Bite Me!

These hot days of summer always get me in the mood for some Mexican food (says she, staring mournfully out of the window at the rain), and there's nothing simpler than some homemade nachos if you're after a quick fix.  Basically, all you need is some tortilla chips, jalapeno chillies and cheddar cheese; assemble on a baking sheet, stick under the grill for a couple of minutes, bob's your uncle.

Of course, to elevate your nachos to truly ambrosial heights, you need some good accessories.  Sour cream is a must, as are guacamole and salsa.  And the guacamole MUST be home-made.  I promise you, it's really simple to make and tastes about a million times better than the insipid goop you'll find in the supermarket.  Again, no need for a proper recipe - just mash up a ripe avocado with the juice of a lime, some salt and a hefty handful of coriander, finely chopped.  If you're feeling like living on the edge, add some finely chopped green chilli for an extra kick. Nigella Lawson adds roquefort to her guacamole to make "roquemole" which is equally delicious although probably better eaten as a dip than added to your Mexican dish!

Home-made salsa is also worth the effort, as again it's much better than the stuff you'll find in jars, with a real zing to it.  Just finely chop some ripe tomatoes, onion and coriander and mix together with lime juice and salt to taste.  Unlike guacamole, this will taste better if you let it sit for a while so that the flavours can mingle.  For both the salsa and guacamole, make sure the avocadoes and tomatoes are really ripe and soft otherwise you'll just end up with a load of little hard chunks in a bowl, which is not the effect you're after.

Et voila!  How simple was that?

The perfect supper for the perfect summer evening.  Shropshire Blue, Cornish Brie, Epoisses, seeded bread, green tomato chutney and caperberries.  Delicious.

Franco Manca has been one of Brixton’s best-kept secrets for so long that it’s not really a secret any more.  Despite living here for years, I only recently heard about it (there goes any pretence at being “in-the-know”) so it was with a slight sense of having missed the boat that I wandered down there this lunchtime.   I had heard terrible things about the size of the queues but I only waited for about ten to 15 minutes after ordering, which was fairly speedy, I thought.  I imagine Saturdays are rather busier.  Or perhaps there’s some new place down the road I haven’t heard of yet where all the cool kids are going for lunch.

The premise of Franco Manca is simple – they do pizza.  Really, really good pizza.  The oven was shipped over from Naples,  the bases are sourdough, and the toppings are hand-picked to be the best of the best (the ham, for example, is Gloucester Old Spot and the cheese is from an award-winning organic producer.)  Even the wood in the ovens is sourced from the Forestry Commission.  The premises are equally simple – spartan, even, which is perhaps not surprising given their location in Brixton Market, and the menu is equally pared-down, with a choice of only 6 different pizzas.  I went for the special of the day, the Bianca, topped with radiccio, spinach, mozzarella and gorgonzola.  This was the most expensive pizza on the menu, but at £6.50 I thought I could probably afford to treat myself.

Since this place is only a few minutes’ walk from my house, I thought I’d get a takeaway, but it took a good deal of self-control to try and stop myself tucking in on the way back.  It was worth the wait though – definitely one of the best pizzas I’ve ever had.  The crusts were almost the best bit - crispy and squidgy at the same time – and the mozzarella actually tasted of mozzarella and not like melted plastic, which was nice.  The gorgonzola was strong and creamy and the radiccio was crunchy and bitter which set off all the gooey cheese nicely. 

I had half the pizza for lunch and the other half for dinner.  A healthy day, I think.

Franco Manca, Unit 4, Market Row, London SW9 8LD.  Open 12-5 Mon-Sat.

And now also in Chiswick: 144 Chiswick High Road, London W4 1PU. It looks as if they've gone all upmarket at this branch - you can even reserve a table.  And it's open in the evenings.  Reservations here.

There's nothing like a big pile of stodgy, greasy carbohydrate when you're by the seaside - particularly if it happens to be a rather cold seaside in north Wales.  The delicacies in the picture are a cheese and onion fritter (on the right), and a scallop on the left, which is essentially a giant slice of potato fried in batter.  And, as everyone knows, You Can Never Have Too Much Potato.  Perfection.

No trip to Paris would be complete without a spot of shopping, but in our case we skipped the Champs-Elysees and the Rue de Rivoli and went straight to the Rue Cler, home to some of Paris's finest food shops.  To fortify myself for the hard day of shopping and eating ahead, I popped into one of the boulangeries and bought a delectable cherry and almond tart, which I ate at a little table outside on a street corner, in traditional Parisian style. 

After this a little liquid refreshment seemed to be in order, so I went to meet Abi in Le Petit Cler, one of the many small cafes that line the Rue Cler.  I had an extremely sharp (even by French standards) citron presse and, again, sat down outside to watch the people strolling past.  The Rue Cler seems to be fairly well-known so there were quite a lot of tourists around, but it is obviously still a popular destination for Parisians to do their shopping as well, as there were plenty of French shoppers carefully inspecting the produce and debating with the shopkeepers.  As well as the cafes and boulangeries, there are also a number of fruit and vegetable stalls, a fishmongers, butchers, delicatessans and even a shop devoted entirely to honey.  Our priority was, of course, the fromagerie, which had every French cheese you could think of at perfect degrees of ripeness. 

After wandering around the shops for a while, breakfast started to feel quite far away, so we made a beeline for the crepe stand outside the cafe Ulysse.  This cafe used to be a boucherie chevaline (horse butcher) and the handsome art nouveau tiles proclaiming the fact can still be seen on the front of the building.  We joined the queue for a huge cheese, feta and egg crepe which was delicious, and ultimately so filling that we ended up skipping lunch. 

Our last stop on the Rue Cler was to the decidedly unglamorous Leader Price, which seemed to be the equivalent of my local Iceland, complete with homeless people drinking outside.  Despite its unsavoury appearance, it had quite a good cheese selection, and since it was considerably cheaper than the proper fromagerie we visited earlier, I stocked up on cheese to take home.  Beautifully ripe, paper-wrapped cheese may be perfect if you are planning on eating it for lunch, but for travelling back on the Eurostar and going straight to work, give me slightly unripe, plastic-wrapped supermarket cheese anytime.

You might be wondering about the picture on the left - is it pineapple?  Or pencil shavings?  Despite looking a little like both, it's actually a French cheese called Tete de Moine (monk's head).  Its strange appearance comes from a machine called a Girolle, which scrapes the cheese off in thin shavings from the top (for more info have a look here).  The cheese itself has a very pungent smell and equally strong taste, and a lovely melting creamy texture.  It would be fabulous in a sandwich with some strong chutney or even in a pasta bake, but I like it best on its own, eaten straight from the tub.

I never really got the point of mozzarella until I tried some buffalo mozzarella from Neal's Yard Dairy, which converted me on the spot with its creaminess and tangy flavour.  It's one of the things you really can't skimp on if you're putting it in a salad as inferior cheeses simply don't taste of anything at all.  However, if you're using mozzarella on a pizza, it's all about the texture rather than the flavour, which is when you can use something cheap and slightly revolting like this mozzarella sausage I found in the corner shop.  Mmm, stringy.

With all the snow we had a few weeks ago, what could be more appropriate than a nice fondue? I’d been eyeing up St Moritz for some time, intrigued by its retro chalet-style appearance and cheese-heavy menu, and it proved to be just my sort of place. The décor is fabulously kitsch, with alphorns and cowbells aplenty, and the food was just as pleasing – we went for a fondue with white wine and tomato, served with bread and new potatoes. It was perfect, and there was enough of it to satisfy even my enormous appetite. With the snow falling outside, and a stomach full of solidifying gruyere, it’s the closest I’m likely to come to a skiing holiday this year, and I enjoyed it very much.

St Moritz, 161 Wardour Street W1V 3TA. Reservations: 020 7734 3324

Aah, Babybel. So overpriced, so processed, so moreish. If you can buy a bag of six without eating them all at once, you’re a stronger person than I am.

Babybel, £1.25 for a pack of six, from most supermarkets.