Goosefat & Garlic review

We had been in Cyprus for over a week and still hadn’t been out to lunch when I finally cracked. Driving around Kato Pafos looking for an Ocean Basket will do that to any food loving human being. Quite what a supposed food lover, let alone a human being was doing looking for an Ocean Basket is best left to the jury although in my defence – the passenger was, and in fact still is a patriotic South African with way beyond reason pregnancy cravings.

At least that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Goosefat & garlic had been sold to us as the place to eat in Pegeia. Situated roadside on the Coral Bay road it certainly looks the part. Linen tablecloths, quality crockery and a sensibly sized menu which read like a gastro pub classic hits list. All of the usual suspects were here from carrot soup and toad in hole, right down to pie & mash, two types of lasagne, ham, egg & chips and the obligatory mushroom risotto.

It wasn’t as restaurant-ish as I had been led to believe but still, any oasis in a desert and all that, so with a good bottle of Argentinean malbec for comfort, we dived straight in.

I didn’t, and to be honest I still don’t know if wild boar is indigenous to Cyprus. Pork obviously rears well on Cypriot soil and there is plenty of forest for boar to roam but our friendly waiter didn’t seem to know much about it. Or if he did he certainly wasn’t giving anything away.

The wild boar terrine was a good hearty chunk but the comprising meat was dull in both colour and flavour. Parts hinted at spice, a faint waft of juniper trying to escape, but whatever flavour there may have been was trumped by an eternal dryness. Wild boar, the free roaming, pillaging, Viking related cousin of pork is lean by nature. It’s the beauty of the beast – literally. A scavenger of the forest floor, acorn, pine and wild vegetation its loot, boar should taste of its terroir. A gamey, masculine, testosterone driven carnivores wet dream. This was like dry humping a tin of pedigree chum.   

Good bread was served with the starters and breaded halloumi was just that. A tourist all time favourite of fried cheese with that unmistakable creamed sheep milk squeak to the teeth. A citrus dressing with just enough tang to combat the oil and some uninspiring salad for good measure.

Mushrooms featured heavily in the main courses but to my knowledge mushrooms grow best in dark, damp, featureless places, like sheds beneath the M25 or Poland, so I asked our waiter what type went into the mushroom risotto or the chicken and mushroom pie and he told me the small ones. Pushed at which dish he would recommend, he told me both, so with those little pearls of wisdom I took the gluttons option and went with the pie.

But my-oh pie what a pie. A proper slice like my Nan used to make with short crust pastry all around and a mahogany glazed top. None of this stew in a bowl with a puff pastry lid lark. The chicken was moist, the mushrooms small and the sauce just a little too thick in the perfect glue to hold it all together kind of way. This was though, as good as it was going to get. Mashed potato had never seen salt and pepper, let alone butter or cream. Runner beans had seen nothing but the inside of a freezer for quite a while and the last thing the gravy saw was Mr. Bisto waving goodbye from the factory gates.

Mr. Bisto to Marco Pierre White is a tenuous link even considering six degrees of separation but the forefather of modern cooking once said any chef worth his salt has a lemon tart recipe up his sleeve. The self proclaimed rock star chef would use nine eggs, the juice and zest of seven Amalfi coast lemons and half a pint of cream to make the tarte au citron that was a permanent menu fixture throughout his groundbreaking career. This most classic of desserts would be baked just minutes before service and then sliced to order. Warm, rich and smooth, the ultimate in lemon decadence. 

This nostalgic trip down lemony memory lane comes with the territory. Cyprus has a lemon tree on every corner, none of those waxed to make them appear fresher for longer jobbies, but real life, proper, fresh lemons with leaves and twigs and sweet and sour nectar that could only be ripened in the Mediterranean sun. Quite how it is then that anybody could conspire to ruin this most beautiful of natural resource is beyond me. Two forks of this classic lemon tart enough. The pastry was savoury, the filling a congealed mass of gelatine and cream flavoured with janitors lemon Jif. More like Marco Polo than Pierre White.

Goose Fat & Garlic has the right idea. The menu is small enough to be fresh, the restaurant looks classy and the service slick and polite even if lacking a little in knowledge. This was after all the middle of January, the time in Paphos when most restaurateurs batten down the hatches and take a well earned break, so the fact that they were open at all has to be commended. The bill for two with a good bottle of wine and service was €60 so it’s not expensive by any stretch of the imagination. I would like to think that as the season gets going and the kitchen gets back into full swing so the standards will rise in line with the reputation it has gained in previous years.

First few days

After arriving late last night and slathering Hellman’s mayonnaise all over some thick slices of toast with ham and cheese – courtesy of a late night Paphos kiosk. The first port of call today were the shops for some serious food buying.

After the relative vegetable drought of a week at my Nan’s we were looking forward to a good vegetable and salad purge which was just as well. The shelves were bursting with aubergines, beetroot, cauliflower and beautifully unwashed lettuce, radish and spring onions – all still wearing that instantly recognisable dusty coat of red Cypriot soil.

From the meat counter I took a shine to a leg of mutton which I pictured served in a rich ragu sauce with lots of diced vegetables and warm middle-eastern spices to help cut through the rich, fatty meat. To add a sharp contrast to the warming fennel, cinnamon and cumin a salad of cauliflower, finely sliced red onion, a handful of toasted pine nuts, crumbled feta and a punchy acidic dressing made with lots of black kalamata olives, mustard and balsamic vinegar.

Ragu of mutton

1kg leg of mutton, bone removed but saved to make a little stock with the vegetable trimmings and a couple extra cloves of garlic.

2 small onions diced

4 cloves of garlic finely sliced

2 tins of tomatoes

Bottle of red wine minus a glass for the chef

1 small tin of tomato paste

2 sticks of celery, peeled and diced

4 – 5 large carrots cut however you like

Half a finger of cinnamon

1 tbsp each of fennel and cumin seeds – lightly toasted and ground

A big handful of flat leaf parsley

·         Trim any excess fat from the mutton and chop into rough chunks. In small batches brown all over in a dribble of olive oil, remove and set aside.

·         Lower the heat and soften the onions with the spices, celery, carrots and garlic. Season at this point too or you will never get it right at the end.  

·         When the vegetables are soft and the warm spices fill the air, add the wine, scraping the bottom of the pan to release the good bits and let it all reduce by half.

·         Add the tomatoes, paste and the now reduced mutton stock, bring to the boil, season and braise in the oven @ 180oc for 1 ½ - 2 hrs or until reduced, sticky and rich.    

·         Serve with bucatini and a sprinkling of freshly chopped parsley.

  

Cauliflower, red onion, feta and olives

First make the vinaigrette by blitzing a clove of garlic with 2 tbsp of balsamic vinegar, a spoon of mustard – I like English here, seasoning and oil of your choice. I use half extra virgin/ rapeseed, about 5 tbsp till thick and creamy.

Floret the cauliflower, finely slice the red onions and crumble some feta into a bowl and douse in vinaigrette. Exact quantities go out the window here, just add as much of each as takes your fancy. Sprinkle with chopped kalamata olives and a handful of toasted pine nuts. 

Pangasius seems to be quite popular on the fish counters here. It’s a large boneless fillet with the texture of ling from the catfish family. The Americans call it basa fish and in the U.K it is known as Vietnamiese river cobbler. From what I can gather it’s a freshwater fish intensively farmed in south East Asia and imported all over the world in whatever guise importers and supermarkets can get away with. Hugh won’t be championing it any time soon and like all farmed and fed on crap fish, it’s dull as dishwater flavour wise but treat it like sole or Pollack and give it some good gutsy accompaniments.

Pangasius, burnt butter, lemon, capers & parsley  

2 x pangasius fillets (skinned) – it’s worth curing with a little salt for a couple of hours if you are that way inclined. I think white fish benefits from a little firming up.

100g unsalted butter

50g capers

Small handful of parsley – briefly chopped

A little fish or light chicken stock

The zest and juice of 2 un-waxed if possible lemons

·         First make a lemon puree with the peeled skin of the lemons. Try not to get too much pith attached to the skin otherwise it will be bitter. Blanch in boiling water for a minute, refresh and repeat the process four times with fresh water each time. Blend the blanched skin with the squeezed juice for a couple of minutes until smooth and pass through a fine sieve.

·         Get an oven proof pan nice and hot with a dribble of oil. Lay the seasoned fillets in the pan skin side down for two minutes and then pop them in a hot oven for three – five minutes. When the fish feels firm to the touch take it out the oven, flip it over and leave it to finish cooking in the residue heat.

·         While the fish finishes cooking, melt the butter in a small saucepan until it takes on that lovely nutty brown colour and aroma, but be careful not to let it burn. Add the stock, capers and parsley with a dash of seasoning and leave them all to get acquainted while you plate up the fish.  

·         Drizzle the plate with the pureed lemon and top with the cooked fish. Spoon the sauce all over and around, sprinkle with chopped parsley and serve with a crisp green salad.