Thursday 17 October 2024

The Alentejo: Eating and Drinking 2024

Good Food with Regional Character at Reasonable Prices


Portugal
Our first visit to the Alentejo in modern times (1980s camping trips don’t count) was to Évora in 2016. The resulting blogpost was overlong, so the pleasures of the local cuisine were hived off into a separate post called ‘Two Dinners in Évora’. Eight years, five more visits and quite a few dinners later that post has morphed into this annually updated companion to Eating the Algarve.

The Alentejo: Where and What is it?


Portugal's Modern districts
Alentejo Province
The Alentejo was one of Portugal’s traditional seven provinces and as the left-hand map suggest it was by some way the largest (and the most sparsely populated). In 1933 it was hacked in half, the northern Alto Alentejo with its capital at Évora and the southern Baixo Alentejo centred on Beja.

After the 1974 Carnation Revolution (the military coup from which Portugal emerged as a modern parliamentary democracy) the provinces were replaced by 18 districts (right-hand map). Beja district is the old Baixo Alentejo minus a coastal chunk (the Alentejo Litoral) which is now in Setubal Dsitrict, the Alto Alentejo is split between the Districts of Évora and Portalegre. This post is based in meals eaten in Évora, Beja, Mértola, Castro Verde, Serpa and Santiago do Cacém – I have marked and ringed these as precisely as I can. The Alentejo may no longer officially exist (except to the Comissão Vitivinícola Regional about whom more later) but the concept of the Alentejo remains strong and the word is in everyday use.

A Confession

Before getting on with the food, a confession: I have spent far more time in the Algarve than the Alentejo and my knowledge of the Alentejo cuisine, having progressed through infancy, still lingers in the stroppy teenager stage. This post, then, is far from comprehensive – and may even, despite my best efforts, contain errors!

Meat

The Alentejo has only a small section of coastline and the districts of Portalegre, Évora and Beja are as far from the sea as Portugal can be, so meat is more important here than in the fish-eating Algarve. With that information, I will start with lamb and work my way up to pork, the most important meat in the region...

Lamb

Lamb in Portuguese is called Borrego or Cordeira. What the difference is, if any, remains a mystery. In Serpa, the Restaurante O Alentejano was recommended by the friendly staff at our hotel. We found their meat dishes a little heavy, but ate there twice, largely beacuse we could not find anywhere else open on the Wednesday.

On the first evening I had leg of lamb, a dish with a single word Portuguese name, which was much lauded in Trip Advisor reviews. I cannot remember the name, nor can I now find the reviews, but I was disappointed. The lamb seemed to have been roasted, then cut up and dropped into a garlicky broth. The lamb was not the best, or had not been treated well, and the broth seemed underpowered.

Leg of Lamb, O Alentejano, Serpa 2023

On our second visit, Lynne had lamb cutlets. There was little to go wrong here, and the quantity of meat was enormous.

Lamb chops, O Alentejano, Serpa 2023 This was the quantity on the serving plate when Lynne paused for a second wind. 

Rabbit (Coelho)

Great Britain is an island hopping with rabbits, but despite this natural resource it is easier to find rabbit on a Michelin starred menu than in a supermarket. Lean and well-flavoured, it should be among the most popular and cheapest of meats, but it isn’t. Restaurant Migas in Mértola (photo: scroll down some way) has no pretentions, but in 2017 it offered Lynne a welcome opportunity to eat a well-cooked rabbit.

Wild Boar (Javila)

At the similarly unpretentious Tamuje, in the same small town, I enjoyed wild boar; the choicest morsels, simply cooked and moistened with the rich garlicky cooking broth and served with salad and potatoes.There was more chew than you get with a regular pig, and with a slightly different, slightly stronger flavour. I liked it very much.

Lynne's Porco Preto, my Javila (wild boar) and a bottle of Herdade dos Lagos, Tamuje, Mértola, 2017

Lynne, meanwhile, enjoyed porco preto cooked and served the same way, which introduces the most important beast in Alentejo cuisine...

Black Pork

The finest pork comes, indisputably, from From the Iberian black pig (porco preto).

Iberian black sow, from the 2019 post Pigs, Ham and Tapas (Andalusia)

The pigs – believed to be a cross between domestic pigs introduced by the Phoenicians and wild boar - have been raised in central southern Spain and Portugal for millennia. They live a pampered life roaming in herds among the sparse oak forests feeding mainly on acorns.

Porco is Portuguese for ‘pig’, there is no word for ‘pork’, menus always refer to pig meat, Carne de Porco Preto. It is, of course, the pig that is black, or at least its trotters, not the meat which is normal pork colour.

The Spanish make a big fuss over the Jamón Iberico produced from these pigs, the finest of which fetches astronomical prices. We enjoyed three days in Andalusia in 2019 on an Iberian Ham extravaganza (three blogposts, for the first click here). The Portuguese produce ham, too, but this post concentrates more on the regular pork.

I first encountered Porco Preto in 2016 at Restaurant Malagueta in Évora and from the very first forkful I realised that there was something special on my plate.

Menu, Casa do Alentejo, Castro Verde, 2022

The precise cuts of Porco Preto are important in both Spain and Portugal, The menu tells me I had magro, abanico e cachaço (lean, fan and neck). I don’t know which was which but they were all excellent. Under Talho (Butcher) I could have chosen lagartos (lizards), secretos (secrets) presa (plunder) or plumas (feathers) wonderfully descriptive words even if I would not know one from another.

Migas is the usual accompaniment to porco preto, and is often named first, Migas de Espargos c/ Carne de Porco Preto as it says in the Casa Alentejo menu above. Migas is made from leftover bread (or sometimes potato) mashed and seasoned and mixed with garlic and olive oil and either tomato or asparagus. It is very heavy; the first time I ate migas and porco preto there were also chips on the plate and I dutifully scoffed the lot. I did not immediately realise how much I had overeaten, but 48-hours passed before I could face more food. This time I took a small portion from the slab on the serving plate – and was better for it.

Just a little migas with Carne de Porco Preto, Casa Alentejano, Castro Verde, 2022

Bochechas de Porco em Vinho Tinto

Pork cheeks stewed in red wine may not be unique to the Alentejo, but they are very much at home here.

I have seen recipes that use porco preto, but after it has marinated in red wine for several hours and then stewed in the same wine for several more, I suspect a special pork – or a high-quality wine – would have lost its finesse. This is hearty, rustic food; the wine-dark slabs of porky loveliness need only a salad, maybe a few chips and a jarra de vinho tinto to be totally satisfying.

Rabbit (Lynne) and Bochechas (me), Restaurant Migas, Mértola, 2017

At the Beja Poussada (Pousadas are relatively upmarket hotels specialising in regional dishes) the attempted elevation of the dish by adding a poached pear, cinnamon-ed close to inedibility, just seemed odd. Bochechas are fine as they are, they are not supposed to be 'haute cuisine' they are comfort food.

The Restaurant O Arco, set back from the road beside a petrol station on the edge of Santiage do Cacém does not look immediately attractive, but the hotel receptionist had tentatively suggested it as it was Sunday, a day many other restaurants close. They opened at seven and when we arrived at ten past we were not the first. By 7.30 the place was packed. From the decor, or rather lack of it, and the nature of the menu, we deduced they specialised in the food your granny your used to cook - if you had a Portuguese granny. I think of comfort food as being immensely satisfying, but rather a guilty pleasure, but when it is someone else's comfort food, that little act of exploration cancels the guilt leaving only the pleasure.

Bochechas de Porco em Vinho Tinto, simply cooked, simply served. O Arco, Santiago do Cacém, 2024

Soft, unctuous pork cheeks, the fat mixing with the vinous, garlicky cooking liquor, leaving the diner no choice but savour it and smile.

Carne de Porco à Alentejano

As in the Algarve the link between meat and fish is provided by pork and clams, though the clams go unmentioned in the dish’s title. In the Algarve pork and clams are cooked in a cataplana, in the Alentejo the pork and potatoes are pan fried and then join the clams in a rich brown, garlicky sauce.

Carne de Porco à Alentejano, Casa Aletejano, 2022, Castro Verde

The dish is occasionally available in the Algarve, the finest I have ever eaten was at Dois Irmão in Faro. Lynne was disappointed with her Carne de Porco à Alentejano at the Casa Alentejano in Castro Verde, there were only seven clams, and four of those seemed to be cockles, a related but different animal. I did better in 2023 at the O Alentejano (there is a theme merging with these names!) in Serpa. I had 12 clams, and they were all clams.

Fish and Seafood

For centuries - or millennia, the districts of Beja, Évora and Portalegre were too far from the sea for fresh fish to be transported. There are no natural lakes and most rivers only run for a few months a year, so there was no tradition of fish eating - except for....

...Bacalhau.

'Bacalhau' is Portuguese for cod, but when used on its own means 'salt cod', fresh cod is always bacalhau fresco. Portuguese fisherman were catching cod on the Grand Banks off Newfoundland as early as the 1500s. To get the fish home in edible condition it was landed and salted in Newfoundland, Nova Scotia or, later, Iceland.

Salt cod, cheap, to transport and with an almost infinite shelf-life, soon soon became the Portuguese peasantry's main source of protein Soaking is the first step to making it palatable, and resourceful and imaginative people developed a range of recipes - there are said to be 365 - so they could eat bacalhau everyday but still enjoy variety. In time the wealthier classes realised they were missing something, and bacalhau gradually became the national dish of all Portuguese people.

Salting cod is no longer necessary, but the Portuguese love affair with it continues. Every corner shop and supermarket has rustling sheets of salt cod - loose, not pre-packed - for shoppers to sort through and select what they want. We no longer have to cure ham to preserve pork, or make cheese to preserve milk, but we still do because we enjoy the products. And similarly the Portuguese still have salt cod - as well as ham and cheese.

Pataniscas de Bacalhau. Last year (2023) I ate Pataniscas de Balcahau in Restaurante Molho Bico in Serpa.

Pataniscas de Bacalhau with rice and beans, Restaurante Molho Bico, Serpa, 2023

The patanisca was made by frying shredded salt cod with onion in a wheat flour and egg batter. It was served with a bowl of rice and beans and a good salad (not photographed). This is comfort food, not haute cuisine, and like all great comfort food it is rich, savoury and very satisfying.

Bacalhau Espiritual

This year (2024) at O Arco in Santiago do Cacém, Lynne ate Bacalhau Espiritual. Unlike most Bacalhau recipes its origin is known and fairly recent. In 1947 Countess Almeida Araújo was a consultant for a new restaurant in the Queluz Palace near Lisbon, and gave this name to her adaption of the French dish Brandade Chaude de Morue. The dish involves salt cod, shredded carrot, dry bread soaked in milk, béchamel sauce and a cheesy crust.

Bacalhau Espirtual, O Arco, Santiago do Cacém, 2024

Despite its aristocratic origins, the use of a French sauce and an Italian cheese (Parmigiano in the gratin) it is difficult not to see this as also being comfort food. Lynne enjoyed it very much but could not finish it all. A young man who came in after us and sat alone at an adjacent table, ate a mountainous salad, the whole bowl of Bacalhau and a dessert and left before we had finished our one course. We could have done that 50 years ago, but now we eat less, but savour more (it was never a choice, it just happened).

Other Fish and Seafood

The age of the refrigerated lorry arrived many decades ago, so inland Portugal has all the fish it wants, though it can never be as fresh as it is beside the sea. In 2022 we both ate Polvo à Lagareiro (Octopus Lagareiro -see Eating the Algarve for more details) at the oddly named Planície Gastronomia Criativa (Plain Creative Gastronomy) in Castro Verde and in 2023 Lynne ate Chocos (cuttlefish) at Molho Bico in Serpa. Enjoyable as they were, neither are esentially Alentejo dishes, so I will move on.

Cataplana Alentejano

This may not be an Alentejo dish, either, as the Cataplana is a traditional Algarve cooking vessel, but it was on the menu at Mr Pickwicks in Évora in 2017. Opened at the table, it produced a waft of inviting odours. Inside were huge chunks of deeply flavoured stewed pork, tiger prawns (of Thai origin?), mussels, crab claws and, of course, clams. Everything was steeped in a broth of the usual Portuguese suspects, tomato, peppers, garlic and coriander with chunks of potato boiled in the broth.

Inside the cataplana, Mr Pickwick's, Évora, 2016

It was wonderfully messy – getting your hands in is the only way to deal with prawns and crabs - and in every way delightful. The clams had a yellowish shell with a distinctive black edge. A week later we bought and cooked some identical clams in the Algarve and discovered they originated in Vietnam. In November 2017 we ate the same clams in both Hong Kong and Macau. Algarve clams have long been over-exploited, these are good, cheap and (for the moment) plentiful.

Cheese

Portugal has eleven cheeses that have been awarded PDO (Product of Designated Origin), three of them, Évora, Serpa and Nisa come from the Alentejo. All three are made from unpasteurised sheep's milk and curdled using an extract from the cardoon thistle making them suitable for vegetarians.

Nisa is a small town in the Portalegre District, about as for north and east as the old Alto Alentejo province reached.

Nisa Cheese is classified as 'semi-hard,' has a dense texture and is (usually) yellowish white with a subtle flavour and an acidic finish. I found the flavour relatively mild, but complex. The Wine Spectator cheese edition ranked Nisa among their 100 Great Cheeses.This may overrate it a bit, but it is reasonably priced and fairly easy to find (at least in Portugal) and is always enjoyable.

Nisa Cheese

Serpa comes from a small city in the Beja District near the Spanish border. The Cheese is not as easy to find as the other two and we went to Serpa (partly) to buy it. It looks similar but is a little stronger than Nisa. It is softer, too, in a style known as amanteigado meaning buttery. Forever Cheese describe it as strong and complex with sheepy, sour and buttery notes. That seems about right and it is my favourite of these three

Queijo de Serpa

Évora is the administrative centre of the Évora District. It produces a semi-soft cheese which becomes harder and crumblier as it matures and the rind darkens. It is described as being rich and robust with a salty tang. My example seemed a little drier than I would have liked. My plan is to check out another version next year.

Évora cheese

Other Cheeses

DOP cheeses are not very expensive, though they do command a premium price. The Alentejo produces a large quantity of less exalted cheeses, most of which are cheaper and some of which are very good. As they tend to look very similar choice can be difficult. The price is usually a guide to quality (mostly you get what you pay for) but the only guide to strength/mildness is experience. The two below come from large and reliable Herdade Maia in Évora. One plain, one dusted with pimento, they are well made cheeses which would suit most palates,

Herdade Maia cheese

Cheeses are almost universally made from sheep's milk. With rare exceptions, rinds are edible, and cheeses are cut across, not into segments.

Wine

Alentejo may no longer exist for purposes of local government, but the Comissão Vitivinícola Regional recognises an Alentejo Denominação de Origem Controlada that covers large parts of the Évora and Portalegre districts. Eight subregions (Borba, Évora, Granja-Amareleja, Moura, Portalegre, Redondo, Reguengos, and Vidigueira) can use their own name as well as ‘Alentejo’ on the label.

Borba Tinto

The reds are soft, juicy and easy drinking. Borba is the largest sub-region (by production) and I have always enjoyed the wines from the local co-operative which are inexpensive, widely available and guaranteed to bring a smile to the face.

Encostas de Serpa, Vinho Regional

The whites tend to be more austere. They don’t win prizes in blind tastings, but paired with the right food they have a way of opening out and complementing the flavours of the dish. This is what they were designed to do, and they are very good at it. The Reguengos we drank with the cataplana Alentejano in Évora and the Vidigueira with the polvo in Castro Verde were particularly satisfying.

There is much DOC Alentejo wine, but there is even more Vinho Regional Alentejano, a classification for more basic wines, or for winemakers reluctant to follow the strict rules of DOC. I tend to go by cost rather than precise appellation, at any price point up to €10-12 Alentejo, or Alentejano wines can be relied upon for excellent value

And Finally

Light lunches in small cafés are rarely gastronomic, and not always light. The toastie is universally popular, the word 'tosta' was long ago incorporated into Portuguese. Sometimes a ‘sharing toastie’ can look….

It's a sandwich, Jim, but not as we know it, Café 7arte, Castro Verde 2022

….immense.

Saturday 28 September 2024

A Rainy Day in Dumfries (2) Caerlaverock Castle: Scotland 23 Part 6

This is a new post though it covers the events of the 22nd of July 2023
It will be moved to its appropriate chronological position shortly.

A Triangular Castle and a Tapas Dinner

A Brief Recap


Scotland
Dumfries & Galloway
On the 21st of July we had driven 260 miles south from Findochty to Dumfries (for the many American visitors to this blog that is pronounced Dum-freece). For much of his life Dumfries was the home of Robert Burns, Scotland’s (unofficial) national poet. On the morning of the 22nd we set out to walk the town’s Burns Trail. It involved so many interesting places, not all connected with Burns, that by lunch time I had reached my self-imposed limit on the length of a blog post. That post became A Rainy Day in Dumfries Part 1 and this post tidies up the afternoon and evening.

Findochty, Dumfries and the Dumfries & Galloway District

The River Nith

After a sandwich and a cup of tea in the town centre, we returned to our hotel, picked up the car and drove the 11km south-east to Caerlaverock Castle, following the River Nith almost to the Solway Firth. I finished the previous post with Burn's ode ‘The Banks o’ Nith’ but I do not think it was this bit of the Nith he was eulogising. For its final few kilometres, the river is tidal. At low tide it is a narrow stream running between wide muddy banks while at high tide inflow exceeds outflow, and for an hour or so the Nith becomes more a lake than a river.

The River Nith when the tide is in

Caerlaverock Castle

Caerlaverock Castle was built in the 13th century as a stronghold for Clan Maxwell. At the time, I presume, it overlooked the river mouth but that is now hidden behind Castle Wood. The area had previously accommodated a Roman Camp and then a Brittonic hill fort

Scotland has a wealth of wonderful place names that roll off the tongue and entice the imagination, but Caerlaverock is not one of them, it just feels wrong.

What’s in a Name?

13th century Dumfries was linguistically diverse but Gaelic and Norse were in decline, Norman French was confined to the nobility and Early Scots was emerging as the dominant language – though whether Scots is a language or an English dialect can become a heated debate. Laverock is Scots for ‘skylark,’ but what warlord in his right mind would invoke the power of a skylark?

‘Caer’ means 'fort', not in Gaelic (that would be dùn – as in Dumfries) but in Welsh, where it is a common prefix in place names - Caerdydd (Cardiff), Caernafon (Carnavon). Llafar (a single ‘f’ is pronounced as ‘v’ in Welsh) means ‘talking’ and there is more than one Afon Llafar in Wales – like a babbling brook - but with alliteration only in the second syllable. -Og, meaning ‘having the quality of’ is a suffix in Welsh place names like Ffestiniog.

Having translated the implausible Caerlaverock to the plausible Caerllafarog, we appear to have a Welsh place name in Scotland. So that needs explaining

Some History

When the Romans arrived, the island they called Brittania was occupied by a patchwork of tribes speaking various Brittonic dialects and living in peace with their neighbours, except when they quarrelled or felt like some raiding. The Romans introduced order, law and peace. Some tribal leaders bought into this, adopting Roman names and Roman lifestyles but few did as well as King Tiberius Claudius Togidubnus of the Atrebates in what is now Sussex. His huge palace with baths, underfloor heating and mosaic floors, was rediscovered in 1960 and visited by us in in in 2008.

In 410 the Romans went home, taking the rule of law with them. Petty kingdoms sprouted and withered. Their inhabitants did not write much, and what is known comes largely from oral history written down in the 11th and 12th centuries

In 537 King Gwenddoleu ap Ceidio was defeated and killed by King Rhydderch Hael of Strathclyde at the Battle of Arfderydd, Gwenddoleu’s bard, Myrddin Wyllt, reportedly went mad and ran into the forest. Arfderydd was near Caerlaverock and all the names are Welsh. Myrddin the bard may even have featured in the Arthurian legends (other claimants exist).

Britain in 800 CE
Later Angles, Jutes and Saxons began to arrive. When I was at school, I was taught the incoming invaders butchered the Ancient Britons pushing the survivors into Wales and Cornwall. DNA analysis now suggests that did not happen, they were migrants rather than invaders and quietly merged with local inhabitants. What did get pushed west was the Brittonic, Old Welsh, language.

By by 800 the petty kingdoms of what is now England (more or less) had been reduced to seven as shown on the map.

The problem with the map (apart from labelling Wales  'North Wales' and Cornwall ‘West Wales’) is that it makes no distinction between two very different Brittonic languages. The Kingdom of Dalriada, just north of Strathclyde was the land occupied by the Scoti when they migrated from Ireland (late 4th/early 5th centuries), bringing the Gaelic tongue with them. The Picts disappeared, probably merging with the Scoti, leaving some enigmatic stone carvings, but little more. The Gaelic language was very different from the Old Welsh used in Strathclyde, Wales and Cornwall.

Gaelic became the dominant language in the north of what is now Scotland, while by the 11th century English had become dominant in what would become southern Scotland and Cumbria. It is, however, very possible that some anglicised versions of Old Welsh names survive - like Caerlaverock.

Enough of this, Back to the Castle

Castles are usually highly visible, that is the point of them, but Caerlaverock remains hidden from a distance, being being built in a slight dip.

It is also triangular. The apex facing inland is truncated, with two round towers merging to form a gatehouse

Caerlaverock Castle

A closer view shows the moat is still present, but the drawbridge has been replaced by a fixed bridge.

A fixed bridge where once was a drawbridge, Caerlaverock Castle

Above the door, in carved sandstone is the crest of the Clan Maxwell, ‘a stag couchant under a holly bush.’ The inevitable erosion of softish stone means the bush is barely recognisable as holly.

The Clan Maxwell crest over the gate

Sadly, the gate is currently locked and visitors are not allowed inside. Scottish Heritage own Caerlaverock, and many other piles of old stone, and after a recent rockfall they have temporarily closed several ruins so they can be surveyed and, if necessary, made safe. I have no desire to be crushed by tumbling rocks, and there was no charge for the visit, so I cannot complain.

The photo of the gate rather foreshortens the castle, and loses its triangularity. A drone would be useful here. I do not have one, but Simon Ledingham does and he has kindly donated the photo below to Wikipedia. I reproduce it here under CC BY-SA 2.0.

Simon Ledingham's aerial view of Caerlaverock Castle. It really is triangular!
The cuboid building with nine windows, looks out of place in a medieval castle. It is the Nithsdale Lodgings - see later

Caerlaverock in the First Scottish War of Independence

The First Scottish War of Independence lasted from 1296 to 1328, which make it sound worse than it was. Some years there were summer campaigns by one protagonist or another, some years nothing happened.

Scotland had a succession problem, and rather foolishly had asked Edward I of England to choose their new king. He wanted to answer ‘ME!’ but instead appointed John Baliol, a man so pliable Edward could have used him as a glove puppet. Edward was a first-class war lord – not a quality I admire, but he was good at it and would probably have ruled Scotland but for his death from dysentery while marching north in 1302. His son Edward II was very different and after loosing to Robert the Bruce at Bannockburn in 1314 it was all over bar the shouting – which lasted 14 years.

The important battles, Stirling Bridge (1297) and Bannockburn were fought in or near Stirling. We visited both sites in 2022, and there is more about this war in my Stirling post.

The eastern Gatehouse Tower and East Range

Sir Herbert Maxwell and his garrison were besieged in Caerlaverock in 1300 by Edward I with a force of 3,000 well-armed men. After two days spirited defence Maxwell surrendered. Finding the castle was garrisoned by only 50 men. Edward was impressed they had held out so long.

In 1312 Sir Eustace Maxwell (Herbert had died) swapped sides and the castle was returned. Edward II even paid to upgrade the fortifications.

He then promptly swapped sides again. This led to a second English siege which was repulsed, but Sir Eustace part dismantled his own castle to prevent the English gaining such an important stronghold. Robert the Bruce paid him for this service.

Caerlaverock in the Second Scottish War of Independence 1332-57

King Robert I (the Bruce) died in 1329 aged 54. His son King David II was aged two, so Edward Baliol (son of John) saw an opportunity. Aided, and sometimes hindered by Edward III (son of Edward II) he fought a series of regents for the crown. Edward was distracted by French threats of invasion and in 1336 decided to invade France himself and press his claim to be the King of France. Much of the latter part of the war involved David raiding in England in support of France. He was captured, spent time in the Tower of London, was eventually ransomed and became undisputed King of Scotland on Edward Baliol’s death in 1364.

Caerlaverock Castle 1832, JMW Turner
Original in Aberdeen Art Gallery

By 1337 the castle was rebuilt and Sir Eustace declared for Edward Baliol. Some years passed, but inevitably, it was taken by forces loyal to David II, and part dismantled.

In the late 14th century, Caerlaverock was regained by the Maxwells and Sir Robert Maxwell did much rebuilding from from 1373. Some decades later another Robert, now styled 2nd Lord Maxwell reconstructed the gatehouse, among other improvements.

The Reformation

In 1567 Mary Queen of Scots was forced to abdicate. The Catholic Maxwells took up her cause and in 1570 Caerlaverock was besieged by an English Protestant force. It was, yet again, partly demolished and the gatehouse was blown up with gunpowder.

In 1619 Robert, 10th Lord Maxwell was in favour with James VI (by then also James I of England). He was appointed to the Scottish Privy Council and made Earl of Nithsdale. To reflect his new status, he started building the ‘Nithsdale Lodging.’

Looking into the castle through the demolished South Range towards the Nithsdale Lodgings

Judging the great days of castles to be over, the Nithsdale Lodgings were an attempt to turn a medieval castle into a comfortable 17th country house. They were too soon, the Gordon family made the same mistake at Huntly in Aberdeenshire, but got it right at nearby Fyvie (see Huntly and Fyvie)

Close up of the The Nithsdale Lodgings

In the dark local stone, the Nithsdale Lodgings look forbidding rather than welcoming. The semi-circles above each window have carvings of family arms, scenes of divine and earthly love and episodes from Greek mythology. Their attempt to evoke the Italian Renaissance, now better evokes the Scottish weather.

Being a Catholic in a Scotland now gripped with Protestant fervour was not easy. Six years after the Nithsdale Lodgings were completed, Caerlaverock was besieged by a Protestant Covenanter army and forced to surrender after 13 weeks. The Earl and Countess of Nithsdale and their page were allowed to leave, but the 40 defenders were put to the sword. The south wall and tower were demolished, and the castle was abandoned.

A Tapas Dinner

We too abandoned Caerlaverock, and returned to Dumfries aware that we had neglected to organise dinner. Chips shops are always available, but a seat in a restaurant in Dumfries on Saturday night, requires booking.

Our affable hosts at the Hill Hotel (which I recommend) had provided us with a list of possibilities yesterday and we started phoning. We eventually found a berth in The Bank Bar and Tapas Restaurant, a newish restaurant and a newish idea for Dumfries.

We walked into town – after relenting at Caerlaverock, the drizzle had returned – and found the Bank to be a large modern building stuffed with drinkers and diners. It was loud – Scottish bars are often louder than English bars – and that was not helped by the Hen Party in the corner. They became quieter when the serious eating started and we had left before the serious drinking begun.

The Spanish tend to eat their main meal at lunchtime (2.30ish). Those choosing to eat out in the evening normally arrive at restaurants around 10pm, thus leaving an early spot for bars selling dinks and snacks on small plates. The first Tapas bars in this country followed the Spanish template, but our earlier dining time means they have morphed into restaurants selling full meals, but on multiple small plates – three per average dinner. They have also forgotten their Spanish roots, our six plates had origins spread across Europe, Asia and the Caribbean; some were meaty, some fishy, some veggie, some spicy, some not.  Each plate was a complete dish, the variety was fascinating and we enjoyed the experience far more than we had anticipated.

The next day we drove home to Staffordshire.

Friday 26 July 2024

Kenilworth: Dining at The Cross and Gawping at the Castle

A Castle and a Restaurant Review

Kenilworth: The Where and The What


Warwickshire
Warwick District
Kenilworth (pop:22,000) is a market town in the Warwick district of Warwickshire. It is a pleasant, compact place surrounded by lush green countryside, or so it feels. But just beyond the fields to the north is the Metropolitan Borough of Coventry, and to the south are Leamington and Warwick, separate municipalities divided only by the width of the river Avon. Kenilworth is no isolated country town.

Warwickshire

Kenilworth: The Why

To the northwest, though the map does not show it, is a rural portion of the Metropolitan Borough of Solihull, the least urban, some might say the most pleasant, of the West Midlands' seven metropolitan boroughs. Lynne and I were married in Solihull’s Parish Church of St Alphege on the 26th of July 1975. So today is our 49th wedding anniversary.

Our habit of many years is to visit somewhere pleasant with a renowned restaurant and enjoy what we hope will be an outstanding dinner. This year’s chosen venue was the Michelin starred The Cross in Kenilworth. But Kenilworth is also home to a large and in some ways unusual castle, so it would be odd not to visit while it was nearby.

Kenilworth Castle


Such elegant ruins

Kenilworth Castle is a unique collection of structures, built in the local red sandstone over a period of 500 years. Here is a breathlessly brief history of its construction

In 1120 Roger de Clinton, Henry I’s chancellor, turned an existing Norman keep into a strong tower. King John added an outer wall in the early 1200s and dammed two brooks to create a mere defending two thirds the castle perimeter. In the 1300s John of Gaunt built the middle range. In the 1550s John Dudley widened the tilt yard and built the stable block. A decade later his son Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester built the massive Leicester Tower and the Italian Garden. Like most English castles Kenilworth was ‘slighted’ after the Civil War. In 1649, just before the slighting the London based Bohemian etcher and artist Wenceslaus Hollar drew a plan of the castle which is still useful.

Wenceslaus Tollar's plan of Kenilworth Castle (property of Toronto University)

Had I attempted to take the photograph below any time between 1200 and 1700, I would have been standing in the mere – and, of course, I would have no camera.

King John's Curtain Wall and the surviving main buildings, Kenilworth Castle

From the mere we made our way up to the tiltyard (24 on Hollar’s Plan). This is the top of the dam that created the mere, levelled and widened for use in jousting. At the end of the tiltyard, we entered the castle through what remains of Mortimer’s Tower (23). Inside we turned right and descended to John Dudley’s stable block (6)….

Stable block (photographed from the left, though we approached from the right)

..not because we are interested in Tudor horse accommodation, but because it is now the café. It was lunchtime and cup of tea and a cheese scone felt a appropriate. It also gave us the opportunity to marvel at the carpentry of the wooden roof.

Stableblock roof

Fed and watered we walked up across the base court (22) to look at the main buildings.

Main Buildings, Kenilworth Castle

On the right is Roger de Clinton’s tower, buildings 16 and 20 have gone, John of Gaunt’s Mid-Range (14 and 17) can be seen further back and the Leicester Tower (21) is on the left. Although the building stone remained unchanged, the architecture did not. Clinton’s Tower originally had arrow slits but no windows; windows were weaknesses, and as glass was unavailable, they also opened the interior to the elements. John of Gaunt’s 14th century buildings had glass windows like the those seen in churches of that date and signify the start of the change from castle to palace. The Leicester Tower had glass from floor to ceiling on every storey, the cost was stupendous, but Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester was a man on a mission: to marry Elizabeth I. The queen, maybe, encouraged his ambition, though she never would marry him, nor anyone else. She visited in 1566 and again in 1568; between visits he completed the tower so she could stay in surroundings as luxurious as any palace in the world. That would win her, he thought.

Clinton’s stronghold acquired some windows over the centuries…

Outside Clinton's Tower

…and the medieval hard man would have been shocked by the view from the northern side.

Looking north from Clinton's Tower

The Italian Garden was part of Robert Dudley’s campaign for the queen’s hand.

There is a better view from an unremarkable and wall-less room up a small flight of steps.

The Italian Garden from the room where Edward II abdicated

Here, on the 20th of January 1327 the serially incompetent Edward II was told to abdicate in favour of his 14-year-old son Edward III, while Edward II’s wife, Isabella of France and her lover Roger Mortimer were appointed regents. He objected, but nobody listened.

Edward II was held here for a few months, then taken to Berkeley Castle in Gloucestershire where he was murdered. Three years later, Edward III overthrew his mother and Mortimer, as any stroppy teenager would. He had Mortimer executed, while Isabella (who was only 35) settled for a long and interesting retirement at Castle Rising in Norfolk (we visited in 2022).

From the Inner Court (15) we entered the kitchens (12) where modern stairs took us into a tower….

Looking down on the kitchen

…from where we could look into John of Gaunt’s Great Hall. The ground floor was for storage and servants, the hall itself was above that, but the floor has gone.

The Grand Hall was on this level but there is no floor

John of Gaunt was a younger son of Edward III (r 1327 – 1377) whose oldest son, Edward the Black Prince predeceased his father, so his son, thus became King Richard II on the death of his grandfather. Twenty-two years later John of Gaunt’s son usurped the throne and became Henry IV (r 1399-1413). His son became Henry V.

Henry V made a speculative claim on the throne of France and in reply the Dauphin sent him a chest of tennis balls, a way of saying, ‘run off and play, sonny.’ The chest was opened in this very hall. The insult led to Henry leading a major incursion into France and winning the Battle of Agincourt, though he never did become King of France. The tennis ball story features in Shakespeare’s Henry V and was taught as fact when I was young. It is now thought to be ‘fake news.’

The windows are worth looking at, the style intermediate between those eventually put in Clinton’s Tower and the windows of the Leicester Tower.

The Grand Hall windows

There is little to see in the Leicester tower but Hardwick Hall in Derbyshire, built so 30 years later shows what the Tudors could do with glass – and it’s not a ruin. We visited 2018.

We left the castle and checked into our B&B a short drive away

The Cross, New Street Kenilworth

Tradition dictates that choosing the restaurant is my job, and Lynne remains in the dark about our destination until we get there. The criteria for choosing I will keep to myself, but after a couple of years of tasting menus with so many courses we started to flag, I was looking for a restaurant offering an old fashioned three course meal. The Cross does that - and offers a six-course tasting menu for those younger and stronger than us.

Kenilworth is also only an hour’s drive from home, and there was a suitable B&B a conveniently short walk from the restaurant. That walk took us from the High Street, where there are several restaurants, into the less promising New Street.

Walking to The Cross

Andreas Antona opened Simpson’s in Edgbaston in 1993. Four years later it became Birmingham’s first Michelin starred restaurant. In 2013 he asked Simpson’s head chef Adam Bennett to become chef-director of The Cross, his new venture. A year or so later The Cross won a Michelin star and has maintained it ever since.

According to their website The Cross is housed in a Grade II listed 19th-century inn. It also says the main dining room is a former school room and the bar was previously a butcher's shop. Whether the inn came before the schoolroom/butcher’s or after is not vouchsafed.

Aperitif and Canapés

We did not bother with the bar, the evening was still warm so we enjoyed our drink and nibbles outside.

From the extensive gin list, we chose Kenilworth Heritage gin, because it is local and we had seen it on sale (for a hefty price) in the castle gift shop. Despite it being a) artisan and b) expensive, neither of us liked it very much.

What an enormous G & T!

The canapés were a treat for the eyes…

Canapés, The Cross, Kenilworth

…but good looks are not everything.

Despite its tiny nasturtium leaf, a mini-croque monsieur is just a cheese and ham toastie. Although nicely made and beautifully presented the ingredients were uninspiring.

The beetroot in the spoon is an example of the chef-y technique of spherification. The idea is that the largish bubble of liquid beetroot should burst in the mouth with satisfying consequences. Lynne liked it, I liked the idea but would have preferred almost any other fruit of vegetable. Lynne was also delighted by the tiny contrivance on top, a herb with something to crunch. She thought it was bursting with flavour, I was unconvinced.

The filo basket of tiny chopped potato topped by goat curd was a pleasing little mouthful.

Lynne’s Starter

Broth of Devon White Chicken, roast winglet, new seasons onions, broad beans, tarragon.

A large soup bowl arrived, empty but for a small hill if vegetables covering the winglets (what part of a chicken is that?). The broth came in a separate jug and the waiter poured it round and eventually over the vegetables.

Broth of Devon white chicken, The Cross, Kenilworth

More than a touch of theatre is required to turn soup of the day (chicken and vegetable) into a Michelin starred dish, but it helps. The deep, rich intensity of the broth did the rest, and the tarragon worked its usual magic with the chicken.

My Starter

Tartar of Beef, soy pickled mushrooms, radish salad, yeast crumb and mushroom ketchup.

Inside every man hides a blood smeared hunter. Such an atavistic monster even lurks behind my kindly elderly gent façade so I need to be thrown a slab of raw meat every now and then.

In this case though, the raw meat was not a slab, and instead of being thrown it was elegantly presented, hiding beneath a radish salad. There was little added to the finely chopped fillet steak, a little seasoning and something, I know not what, that bound it nicely together.

Beef tartar, The Cross, Kenilworth

In his ‘French Odyssey’ Rick Stein wrote I noticed in France that steak tartare has become fashionable once more, so I hope it catches on again here in Britain. I suppose the idea of raw meat is a bit hard to take for some people, but it’s always struck me as completely lovely. Hear, hear. I loved the steak, I loved the tiny pickled mushrooms and the blobs of mushroom ketchup, I even loved the radish - and the yeast crumb provided a different crunch to make the dish complete.

Bread

Around this point in all restaurants of this ilk, some bread appears, baked on-site or by a local artisan baker, accompanied by a special butter. I am not sure why I am expected to want bread and butter at this stage of a meal. I had a piece to see if it was good, and it was truly excellent, but I could eat no more.

Bread and butter, The Cross, Kenilworth

Wine

Beef tartar demanded red, so I ordered a glass of Rioja. The rest of our meal wanted white and choosing a bottle from the long (and sometimes expensive) list required thoughtful browsing. Among the often-underrated wines of Portugal I spotted a Bucelas. When Portugal was too poor to care much about quality wines, Bucelas, near Lisbon was one the few designated quality areas. It was popular in Victorian England but more recently, many of its vineyards disappeared under Lisbon’s urban sprawl. Lower production makes it hard to find, even in Portugal, but it remains good and I was delighted to see a bottle at an affordable price.

Main Course

Cornish John Dory, baby gem lettuce, peas, girolle mushrooms and bacon, parsley, new potatoes, chicken jus with lemon thyme.

We both chose the John Dory which, like every dish at The Cross was beautifully presented.

John Dory, and more. The Cross, Kenilworth

John Dory is coastal fish that can be found around every continent except the Americas and Antarctica. It is not landed in any great quantity being a by-catch of other fisheries. Many of those that are caught find their way to the upper end of the restaurant business. Its flesh is very white, surprisingly flaky for a small fish and very tasty.

It was surrounded by the sort of peas that remind you how much better fresh peas are than frozen, bacon that was crisped and almost sweet, and girolles with a remarkably powerful flavour that pleased me but not Lynne. All was moistened by a chicken jus and everything came together better than I had thought possible. It was a delightful dish, but the John Dory, announced as the star, just became part of an ensemble. Does that matter? Probably not.

Lynne’s Dessert

Hazelnut soufflé, praline sauce, Chantilly cream,

Who does not like a good soufflé? The praline sauce was poured into a hole dug into the top and the Chantilly cream came in a separate bowl - which Lynne perversely ignored.

Hazelnut soufflé and praline sauce

Impressed by the nuttiness, Lynne was more than happy with her soufflé. I ate the world’s finest souffle at Hambleton Hall in 2021, so I feel there is no point me trying another - what if I was proved wrong? I must look after my ego. Fortunately, after only two courses and a very little bread I felt strong enough to tackle the cheeseboard

Cheese

As has now become almost universal, all the cheeses were English artisan products. From left to right they are: Tunworth, Double Barrel Poacher, Ashcombe, Brightwell Ash and Shropshire Blue.

Cheeseboard

I am familiar with Tunworth, a Hampshire version of Camembert. It is excellent when eaten ripe, and this example was fully ripe with well-developed flavours of mushrooms and cowshed.

I am also familiar with Lincolnshire Poacher made by Simon Jones at his dairy farm in the Lincolnshire Wolds. His recipe owes something to both Farmhouse Cheddar and Comté.  The regular Poacher is matured for 14 to 16 months, the Double Barrel gets 2 to 3 years. Powerful stuff.

Kindly elderly gent eats cheese

Ashcombe is a Cotswold version of Morbier, with is distinctive band of ash. This excited me less.

As did the Brightwell Ash. Made in Berkshire, it is a soft, ash coated goat’s cheese. I have a prejudice against cheese that is spreadable, and I would have liked a goatier flavour.

Despite its name, Shropshire Blue is made by several producers in Nottinghamshire. Some of those producers also make Stilton, which I wish this was.

All cheeseboards are a compromise, so a partial success is as good as it gets, but I was a little disappointed by this selection – a kindly elderly gent can become a grumpy old git and be difficult to please, sorry.

Petits Fours etc

That leaves just coffee and petits fours…

Petits Fours

…and a recognition of the occasion.

Thank you to the Cross

And Finally

We enjoyed our evening, indeed our whole day. The meal was excellent, the flavours, the combinations and the presentation were all well thought through and executed. There were no meaningful low points, but neither were there moments that took the breath away, no horseradish ice-cream, no scallop, wasabi and apple granita. We would have liked such a moment, but maybe that is being greedy.

'Fine Dining' posts

Abergavenny and the Walnut Tree (2010)
Ludlow and La Bécasse (2011) (restaurant closed, post withdrawn)
Ilkley and The Box Tree(2012)
Pateley Bridge and the Yorke Arms (2013) (No longer a restaurant, post renamed Parceval Gardens and Pateley Br)
The Harrow at Little Bedwyn (2014)
The Slaughters and the Lords of the Manor (2015)
Loam, Fine Dining in Galway (2016)
Penarth and Restaurant James Sommerin (2017) (restaurant closed, post withdrawn. JS has a new restaurant in Penarth)
The Checkers, Montgomery (2017) (no longer a restaurant, post withdrawn. Now re-opened under new management)
Tyddyn Llan, Llandrillo, Denbighshire (2018)
Fischer's at Baslow Hall, Derbyshire (2019)
Hambleton Hall, Rutland (2021)
The Olive Tree, Queensberry Hotel, Bath (2022)
Dinner at Pensons near Tenbury Wells (2023) (restaurant closed Dec 2023, post withdrawn)
The Cross, Kenilworth (& Kenilworth Castle) 2024