The Greasy Spoon | Food & Culture

Ginmania

 

 

Gin Lane, etching & engraving by William Hogarth, 1751.

 

I first wrote about gin back in 2007. It's almost hard to believe but that's twelve years ago. In those days, I found myself describing gin as, I quote: 'slighty old-fashioned and fogeyish', a drink favoured by 'retired Colonels and bridge-playing spiritualist mediums: reminiscent of peeling Cheltenham stucco and chipped bowls of stale Twiglets'; actually two worthy reasons to champion the stuff at the time: a contrarian two fingers to the slightly tedious vodka craze; the herd mentality of Youth; the fag-end of Acid House and the Nineties cocktail circuit. Well, well. Hasn't the rest of the world caught up? 

One of the reasons gin has become so popular, I think, is because of the numerous ways it can be flavoured with herbs and botanicals at the distillation phase: Juniper, Coriander, Lemon, Orange, Anise, Angelica and Cassia Bark amongst others- giving rise to endless variations, brand combinations and 'secret recipes', in turn spawning package design inspired by the Victorian apothecary. In an increasingly bland and corporate world, gin can be marketed as the drink of the individual. It's a marketing man's dream. Vodka, in contrast, is distilled from fermented cereal grain or potatoes and generally left unflavoured, although there is a tradition of adding steeped flavour (bison grass, lemon, chili, pepper and honey) after the distillation process.

In 2009, two heroic chaps, name of Sam Galsworthy and Fairfax Hall, persuaded the British government to let them open the first micro copper pot distillery in two hundred years. Up until then, gin, legally, could only be produced on an industrial scale. By conglomerates such as Diageo and Pernod Ricard. For the Gin Revivalists, this was a key moment. It is estimated that there are now over 300 independent gin distilleries in the United Kingdom, and exports of gin are said to have risen by more than a third.

And hand in hand with the craze for hipster gin, comes the rise of quality tonic water. Several years ago I stuck some spare rhino into shares of the Fever-Tree company- as it happened, a wise decision, as the international march of the superlative Fever-Tree remains- for the time being- unstoppable: even our local Co-Op now stocks Fever-Tree 'Premium' tonic as a default, with Schweppes yellow label consigned- if at all- to the back shelves. I suppose, with hindsight, this was going to happen. If a discriminating punter forks out thirty quid or so on a bottle of 'craft' gin, is he or she going to slosh in a saccharine-sweet, bog standard tonic water manufactured by Coca-Cola Great Britain from fizzy tap water? No they are not.

While I'm at it, a quick word about 'London Dry'- a term you will see bandied about on the various labels. Dutch- or jenever gin became popular in England with William of Orange's accession to the throne in 1688. The invention of the two column Coffey still in 1830 produced a better quality gin- lighter in flavour with a smoother character yet of a higher proof. London Dry is made in a Coffey still.

So where do you start? I'm still keen on the upper middling range of gins- relatively affordable, but more interesting, perhaps, than the standard Big Boy's offerings; Gordon's (the world's best selling gin), Bombay Sapphire (slightly sickly?), and Hendricks (cucumbers and all that). 

 

 

Portobello Gin No. 171 was founded above a pub in the Portobello Road, Notting Hill, as recently as 2011- although its wonderfully evocative Neo-Victorian packaging might suggest otherwise. It's a London Dry with a slightly medicinal flavour, with a hint of cloves and liquorice. Currently priced at £26 a bottle, it's a hot favourite at the Greasy Spoon Residence. 42% ABV.

 

 

That said, my current choice is Plymouth- a classic gin popular in the Roaring Twenties, the tipple of the Royal Navy, and the authentic ingredient in a Pink Gin; produced by the Black Friars Distillery- in operation since 1793. It's got a slightly sweeter, creamier flavour when compared to a London Dry, with a hint of parsnip to the taste. The standard 'Plymouth Original' bottle comes in at 41.2% ABV with the 'Navy Strength' version at a punchy 57% ABV. 'Plymouth Original' will set you back £20.

 

Another recent discovery is Mary-Le-Bone London Dry, produced by the Pleasure Gardens Distilling Company. Botanicals include: juniper, lime flower, lemon balm, clove, liquorice, chamomile and grapefruit. 50.2% ABV. Currently discounted at £34 a bottle on Amazon.

 

Gin has a fascinating history, and if you're interested in reading more about it, I would recommend the books of my father's old friend, John Doxat- now available for a pittance on Amazon. Doxat was the 'Thinking Man's Drinker', or perhaps even 'The Drinking Man's Thinker', a writer of some wit, and a leading authority on the Dry Martini cocktail. But what goes up, must come down, and there will come a time- in the distant future- when gin falls out of fashion, although I am still mulling over what's to come next. Teetotalism? 

 

The London Steak House

 

"Just a Beaujolais sir, but a good bottler..."  The Servant (1963)

 

One of my earliest restaurant memories is being taken by my grandfather to The London Steak House, somewhere near the old Roman Wall in the City of London. We were the only customers in an empty restaurant. I remember a few things. The head waiter falling over backwards to fawn over my grandfather (he looked distinguished- my grandfather, not the head waiter- not unlike David Niven with flamboyant Harvie & Hudson shirts, an Errol Flynn moustache and well-cut suits with narrow Edwardian cuffs and drainpipe trouser bottoms).

The London Steak House, I seem to remember, was a (relatively upmarket?) chain- but to an eight or nine year old's way of thinking, achieved sophisticated heights. Here a waiter would advance, and in a hushed tone ask if Sir would prefer "English, French or German Mustard?" All Colman's of course. I seem to remember thick (burgundy?) carpets, padded banquette seating and linen tablecloths. The claret was served in a ducky wicker cradle. My grandfather kept them waiting for about a minute while he swirled the wine around his glass and sniffed. It was a terrific performance. I was terribly impressed.

 

The London Steak House, Old Brompton Road (1966)

 

"The past is a foreign country, they do things differently there". Back then (this was the early 1970's), people aspired to middle-aged sophistication, to becoming a grown up. Recently I've had fun flipping through old House & Gardens from the 1960's and 70's. Full of advertisements for cognac, expensive cigarettes, fine liqueurs and Martini. Libraries with chocolate lacquered walls, Chinese ancestor portraits and bookshelves lined with fine leather bindings seemed de rigeur. A place to relax at night with a balloon glass of armagnac, admire your collection of Marquis de Sade firsts and listen to the Bach 48 on the Bang & Olufsen.

 

Middle-aged aspiration, the true spirit of the 1970's, Dormeuil (1979)

 

I don't know why when somebody mentions the 1970's everyone starts thinking of Mr Travolta, white suits, hairy chests matted with sun oil, 100% polyester flares and Night on Disco Mountain. I remain unashamedly fond of Disco, for in truth, Studio 54 was a deadly sophisticated affair, a sybaritic rendezvous where Truman Capote, the Jacquelines Onassis and Bisset could intermingle with the likes of Andy Warhol, Disco Sally and the urbane haute monde. And for every tenth thousand turmeric-sprayed Austin Allegro (with square steering wheel and brown deckchair striped seats in static inducing draylon) there was one hand-made Rolls Royce Camargue, coachwork courtesy of Pininfarina, a car in which Lady Penelope herself might have cut a dash.

I found very little about The London Steak House on the net, apart from a stylish matchbook on Ebay, with black salt and pepper pot graphics set against a brown ground and the photograph shown above. Note the half-decent abstracts on the wall, and the serving trolley (Flambéed Steak au Poivre and Crêpes Suzettes?).

Retro diners are currently toute la rage in Old London Town at the moment (Soho is full of 'em), which is fine- good even; but wouldn't it be refreshing if some brave entrepreneur decided to look up for once, rather than down, ditched the 50's Americana Shack Look and aimed at something, well, just a little bit more sophisticated? These days everybody aspires to be a dungaree-wearing, Pepsi drinking, bearded 17 year old hick from the Deep South rather than a Bentley driving clubable chairman with an interest in rare books, antique furniture and Dry Martini cocktails.

So in memory of The London Steak House (long may it Rest In Peace), here's my recipe for a simple cognac infused Green Peppercorn Sauce. You have it with steak. The green peppercorns come in little jars full of brine.

 

The Greasy Spoon's Green Peppercorn Sauce

 

2 tablespoons peppercorns

Knob of unsalted butter

1 chopped shallot

Dash of Cognac

1 teaspoon of Flour

100ml Beef Stock

60ml Double Cream

 

Heat a small to medium sized saucepan and add the butter. Fry the chopped shallot and the green peppercorns very briefly. 

Add the dash of cognac, and stir. Add a teaspoon of flour and stir, making sure it cooks properly.

Now add the beef stock and bring the sauce to the boil. Turn down the heat and let it bubble away gently. After a few minutes, add the cream and let the sauce reduce gently. 

Season to taste, and serve with steak.

You may need to play around with the quantities of flour, stock and cream. The sauce needs to be just right. Not too thick (and floury) and not too thin (watery). I've found chef Michel Richard's similar recipe from The Washington Post which looks great. He adds a tablespoon of Soy Sauce, which, I think will help to bring out the beefy, meaty, umami flavours.