Goin’ dahn the markit

Having the day to myself, I figured I’d hit the Preston Market and show you some of its treasures. Anyone who knows me knows how much I dig Vietnamese food so I got to T’s Vietnamese Specialties and ordered the two things I can confidently pronounce in their tricky language; Cafe Da and Bo La Lop. [ please forgive my lack of correct punctuation and imperfect spelling, Vietnamese cannot be correctly rendered on a western keyboard ]. These little beauties are beef mince, laced with garlic, lemongrass and chilli, wrapped in Betel leaf, brushed with spring onion-infused oil and chargrilled. You’ll be burping pleasant memories and finding succulent shreds of lemongrass between your teeth all day. The gift that keeps on giving.The ideal accompaniment is Cafe Da.

My brother once rang me, bubbling with malicious glee, to tell me my favourite morning pick-me-up had a sinister coprophagic secret. He claimed the reason I’d been unable to identify the subtle ‘something’ that made unique that which was basically a black iced coffee was what he termed ‘The Weasel Factor’.

He went on, unable to conceal his joy, to tell me ‘special weasels’ were fed coffee beans which passed, undigested, through the dear animal’s alimentary tract and collected to make the drink I’d been unwittingly enjoying for years. He’d seen it on the telly, he assured me.

The veracity of his theory I cannot confirm. He is, and will admit he is, an inveterate stoner.

Whether weasel-processed or not, the beans are dark-roasted, ground and put through a simple and elegant aluminium drip filter and served over ice cubes with way too much sugar unless you stipulate otherwise.Don’t order a second one if you plan on sleeping that night.I fancied making a ‘cucina povera’ styled soup with bacon bones, cavelo nero and black-eyed peas. I bought half a kilo of bacon bones which included what can best be described as a pig’s foot. As I write, the bones and brotherless trotter are bubbling away merrily in the stock pot. If I can strip the meat before the family spot the grisly evidence, all will be well. The house smells wonderful.

I thought some Reggiano would finish the dish perfectly so to the deli. I always choose the one that offers free cheese tastings and left with a good lump of Reggiano, a piece of Auricchio Dolce Piccante and most of the samples.

On the way out I passed the takeaway joint that amongst the usual chiko rolls, chicken ‘tenders’ and forgotten and dried out hamburgers offers something I’ve never seen elsewhere. Pork crackling sandwiches with gravy. I had one once and despite my cardiologist’s strongest warning may one day have another. Salty, crunchy, sticky crackling with Gravox on white bread. If you ever want one, it’s there.