During my last visit to Mauritius I tapped into the foodie elite but, at the end of the day, it’s home cooking that reaches into my gullet and takes a hold of my heart. From the simple everyday household staple of la daube (a tomato-based stew of chicken or meat with hot peppers and thyme) to a festive biriyani (a rich, spiced rice dish), the food here is a melting pot of African, French and Indian influences. It is a no frills way of eating and it is addictively tasty.

Sophia Govinda, my jolly, generous mother is a fierce home cook. Ma (as I call her) is a barely five-foot fire-plug that can pull a feast off in a snap. Her specialty is biriyani, vegetable samosas and she makes some incredible Mauritian-Tamil dishes. Here is her recipe for meat curry with split chick peas and rasau (a fiery hot spicy soup) — two dishes devoured at Tamil festivities.

Ma’s Dal Gram with Meat Curry

½ Ib Channa Dal (Found in Indian food supply shops)
2Ibs of lamb or mutton shoulder, cut on the bone in stew sized pieces.
3 cloves of chopped garlic
Small piece of chopped ginger
One medium onion, chopped
5 plum tomatoes chopped or ½ small can of chopped tomatoes
1 Tablespoon curry powder (good quality Madras curry powder is essential)
Garam masala
Cilantro
Fresh curry leaves
3 medium sized potatoes, cubed

Soak ½ Ib of dal for two hours, drain and keep the water (you’ll see why in the next recipe). Bring the dal to boil with plenty of water. Skim the froth and let simmer on a low-medium heat until it is almost cooked. Strain and put aside.

Saute lamb or mutton for 2-3 mins, then add chopped garlic, ginger, onions and curry leaves. When the meat is halfway cooked add potatoes and curry powder and chopped tomatoes. Stir. Let the juices dry up. Stir in dal and add half a cup of water. Cover and let simmer for 20 mins or so then add a large pinch of garam masala. Throw in a handful of chopped cilantro during the last five minutes of cooking. You should have a think, rich, almost dried up gravy. Make sure the potatoes are cooked by tasting or testing with a fork.

Serve with freshly cooked white basmati rice and a cucumber salad.

Raseau

1 ½ tsp of mustard seeds
Fresh curry leaves
2 small shallots, chopped
2 garlic cloves chopped
1 teaspoon of chopped ginger
2 fresh thai peppers or 2 dried, chopped
1 tsp of whole black peppercorns
2 chopped plum tomatoes
¼ tsp of turmeric powder
2 heaped tsp of cumin powder,
1 tsp tamarind paste

Crafty lady that my mother is, she keeps the water that the dal had soaked in and used it as the soup base.

Heat oil in a pan, add mustard seeds and curry leaves until that crackle. Then add shallots, garlic, ginger, chili, black peppercorns, plum tomatoes, turmeric, cumin powder and hot peppers. Pour in dal water, bring to a boil, add tamarind paste and salt. Continue to let the mix boil for about 5 mins. Add a handful of chopped cilantro just before serving.

This soup is typically served hot, in cups, and sipped throughout the meal.

Next up will be my Aunty Laila’s fish and aubergine curry. I’m homesick already…

Is it poo or is it mud? The question lay heavy on my mind during our tour of the farm at La Maison du Carnard. Jim and I had driven to Sebastopol, near the East Coast, in torrential rains. We were there to meet Béatrix Rambert and taste her farm-to-table food. Béatrix, the daughter of two generations of butchers in Belgium, moved to Ile Maurice sixteen years ago. With her husband she purchased farmland a few years ago and set about stocking their pastures with ducks (she makes excellent foie gras), pigs (tasty charcuterie), capons, goats and snails. She grows fruits and vegetables – we able to taste her tender green curly leaf lettuce and guavas – and takes a sustainable approach to farming.

We were constricted to the indoors upon arrival and took glasses of freshly squeezed local citrus juice by the roaring fireside (yes a fireside in Mauritius!).

Two-thirds of the way into our repast of foie gras and duck gizzards on a bed of lettuce, followed by a pot-au-feu type dish of capon and pig’s knuckles, washed down with several glasses of South African Pinotage, the clouds parted and the sun came beaming through. This meant, of course, that we were able to tour the premises on foot after lunch.

“Don’t wear nice shoes,” she insisted when I called to make the appointment to spend the day with her. Alas, my stinky old trainers were in NYC and so I grabbed a pair of flip flops and considered it sufficient. I was wrong. I squelched through the muddy grass and lagged behind our host but managed quite well considering. That is until we reached the pigpen. Muslims and Jewish everywhere I now understand your scorn pour le cochon and I know where the term ‘fat pig’ comes from. There were the lazy buggers luxuriating in the mud, pressed together in some sort of savage orgy. There were pigs out in the open and others enclosed and it was in the enclosed quarters when I must have stepped in it. I didn’t notice until afterwards and I thought, “please let it be mud”. It had traveled from the soles to my toes. I loitered behind and tried to wipe the goo off with a leaf. I stared longingly at her crocs and JR’s white sports trainers, two items of shoe wear I would normally not be caught dead in. The horror, the horror.

Despite the inappropriate footwear and the unsightly, grunting livestock, I take my hat of to our farmers. I loved the honesty and integrity with which she raises her animals and grows her produce. The taste of her food said it all and we stand with some of the best chefs on the island that come to Madame Rambert for tasty farm fare.

“I feel like a teenager with dad’s car – and his daughter.” That’s what Jim said as we drove along the motorway in the blazing sun on our way to The Oberoi for a two day break and a little research for a travel story on Mauritius. The Indian owned, five-star Oberoi is sprawled along the NW coast in Pointe Aux Piments, not far from the capital of Mauritius, you can actually see the lights of the city from the hotel.

Gorgeous landscaping, unsurpassed hospitality and luxury spa aside, the biggest draw to The Oberoi is the food. We dined with Jennifer, the sales manager and executive chef, Igor Bocchia. Igor is from Trentino, he trained as a chef in Venice and has cooked at some very exotic locales such as Macau and, now, Mauritius. He says he likes it here and you can tell he’s genuine. He cooks in tandem with a Mauritian and an Indian chef. The menu spans European (with an emphasis on Italian – they make pasta in-house) and Creole and Indian cuisines.

Dining with the chef himself, I asked what I should order and he suggested the fried green tomatoes for starters. We’d seen countless stands at the Quatre-Bornes farmers market selling beautiful looking tomatillos yet my family doesn’t cook this particular fruit (also known as the Mexican tomato). Igor’s dish was simple, clean yet flavorful and beautifully presented. It tasted of the Mediterranean and the tropics combined. The tomatoes, breaded and deep fried, were sitting in a smear of pesto, accompanied by mozzarella wrapped in roasted bell peppers (the peppers here are amazing and perfect for roasting) and a funny sage resembling herb which grows by the sea and tastes a little like a herb and seaweed combined. I polished off my plate. Which is why I barely had room for the follow up: braised wagyu beef cheeks. The meat, like most of the meat in Mauritius was from Australia, it was meltingly tender and came with the best version of pattypan squash (known here as “pattison”) I’ve ever had, along with seaweed wrapped veggies.

The restaurant itself is situated outdoors, overlooking the sea, with a roof overhead. The architecture at The Oberoi places a lot of influence on the outdoors. I was treated to a massage in a part of the spa that is used for couples massage sessions, though I was solo. The room was half indoors and half outdoors sans creepy, new-age spa music, just the sound of real birds and the jostling around of my small, young but fierce masseur.

Anyone who wants to dine out for a special occasion in Mauritius should head to this little-known gem of a restaurant for Igor’s brilliant cooking technique and a playful way with food. The following night we were treated to a tasting menu that really showed off the chef’s breadth and talent. More on that and the excellent cocktails later, in my article, due out in Zink magazine this summer!

Under Isaure’s suggestion, I took my big sister Devi, to Green and Blue in East Duwich.  Pleased to be checking out a spot in South London (I be a Sarf London girl by my roots after all), we braved the rainy storm and hopped on the rail to our destination.  Green & Blue focuses more on organic wines than it does natural. It is part retail shop, part wine bar and café. It is a cute little spot that feels more English in its charm compared to the Frenchie vibe of Terroirs and La Trouvaille.

We took the by-the-glass route but in hindsight I think we should have gone for a bottle as the mark up from retail was a bargain and the choice of wines BTG weren’t as funky and weird as I would have liked. The suggestions were hit and miss, though kudos to our server whon did initially zone in on the one wine btg that would be up my alley: Cousin Leduc’s Grolleau (imported into the US by Jenny & Francois) – a wine/producer I know and love.

The vibe at Green & Blue was lovely and the staff was super sweet, without conceit or flash. They have some excellent wines on sale by the bottle (Champagne Lassaigne for example). It ain’t no Ten Bells but it’s a good spot south of the river and is definitely aimed towards the wine novice, opposed to the pro. The best part of the night, besides my earthy Grolleau, was being with my lovely sister – we hadn’t been out on the razz in years! And I must say we were much more grown-up and sophisticated than the days of drinking hard cider at The George in our rock chick days…

As good as Terroirs was, my favorite dining and drinking out experience in London was at La Trouvaille, a French restaurant and wine bar specializing in the wines of Southern France. The space, on a narrow street corner off Carnaby Street, totally enamored me. Co-owner Guillaume Siard was so enthusiastic about the wine he sells that his joy was infectious. Once he learned about our mission, he generously opened bottles that were not available by the glass, opining that we had to try them.

I must admit that I am sometimes scared of vino from the south of France. The heat, the alcohol levels and the lush fruit can be off-putting. If you haven’t gathered by now – I like my wines light, hence my love for champers, the Loire and other cool climate regions but since drinking at Trouvalle, I have been converted by the likes of Tir a Blanc (Grenache Blanc and Macabeo) and a Vin de Table, “Soula” 2006 both made by Le Casot des Mailloles (winemaker Alain Castex), based in the Banyuls area in Roussillon, where the vines are grown on crazy steep terraces. Once we talked about how a certain Provencal wine is the reason that Jim got into wines (it was actually a Dom Tempier Bandol), our host poured the Domaine Milan AOC Les Baux de Provence 2004 produced by winemaker, Henri Milan, who practices biodynamics and adds just a teensy bit of sulphur at bottling.

Tir a Blanc had beautiful fruit, texture, mineral and acidity with a distinct chestnut taste. While the same producer’s “Soula” (100% Grenache Noir) was tight and packed a stony mineral punch. Guillhaume said it was the kind of wine that opens up after days of uncorking. Milan’s basic Baux de Provence was a lovely little wine that tasted of place, offering herbs and a little barnyard. Jim certainly got his rocks off when he tasted it.

Besides drinking like kings, we also ate well, sharing wild mushroom tartines, charcuterie and cheese. La Trouvaille totally charmed the pants off us.

Less-manipulated, low or no-SO2 wines are hitting London’s wine bar scene. The country better known for consuming conventional French claret and cheap Aussie plonk has a couple of on-premise gems serving the kind of stuff that restores my faith in the world of restaurant wine lists. The most famous of them is Terroirs, recently opened in central London, just off the Strand. Since opening, the stylish wine bar has become a darling of the press, basking in rave reviews for both its tasty French-Spanish-Italian small plates and the risk-taking wine list. After hearing the buzz, I’m pleased to announce that Terroirs delivers.

Jim and I arranged to meet Isaure, the very charming daughter of Michèle de Jessey, of Dom du Closel (in Savennières), for a drink at Terroirs. She kindly introduced us to the co-owner of Terroirs, a Frenchman who once owned a wine bar in Brittany – Vincent Wallard. We enjoyed talking to them both about the winemakers we love in the Loire and about the misconceptions surrounding natural wines, including the very irritating tendency to dump the category together with organic and/or biodynamic wines.

Later on, my favorite London pal, Isabel, and her boyfriend joined us for dinner. We polished off a bottle of Domaine le Briseau Kharactêr, a Jasnieres appellation wine made from 50 Y.O. Chenin Blanc vines.  I know and love this domaine and their wines – always such easy wines to drink with purity of fruit (some of their wines, including this one, undergo semi-carbonic maceration) and a nice dose of mineral. We followed up with Domaine de Montrieux Côteaux Du Vendômois (Pineau D’Aunis). I hadn’t heard of this producer but have since learned that the winemaker is  Emile Heredia and he farms organically and makes wine naturally. I am not familiar with the appellation either but I believe it gained it’s AOC status in 2001. Elias (Isabel’s BF) described the wine as “raw” – a term I must pinch because the description is spot on and raw  is exactly how I like my wine.

On our final night in LA we dined at Lou on Vine. I did some hunting online and came across this place, which is owned by a guy that’s into natural, low-intervention wines made from indigenous varietals, many lesser known and less planted grapes especially. He mentions many of the producers I love love love on his website. Little did I know that Lou had just been written up in the LA Times and we arrived to a long wait and a packed out scene. I loved the fact that it was in a strip mall and the menu is inexpensive, simple, fun and based on seasonal ingredients. The best wine of the night was a Fie Gris from the Loire. Lou was a sweetheart and came to chat with us about the wines despite being slammed. It made me sad there aren’t more places and people like Lou around but then again I was glad we’d found him – in LA of all places!

We had dinner at a fantastic izakaya restaurant in downtown LA thanks to the suggestion of a chowhound post. Called Izayoi, the restaurant serves the ubiquitous sushi but we were there for the small plates typically served in Japanese taverns. We started with their pudding-textured house made tofu. Next up was a tender and delish beef tongue stew enveloped in a rich boeuf bourguignon-like sauce. The pickled vegetables were tart, piquant and earthy, and rivaled David Chang’s own preserved veggies. Our medley of mushrooms (shitake, button, trumpet and enoki) arrived steaming in a foil pocket, which we dipped into scallion and tamari sauce. Finally we stuffed ourselves with beef tripe, swimming in a beautiful broth thickened and flavored with ground nuts and joined by chunks of turnips. This was one of the dining highlights of 2008 and it was worth the trip all the way to California for this place alone.

After an overdue trip to see the mother-in-law in Idyllwild we turned our wheels east and drove to LA. We checked into the Biltmore hotel downtown, dumped our bags and headed for Silverlake. That’s when the fun commenced. First stop was Intelligentcia, where I had the best macchiato I’ve ever had. We took our seats outside to enjoy the warm air and people watch. The Silver Lake neighborhood kinda reminds me of pockets of the Lower East Side and Williamsburg. Everyone around us looked like a musician, skateboarder or bartender. LA hipsters are decidedly more scruffy and grungy than their NYC counterparts, with just as many tattoos. The weather was remarkable but then it freaked me out every time I saw a Christmas tree because T-shirt wearing climates and xmas trees just don’t mix.

After checking out the brilliant “Index” exhibition (an overview of conceptual art in California) at the temporary MOCA downtown we continued to meander downtown and happened across a Mexican-heavy neighborhood, complete with street food and all. We saw countless mobile setups selling the same thing, a curious take on the hot dog, served with Mexican pickles and jalapenos.

We didn’t try the border hot dogs but we did have some of the best tacos I’ve ever had at Mai Super Tacos. Talk about a cheap shack. The place inspired me to move to LA and open our own little low-overhead, low-budget eatery except I’d have a few wines to go with. Fast food and natural wine, hell if the Japanese can do it, so can we! I digress. We ordered up carne asada and chile verde (though not sure we actually got the latter because it came in the form of a tender stewed chicken taco). Rather than dole out tacos with toppings on, she passed us our paper plates and we got to help ourselves to the buffet of accroutements made up of pickled carrots (fierce and crunchy), salsa, hot sauce and more. We devoured our tacos in minutes and Jim broke out in a serious sweat.

After just under a week in Rias Baixas on an Albarino press trip in late September, I flew down to Madrid. My new friend Arantza opened her home to me while she temporarily moved back in with mum and dad (gracias Arantza!). After staying in a bit of a creepy hotel where it was near impossible for me to get a decent night’s sleep it was heaven to shack up in cozy flat with a fabulous double bed. (A note to the Parador hotel in Pontevedra: two single beds pushed together makes not a double bed!).

The day after my arrival Jim and I had a rendez vous in Madrid, which is a fabulously romantic thing to do after a week apart. For the following eight days we took Madrid by storm. I don’t think there’s a neighborhood we didn’t cover. We legged it all over the city from Salamanca (the posh part of town) to Lavapies (the slightly grungy and cool neighborhood not far from the famous Rastro flea market).

Speaking of markets. We stayed in the Tetuan neighborhood, which is home to a huge indoor food market called Maravillas. On a Saturday afternoon, the fish stands, the butchers, the cheese and bread stands were heaving with locals stocking up for the weekend. JR and I purchased some fatty fresh sardines, flank steak, local goat’s cheeses, a bag of pimientos de padrón (piquant small green peppers that are as addictive as popcorn when sautéed in olive oil and liberally sprinkled with sea salt) and whatever vegetables we could find including some pretty fantastic, albeit cultivated, oyster mushrooms. We took the feast to the house of an old friend of mine from London, Fulvia, who lives with her boyfriend on the outskirts of the city in the neighborhood where some of Pedro Almodóvar’s Volver film was shot. We were joined by another blast from my London past, the very sweet and funny Pilar.

Fulvia (originally from Rome), like myself, has become a bit of a food and wine buff since leaving Ye Olde England. Imagine my uncontrolled delight when she pulled out a bottle of Jacques Selosse Contraste, the producer’s Blanc de Noirs champagne, which was incredibly stunning and very rich. (Eric Esimov wrote about the producer in last week’s NY Times). Fulvia and Ricardo worked the harvest in San Gimignano a few years ago and they opened a bottle that they had purchased from the producer: Montenidoli IL Templare 2001 an IGT wine made from Trebiano Toscano and Malvasia. It was a lovely wine, delicate balanced and herbacious. Fulvia told me the producer also made olive oil and worked organically. She waxed poetic about the olive oil declaring, “I had a tablespoon of it everyday – like medicine.” A lot more bottles were opened that night. I lost count but those were the memorable sips of the evening.

That Saturday night at Fulvia’s house was the only time Jim cooked. Madrid’s tapas bars are still relatively inexpensive and the quality is generally decent, if not delicious. I love the culture of tapas and for a person that’s perpetually hungry – like me – it’s a blessing to be able to nip into a bar grab a bite and wee glass of cerveza and split. Here’s a list of our edible highlights.

Restaurante Maestro Villa, Cava San Miguel, 8
Ricardo brought us here because the spot has a reputation for vino but he was just as disappointed as we were when we spotted boring, industrial wine bottles lining the shelves but we were won over by the chow and our first taste of natural Asturian cider. Funny enough, a lot of natural white wines remind me of house-made cider and this totally reminded me of a natural wine. The bottle, Trebanca Sidra Natural, was bone-dry, gently effervecsent, cloudy and delish. At only about 5-6 % alcohol we went through two bottles fast and were still fit for the rest of the night.

Los Asturianos, Calle Vallehermoso, 94
A craving for more Asturian cider took us to a part of town that was a bit of out of the way but according to other online sources, worth the trek. We bellied up to the bar and ordered up some morcilla, fried potatoes covered in melted blue goat cheese as well as a fresh salad of mache greens with anchovies. We ended the night with a tasting of their house sherry (two manzanillas – one was a pasado – a fino, amontiallo and PX) that were out of this world. The owner (Alberto) of Los Asturianos partnered with a group of fellow sherry fans to source small producer sherries from Salamanca and Jerez and bottle them under their own label called La Bota. In fact, the sherries were so good that we couldn’t wait to tell Fulvia and Ricardo about our discovery. We returned to Los Asturianos with F & R on our last night. This time the owner was expecting me and we were able to communicate more. We had him pick the dishes for the night, which ranged from a very earthy Angula de Campo, when translated means “baby eels of the countryside.” But the dish had nada to do with eels – it was a plate of these very small wild mushrooms that the owner explained were cooked in the same way eels are traditionally cooked in Asturios. Then the kitchen (operated my his mother!) brought out some delicious smoked cod served with kumatos (a local black tomato). Finally he brought out some cockles, which my tablemates devoured with great pleasure and a selection of Spanish cheeses. All of which were perfect with the salty Manzanilla.

Alberto also imports wines and he had a pretty good wine list, which included Pierre Gimonnet champagne by the bottle.

Taberna El Mano on Calle Vallehermoso
Situated a few blocks before Los Asturianos, we were beckoned into the tapas bar-restaurant by the great old-fashioned vibe of the spot and by the pimientos padron listed on the menu. The peppers were pure perfection. It was JR’s first time and I watched him gobble them up with excitement. The joint also served what looked like very good octopus and smoked cod on toasted bread. The vermouth on tap was excellent too. Next to natural ciders and sherries, our next favorite choice of quaff were all the sweet (but not cloying), herbaceous red vermouths on tap.

Casa Neru on Calle Bordadores
I ventured to Casa Neru the last time I was in Madrid and was determined to stop in again for some traditional tripe stew. It’s another bustling Asturian joint. A dear Spanish-crazed couple that visits Madrid often suggested the place to me. The wife is a food writer and has worked many years in restaurant kitchens where she picked up her Spanish via the largely South American staff she worked with, while the husband is a wine writer and editor of a trade publication based out of California. They told me that they always start their first night in Madrid at Casa Neru. Their ritual begins with a bottle of cider at the bar while waiting for a table downstairs at the restaurant. I love their attachment and sense of tradition.

Casa Neru is very old school and the same geezer tending the bar last time I was there (in 2003) is still working here. Jim and I ordered two glasses of vermouth on tap and a portion of the same dish I had in ’03 — callos madrileña — a HEAVY tripe stew. Jim wasn’t feeling too good, after all it was about Day 6 of our Spanish feast-fest but I was determined to eat the traditional Madrileños lunchtime repast. I ate about a quarter of the silky textured pieces of tripe, spotted with chunks of morcilla in a flavorful sauce tinted red with paprika. Oh what a waste. What a terrible waste, especially when the bartender told me I could have ordered a half portion. After my last self-force-fed spoon, my eyes were glazed over and the old guy sensed my discomfort and poured two glasses of a herbal Chartreuse-like digestif. It didn’t help. For the entire day I felt so damn full up. But it was worth the pain and I’ll do it again the next time around!

Matritum, Cava Alta, 17
We actually closed a bar one night in Madrid. I kid you not. It wasn’t even that late. Fulvia was severely shocked. “Never in my life this happen – it’s only one o clock in the morning. It’s very strange. I think it’s the economy you know. Peoples can’t afford to go out anymore,” she exclaimed in her Italian-English accent. It was in La Latina and Jim had read that it was a good wine bar. We stepped into a rather small and modern looking bar-restaurant. I spotted a wine I knew from Rias Baixas, that I really like, made from the Godello grape. We told the owner/wine buyer and he suggested another Godello that spends a fair amount of time on the lees and he said it had some nice mineral notes. I loved the wine: Guitan Godello 2006. It was all he said it was and yeasty with beautiful acidity too.

Ah Espania – I’ll be back again…