The charming eccentricity of Rye Bay Scallop Week

One of the more endearing aspects of the current British food scene is the number of festivals devoted to a single food. I’d heard of oyster festivals, crab festivals and cheese festivals but I’d never come across a scallop festival before.

In Rye they have an entire week devoted to the bivalve with some hilarious-sounding events such as Scallop Quiz Night (is it the scallops being quizzed or are all the questions about scallops?), Scallop Bingo, Scallops on Stage (a chorus-line of high-kicking scallops?) and Rye Wurlitzer and Scallop demo which I can’t even begin to imagine.

To paraphrase Lewis Carroll’s The Walrus and the Carpenter:

Four young scallops hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn't any feet.

Anyway we played it safe and went to a relatively conventional, rather grand five course scallop and wine dinner at The George in Rye, a handsome-looking Hotel du Vin-ish sort of establishment in the high street, which was held in their resplendent ballroom round a single long candlelit table.

And they certainly didn’t stint on the scallops. We had coquilles St Jacques (with a Gran Verano Chilean Chardonnay*) pan-fried Rye Bay scallops with pea purée (2012 Sauvignon Blanc), scallop ceviche with dried black olives (an unusual addition that kicked a full-bodied 2011 reserva Chardonnay into touch) and a lobster risotto with poached scallops paired with a 2011 Pinot Noir reserva.

I was slightly anxious whether the dessert would be scallop-based but happily it was a white chocolate soufflé with raspberry and amaretto crumble - served with local Kent winery Chapel Down’s Nectar dessert wine.

The timing of the festival in chilly February might sound surprising but according to local fisherman Paul Hodges it’s ideal both for the trade and the consumer. “It’s a quiet time for fishermen because a lot of fish go into roe while scallops are in season” he explained. “And it's a quiet time for local hotels and restaurants”.

Scallops are found in deep waters all along the English channel and there’s intense competition to locate the scallop beds. “It’s like looking for a treasure trove - you can come away with a full boat or come back with nothing” Hodges told me.

Clearly the festival catches the imagination, as it did mine. People apparently come from considerable distances to attend it - including, unbelievably, a contingent from Japan.

If you’re in the area this weekend you can still catch the last two days. Check out the events and offerings on scallop.org.uk

*All the wines came from Chilean winery Apaltagua.

Two other fishy fests

They’re into fishy festivals in East Sussex. Not to be outdone by its neighbour Hastings has a seafood and wine festival in September (14th-15th in 2013) and a herring fair in November (9th-10th) at which they hold a ‘Silver Darlings' banquet - the colloquial British name for herrings.

I was invited to the festival as the guest of The George In Rye

An insider's guide to the fish restaurants of Marseille and Cassis

Travel writer Philip Sweeney hobnobs with the locals, checks out the best places to eat and discovers why fishing for bouillabaisse isn't as easy as it once was . . .

Pagnolesque, pastis-swigging boules players they may look still look like, but the fishermen of Marseille have a hard time of it today. Ex-fishermen outnumber practising examples. The captain of a pleasure boat I took around the Calanques, a former trawler skipper, listed the problems: depleted fish stocks, EU interference, soaring price of diesel, difficulty selling boats if you can’t make a living using them: owners are actually destroying good vessels, apparently. From 700 twenty years ago, the Marseille fishing community is down to 230 today.

The worst affected are the big tuna boats and the lamparo night fishing trawlers. The petits metiers, one or two man crews, some still operating the brightly painted traditional wooden pointus, are holding up reasonably well; lower outgoings, more flexible sales. The big boats sell all their catch at the main Marseille fish market, down west at Saumaty, past the ferry docks, flyovers, silos and warehouses, the old central Criée on the Quai du Rive Neuve having become a theatre.

The small fishermen also sell directly to the public. A couple of dozen set up their stalls in the mornings on the Vieux Port, squeezed back to the quayside by the massive road works with which Sir Richard Rodgers is turning the rough old Quai des Belges into a gleaming new pedestrian paradise for Marseille European City of Culture year, 2013. Half their stock is live fish, waiting in shallow blue trays or buckets with bubbling air lines: loups, rascasses, rougets, lottes, known in the South as baudroies, chapons, the baudroies’ even uglier cousins, galinettes, vives, conger eels, piles of the multicoloured rock fish necessary for bouillabaisse stock.

To the western side of the harbour lines of restaurant terraces await the tourists, bouillabaisse displays at the ready, nowadays translated into Chinese as well as German and English. In many cases the fish on show is sunken eyed and the prices rip-off. In some, the food is classy, but so are the prices.

I met Christian Buffa, chef/proprietor of one of the classiest, the Miramar, buying a particularly apopleptic-looking chapon to complete a demonstration bouillabaisse, and went back to sample his bourride. The Miramar has an elegant 1960s panelled interior behind its terrace, polished service by a 50% Far Eastern team, and large carte of tempting classic cuisine, which doesn’t come cheap. Fifty nine Euros for bouillabaisse or bourride: the bourride, which I prefer, comes in the same two stage form as the bouillabaisse, soup first, with croutons, cloves of garlic to rub on them, and aioli, then the fish and potatoes, just cooked in the broth, on a platter. The Miramar’s soup is utterly delicious, an assortment of rock fish in stock, cream and aioli all emulsified into pale brown velvet, subtler and richer than the reddish tomato based and rouille infused liquor of the bouillabaisse, good as that is.

In search of something cheaper and simpler, I tried the Boite à Sardine, a narrow shop up on the Boulevard de la Liberation with a steel fish counter inside and a few tables on the pavement. Funky enough, with locals outnumbering the tourists, the latter perhaps frightened off by the oubliette-like toilet/storeage cellar. Some of the food is a bit alarming too. Really good rougets at the moment, I was told: eat them whole, the liver is extremely good. Maybe, but the neat sets of miniature entrails from my rougets went straight under a convenient oyster shell; luckily I was also sampling the Boite’s excellent range of fifteen types of oyster, some delicious mussels and razor clams, supions, the little squid typical of Marseille sautéed in oil, garlic and parsley, and plenty of other plate cover.

Next, off east to Cassis, and another fish shop/ restaurant, the Poissonnerie Laurent. Leaving the Vieux Port by the coast road, you pass a series of rocky inlets, progressively wilder as you leave the city. The first is the charming little Vallon des Auffes, a mini Vieux Port nestling below the raised seafront promenade, home to the classic restaurant Fonfon, but also the cheaper and better Chez Jeannot, where I ate excellent pizza and succulent supions fried in flour with Jonathan Meades, the former Times restaurant critic now resident in Marseille. (Meades‘ other favourites include Toinou and François Coquillages for shell fish and Chez Vincent and Etienne for supions, by the way). Beyond lie the calanques, rocky fjord-like inlets with tiny harbours and humble looking cabanons, fishermens’ huts, which you feel like snapping up for a cheap pied dans l’eau till you find a converted one goes for a quarter of a million euros.

Cassis in an exquisite little port with boules players under plane trees, rows of quayside cafés, steep old blonde stone alleys, then the surrounding hills, with the villas and plush apartment blocks of serious old money, plus a newer population of footballers and the few Marseille gangsters who aren’t in Marbella. And right up to edge of the town, the beautiful vineyards of the twelve domaines comprising the old appellation of Cassis, about which more shortly.

The best time in Cassis in the summer is morning, before the tourists flood in. On the quay is a miniature version of the Vieux Port Marseille fish market, down to three local fishermen. One of them is Laurent Gianettini of the Poissonnerie Laurent, who bought his pointu, says his brother and restaurant manager Eric, instead of a Porsche. Eric doesn’t have to be joking: restored 1930s pointus start at 35000 Euros.

Sitting outside the Poissonerie overlooking the harbour, I ate excellent supions à la provençale, little whitebait –like friture with two rouilles, one dry and potato-based in the old style, one shiny with oil, a grilled loup. The poissonnerie gets 80% of its fish from outside the region now, including the Atlantic, and sells local fish mainly to keep the trade going, and the bouillabaisse authentic. Frankly, it would pay them to buy in sous vide bouillabaisse and pre-packed fish, like more and more restaurants are doing, whether they admit it or not. Still more gloom, in piscine economic terms, but somehow difficult to fret over, on a vine covered terrace, between an emerald sea and a bottle of chilled Clos Sainte Magdeleine Cassis.

Le Miramar, Marseille, www.bouillabaisse.com 0491914109

La Boite a Sardine, Marseille, www.laboiteasardine.com 0491509595

Chez Jeannot, Marseille, 0491521128

La Poissonnerie Laurent, Cassis, 0442017156

Marseille Tourism details: www.marseille-tourisme.com

Cassis Tourism details: www.ot-cassis.com

Philip Sweeney travelled with Rail Europe, www.raileurope.co.uk, 0844 848 4070, Travel Centre, 193 Piccadilly, London W1j 9EU. Fares from London to Marseille from £119 standard return.

 

Magdalen Chapter, Exeter: a night in the operating room

So many institutions are being converted into hotels these days that one should feel no great surprise at staying at a former eye hospital. But I must confess to feeling a shade queasy at spending a night in the operating room* at the Magdalen Chapter in Exeter - particularly when I spotted the drain in the floor down which many unspeakable fluids must have been sluiced . . .

Enough! It had of course been superbly made over with a super-king-size bed and a neat arrangement of basin, bath and power shower all subtly illuminated by a hi-tech and incomprehensible lightling system (did I want Relax 1 or Relax 2?) And I slept like a baby, blissfully untroubled by thoughts of scalpels and stiches.

I was actually down for the food, masterminded by one of my culinary heroes Simon Hopkinson and executed by chef Ben Bulger formerly of the Riverford Kitchen

The nibbles along were worth the trip - fine slices of jamon iberico, miniature fish cakes and superb ham and cheese croquetas - you simply can’t go wrong with something fried, particularly when it’s washed down with a glass of Perrier Jouet.

The meal was more uneven - scallops and broad beans were a little miserly though a crab bruschetta was lovely. Roast chicken was perfectly pitched with simply cooked new potatoes, while the brill was a shade overcooked (only 3 weeks since opening coupled with the pressure of a busy Saturday night, giving them the benefit of the doubt) Homemade strawberry jelly and ice cream however delivered everything you wanted from a summer dessert - except sunny weather (it had been pelting down for days).

There was a great breakfast too including an outrageously good ham hock and black pudding hash with a poached egg and hollandaise sauce that must have clogged up my arteries for the next 24 hours at the very least.

The hospital - ooops, hotel - has some great open spaces on which a considerable amount of money must have been lavished. The lounge looks out onto a lawn and can have an entire wall of windows opened should the thermometer inch above 20°C. There’s a lovely library with proper books - including a great selection of cookbooks. And there is to be a state of the art spa and outdoor/indoor swimming pool that should make The Chapter the perfect West Country getaway

As for me, I revisted old haunts - I was at university here longer ago than I care to remember. The beautiful cathedral close is an easy 7-8 minutes walk away and still contains one of the tearooms (now Tea on the Green) in which I remember whiling away hours dodging lectures. The other has sadly become a Pizza Express. In fact the centre, like most cities these days, is dominated by chains. The only businesses who can afford the rents.

Living in Bristol, Exeter is near enough for an indulgent night away so I’m going to keep track on spa deals for those grey, dreary winter months - or even those grey, dreary summer ones . . .

* I like the fact that it's euphemistically referred to as The Theatre ;-)

Where else to eat in and around Exeter

Bill’s
The queues were so long for this popular all-day café (also with branches in London, Lewis, Cambridge and Brighton) that we we weren’t prepared to wait. Looks a good spot for breakfast though

Tea on the Green
Has obviously changed since my student days but still offers a pretty mean rarebit and all-day breakfast menu. Good value

Michael Caines at the Royal Clarence
Up to now, Exeter’s most glamourous hotel with a great location overlooking the cathedral. Restaurants are all run by celebrity chef Michael Caines - brownie points for suggesting wine pairings

The Nobody Inn
Down twisting lanes not far from Exeter you find yourself in the heart of the Devon countryside. The Nobody Inn is the quintessential old-fashioned pub (I used to go there years ago for scampi in a basket!) Good food and an amazing winelist as you can see above. There is also a very nice B & B, Town Barton, just up the road run by the former Nobody landlord Nick Borst-Smith.

I stayed in the Magdalen Chapter as a guest of the hotel. Room rates start from £150 per room per night, including breakfast.

 

How to eat like the Veronese

As you walk through the door of Al Pompiere in Verona you could easily be back in the '70s. A timbered ceiling, checked table cloths, walls lined with pictures of guests through the ages, it’s every inch the traditional trat. In one corner where hams line the shelves and hang from the ceiling an elderly chef in a toque is slicing ham and other salumi to order with a large, impressively flashy machine. If you think it’s old-fashioned though take a look at their website - the retro feel is deliberate but they’re linked to all the social media.

I was taken there by Mateja Gravner of Bertani, one of the best known producers of Valpolicella and Amarone, who had sensibly decided we should have a classic Veronese experience rather than a high-end gastronomic one. Although it’s well featured on Trip Advisor it’s still very much a place for locals who easily outnumbered tourists on the night we were there.

No wonder - the food is amazing. We naturally had to kick off with the ham which included a local prosciutto, cooked shoulder, salami cured with Valpolicella, coppa and some great fresh pickles, perfect with Bertani’s fresh, full-flavoured 2011 Soave Sereole. We thought we’d also agreed to share subsequent courses but each had our own, starting with a helping of the best pasta e fagioli I’ve ever eaten, made from rich earthy borlotti beans, cooked to a silky puree and served with offcuts of fresh pasta - a frugal yet beautiful dish.

There was a pasta of the day - tagliatelle with artichoke hearts that I suspect had been par-boiled then slowly cooked with oil and butter, served simply with parmesan - a revelation with Bertani’s Secco Valpolicella Valpantena 2010, which is made in the ‘ripasso’ style.

Artichokes and red wine are normally a complete no-no, making the wine taste oddly sweet but with the existing touch of sweetness in the wine that didn’t happen.

Next, a dish of ‘capel del prete’ a large chunky sausage with lentils with the 2007 Ognisanti a single vineyard Valpolicella from the Villa Novare estate, a deeply savoury wine made from late-picked grapes. That was followed by a dish of veal cheek cooked in amarone served with 1972 and 1964 vintages of the Bertani Amarone Classico. The 1972 vintage had lost it, developing unattractively bitter dark leafy flavours but the 1964 was magnificent - delicate and sweet with a haunting aroma of dried red rose petals. 48 years old! It certainly didn't taste it.

We finished off with cheese - a Monte Veronese Ubriaco, a local parmesan-like cheese immersed for several days in grape must, which came with a sweet red onion marmalade and a Gorgonzola served with honey and fig and nut bread. Both defeated the dry wines and needed Bertani's sweet recioto 2009 to offset their sharpness and strength.

There is also an amazing winelist at the restaurant with pages of other valpolicellas and amarones. The ideal environment to learn about both wines.

Oh and by the way the equally unreconstructed hotel we stayed in, theHotel Accademia in Via Scala, 12, is perfectly situated in the middle of Verona - ideal for exploring the town. Don't miss the cakes at breakfast!

I ate in the restaurant and stayed in Verona as a guest of Bertani.