Halloween at Portofino...

Great fun!
A "gentle" pumpkin carved by Noel. A couple of kids said it wasn't scary.

Costumes galore!


















Joe had a black eye and a pizza, I think...

Soup of the day: Cream of Pumpkin! Don't say it too fast...

A Belgian Beauty...

Terry Hanlon, the once-gentle-HUFC-Hospitality-Main-Man has started a new Facebook group called Sprouts Out.
I have joined it as an undercover-agent-provocateur.
Not because I do not like Brussels sprouts, on the contrary I love them! I joined this extremist group to try and undermine Terry's malicious campaign to discredit the beautiful and versatile sprout.

I met and fell in love with this beautiful, well-rounded, firm vegetable when I first landed on these exotic isles, over 33 years ago.

There she sat, alone, all green and shy on my dustbin lid of a plate, surrounded by generous slices of roast beef, a pile of shrivelled peas, a few sad baby carrots and a giant Yorkshire pudding.

I wondered who and what she was. I had never seen anything like her back in Algeria. The host explained: something about Brussels.
My limited understanding of the English language back then led me to wonder why the chocolate-loving Belgians would sprout such a weird-looking vegetable.

I caught it with my fork after several attempts. It felt and tasted like a water-filled balloon. My first encounter with the sprout did not have a happy ending.
Yet, I am glad to say, our relationship did not fizzle out, instead it flourished when we began experimenting. Butter, toasted nuts, bacon, lemon, etc...

Nowadays a roast is not a roast without a few Brussels sprouts on the plate.
You see I have grown to love anything Belgian, especially sprouts and chocolates, with the exception of kids who wet themselves in public.

A Delighted Mascot...

A very special day for my 8-year old grandson, Alex. I got a call from Terry Hanlon, from the Hartlepool United marketing team. He asked if Alex was coming the match against Brighton because he had been chosen as Pools mascot for the day.

We arrived just before with one hour to go for the match.

Terry took us both to the players dressing room where Alex got his photo taken with every single player and each one of them signed his matchday programme.

After a light kickalong with Terry, where Alex won £1 in a competition where he had to hit the corner post.

The electonic scoreboard was unveiled for the first time and guess whose name was up in lights?

Alex then led out the players, walking along captain Sam Collins. He shook hands with the referee, linesmen and the Brighton players before taking his seat next to me under the complimentary smiles and pats-on-the-back of our neighbouring Pools fans.

The day was crowned with a one-nil win against Brighton courstesy of Kevin Kyle in the 12th minute.

Several times through the match Alex said to me:"Grampa, this is the best day of my life!"

Little does he know that I enjoyed it just as much as he did.

Using our loaf...

The price of bread has shot up in the last few months.
Many reasons for this: Last summer's floods, world wheat production, oil prices, etc...but to name a few.
Does this stop us from eating bread? No chance!
Bread is life. Well, for me, anyway.

During the French Revolution, it is alleged that when Marie-Antoinette was told that the French people had no bread to eat, she flippantly said:"Qu'ils mangent de la brioche!" "Let them eat cake!"
No, thank you! I'd rather have a slice of brown granary bread, you know, the one with all the healthy seeds and so on.

When I was a kid on the farm, I thought that brown bread was only what people ate when they couldn't afford "real" bread. Mind you, it didn't look as appetizing as today's Bloomers! Nowadays, it is very rare that I eat white bread apart from French baguettes.

A little while ago a friend of mine acquired a bread maker. He swears by it and says it is a piece of cake to use. You bang everything in, switch it on and a couple of hours later, you're can enjoy delicious, fresh bread.

I can think of many things that could be had instead of bread. Things such as pasta, couscous, rice, etc...
But can these replace bread?

Resto Rants....

I understand customers.
Honest, I really do.
After all, I am very often a customer myself. At the local supermarket, cinema, petrol station, or even another restaurant, I am a customer. So, if I say I understand customers, I really mean it. It’s not as if they’re from outer-space. Well, a few of them are, but we won’t go into that.
They’re more often than not, your next door neighbour, the supermarket checkout girls, etc… Maybe the odd restaurant inspector, every now and then.

As a restaurant customer and an industry insider, I really enjoy attentive service, a smiling waitress, one who listens to your order carefully and gets it right. “Medium rare? That’s how I like it, sir.”

But sometimes, an attentive wine waiter can spoil your meal. As your glass is topped up between sips you find that you’ve guzzled your fairly expensive wine well before you’ve finished your starter.
“Can I get you another bottle, sir?”
On one occasion lately, an over-zealous sommelier as they like to be called, grabbed the bottle off my hand as I tried to top up my glass.
“Does he think I am incapable of pouring myself a drop? Is there a special way of filling your glass?”

Oh, and the other thing that truly annoys me is the giant black pepper grinder! As introduced by cheap Italian trattorias in the 70’s. As if the carefully prepared food is going to be improved by a pinch of black pepper! Mind you, in some restaurants, it can be.
And this archaic practice has led customers to underrate your restaurant if you don’t happen to own a porn-sized grinder.
As always I say if you can’t beat them, join them.

“Black pepper, madam?”
“What? On my ice cream?”

Food for thought...

Kevin, Casa's head-chef sent me an email depicting lots of Chinese delicacies, including Lizards Tails, Dog Brain Soup, Scorpion Brochettes, etc...
I have total respect for people's (weird) tastes. After all, I like olives smothered with chili, roast beef dripping with blood, whole ungutted fish, so who am I to talk?
I hear that down in the deepest confines of the Algerian Sahara, deep-fried crickets are absolutely delicious. I have never tasted them but being open-minded I'd give them a try as long as there is a bottle of Tabasco nearby.

But I definitely draw the line at Seahorses...
I don't think I've ever seen a live one, but just do check out Finding Nemo... The Seahorses look so pretty and lovable...
I can't imagine them skewered, let alone barbequed.

Where do you draw the line?

Plucking more than chickens...

Around what seems like a million years ago, (Summer 1962 to be exact), my brother received a guitar as a present. It must have been after he passed the Baccalauréat on his way to university.
He left it at home, so I dabbled with it, not really knowing how to hold let alone how to play it. I used to lay it on the dining table and pluck the strings like a sitar.

Over the years, I have dreamed of learning to play this beautiful intrument. I tried on my own a few times, with books and videos... Not a chance! I couldn't grasp it.
At the last count I reckon I have had 3 or 4 teachers. Very patient ones.
Guitar playing requires constant practice. And that itself calls for a lot of patience. Something I lack.

My latest tutor is a well known local guitar player who practises his craft in various local restaurants, including Casa del Mar for a while. I plucked my guitar strings in front of him and he immediately knew that the only style I would be comfortable with was Spanish.
Since my brother brought back a few records from his 1965 Spain trip, I fell in love with that music. Flamenco pulls my strings like no other music.

There is one piece by Joachim Rodrigo called El concierto de Aranjuez which always makes me melt when I hear it.
It was even played in the film Brassed Off although it is affectionately referred to as Concerto de Orange Juice...

I have just learned how to put music on websites, and guess what, I have placed this piece on Casa's Menu Page so that you can listen to it while perusing our tapas...
It's not me playing by the way.
I wish...

My guitar having a rest...

Never too old to learn...

There are many who say that you cannot teach an old dog new tricks. I say that you're never too old to learn new tricks or brush up on your old ones...
When earlier this year I was offered a training programme called Profit through Productivity, I jumped at the opportunity. I must say that I picked up many useful tips to help us run the restaurants better, especially in this shaky economic climate.
Our company is now being used as a case study to entice others to join the programme.

I should really be amazed at how busy all three restaurants still are despite the constant barrage by newspapers, radio and television of impeding gloom and doom, but... guess what?
I am not!
As I explained in an earlier post, when people have very little spare money, they usually go for the tried-and-tested, (should really be the tried-and-trusted)
Fingers crossed, we'll ride this recession like all the ones we've been through over the last 23 years.

Tapas to go... going well...

...Like hot cakes, in fact!

Many of the employees from nearby offices usually have a sandwich from the local shop but since Adam and his team introduced the Tapas 2 Go, their tastebuds have been tickled.

A few of the staff from our other restaurants have also become addicted to this easy, tasty treat after a busy shift.

The proof is in the eating, as they say and it seems that Adam has also fallen for the Tapas 2 Go... Both he and Hayley have become partial to them.

Most expensive food...

Caviar is just simply fish roe (eggs). Though the best comes from the Beluga Sturgeon, one can always make do with lumpfish or salmon caviars at around £5 a jar.

Beluga Caviar which comes from the Caspian sea can cost at least £2000 a kilo.
It is the most expensive food item in the world!
Sturgeons can weigh up to two tonnes and prized more for their eggs than their meat.
Caviar is usually served on a warm toast for very special occasions.

I personally have tried real Caviar only once and, though I liked it very much, I still do no see what the fuss is all about.
Can you?

(photo courtesy of Wikipedia)

The Great North Run...

A beautiful morning for an increasingly popular event. Twenty-eighth year! One of the most exciting half-marathons in the world!
Fifty-two thousands runners!
From the very professional looking for a record to the casual runner raising a few pounds for charity.
Everyone is a winner!

Last night, in all our three restaurants, we had many competitors filling up on carbohydrates to help them stay the course.
At Portofino, it is very easy to spot them. Their food order is pasta for starters, pasta for main-course and if they were allowed, it would be pasta for dessert.
And all that with a huge garlic bread!

At Krimo's they opted for proteins because they were totally fed-up with carbohydrates.

The Great North Run attracts people from all over the world. For a few days, the whole of the North East benefits from it. Hotels, restaurants and various other businesses see this weekend as one of the busiest of the year.
Great stories, great motivation...























Photos courtesy of the BBC

Would you share your last slice of pizza?

I imagine that most pizzas in the world will go cold by the time you reach the last slice. But would you share it?
I doubt it!
Personalmente, if a pizza is good, I will lick the plate! Honestamente!
There was a bakery in my old hometown, which served slices of pizzas at 5 centimes a go. At around twelve, everyday, the place was swamped with hungry, greedy mouths, dying for a slice of the action.
A square slice of pizza, drizzled with home made chilli sauce.
Five centimes of heaven!
Many of us wanted more than one slice of heaven. And the trays kept steaming out of the oven.
Who cared about burnt tongues, blistered lips! A pizza is to be had hot!
If the last slice is still warm, I will start another war for it!
Dare you touch it?
I very much doubt it!

Top of the pops...

Our friend Stan Laundon , well-known BBC Radio presenter/DJ, took this photo from the top of Christ Church, Hartlepool's own Art Gallery.
He climbed the 172 steps to the top of the tower in Church Square to take this beautiful shot.
What a fit guy!
Krimo's is the building on the left in the foreground.
The headland looks amazing and so close!

The art of surviving recessions...

Over our twenty-three years in business we have been through a few trials, Foot-and-mouth, Salmonella, Chinese Bird Flu, and many more financial crises that would usually floor a fledgling business.
I learnt that our survival had to do with our customers putting their trust in us.

Let me put it this way.
If you don't have two pennies to rub together, can you afford to gamble?
Of course, not!
So, you stick to what you know, the tried-and-tested. As simple as that!

And that is why we can survive anything this world throws at us.
Wall Street crash... Not 1929...
Credit crunch...
Flu epidemic...

And guess what?
These lows help us sharpen our operation. Honest!
We look at how we can improve our customer care.
We talk to our existing suppliers and look at new ones for better deals.
The only thing we do not do is to lower our standards!
Instead, we improve them. Not by lowering prices but by giving better value. Not in monetary terms but in satisfaction terms.

The extra mile...The extra smile...

All this goes a long way.
And when the recession is over we find that we come out of it much stronger.

You've had your chips...

At Portofino, Noel, Chris and the team pride themselves in serving fresh, homemade chips.
Many years ago, frozen chips were given a try but they "tasted like straw!"
Nowadays, Portofino's chips are very famous in... Hartlepool.
The other morning I asked if they knew what country made the best chips.
"England! We make the best fish and chips in the world!"
"Oh, no! Sorry, boys, it's Belgium!"
They laughed.
So I went back to my office and Googled it for proof.
"Best chip in the World."
Guess what came up first?


But, after further research I came up with the answer.
Belgium in general and Brussels in particular is the home of the best chips in the world.
The country is after all famous for Mussels and Chips.

The secret is twice-cooked chips.
My cousin in Dieppe (France) once showed me how to make Frites.

Voila...
Peel and slice the potatoes into 1cm thick chips.
Thickness matters more than length! I've heard that before...
Wash them in warm water, then drain and dry them.
Par-fry or blanch them in oil at around 140 degrees.
Once the chips are cooked through but still white, drain them and leave them to drip dry.
Turn the frying temperature to 180 degrees.
Drop the basket in and shake it to keep the chips loose.
They will become golden within two minutes.
Drain, sprinkle them with salt and serve immediately.

Chips, frites, French fries... or whatever they're called...
They are beautiful... in moderation!

Tapas to go...

Adam and his team have come up with this new concept for lunch on the hoof...
There are many call centres nearby and most of the workers usually grab a sarnie, fish and chips, a pizza, etc... from the numerous food outlets around the Marina.
So why not Tapas?
A couple of Albondigas, a few Patatas Bravas, a bit of salad, etc... and you've got an alternative lunch...
They are launching it this week. I'll keep you posted as to its success.
But don't hold your breath; new concepts need time to develop and become popular.
Watch this space

Keep it simple...

That's the first rule of cooking.

Anyone who has watched the latest cookery programmes on telly must have heard this phrase. The presenters make it sound like a new prophecy!
Like reinventing the wheel!
Of course, things have to be kept simple or else you lose the plot.

There were many instances in the Seventies and Eighties, when over-zealous cooks misunderstood Nouvelle Cuisine, marrying totally unmixable ingredients together for the sake of presentation and ending up with unpalatable mix bound for the divorce courts!

























This post was prompted after I tweaked the vinaigrette at Casa.

Vinaigrette is the French for salad dressing and it comes from the word vinaigre (vinegar).
The original recipe is one quarter vinegar and three quarters oil. Salt and pepper are normally the only other ingredients.
My mother usually replaced the vinegar by lemon juice. This made her dressing taste a lot fresher.
The addition of any other ingredient is the cook's prerogative. Flavoured vinegars, mustards, herbs, etc... are all acceptable in the right measure.

Personally, I prefer the simple version. Here is how I prepare one portion of salad:
A large plastic bowl. One tbsp of olive oil, a pinch each of freshly ground sea salt and black pepper and the juice of a quarter of lemon.
All this before I add the salad ingredients. This is the only way one can tell how much dressing is used.
No need to mix, whisk or blend!
I just add the ingredients.
Tossing the salad is all one needs to cover the leaves with dressing. That is the reason for the large bowl.
My favourite side salad is a head of baby gems, a few slices of fresh fennel, a tsp of finely chopped red onion and that's about it.

Ready, steady, munch!

Burning dreams...

I have been having weird dreams since my knee operation.

This morning, was it this morning or this afternoon? Was it not yesterday? Colin from Krimo's came to the office to talk news, reviews and mainly menus. A fruitful and vegetable meeting...
As he got up to leave I asked him whether he'd enjoyed his stint at Casa last week?
He looked at me and said:
"Casa? I wouldn't know the first thing about tapas. Especially when the menu is in blooming Spanish!"

I honestly, clearly remember somebody telling me that he had worked a shift at Casa del Mar as all the chefs were off... All that in what must have been a dream!

Since I came out of hospital, I have had very vivid dreams about cooking, kitchens, etc...
























Last night I woke up in a sweat really believing that I had set a pan on fire. Then I realised that it was only a bad dream!

Moi, burn a pan? Are you joking me or what?

Just ask Lydia, our long-suffering-serving porter (At least 18 years at the sink!) Yes, just ask her if Krimo ever burnt a pan in his time in the kitchen!!!

Making the news...

Our joker-friend, Daniel Raudin from the York Hotel noticed in his morning newsfeed that I have been keeping very quiet about my political ambitions.

OK, I confess, I have decided to enter the American Presidential Race.

Check out the above link and make the news.

Daniel, you're such a joker, mate.
And no, I didn't fall for it!

Knee jerk... Action!

My left knee has been on the telly!
Six years ago, while playing footie, Portofino against Krimo's, I slipped and hurt my knee. I had to skip the gym for a few months. It niggled me on and off but got worse over the last few months, especially after a busy shift at the restaurants.

This Thursday morning my knee got its first acting role in a dramatic arthroscopy. It all went well and I am now resting, twirling my thumbs, watching The X-factor, Eurovision Dance Contest, and getting totally bored out of my brains! I have tried drawing, practising on my guitar, drinking tea till it seeps out of my ears...
I am a very impatient patient!
I know that the restaurants are all very busy despite this awful wet and cold weather. I know that because my mobile is right next to me.
The doctor suggested a two-week break to make sure my knee heels properly. No driving for two weeks! That alone is going to drive me crackers!