned bean soup. So when then new hubby wanted to go to a small dinner called Chili John's and he told me they only served chili, hot, medium, or mild I was not expecting much.
My love affair with chili began that day. On an added note my new mother-in-law waited 5 years before giving me her old family recipe for chili. I always thought she wanted to make sure the marriage was going to last before handing over the family treasure.
Posted by DonLogan2 (# 15608) on
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quote:
Originally posted by balaam:
quote:
Originally posted by DonLogan2:
There seems to be a thread forming in the middle of this; that of freshness.
I eat a lot of fish that I have caught myself and freshness is key.
Let it see the moon. Caught one day, left overnight and eaten the next day is the tastiest fish.
I have just done that with a mackerel I just smoked.
Yeah, yeah, bring out your old jokes...
Posted by St. Gwladys (# 14504) on
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This thread came to mind on Saturday when I took Darllenwr into a very nice cheese shop in Hereford.
Posted by Hugal (# 2734) on
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Tasting meal at Victoria and Alberts in the Grand Floridian hotel at Walt Disney World. The food was wonderful. Each course a small taste of heaven
Posted by Piglet (# 11803) on
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Regulars on the British thread in AS will know that we've just discovered the delights of the Fredericton Farmers' Market, and in particular at this time of year, the corn-on-the-cob, which is hydro-cooled to keep it fresher (and sweeter). They're so sweet you can actually eat them raw, but the lady selling them recommended cooking them for a couple of minutes - just until they're hot enough to melt the butter.
The first time we went to the market we bought four cobs, and had them between us for lunch, and D. said maybe we should have got six, so the following week we did.
Six corn-cobs + plenty of butter and a grind or two of black pepper = perfect lunch for two. ![[Yipee]](graemlins/spin.gif)
Posted by Welease Woderwick (# 10424) on
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quote:
Originally posted by St. Gwladys:
This thread came to mind on Saturday when I took Darllenwr into a very nice cheese shop in Hereford.
![[Waterworks]](graemlins/bawling.gif)
...and I wasn't there to help you sample!
Posted by Sioni Sais (# 5713) on
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quote:
Originally posted by Piglet:
Regulars on the British thread in AS will know that we've just discovered the delights of the Fredericton Farmers' Market, and in particular at this time of year, the corn-on-the-cob, which is hydro-cooled to keep it fresher (and sweeter). They're so sweet you can actually eat them raw, but the lady selling them recommended cooking them for a couple of minutes - just until they're hot enough to melt the butter.
The first time we went to the market we bought four cobs, and had them between us for lunch, and D. said maybe we should have got six, so the following week we did.
Six corn-cobs + plenty of butter and a grind or two of black pepper = perfect lunch for two.
For variation we were recently served corncob with fresh green pesto (and cheese to taste). It stands up to the classic "with butter" very well.
Posted by Hebdom (# 14685) on
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Fish and chips at the Wye River pub on the Great Ocean Road. Locally caught fish, cooked to perfection. Chips crisp and crunchy. A view that would be impossible to surpass. Sadly the are has been hit by bushfires and I have not returned....
Posted by Piglet (# 11803) on
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My fish-and-chip Mecca is the Harbour Fry in Kirkwall, and I'm almost ashamed to say that when I was in Orkney with my sister a couple of weeks ago I didn't patronise them, as she wasn't in the mood for fish & chips.
We did, however, have a couple of excellent meals, one in the Kirkwall Hotel (where I used to work) and the other in Helgi's pub on the harbour front, where the piri-piri prawns I had as a starter were absolutely to die for, and just spicy enough to be spicy, without being scary.
Posted by sabine (# 3861) on
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This is not a memory of a really good meal (it was pedestrian Indian fare) but the circumstances surrounding the meal, and how it made me and a friend feel.
We had gotten together one Sunday morning to go online and see where we might submit our poems and to encourage each other. Of course, this meant rewriting at the last minute, checking submission guidelines, debating which of two journals should receive our especially wonderful new poem ![[Hot and Hormonal]](icon_redface.gif)
and etc. etc.
We worked feverishly all morning until we realized that we had not eaten breakfast, and it was now afternoon.
So, off to a local Indian restaurant, where everything on the buffet called our name.
We sat down, and each took our first bite. The instant rise in blood sugar was like an angel chorus, like a beam of light from heaven traveling through our bodies, like . . . well, you know. ![[Biased]](wink.gif)
Both of us felt the same way.
It was a mountaintop experience which I've never had again at that restaurant or any other on an empty stomach.
sabine
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on
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quote:
Originally posted by sabine:
We sat down, and each took our first bite. The instant rise in blood sugar was like an angel chorus, like a beam of light from heaven traveling through our bodies, like . . . well, you know. Both of us felt the same way.
It was a mountaintop experience which I've never had again at that restaurant or any other on an empty stomach.
I was waiting, glumly and listlessly, for a delayed train on a cold, overcast autumn morning, and to pass the time, ordered a hot honey, lemon and ginger drink from a nearby juice bar.
I can only say that the first mouthful was liquid sunshine in a polystyrene cup. If you think of the way a saxophone releases golden notes into the air, it was a bit like that. Suddenly the day was brighter, I had a smile on my face, the delayed train would come, there was nothing to worry about, all would be well. The lemon was clear to taste, the ginger was as fiery as I could wish, the honey not too sweet and the whole thing a blissful revelation. I went away savouring this on the rest of a journey I actually enjoyed.
I've had the ginger drink a few times since then, but nice though it is, it's never had the same knockout effect as it did that first day.
Posted by lilBuddha (# 14333) on
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quote:
Originally posted by Ariel:
I've had the ginger drink a few times since then, but nice though it is, it's never had the same knockout effect as it did that first day.
Oh the frustration. Does one celebrate the transcendent, but singular experience or mourn its apparent demise?
Posted by Lamb Chopped (# 5528) on
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You celebrate it, of course. What else is there to do but make the best of it?
Besides, chasing after a second shot at the experience is the surest way to make sure it doesn't happen.
Posted by RuthW (# 13) on
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When I was in high school, our family went to Europe for the first time, and the trip included a Rhine cruise. The cruise was my introduction to truly fine dining, and the most memorable thing was the cheese course. The waiter wheeled up a cart laden with cheese selections, and he said a few things about some of them that I didn't understand at all, so I rather arbitrarily pointed at something kind of creamy looking and said "that one." My mother asked if I was sure, as she didn't think I'd like it. I'd never had cheese other than Monterey jack, American (which isn't actually cheese), and Velveeta (which isn't actually food). And this was ... Camembert. Oh. My. God.
Both creamy, which I expected, and pungent, which I did not, it was the most particular taste I had experienced to that point in my life.
Posted by Martin60 (# 368) on
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Just got home after a two hour sodding safeguarding meeting at church. Frozen grapes, cut in half, dropped to overflowing in a glass of scotch, hoiked out at knifepoint.
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on
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What color were the grapes?
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on
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On Saturday I bought two eclairs from Waitrose - not normal, but they were reduced. They were raspberry and rose flavoured, and were utterly delicious. I had not intended to eat both at once, but I did. Flavoured cream and icing and a topping of rose flavoured sugar crystals.
So yesterday I bought some more at full price. That first sense of delicious had gone!
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on
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A couple of weeks ago I threw caution to the winds and splurged out twice as much as I'd normally spend on a piece of blue cheese at a specialist cheese shop.
It was some kind of sheep's milk cheese aged in a French cave. It wasn't cheese so much as a revelation. It was melt-in-the-mouth, perfectly flavoured, tangy, compulsively edible blue cheese of which every crumb was a delight to savour. I thought a particularly good Roquefort was pretty much the pinnacle, but this was sublime. It made Roquefort look like Danish Blue.
I just wish I could remember what it was called.
Posted by Piglet (# 11803) on
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You'll have to go back and ask them. ![[Smile]](smile.gif)
Posted by Pigwidgeon (# 10192) on
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quote:
Originally posted by Piglet:
You'll have to go back and ask them.
And be sure to taste a sample so that you're sure it's the right stuff!
Posted by la vie en rouge (# 10688) on
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Sheep's milk and caves is usually Roquefort. I'm not aware of any others. Are you sure it wasn't masquerading under another name? (For example the best Roquefort in our view is papillon but it is still Roquefort.)
[ 06. October 2016, 07:27: Message edited by: la vie en rouge ]
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on
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Actually it might have been because I did ask about Roquefort. I don't remember their answer as I'd just had a rather good Spanish lunch, but someone handed me a sample of something which was still just as sublime the next day.
I think you're right, I shall have to go back and check.
According to Wikipedia:
"Legend has it that the cheese was discovered when a youth, eating his lunch of bread and ewes' milk cheese, saw a beautiful girl in the distance. Abandoning his meal in a nearby cave, he ran to meet her. When he returned a few months later, the mould (Penicillium roqueforti) had transformed his plain cheese into Roquefort."
[My italics]
Posted by Brenda Clough (# 18061) on
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She must have been one hot tamale!
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on
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I'm assuming she dumped him and he stalked off back to his cave, and in a fit of self loathing and despair, picked up a several-month-old mouldy sandwich and tried to eat it. Thereby discovering that although the bread was rock hard and had the traces of little creatures which had crawled over it, the filling was actually rather good and quite made up for any romantic disappointment or cheesed-offness.
It isn't recorded whether he subsequently became filthy rich selling Roquefort and married someone else.
Posted by Martin60 (# 368) on
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quote:
Originally posted by Brenda Clough:
What color were the grapes?
Big green seedless buggers. I'm hooked.
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