Bibliocook: All About Food

With 15 years of eating and sleeping the length and breadth of the country in a tireless quest for the best of the best, John and Sally McKenna have it down to a fine art. This year's editions of The Bridgestone 100 Best Restaurants and The Bridgestone 100 Best Places to Stay are as wonderfully opinionated and idiosyncratic as ever. And also, very importantly, they are independent. The McKennas and their travelling editors pay for their own meals and accommodation, refusing - as they note at the start of each book - any offers of discounts or gifts.

In the introduction of the Best Restaurants there's a clear declaration of intent when the McKennas talk about "facsimile food, served in grand rooms where menus read well, and then eat badly because they are trapped in pretentiousness, or some crazy idea called "fine dining", a concept, which as far as we can see, is just petit-bourgeois." There's a similar air about the introduction to Best Places To Stay, with an attack on "4-star joints that sit high on the top of a hill, without a tree in sight…lavishly tarmacadamed up to the door with a brightly lit fountain that doesn't work, inappropriate decking beside the heli-pad, and PVC windows".

The most expensive places - for eating or staying - aren't necessarily the most praised. I would have to agree with the McKennas when they say that "you discover value when you discover the work of talented people who are passionate about what they do and who do it in an original way." Sometimes it's better to have one amazing, if expensive, meal in a month than eat your lunch out five days a week in one of Dublin's rubbish cafés. There are bank-breakers in both these books - a penthouse at the Clarence is €2,500, the hotel described here merely as a "work in progress", and a night out at L'Ecrivain is never going to come cheaply. But there are other price options too. Grove House in Schull is €80 per room in low season, and Donegal's wonderfully relaxing Coxtown Manor does very reasonably priced gourmet breaks while many of the venues mentioned also have early bird menus.

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Now that the turkey has settled, the Cranberry Sauce eaten and the crackers pulled it's time to get round to reading through the pile of Christmas books, top of which is Nigel Slater's The Kitchen Diaries. It was difficult, but I managed to hold out till Christmas to get my hands on it. My Cuisine subscription has started too - I discovered the magazine had arrived at home and been placed underneath the tree! - although it does seem strange to read descriptions of picnic and barbeque food while we're surrounded by late December freezing fog. Not that it'll stop me from enjoying the magazine, though. Now it's time to dig out a selection box, pull the big armchair up to the fire and get stuck in to reading. Happy lazy Christmas!

The best thing about being back in Ireland is Christmas in winter. Somehow - although my readers from the other side of the world may not agree! - cold long nights and short wet days make me feel Christmasy. It's that whole feeling of getting indoors and battening down the hatches for the miserable weather. Perfect for Christmas preparations! And driving home for Christmas surely isn't the same unless you arrive late, on the evening before Christmas Eve, to see the house lit up with all the lights on and there's lots of tasty smells coming out of the kitchen.

And that brings up to the food. At home, all the preparation is done in a mad rush on Christmas Eve and then there's only cooking on the day itself. My own special contribution to dinner - besides peeling acres of potatoes, chopping stacks of carrots, making two kinds of stuffing and mince pies, just a few bits and pieces! - is Cranberry Sauce. I was never a fan of the solid stuff that came in a jar but, years ago, I couldn't resist trying out a recipe from Simply Delicious Christmas by Irish queen of cooking, Darina Allen. That was the year the whole family became converted and I've made it every year since then although I've strayed far from the original recipe over the years.

My cousin won't be down home for Christmas this year and, when I was home a couple of weeks ago, I had intended on making her some sauce to take to dinner at her husband's family house. Alas, cranberries hadn't yet reached the shops so I figured that I had to forget that idea. But when I saw them in the supermarket this week I dived for a punnet. I was going out to have dinner (Nigella's Stroganoff made with good Kilfinane beef!) with herself and her husband last night so I brought along the ingredients and, while chatting in the kitchen after dinner and sipping our hot ports, made two jars of Cranberry, Orange and Port Sauce. The orange - only juice this time as I forgot to add the rind - is a usual addition but, when I caught sight of the port bottle, I couldn't resist adding a shot.

If you would like your Cranberry Sauce unadulterated, then just use 200ml water and leave out the orange juice/rind and port. This takes only a few minutes to make and, unlike trying to make Brussels Sprouts palatable, it is worth it.

In the timeless words of Clement Clarke Moore, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

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After my appetite had been well whetted by Denis Cotter's A Paradiso Year: Autumn and Winter Cooking, I decided that it was time to return to Café Paradiso itself and last weekend I went down to Cork. All my nights were tied up but Saturday lunchtime was designated Paradiso-time and who better to share it than my Sister, who lives in Cork, and the Canadian friend that I met in New Zealand. Both the girls are waitresses - one in the nearby Liberty Grill, the other in Cork's famous Jacobs on the Mall - so Café Paradiso wasn't getting the most uncritical audience.

As we arrived one-by-one and hadn't seen each other in a while, there was lots to catch up on so we were glad to be given a breathing space between the arrival of the menus and the taking of our order. We shared a starter of House Breads with Olive Oil, Cannellini Bean & Herb Dip and Marinated Olives. For mains, the Sister picked Leek, Roasted Roots & Gabriel Cheese Gratin with Hazelnut Crust, Tarragon Cream and Braised Cannellini Beans while the Canadian and I chose Lime-Grilled Haloumi with Harissa Sauce and a Warm Salad of Couscous, Roast Shallots, Green Beans, Chickpeas & Chermoula.

Bridget Healy, the co-owner of Café Paradiso, is from New Zealand, a fact which is evident from the first page of the wine list. There was an abundance of familiar vineyard names - Seifried, Cloudy Bay, Brookfields - and even my beloved Pegasus Bay Sauvignon Blanc/Semillon was represented. We eventually chose the St Clair Sauvignon Blanc 2004, a fresh and classy mouthful which was a happy match with our food.

The Haloumi was suitably styrofoam-like and deliciously salty. I really enjoyed the way it contrasted with the couscous, which was tossed with roasted shallots and my favourite chickpeas. The drizzle of chermoula on the plate was too quickly absorbed by the couscous but a few slices of pickled lemon on the side kept the dish lively. Although this dish was satisfying - so much so that I couldn't finish it - I think that the Sister won in the best dinner stakes. Mouth-wateringly good cannellini beans, which the Canadian and I started snaffling straight away, surrounded the gratin itself which was full of rich textures and flavours.

Comfortably replete after such good food and wine, we fell at the last fence and even the Lemon Tart with Praline Ice Cream couldn't tempt us. We did, however, manage to share a handful of rich handmade chocolate truffles, accompanying them with a couple of coffees and a very decent pot of real peppermint tea.

It was a leisurely lunch, staring at 1.30pm and winding up around two hours later, but at no time did we feel rushed or under pressure to finish up. The one odd note was the Sister's gratin arriving on the table before we had finished our plate of bread and dips but, being hungry, we weren't unduly phased. The waitstaff were efficient - at no time did our water jug run empty - but relaxed, becoming speedily helpful when I asked for the bill while the others were briefly absent from the table.

Our meal - a shared starter, three mains, chocolates, two coffees, a tea and a bottle of wine - came to the grand total of €81. Fabulously enjoyable and imaginative food at a reasonable price. I won't let a decade pass before my next visit.

Café Paradiso is situated at 16 Lancaster Quay in Cork. Phone: 021 4277939.

Back at work in Ireland, I have access to a much faster internet connection than I was used to - meaning lots more scope for radio listening! I'm still tuning in regularly to Eat Feed but it is particularly nice to discovered an Irish radio show called Winter Food. It's presented by Slow Food activist - and editor of the very useful Slow Food Ireland Guide to Producers - Clodagh McKenna and I'm listening to her fascinating Irish farmhouse cheese episode, including a pasteurised versus un-pasteurised debate, at the moment. The whole series is archived online and it's well worth a listen. You'll also find an article by Clodagh McKenna on Farmer's Markets here.

New Zealand cafés do fantastic salads and whenever my tastebuds need a kick and I'm looking for an unusual salad recipe, I turn to former café owner (now cookbook writer) Julie Le Clerc or one of Mark McDonough's Zarbo books. Zarbo is a popular Auckland-based delicatessen, fresh food store and café. The name is familiar throughout New Zealand from being emblazoned on its own range of dressings, marinades, rubs and chutneys. The shop also stocks an exceptional range of imported food products, meaning - if you're in Auckand, of course - that you'll never be stuck for any of the ingredients mentioned in Zarbo Zest.

The inspirations for Mark's recipes come from both near and far - the exotic flavours of North Africa and, even closer, Asia; the fresh produce of New Zealand; more familiar food from Europe. Another thing that inspires him is the balance between work and life. His recipes are all workable for the time-poor generation with homemade smoothies and muesli for the busy weekdays and homemade jams and brunch dishes for more leisurely weekends.

Mark has some intriguing combinations of flavours and techniques - Kaffir Lime Leaf Marmalade, for instance, and Gravlax with Coriander Root and Szechwan Pepper or Pumpkin, Orange and Bay Jam. He has a section on dressings which gets full marks for a homemade version of Thai Sweet Chilli Sauce but it is a little disappointing that he doesn't clarify which dressing goes best with what.

That aside, Zarbo Zest is an inspiring and approachable cookbook with plenty of mouthwatering dishes for every occasion. Now, if only I could get back to New Zealand to see the café itself in action...

Zarbo Zest by Mark McDonough is published by Random House New Zealand.

While I was meandering around the Galway branch of Sheridans on my recent trip to the capital of the West, I came across some beautifully packaged chocolate from a Limerick company called Cocoa Bean. The blocks first caught my eye as I thought they looked more like gorgeous notebooks than chocolate bars. And then I looked at the flavourings...oh, they were truly mouthwatering! From spice, rose and pistachio to star anise and earl grey tea, they just sounded like my kind of (dark) chocolate. But, what with the chocolates not having any prices on them (always a bad move, when you've to actually ask the price of the product) and having to purchase food for dinner, I forgetfully managed to leave without grabbing a few bars to test drive.

I was even more annoyed when I went to their website and discovered some more of the chocolate flavours: lime zest and black pepper, tamarind with star anise and ginger, jalapeño with oak. Their site says that they have plenty of stockists in Dublin so I must take myself on a trip to Avoca or Donnybrook Fair and see if I can spy those bars again. I swear I'm not getting obsessed with chocolate these days...

A couple of days after I arrived back in Ireland my foodie cousin called round with a thoughtful bag of kitchen basics for me. Pasta, rice - my favourite basmati - olive oil and balsamic vinegar, a bottle of wine and, piling luxury upon practicality, two bars of Green & Black's organic Fair Trade chocolate.

Their Maya Gold is an old favourite but I hadn't come across their extra-special Luxury range before. My cousin had bought me the Butterscotch bar, an mighty chunk of milk chocolate blended with crispy, crunchy pieces of butterscotch. While the rest of the kitchen basics are living down home at the moment (difficult to stock a kitchen which you don't yet have, such are the trials and tribulations of a flat-hunter) I couldn't leave those bars of chocolate at home - especially as there are a pair of sweet-loving teenagers in the house, not to mention my parents.

The chocolate travelled up to Dublin with me to brighten, piece by piece, many a dreary evening - the little comforts make all the difference! While I thoroughly enjoyed the Maya Gold, the Butterscotch is on another level. I'm not normally a fan of milk chocolate but Amnesty's Fair Trade chocolate and now the (slightly darker than normal) Green & Black's milk chocolate used in the Butterscotch bar may move me slightly away from my the-only-chocolate-worth-eating-is-dark-chocolate stance.

Green & Black's Luxury chocolate range also includes espresso, cherry, ginger and almond varieties. Plenty to try out - after I get through my current stash!

To my sorrow I must admit that I have only once eaten in Denis Cotter's award-winning Café Paradiso restaurant in Cork. But that one time, nearly ten years ago now, was mostly memorable for my first taste of polenta. My sociologist student friend felt it was deeply ironic that I should be writing my thesis on the Irish Famine at the time and eating what was known in 1840s Ireland as "Peel's Brimstone" - the Indian meal imported by British Prime Minister Robert Peel to help the starving Irish. All irony aside, that day I fell in love with Denis Cotter's cooking and a return trip is long on the cards.

A Paradiso Year: Autumn and Winter Cooking is Cotter's latest book and it has succeeded in whetting my appetite even further. The recipes in it, as in its companion Spring and Summer Cooking, are selected from his Paradiso Seasons, which was the 2003 winner of the Best Vegetarian Book in the World Award. Cotter, however, doesn't place an emphasis on vegetarian cooking as much as he does on cooking vegetables. His is the kind of cooking where lack of meat is unnoticed and even the most determined non-vegetarian will find plenty of tempting recipes here.

My time in spent in New Zealand markets has encouraged me to think and cook in a more seasonal manner. This book is, therefore, right up my street, especially when Cotter talks about pumpkins and leeks being the bedrock of his autumn cooking. Winter he associates with hardy greens and edible roots, and the book also includes a section on the spring greens and purple sprouting broccoli of Early Spring.

Having been surrounded by pumpkins, particularly Cotter's beloved Crown variety, in New Zealand, it's heart-warming to find an Irish writer with such an imaginative take on this fantastic - and much underrated on this side of the world - vegetable. Pumpkin Gnocchi with Spinach in a Roasted Garlic Cream, Roast Pumpkin, Onion and Feta Tart in a Walnut Filo Pastry with Cucumber and Yoghurt Sauce or Baked Pumpkin, Cashew and Yoghurt Curry are all recipes which, when I manage to get my hands on the chief ingredient, I intend to try myself.

While many of the recipes may seem to be more orientated towards restaurant- rather than home-cooking, Cotter makes the point that they are reference points as much as definite instructions and his flavour combinations are inspiring. I may never get round to making the whole of the beautiful cover dish - Pistachio, Cardamom and Basmati Rice Cake with Coconut Greens and Gingered Mango Salsa - but I can definitely see myself using the constituent parts of Cotter's recipe.

Sitting these winter nights, poring over Autumn and Winter Cooking without a kitchen in which to try out Cotter's recipes, has been tantalising. I've promised myself a trip to Café Paradiso and his recipes have made me more determined than ever to track down some pumpkins!

A Paradiso Year: Autumn and Winter Cooking by Denis Cotter is published by Cork University Press.

Last weekend I was in Galway to visit the Schoolfriend and her husband and, almost as importantly, to see their new kitchen. They had moved into their house some time before I went to New Zealand but the kitchen remained to be sorted out. I heard that this had been completed while I was away and last weekend was my first opportunity to see it for myself. It is gorgeous - all granite work surfaces and light painted woods with dual ovens and a large five-burner gas hob - and I got a chance to take it for a test drive when the Schoolfriend and myself cooked dinner for nine on Saturday night.

After perusing this site, she decided to cook my Chickpea and Chorizo Stew so off with us to town on Saturday morning to track down the ingredients. There's a great market on at weekends in Galway city centre, beside St Nicholas' Church - many's the time during the summer when I've picked up some yummy hummus, olives and good bread there for a picnic by the sea on a sunny day. Last Saturday wasn't a day for dawdling but we managed to get our hands on some fruit and vegetables, flowers, the Schoolfriend tried on a hat and I grabbed myself some warming hot chocolate.

One of the great things about the market's location is that it is right beside the fabulous Sheridans Cheesemongers. The cold morning ensured that it was not too busy so the Schoolfriend and I had plenty of time to browse their piled-high shelves amidst the pungent aromas of cheese and salami. We picked up some dried chorizo and a packet of chunky-looking garlic and basil sausages for the stew that night, some bread (including a richly tasty walnut and raisin loaf), a box of smoked paprika and, the crowning glory, a large chunk of Coolea Extra Mature cheese. One taste of this sweet nutty cheese and both the school friend and I were sold. A quick run to Galway's famous McCambridges for tinned chickpeas and tomatoes and we were on our way home...to that gorgeous kitchen.

The kitchen not only looked good, it worked brilliantly. The Schoolfriend and I, with the help/hindrance of a two-year-old visitor, had plenty of room for preparation and I thoroughly enjoyed the expanse of space at my disposal. The gas hob - after I learned how to turn it down! - simmered the stew to perfection. There was plenty of room in the ovens underneath to roast some carrots and bake a Plum and Apple Crumble (plums substituted for the feijoas in my recipe for Feijoa and Apple Crumble). An easy meal to make - especially in such a well kitted out kitchen.

Northern Irish cookery writer, radio and UTV television presenter Jenny Bristow has chosen to concentrate on Mediterranean food in her latest book, A Taste of Sunshine. With an emphasis on variety, simple ingredients and cooking meals from fresh raw unprocessed ingredients, Jenny comes firmly down on the side of healthy cooking. She doesn't go overboard, though, and the recipes certainly don't suffer.

Clear and concise, the food is inspired by Mediterranean influences and fresh local Northern Irish produce. There's a glossary of ingredients that Jenny considers essential - honey, vinegar, olive oil, cheeses, herbs, spices and, very importantly, wines - alongside pictures of the author, looking browned and relaxed, wandering around Mediterranean markets and talking to producers.

Stylistically, the use of @ instead of a plain 'at' for oven temperatures rapidly became annoying and too many colours on the page make cluttered what was otherwise a clean design. There will be little new here for the more experienced cook but A Taste of Sunshine is an inviting and unthreatening recipe book, offering readers a gentle introduction to the cuisine of the Mediterranean.

Jenny Bristow: A Taste of Sunshine is published by Blackstaff Press.

I have always been a fan of Bonne Maman's delicious range of jams and preserves. It's the taste and lovely runny texture that sold me - no surprise that it bosts 45g of whole fruit per 100g of jam. In distinctively shaped jars, topped with a homey-looking imitation-gingham lid, I have worked my way through their range over the years, apricot, blackcurrant and peach being particular favourites. And the jars themselves have also come in handy, housing many of my range of spices and herbs.

So, it was no surprise that I couldn't resist when faced with the range of Bonne Maman chilled desserts in the supermarket the other evening. I don't often buy pre-prepared foods but being a bag lady (I'm currently looking for a place to live in Dublin) does make you lower your standards. Besides, they were on special and came in the most dotey little glass pots. I just couldn't walk away! The choice was between crème brûlée, crème caramel and chocolate pot de crèmes and, after a bit of pondering, I decided on the crème caramel, swayed in no small part by the fact that the ingredients list just contained fresh whole milk, sugar, fresh eggs and caramel.

Last night I was very glad that I had succumbed to temptation. Each wee pot - there were two in the package - was topped with a little plastic gingham cover, à la the pots of jam. There was a thin skin on top, which I broke through to reach spoonfuls of smooth creamy custard. On the base was a layer of runny caramelised sugar which had a distinctively nutty flavour. I was happy, nibbling away at spoons of custard, interspersed with spoonfuls of custard and caramel. All I needed was a crisp biscuit to scoop it out of the jar and then life would have been near perfect. As it is, I've still another one to go. And then there's the rest of the range to try out...