IPA

The Beer Lover’s Table: Skirt Steak with Avocado Herb Salsa & Toasted Pistachios and Cloudwater Aromas & Flavours IPA

Despite certain connotations with roaring fires and fishbowls of Malbec, steak has always struck me as a summertime food. Picture: blazing-hot barbecues in lush back gardens, slabs of meat sputtering over the coals, savoury smoke curling into the humid evening.

Even if, like me, you’re making do with a cast-iron frying pan on the hob, steak – especially the quicker-cooking cuts – becomes a simple summertime main: just serve yours with a tomato salad or grilled sweet corn. Or, as I’ve done here – inspired by a recent column in the Los Angeles Times – dressed with a bright, zippy salsa.

This salsa – a distant cousin of chimichurri, by way of Mexico – epitomises summer lushness and its varied shades of green. There is vivid parsley and coriander and mint, ombré spring onions and creamy nuggets of avocado, plus lime juice and dusky pistachios. All contrast beautifully with the red at the heart of the steak, both on the plate and on the palate. Rarely has red meat felt lighter, fresher and better suited to mid-summer.

Red meat always needs a beer of some heft to go with it: lager is refreshing but lacks the requisite body, and pales and session IPAs aren’t quite punchy enough. Instead, your best option is to go with a bold and juicy IPA – like Cloudwater’s Aromas & Flavours, one of the latest in the brewery’s series of double dry-hopped IPAs made with hand-selected hops straight from Yakima, Washington.

Hopped with Citra, as well as Centennial and Chinook, this 6.5% IPA is luscious up front, with a peach-and-nectarine sweetness that eventually lapses into a subtle, resinous bitterness. That bitterness is key in counterbalancing the steak, in cutting through it like a blade, though the ample fruit aromatics are also well matched by the citrus and herbaceousness of the salsa. Overall, the two are perfectly harmonious, and together make a fine candidate for a late dinner out on the porch.

Skirt Steak with Avocado Herb Salsa and Toasted Pistachios
Adapted from the LA Times
Serves 2

For the steak:
2 skirt steaks, approximately 250g each
Flaky sea salt, such as Maldon
Freshly ground black pepper
100g (3 ½ oz) pistachio kernels
2–3 tablespoons vegetable oil

For the salsa:
3–4 garlic cloves
Pinch coarse sea salt
120ml lime juice (from approximately 4-5 limes)
1 bird’s eye chilli, minced
2 spring onions, thinly sliced (dark and light-green parts only)
1 small handful coriander, finely chopped
1 small handful mint, finely chopped
1 small handful flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped
1 ripe, medium avocado, finely diced
120ml extra virgin olive oil
Pinch caster sugar
Fine sea salt, to taste
Freshly ground black pepper, to taste

1. Remove the steaks from the fridge, and season generously with flaky sea salt and black pepper on all sides. Leave to come to room temperature as you do the rest of your prep.

2. Add the pistachios to a small frying pan, and place over medium-high heat. Toast, tossing frequently, for approximately 5–6 minutes, or until the pistachios are golden-brown and fragrant. Remove from the heat. Once cool enough to handle, roughly chop and set aside.

3. Make the salsa. Mince the garlic cloves, then add a pinch of sea salt. Using the flat side of your knife, crush and scrape the garlic against the cutting board. Alternate between chopping and crushing the garlic until you have a paste. Transfer to a medium bowl.

4. Add the lime juice, chilli and spring onions to the bowl with the garlic and leave for five minutes. Add the chopped herbs and the diced avocado, and pour over the olive oil. Stir to mix and add a pinch of sugar. Season to taste, generously, with the salt (begin with 1 teaspoon and increase from there) and the pepper. Set aside.

5. Place a heavy-bottomed frying pan (preferably cast-iron) over high heat and add the vegetable oil. Once very hot, add the steaks. Cook approximately 2 minutes per side for rare/medium-rare (skirt steak is best cooked quickly and not overdone); the steak should be well charred on the outside but still juicy and pink within. Transfer to a plate and tent with foil; allow the steaks to rest for five minutes before carving, with a sharp knife, against the grain.

6. To serve, scatter slices of the steak across two plates. Dollop the salsa over the plates, and finish with the chopped pistachios. Serve immediately.

Claire M. Bullen is a professional food and travel writer, a beerhound and an all-around lover of tasty things. Our first book with Claire, The Beer Lover’s Table: Seasonal Recipes and Modern Beer Pairings, is out now and available in all good book stores (and at HB&B). Follow her on Twitter at @clairembullen.

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The Beer Lover’s Table: Peanut Noodles With Fried Halloumi and Polly’s Brew Co Simcoe Mosaic IPA

Getting a takeaway is usually better in theory than in practice. There is the excitement of ordering too much food and planning a carefree night in front of Netflix; there is the anticipation of waiting for your flat’s buzzer to trill. But then: those spring rolls or onion bhajis, which sounded so enticing on Deliveroo, arrive over-steamed and limp in their plastic, or woefully under-seasoned, or swimming in grease. They just don’t quite hit the spot.

Perhaps that’s why the “takeout-style” genre of cooking has been so appealing to me – lately, I’ve craved quick-and-ready comfort with a hint of forbidden pleasure. Food is still best when it doesn’t have a commute, when you can scoop it from the frying pan straight into your bowl. And so I’ve found myself making these simple, satisfying, irresistible peanut noodles of late.

On the one hand, they’re infinitely riffable: I use cubes of fried halloumi here as the protein, though you could just as easily go with chicken (or tempeh, if you’re a vegan – don’t forget to swap the fish sauce for soy sauce in that case). On the other hand, this simple peanut sauce hits all the right points – salt and chilli heat, acid and sweetness. It’s worth holding onto and to make every time a dipping sauce is required.

There are numerous beers that would work brilliantly with this dish – you could make a strong case for pilsner, or lobby for saison. But in this case, I love the way Polly’s Brew Co.’s Simcoe Mosaic IPA flatters its flavour profile.

Polly’s Brew Co – formerly known as Loka Polly – has only been around since last year, but it’s already turning out some of the most delicious hoppy styles I’ve had in recent months. This IPA is no different: luscious, pillowy and potent, its savoury edge picks up the dish’s umami funk, its balanced bitterness cuts through the richness of the sauce, and its sweetness offers the equivalent of a few slices of finishing mango.

Overall, the two are the ideal makings of your next Netflix binge session. Sure, cooking at home means you’ve got a few extra dishes to do, and a bit of chopping. But the end results make the process worthwhile.

Peanut Noodles with Fried Halloumi
Adapted from Half-Baked Harvest
Serves 4-5

For the peanut sauce:
150g smooth peanut butter
1-inch piece ginger, peeled and minced
1 clove garlic, minced
2 tablespoons light soy sauce
1 tablespoon fish sauce
1 tablespoon rice vinegar
1 tablespoon sesame oil
½ tablespoon sambal oelek
1 tablespoon honey
4 tablespoons hot water

For the noodles:
250g (9oz) halloumi, cut into 1-inch cubes
2 tablespoons sesame oil, divided
2 tablespoons vegetable oil, divided
1 large carrot, grated
100g (3 ½oz) spring onions, finely chopped, white and green parts separated
250g (9oz) bean sprouts
400g (14oz) pad Thai-style rice noodles
Large handful roasted, unsalted peanuts
Large handful Thai basil
Large handful coriander

1. First, make the peanut sauce. Add all ingredients, barring the hot water, into a medium- sized bowl, and whisk until combined. Slowly drizzle in the hot water, whisking constantly, until the sauce is pourable but still relatively thick. Set aside.

2. Fry the halloumi. Place a large, non-stick frying pan over medium-high heat, and add 1 tablespoon of sesame oil and 1 tablespoon of vegetable oil. When hot, add the halloumi cubes. Cook for 5–6 minutes, turning frequently, or until golden-brown all over. Transfer to a bowl and wipe out the frying pan.

3. Add the remaining tablespoons of both oils to the pan and place over high heat. Add the grated carrot, spring onions (white parts only), and the bean sprouts. Cook, tossing frequently, for 2-3 minutes, or until fragrant, hot, but still crisp. Turn off the heat and set aside.

4. Meanwhile, boil a large pot of salted water. Add the rice noodles and cook according to package instructions until al dente. Drain.

5. Add the cooked vegetables, the halloumi, and the peanut sauce to the drained noodles, and, using tongs, toss until evenly combined and coated. Divide between pasta bowls and finish with the peanuts, Thai basil, coriander and the reserved spring onion greens. Serve immediately.

Claire M. Bullen is a professional food and travel writer, a beerhound and an all-around lover of tasty things. Our first book with Claire, The Beer Lover’s Table: Seasonal Recipes and Modern Beer Pairings, is out now and available in all good book stores (and at HB &B). Follow her on Twitter at @clairembullen.

Fundamentals #50 – Pressure Drop A Million Filaments Sour Fruited IPA

As I type, it is June 12th. Outside, the rain is endless in its relentlessness. I have switched the heating on. This time last year we were basking in weeks of seemingly unstoppable summer heat. It would appear that we may be waiting a while for a season of similar magnitude.

However, while it may be dreich outside, my glass is filled to the brim with the all the radiance of what, supposedly, should be our warmest season: A Million Filaments, a sour IPA infused with blackberry, blackcurrant and lactose (it says milk sugar on the label but for the purposes of this review I shall call it by its true name) from Pressure Drop.

The sour, fruited IPA – often infused with lactose to balance acidity with sweetness – is the flavour of the month among the breweries who spend a lot of time on the internet. The style’s progenitor is arguably Hudson Valley Brewery, named after the valley in which its hometown of Beacon, in upper New York state, resides. Hudson Valley has taken the milkshake IPA concept pioneered by Pennsylvania’s Tired Hands, and twisted it in its own image, by adding fruit and the souring bacteria lactobacillus.

Despite these myriad layers, the sour IPA is not a beer of complexity. Instead it is a beer of joyfulness and gluggability – as is blissfully evident when you pour a can of A Million Filaments into a glass. Much like this review, it positively radiates with purpleness. It may be cold and miserable outside but I feel like I’m receiving warmth from the colour of this beer alone.

On tasting, there’s quite a lot of flavour to tie together, initially it’s soft and pillowy, not unlike a New England-style IPA. The fruit comes next, waves of sweet blackberry and tart blackcurrant, neatly tied together with a hit of sugary sweetness from the lactose – sorry, milk sugar – which make it taste like eating a cake. Finally, your palate is met with a short, sharp, prick of acidity, instantly dispelling the sweetness and priming you for another sip. It’s a weird trip, but somehow it just works.

Honestly, being relatively new to the style I wasn’t sure I would actually like it. But if you put your biases in your pocket and just accept this style of beer for what it is – a shit ton of fun – then, like me, you’ll find it highly enjoyable too.

Matthew Curtis is a writer, photographer and editor of Pellicle Magazine. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram @totalcurtis and @pelliclemag. Pick up a can of Pressure Drop’s A MIllion Filaments online or in-store. and be first to read Matt’s columns when you sign up to our All Killer No Filler beer subscription box - along with Claire Bullen’s recipe and pairings, plus in-depth tasting notes, they’re included in every box…

Fundamentals #43 — Signature Brew Reverb New England IPA

Long before I entered the beer industry, I wanted to be a record producer. A childish pipe dream, perhaps. But still I went to University and took a degree in sound engineering. I was even quite good at it (IMO.) But alas the call of beer led me away from the music career that could have been. Which was probably for the best really.

What studying sound engineering has never taken away from me is how it changed the way I listened to music. I don’t hear songs, I hear individual tracks. Each treated with an array of different tools to make it more pronounced, or softer, or whatever that particular sound dictates. It made me think critically about music in the same way I now think about beer – when I’m writing a review such as this at least.

One of my favourite musical treatments is reverb. The idea behind using reverb is that it creates space in your track. You can do this by recording in a bigger room, or perhaps one with a harder surface such as a bathroom (or castle, as Led Zeppelin did once). Or you can use modern digital or analogue trickery. Reverb is so powerful in that it can turn a dead sound into a lively one simply by placing it in a different sounding room. Or in its extremes, it can create cascades of endless, glorious reflection.

In my opinion, the most expert use of Reverb as a production effect exists on every track of Radiohead’s 1997 opus, OK Computer. Whether a track is drenched in lush echo, or has simply a tight, enlivening vibe, each use of Reverb is perfect. Every sound on that record is in its right place. Much like the hops in Signature Brew’s latest New England IPA, Reverb.

This beer uses deftly applied doses of Mosaic, Enigma and Simcoe hops to created layered yet balanced textures of pine, citrus and tropical fruit. And despite the intensity of this beer’s flavour, one element never dominates the others, making it astonishingly drinkable. It’s a beer to give even the most lauded producers of hazy, yellow beer a run for their money. And, much like Radiohead’s classic LP, it never becomes tiresome. Here is a beer that gets no less captivating with each repeated sip.

[Disclosure: My partner Dianne is the Assistant Manager of Signature Brew’s London Taproom.]

Matthew Curtis is a freelance writer, photographer and author of our award-winning Fundamentals column. He's written for numerous publications including BEER, Ferment, Good Beer Hunting and Original Gravity. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram @totalcurtis. This beer features in our February All Killer No Filler subscription box. Get on board here.

#HBBAdvent Beer 13: Buxton x Lervig Trolltunga Gooseberry Sour IPA

Buxton says: Trolltunga is a jutting rock in Norway, hanging 700 metres over lake Ringedalsvatnet. Only the wary tread the path to the very edge. This beer was brewed to celebrate friendship and a love of wild places. A collaboration with Lervig Aktebryggeri. (Stavanger, Norway)

We say: Like the place that inspired it, Trolltunga is spectacular (and with the bonus of not having to trek in snow shoes to enjoy it)! A collaboration of two breweries with the technical skill and subtlety to make this beautiful Gooseberry Sour IPA work in every way. Pouring golden haze with a lacy whitehead the full and juicy mouthfeel gives way to a slap round the face of tart gooseberry and lemon sherbet cleaned up with a dry finish. One of HB&Bs favourites from the beginning and now in a 440ml can, so even more of it to love and crush. - Nathan, HB&B Deptford Manager

#HBBAdvent Beer 7: North Brewing Co Kurious Oranj IPA

North says: This juicy IPA is absolutely bursting with flavours of fresh citrus. A generous helping of oats ensures this beer is soft and full-bodied, whilst the addition of Mandarina Bavaria hops give it a raw zesty finish.

We say: The North team are some of our absolute favourite people in the business but not only that, they’re making some of the best beers in the business too (and winning ALL the awards). We had to include one of their specials in this little capsule of 2018. Kurious Oranj has all the sweetness, juiciness and pithiness of fresh mandarin, and couldn’t we all use a bit of Vitamin C at this time of year?

#HBBAdvent Beer 6: Cigar City Brewing Jai Alai IPA (US)

Cigar City says: All that remains of [the traditional Basque game] Jai Alai in the Tampa Bay area is this India Pale Ale that we brew in tribute to the merry game. The India Pale Ale style of beer has its roots in the ales sent from England to thirsty British troops in India during the 18th century. Pair Jai Alai India Pale Ale with beef empanadas, devilled crabs, and other spicy dishes. 

We say: When we get to Thursday, we start getting a hankering for hops. Jai Alai is a venerable icon in the world of IPA - big notes of citrus and resin, the way they used to make ‘em before the haze craze took hold… The weekend starts here. Almost.

Fundamentals #34 — Loka Polly Hallertau Blanc IPA

I’ve been writing for Hop Burns & Black for more than three years now, but I think this is the first time I’ve written for Jen, Glenn and the team from inside Hop Burns & Black. I know, how meta. What’s perhaps most interesting about sitting in the shop on a Friday afternoon and watching people coming in, taking with them big bags stuffed with cans for the weekend, is how much things have changed in the beer world in such a short space of time.

The cans themselves, for starters, have become an enormous deal. Three years ago the shelves would have been almost exclusively lined with bottles. Now, thanks to canning becoming more accessible, around two-thirds of the beer on the shelves is now packaged in aluminium. It’s not just the packaging that’s changed either. The beer has too. Not just in terms of style – although the New England IPA has become something of a ubiquitous feature of the modern independent bottle shop – but the brands prominent on those shelves has also transformed over time.

This is great for us drinkers too. As many brewers choose to either eschew independence in the quest for expansion, or choose to stock national supermarket chains, losing their listings with folks like HB&B in the process, so do new brewers emerge. This in turn creates a new opportunity for these young breweries to carve out a small portion of the beer market for themselves. It’s craft beer’s very own circle of life.

And it’s because of this I’ve found myself in possession of an IPA from Loka Polly – my first. I’m aware the North Wales-based brewery has been making waves among beer’s most ardent fans for a few months now, but with more than 2,000 breweries in the UK it can be challenging to keep up.

The beer in question is a fresh can of Hallertau Blanc IPA. Weighing in at 6.6% ABV, the beer pours as slick and hazy as you’d expect from a modern NEIPA. What’s interesting about this beer for me is how the typical NEIPA cocktail of Citra, Mosaic and friends has been eschewed for the German Hallertau Blanc variety – a modern breed of a the classic Hallertau Mittlefrüh noble variety, which is typically used in lager brewing.

Although the Hallertau Blanc hop maintains a herbaceous snap, it’s supplemented by a distinctively juicy note reminiscent of white peach – perfect for a modern, girthy IPA such as this one. And believe me when I say this beer is girthy. If you’re a fan of beer that’s as chewy as it is delicious, then this one’s for you. Thankfully, that heft is balanced by a dry finish, and that subtle, fresh, green note implemented thanks to the parentage of this beer’s particular hop variety. From this, I can certainly see why Loka Polly has generated so much fuss among beer’s in-crowd this year.

You can find more from beer writer Matthew Curtis as UK editor of Good Beer Hunting and on Twitter @totalcurtis. Pick up a Loka Polly Hallertau Blanc IPA in-store or online.

Fundamentals #33 — Wylam Child in Time Cryo Hop IPA

One of the most remarkable feats I’ve witnessed in U.K. craft beer over the past couple years is the transformation of Newcastle’s Wylam Brewery from regional stalwart into one of the nation’s most respected modern breweries.

What’s perhaps most impressive about this is that Wylam has maintained its presence and reputation regionally throughout this transition. Take its Jakehead IPA as an example of this - a beer that’s perfect on cask or keg, and will appease traditionalists and fans of modern beer alike. And by making the former Palace of Arts in Newcastle’s Exhibition Park the home of its brewery and taproom, it has cemented itself as both one of the north-eastern city’s cultural, as well as culinary, institutions.

The Wylam beer I am reviewing today does not play on any of those traditional sensibilities, however. Child In Time is a modern IPA that is - like so many others - in the tradition of the New England style. As in: it’s hazy and juicy as all hell. What’s interesting about this beer in particular though, is its utilisation of cryo hops. The term “cryo” immediately makes me think of its references within science fiction, such as with characters like Futurama’s Philip J Fry or Sylvester Stallone pulling one of his best ever performances in the seminal classic, Demolition Man, as they find themselves unfrozen in an uncertain future. At a stretch it also makes me recall Sly’s good friend Arnold Schwarzenegger in his unfortunate turn as Mr. Freeze in 1997s Batman and Robin… but let’s not get crazy here.

Unlike these examples, however, there is nothing fictional about cryo hops. These are very real indeed, making use of the latest in hop processing technology to produce an intensely aromatic hop powder which, in turn, allows brewers to produce intensely flavoured and aromatic beers. Perfect for contemporary styles such as NEIPA.

Child In Time makes use of Centennial, Amarillo and Citra cryo hops - varieties that, for me at least, predominantly invoke notes of lemon zest, navel orange and pink grapefruit respectively. This is very much the case in this beer. It’s an intense melange of pithy, yet juicy citrus flavours, with just enough dryness and bitterness to keep your palate ticking over, so that it begins to demand your next sip shortly after your last. When I drink this style of beer I don’t want it to be claggy or cloying, which this beer is not. Instead it’s intense, yet clean, and very delicious.

I’m very glad Wylam decided to pursue these modern styles, and that they do it with such finesse.

You can find more from beer writer Matthew Curtis as UK editor of Good Beer Hunting and on Twitter @totalcurtis. Pick up one of the very last cans of Wylam’s hugely popular Child In Time in store or online.

Fundamentals #29 — Beak Brewery Citra | Verbena | Nelson Sauvin IPA

A heap of breweries are boarding the haze train at the moment – next stop Juiceville USA.

Fascination with modern, aromatic US hop varieties, such as Citra or Mosaic is turning into obsession for some brewers. In fact, in terms of acreage, Citra recently overtook the original pioneer of American hops, Cascade. And there’s a whole host of new and interesting varieties coming such as Cashmere and Pekko now being made available to brewers, giving them the opportunity to push the flavour and aroma of their beer even further.

The problem with so many breweries investing heavily in the zeitgeist that is New England IPA, is that it can, on occasion, be difficult to tell one outfit's offer from another. Even worse, some great beer from lesser known producers can be overlooked. This is a travesty.

So the next time you’re desperate to fill you bag cans from Cloudwater, Verdant, Deya et al, save a little room in there for something new. A recent favourite of mine has been from Beak Brewery, a one man “cuckoo” brewing operation masterminded by brewer Daniel Tapper. Not being in possession of a brewery of his own, Tapper travels to other breweries – such as Missing Link Brewery in Sussex – in order to produce his beers.

One that recently found its way into my refrigerator was a New England IPA featuring Citra, Nelson Sauvin and, somewhat curiously, Verbena. I was interested to see how the herb would affect the flavour of this beer – and that was before I’d even taken the time to appreciate the delightful artwork on the label.

This IPA pours with that typically golden, opaque hue that has become such a welcome and familiar sight these days. The aroma is sweet, with hints of barley sugar clouding a little candied orange peel. As with the best New England IPAs, the beer’s body is far lighter than its appearance would suggest.

There are some fun flavours here – a little smoosh of orange, a prickle of gooseberry and an almost woody, herbal note from the Verbena near the dry finish. It’s just a hint of woodiness though, acting in a complementary way to the dry herbal prickle I typically find Nelson Sauvin adds to a beer, along with more obviously tropical notes like passion fruit and lychee.

If you’re looking to broaden your NEIPA perspective with something just a little bit different, this banger from Beak is a great way to do so.

You can find more from beer writer Matthew Curtis as UK editor of Good Beer Hunting and on Twitter @totalcurtis. Pick up a can of Beak's Citra Verbena Nelson Sauvin IPA in store or online.

Fundamentals #27 — Fuerst Wiacek A Quick One IPA

Citra and Mosaic are my homeboys, I like hanging out with them often. I also enjoy it when they’re accompanied by pals like El Dorado, Amarillo, Nelson Sauvin and even Simcoe (although the latter sometimes feels like he may be trying a little too hard to roll with the cool kids these days). They are fundamental to the modern, hoppy, hazy pales I have spent much of my recent time obsessing over.

There’s an argument that a lot these modern beers, with their juice dialled up and the bitterness muted, are very similar in character. On the surface that much is true. But the more I delve into them, the more subtle variances I detect between them. That might be something as simple as a beer's mouthfeel, or how that beer’s specific yeast has added its own character - for better or worse.

Drinking a modern beer hopped with Citra and Mosaic can be as exciting for me as it can be refreshing, because I can still be surprised by how the flavours in that beer present themselves - be they through citrus or tropical fruits, through peach and apricot driven esters or through heady, dank, onion, pine and wild garlic. Yes I like that too.

Fuerst Wiacek - a brewery based out of Berlin, Germany, but currently with no production facility of its own - is a new one to me. The brewery describes its beers as modern and balanced and my first impression of its New England style IPA A Quick One would indicate that this statement holds true.

That depends of course on your definition of balance. If a beer with a fruit basket of tropical notes from papaya to mango to lychee that’s wrapped up in a soft, yet featherlight body with a delicate, dry yet ever-so-slightly bitter finish is your idea of balance, then this beer will almost certainly be right up your avenue.

This is an excellent modern IPA, and an exemplary use of my good friends Citra and Mosaic. I look forward to spending some more time with them should they show up in a Fuerst Wiacek beer once more.

You can find more from beer writer Matthew Curtis as UK editor of Good Beer Hunting and on Twitter @totalcurtis. Pick up A Quick One in store or online.

Fundamentals #26 — North Brewing Co. Transmission IPA

One of my favourite historic pieces of music television is the clip of Joy Division performing Transmission on BBC2’s Something Else back in 1979. The performance is bookended by an interview with the band’s then manager, Tony Wilson, alongside drummer Stephen Morris. In the clip, Wilson laments how the Manchester-based band’s track doesn’t have a universal appeal, due to it being “unsettling… slightly sinister and gothic”, despite its “hypnotic melody”.

For many beer drinkers, modern beer – in particular the opaquely hazy and enticingly juicy IPAs that have shot to fame over the previous 24 months – may hold similarly unsettling qualities. Who knows what terrors may lie within a beer that will not drop bright?

By rights, with enticing, accessible juicy fruit flavours and little to no bitterness, the modern hazy IPA has all the qualities that should hold universal appeal to all beer drinkers. But the nonconformity of the style gives it that unsettling character, because it doesn’t look like what we’re told beer is supposed to look like. New England IPA is the Joy Division of modern beer, and a keen sign that we’re in the post-punk – or dare I say the post-craft – beer era.

Transmission is also the name of a hazy IPA from Leeds based North Brewing Co. The brewery’s founders Christian Townsley and John Gyngell made their name in the Yorkshire city as the founders of North Bar, which is sometimes referred to as the first craft beer bar in the UK.

North Bar has been a trendmaker and bastion within the Leeds scene since its founding in July 1997. Then, in 2015, Townsley and Gyngell decided to take the next step and launch their brewery under the same moniker. In recent months the brewery has really hit its stride and is producing some stellar beer.

Transmission is an IPA that follows the modern trend of being hazy and juicy. Flavours of mango interweave between sheets of candy sugar, which are all tied together with a subtle dry and bitter snap in the finish, something that should satisfy even the most hardened of purists. Although its appearance and flavour may be unsettling and slightly sinister to those accustomed to the traditional, its accessibility will no doubt welcome an equally high volume of people to the genre.

You can find more from beer writer Matthew Curtis as UK editor of Good Beer Hunting and on Twitter @totalcurtis. We love Transmission so much that it's now a core beer at HB&B. Pick up a can in store or online.

#HBBAdvent Beer 16: Howling Hops IPA NZ Special (East London)

Howling Hops says: Packed with Riwaka, Motueka and Kohatu hops from New Zealand.

We say: Webster's dictionary describes New Zealand as: "The jewel in the Australasian crown." This is the Dame Kiri Te Kanawa of IPAs (Google her, she's qual), the kind of beer you'd like to drink when you're out clubbing with the new Kiwi Prime Minister.

In a dystopian world over-run by New England haze, one beer stands up and says "To hell with you, 2017 - I am fresh, and I am bitter." A sentiment that gains increasing momentum as 2017 nears its end. - Lewis

#HBBAdvent Beer 8: Marble Earl Grey IPA (Manchester)

Marble says: Brouwerij Emmelisse’s Kees Bubberman joined us originally to make this mouth watering India Pale Ale. With timed additions of Earl Grey during fermentation, heavy infused hopping and traditional cask maturing. the result is a citrus fruit aroma , smooth sleek texture, hop notes are brilliantly complemented by bergamot and a light tannic finish.

We say: The best place to drink this is at Manchester's Marble Arch pub, probably the best pub on earth. But if you can't make it to the Arch, this perfectly balanced beer is good anywhere, any place. We were privileged to work with JK and his team this year brewing our collab DIPA Murk du Soleil as part of their 20th anniversary series. Happy birthday for last week, guys. Cheers for the beers. - Glenn

#HBBAdvent Beer 1: Cloudwater x Modern Times Lipids & Proteins IPA (Manchester)

Cloudwater says: Brewed in collaboration with Modern Times, this hazy IPA was brewed with Golden Promise and oats, and features bold US hops and fresh harvest Nelson Sauvin from New Zealand.

We say: A Cloudwater beer had to kick off this year's advent calendar - the Manchester brewery has played a hugely important part in the life of our shop in 2017.

We've been so fortunate to work closely with the Cloudwater team, which has meant we've been able to get our hands on positively greedy amounts of their amazing beers for you. In fact, we've sent more than 10,000 cans of Cloudwater goodness out the door and across the country - including, excitingly, our own collaboration brewed for our 3rd birthday.

Cloudwater is changing the way the UK enjoys beer (for the better) and we're pleased to have been able to play a tiny part in that. Here's to you, guys - we raise this glass of great big hazy juicebomb to you. - Jen

The Beer Lover’s Table: Peach Upside Down Cake with Miso Caramel and Evil Twin Sumo in a Sidecar IPA

This month, I found myself thinking about carrot cake. Specifically, about the way that a slice of carrot cake works wonders alongside an IPA—it’s one of those classic pairings that’s beloved of beer sommelier types, probably in part because it sounds like it shouldn’t work.

Early September isn’t really the time for carrot cake, though. And so I turned to peaches, which, while they’re still in season, are the perfect way to see out summer’s final weeks. This peach upside-down cake is lightly perfumed with cardamom, and offers just the right amount of yielding squidge.

But what really makes it stand out? In lieu of the traditional caramel that most upside-down cakes call for, I made a caramel with miso.

Lately, I’ve seen miso crop up in a number of dessert recipes - from butterscotch budino to white chocolate chip cookies. It’s a fantastic and beguiling ingredient, because, alongside a heavy hit of umami, it offers a rich sweetness, too. Think of this as an alternative to salted caramel, but with an incredible depth of flavour, and a complex, savoury character that balances out all the sugar.

Evil Twin Sumo in a Sidecar makes for an almost too-good- to-be- true pairing option. An apricot IPA with, as the brewery says, “a dash of umami”, it’s a beer that, unsurprisingly, does extremely well with a stone fruit dessert that has umami of its own.

Lately, I’ve been intrigued about the way that hoppy beers and umami flavours work together; still, this may be the first example of an umami IPA I can remember trying. Skeptics, note that the umami is subtle, but the beer feels richer for the addition. And with still-warm cake on the side, well - it’s hard not to be convinced.

Peach Upside Down Cake with Miso Caramel
Adapted from The New York Times and Food 52
For the miso caramel:
60ml water
150g granulated sugar
120ml double cream, room temperature
2 tbs white miso
For the upside-down cake:
115g softened unsalted butter, plus additional to grease the pan
3 large, ripe peaches
130g all-purpose flour
¾ tsp baking powder
½ tsp ground cardamom
150g caster sugar
3 large eggs
Crème fraîche, to garnish

First, prepare the caramel. In a heavy-bottomed saucepan, add the water and sugar and stir briefly to combine. Heat over medium-high heat. Once the sugar has fully dissolved and the mixture starts to bubble, refrain from stirring further, though it’s fine to gently swirl the pan (or, using a wet pastry brush, brush down the sides to incorporate any errant sugar crystals).

Let the mixture boil for approximately 8-10 minutes, or until its colour darkens to a deep amber. Once it begins to darken, keep a close eye on it, as the caramelisation will happen very quickly. When it is dark amber, immediately remove from the heat. Add the cream in a slow but steady stream, whisking rapidly to incorporate it. The mixture will bubble
up when the cream is first added, so be careful to avoid burns.

When the cream is fully incorporated and the caramel is smooth, return the pot to low heat. Add the miso, whisking until the mixture is smooth. Remove from the heat and set aside.

Preheat the oven to 175 degrees C. To make the cake, first grease a 9-inch cake pan with butter (I used a spring-form pan). Cut a round of parchment paper to fit the bottom of the pan, and grease that, too. Halve and pit your peaches (don’t worry about peeling them), and slice into ½-inch segments. Starting from the centre of your cake pan, begin an
overlapping, radial design, laying the peaches in a spiral shape until they cover the entire base of the pan. Pour half of your miso caramel mixture over the peaches, and set aside.

In a medium bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder and cardamom. Set aside. In a second medium bowl, cream together the softened butter and caster sugar for 4-5 minutes, or until light yellow and fluffy. Add one egg and beat into the mixture until fully incorporated, pausing to scrape down the sides of the bowl; repeat with the two remaining eggs. Next, add your sifted flour mixture and, with a wooden spoon, stir together until the batter is just incorporated.

Pour the batter over the peach mixture and spread to the edges of the pan, being careful not to disturb the peach layer. Set the cake pan on a tray and place in the oven. Bake for 30-35 minutes, or until the cake layer has risen and is nicely golden.

Remove the pan from the oven and let cool for 5-10 minutes on a cooling rack. If using a spring-form pan, release and remove the sides; if not, use a knife to gently separate the cake from the sides of the pan. Place a large serving plate over the cake pan and, using the cooling rack, carefully flip the cake onto the plate. Remove the pan and the parchment paper, and return any peach slices that may have dislodged.

To serve, pour over the remaining miso caramel and garnish each slice with a dollop of crème fraîche.

Claire M. Bullen is a professional food and travel writer, a beerhound and an all-around lover of tasty things. Follow her on Twitter at @clairembullen, and pick up a can of Evil Twin Sumo In A Sidecar in store on online.

The Beer Lover’s Table: Girolle and Truffle Cacio e Pepe and Magic Rock Cannonball IPA

At a recent dinner, I encountered one of the more memorable food and beer pairings I’ve had in recent months. A plate of tagliatelle, covered in pencil shaving-sized flakes of truffle and a snowfall of Parmigiano, was served alongside two malt-driven, West Coast IPAs.

On paper, the combination sounded strange, if not off-putting. But the way the caramel sweetness of the malt tangled with the umami of the pasta was a thrill. Instead of being adversarial, the two drew out the other’s best attributes: savoury and sweet, unctuous and bitter, rich on the plate and full-bodied in the glass.

I decided to try the combination for myself - but with cacio e pepe. Cacio e pepe is having a moment. It helps that this Roman pasta dish - with its simple sauce of olive oil, Pecorino Romano, and copious quantities of black pepper, all bound together by starch-rich pasta water - takes roughly 15 minutes to make. Restaurants like Padella are also heightening its popularity; their toothsome version remains one of London’s most popular pasta dishes.

In tribute to the dying days of summer, I opted to add honey-coloured girolle mushrooms and oil infused with white truffles to my take on cacio e pepe. At the risk of alienating the purists (or gilding the lily), I think it’s a subtly decadent twist on the classic, which imbues it with a hearty base note of umami. To finish it off, a sprinkle of aniseed-bright tarragon imparts an enlivening freshness.

After a long, hazy tsunami of New England-style IPAs, it feels refreshing to return to the West Coast IPA, and its resin, bitterness, and caramel sweetness. Magic Rock's Cannonball is a tried-and- true take on the style, a token from California by way of Huddersfield.

On its own, the beer has a bracing intensity, but the cacio e pepe highlights its sticky marmalade and apricot notes, sweetening and softening it. Its residual bitterness, meanwhile, manages to cut through the orgy of cheese and butter and oil, sharpening the craving for the next mouthful. As far as surprising pairings go, this one is a keeper.

Girolle and Truffle Cacio e Pepe
Serves 2-3

200g girolles
2 tbs olive oil
3 tbs white truffle-infused olive oil, divided
1 tsp freshly ground black pepper
250g linguine
Sea salt, to taste
40g unsalted butter
50g finely grated
Pecorino Romano (preferably with a Microplane grater)
10g tarragon, roughly chopped

First, clean the girolles. In lieu of washing them with water—which will cause them to go all soft and spongy—use a pastry brush (or unused toothbrush) to carefully brush off all the dirt, focusing especially on the gills. This process will prevent them from being gritty when cooked.

Set a kettle on to boil. Meanwhile, in a large frying pan, heat the olive oil over medium- high heat. When hot, add the mushrooms. Cook, tossing the girolles every now and then, for roughly five minutes. Season lightly with sea salt before taking the pan off the heat; remove the girolles from the pan and set aside.

Fill a medium saucepan with boiling water and add a small pinch of sea salt. Add the linguine and cook according to package instructions, or until al dente (I cooked mine for nine minutes; it’s usually a good idea to undercook by one minute from what the package suggests).

As the pasta cooks, add 2 tbs of white truffle-infused olive oil to the same frying pan you used for the girolles, and grind in your black pepper. Heat over medium-low heat for one minute, or just until the mixture starts to warm and become very fragrant. Remove from the heat.

Once the pasta is al dente, drain, being sure to save a large bowl full of the starchy cooking water. Add a good splash—approximately 4-5 tablespoons—to the frying pan with the truffle oil and pepper mixture. Add the butter to the frying pan next, stirring as it melts. Once the butter has melted, add in the cooked linguine, the grated Pecorino Romano, and the remaining 1 tbs white truffle oil. Toss vigorously with tongs or a fork for 1-2 minutes, or until the cheese melts and the sauce comes together. Your sauce should appear creamy and smooth, and should coat each strand of linguine. You may need to add several more tablespoons of pasta water to achieve the desired consistency.

Serve immediately. Divide the cacio e pepe between plates, and garnish with the tarragon. Top with additional black pepper and grated Pecorino Romano as desired.

Claire M. Bullen is a professional food and travel writer, a beerhound and all-around lover of tasty things. When she's not cracking open a cold one, she's probably cooking up roasted lamb with hummus. Or chicken laksa. Or pumpkin bread. You can follow her at @clairembullen. Pick up a can of Magic Rock Cannonball all year round in store or at our online shop

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The Beer Lover’s Table: Heirloom Tomato Galettes with Yeastie Boys Gunnamatta Earl Grey IPA

Where I’m from, July means pie season: apple pies, peach pies, and cherry pies, made with freshly picked fruit and crowned with a lattice of crust.

But while I love a traditional summertime pie as much as any other red-blooded American, lately I’ve fallen hard for the pie’s rustic, French cousin.

Meet the galette. If you’ve never made one, know that a galette isn’t just delicious, or photogenic in its own homely way - it’s also fantastically easy to make. Where American pie recipes are full of anxiety about mastering the perfectly flaky crust, galettes give a relaxed, Gallic shrug. After you’ve made your dough (in the food processor: even easier), it’s rolled out in whatever oblong shape comes out. Fillings are dolloped in the centre, and its shaggy-edged dough is folded unevenly over them, so it only covers half of what’s inside.

The result is as low-key as July baking gets. Though you can fill your galette with whichever ingredients are at hand - both sweet and savoury - I’ve opted here for beautifully dappled heirloom tomatoes, which are just coming into season. Paired with basil, whipped goat cheese and a nutty, pistachio-based crust (a favourite recipe of mine, which I’ve borrowed from Bon Appétit), the result is sublimely summery.

With a handful of dried lavender and a drizzle of honey to finish things off, these galettes are also a nod to Gunnamatta, Yeastie Boys Earl Grey IPA. Dry and unbelievably drinkable, yet perfumed with floral notes, it’s one of my very favourites (despite a punishing moment of overindulgence at a karaoke night last year—but let’s not get into that now). With a galette on the side, it’s just the can you should be cracking open at your next picnic.

Heirloom Tomato, Basil, and Whipped Goat Cheese Galettes
Makes 4 individual galettes

For the dough:
Adapted from Bon Appétit
65g raw pistachios
330g all-purpose flour
1 tsp caster sugar
1 tsp coarse sea salt
225g cold unsalted butter, cubed
110ml ice water
Additional flour, for rolling

Add the pistachios to your food processor. Pulse until they’re semi-finely ground, and no large pieces remain (you’ll likely need to pause and scrape down the bowl once or twice).

When they’re uniformly ground, add the flour, sugar, and sea salt, and blend until the mixture is evenly combined. Add the cubed butter and pulse until the mix resembles coarse meal. Then, with the motor running at a low speed, pour in the ice water in a steady stream until the dough just comes together.

Remove the dough from the food processor - it will be relatively sticky, so flouring your hands and work surface is advised - and divide into two even pieces. Pat each piece into a flattened circle, wrap with cling-film, and chill for at least 30 minutes.

For the whipped goat cheese:
250g soft (rindless) goat cheese, room temperature
75ml double cream, room temperature
1/2 tsp coarse sea salt
1/4 tsp freshly ground black pepper

Add all ingredients to a food processor. Blend, pausing to scrape down the sides of the processor with a spatula, until the mixture is completely smooth. Set aside.

For the galettes:
1 ½ tbs olive oil
1 large onion, thinly sliced
Galette dough
Whipped goat cheese
4 medium-sized heirloom tomatoes, thinly sliced
1 egg, beaten
1 handful cherry tomatoes, halved
1 bunch basil leaves, torn
1 tsp dried lavender
Chile-infused honey, to taste (can substitute regular honey)
Extra virgin olive oil, to taste
Flaky sea salt, to taste

In a frying pan, heat the olive oil over medium-high heat until hot. Add the onion and cook, stirring frequently, for approximately 10 minutes, or until it’s fully softened and beginning to darken and caramelise. Remove from the heat and set aside.

Preheat the oven to 200 degrees C. Line two large baking sheets with parchment paper, and set aside.

Ensure your work surface and rolling pin are well floured. Remove one of the two rounds of dough from the fridge and unwrap. Divide it into two equal pieces. Roll one out using the rolling pin until it’s approximately 1/8-inch thick, or approximately 9-10 inches wide. Transfer the dough to one of the baking sheets, placing it as close to one end as possible (you will need to fit two galettes on each baking sheet). Repeat with the second piece of dough on the second baking sheet.

In the middle of each piece of dough, dollop ¼ of the whipped goat cheese mixture, spreading with the back of a spoon until evenly distributed, and leaving approximately one inch of dough around the edge. On top of the goat cheese mix, add roughly one-quarter of the onions and one-quarter of the heirloom tomato slices. Sprinkle with flaky sea salt and fold the edges of the dough over the tomato mixture (the edges will overlap each other; don’t stress too much about the appearance). Using a baking brush, coat the edges of the crust with the beaten egg mixture.

Repeat this process with the second round of dough; you will have four galettes in total. Do be certain to construct the galettes on the baking sheets themselves; if you try to add the toppings while they’re on the counter, they will be fragile and very difficult to transfer.

Bake the galettes for between 30-40 minutes, pausing to rotate the baking sheets halfway through, or until the crust is golden-browned, the tomatoes are roasted, and the mixture is bubbling beautifully. Leave them for a few minutes, as they’ll be mouth-scaldingly molten straight out of the oven.

When ready to serve, top each galette with some halved cherry tomatoes, torn basil leaves, ¼ tsp of lavender, a drizzle of honey, a drizzle of olive oil, and more flaky sea salt to taste.

Claire M. Bullen is a professional food and travel writer, a beerhound and all-around lover of tasty things. When she's not cracking open a cold one, she's probably cooking up roasted lamb with hummus. Or chicken laksa. Or pumpkin bread. You can follow her at @clairembullen. Pick up Yeastie Boys Gunnamatta or at our online shop

The Beer Lover’s Table: Jerk Pulled Jackfruit Buns and Northern Monk, Fieldwork & Lonely Planet Travel Notes IPA

Jackfruit is one of the food world’s cleverest sleights of hand. Raw, the fruit’s yellow lobes are hidden within a huge, spiky expanse; like a durian but larger and without the controversial pungency, jackfruit has a delicious, tropical sweetness.

But when it’s cooked down with onions, spices, and other savoury ingredients, jackfruit offers up an entirely different realm of culinary possibility. Famously, its cooked texture is so peculiarly reminiscent of pulled pork that it’s hard to believe you’re not eating meat, apart from a whisper of fruity sweetness. I especially like it with a Jamaican jerk-style preparation, here adapted from Bobby Flay. Hand to heart: even die-hard carnivores will likely find it irresistible.

It’s both the satisfying richness of this recipe, as well as that touch of tropicality, that helps it pair so well with the limited-edition Travel Notes IPA. Brewed as a collaboration between Leeds’s Northern Monk, Berkeley’s Fieldwork and Lonely Planet, this is an IPA with a globetrotting pedigree. Ingredients hail from five continents, from European-sourced malt to hops from North America and Oceania, from African mango to South American açai berries. The latter two additions lend the beer a subtle blush hue and a bit of sweetness; it’s fruit-forward and soft on the palate, but by no means shy and retiring.

To tie it all together, I topped the jerk-marinated jackfruit with a crisp and crunchy mango slaw that brings an extra dash of exotic fruit flavours, as well as some textural contrast. Vegan barbecue fare? This summer, you’ve got a reason to give it a go.

Jerk Pulled Jackfruit Buns with Mango Slaw
Serves 2

For the jerk pulled jackfruit:
2 spring onions, roughly chopped
3 cloves garlic, roughly chopped
1 thumb-sized piece of ginger, minced
1 tbs fresh thyme leaves, roughly chopped
2 tbs red wine vinegar
1 tbs dark soy sauce
1/4 tsp ground cinnamon
1 pinch ground cloves
3/4 tsp ground allspice
1/4 tsp ground nutmeg
/2 tsp coarse sea salt
1/4 tsp freshly cracked black pepper
Juice of 1 lime
1/2 small scotch bonnet pepper, stemmed and seeded
2 tbs olive oil 1 large onion, thinly sliced
1 tbs tomato paste
200g fresh jackfruit, de-seeded
200ml vegetable stock

Blend the spring onions, garlic, ginger, thyme, red wine vinegar, soy sauce, spices, salt, pepper, lime juice and scotch bonnet in a food processor for 1-2 minutes, pausing to scrape down the bowl occasionally, until you have a rather thick and homogenous paste. Set aside.

To a large saucepan, add the olive oil and heat on medium-high until hot. Add the onion and stir frequently for 5-6 minutes, until softened and translucent. Add the tomato paste and stir for 1 minute more. Add the reserved paste, your fresh jackfruit, and the vegetable stock, heating the mixture on high until it begins to boil. Turn down to medium-low heat and cover. Allow to simmer for 45 minutes, checking and stirring occasionally to make sure the mixture isn’t sticking, or until the jackfruit has almost completely broken down into fibrous pieces (you can nudge any larger pieces apart with your spoon). The liquid should be thickened; cook for a few minutes longer with the lid removed if it is still quite watery in consistency. Season with extra sea salt to taste.

While the jackfruit cooks, pre-heat the oven to 180 degrees C. Cover a large baking sheet with nonstick foil. Once your jackfruit has finished on the stove, spoon it onto the foil- covered baking sheet and spread out into a thin layer. Bake for 20-25 minutes, rotating and stirring halfway through, until the mixture has darkened and started to crisp at the edges. Texturally, it should have the same caramelised stickiness of pulled pork.

For the mango slaw:
Adapted from Feasting at Home

1/4 red cabbage, thinly sliced
100g mango, sliced into matchsticks
1/2 red onion, thinly sliced
20g coriander leaves, roughly chopped
Juice of 1/2 lime
1/2 tsp coarse sea salt
Zest and juice of one orange
1/2 tbs olive oil

Add all ingredients to a bowl and mix well. Allow flavours to mingle for 10-15 minutes before serving. Note that this recipe makes more than required for two servings; it also works well as a nicely crunchy side salad.

To serve:
2 large white baps
Extra handful fresh coriander

Spoon a heaping amount of the jackfruit onto each bap. Top with as much slaw as you can reasonably fit, as well as an extra handful of coriander for a bit of brightness.

Claire M. Bullen is a professional food and travel writer, a beerhound and all-around lover of tasty things. When she's not cracking open a cold one, she's probably cooking up roasted lamb with hummus. Or chicken laksa. Or pumpkin bread. You can follow her at @clairembullen. Pick up a a can of Travel Notes in store or at our online shop

The Beer Lover’s Table: Steak with Grapefruit Sauce and Beavertown’s Bloody Ell

There’s a lot of mythology around steak. Perhaps that’s why many home cooks leave it to the professionals, who tend to harp on about wood varieties and have very strict rules about the number of times steak should be flipped. Their fervour may be admirable, but I’m here to tell you: cooking a good, even great, steak at home is dead easy.

Well, mostly. It helps if you get your meat from a quality source - skip the grocery store and head to your local butcher for this one. If you can get a steak that’s dry-aged, which deepens its flavour and increases its tenderness, all the better. It also helps to know your preferred cut. Mine is ribeye, which is marbled with fat and, consequently, irresistible.

Once you’ve got all that sorted, you need only a few tools to reach perfection: generous amounts of sea salt and black pepper, a hot frying pan, tongs, and a kitchen timer. The latter is important; ribeye takes only a couple of minutes to cook per side, so it’s best not to let it linger.

As a lover of blood oranges and a regular IPA drinker, I always look forward to Beavertown’s springtime Bloody Ell release. But for pairing purposes, this beer offers a bit of a conundrum. While Bloody Ell is made in the midst of blood orange season, those ruby beauties have all but disappeared from shelves by the time it’s available.

Luckily, grapefruit makes a fair substitute. Here, the ribeye is accompanied by a sunset-hued sauce bright with grapefruit juice but balanced with savoury shallots. I call this dish not-quite salad because the steak is still the centrepiece, but springtime greenery in the form of sorrel is also a worthy addition. If you’ve never had it, sorrel is worth seeking out: when bitten, it bursts with lemony sharpness. Top it all off with toasted Marcona almonds and frizzled shallots that crackle between the teeth, and you’ve got a steak the pros would approve of.

Steak Not-Quite Salad with Sorrel, Grapefruit Sauce, and Frizzled Shallots
Serves 2

Frizzled shallots:
3 large echalion shallots
¼ tsp salt, plus additional for seasoning
1.5 tbs all-purpose flour
250ml vegetable oil

Peel and slice the shallots finely. Add to a bowl with the salt and flour and toss to coat. In a medium, heavy-bottomed saucepan, heat the vegetable oil over high heat until very hot, about 5 minutes. You’ll know it’s ready when you throw in a single piece and it starts sizzling rapidly. Add in half the shallots and cook, stirring with a slotted spoon or pair of tongs until well browned and crisp, about 3-4 minutes. Remove from the oil quickly and drain on a paper towel-lined plate, sprinkling over with a little more salt. Repeat with the second batch of shallots. Set aside.

Grapefruit sauce:
330ml ruby red grapefruit juice, divided
100g caster sugar
1 large echalion shallot, minced
2 tbs sherry vinegar (preferably Valdespino)
125g butter, cubed
Sea salt
Freshly cracked black pepper

In a small saucepan, add 230ml grapefruit juice and the sugar. Heat over high heat and cook, stirring frequently, until the mixture has reduced to a thick syrup that coats the back of the spoon, approximately 10-15 minutes.

In a second small saucepan, add the minced shallot, vinegar, and the remaining 100ml of grapefruit juice. Heat over high heat, stirring frequently, until the mixture reduces to about 3 tbs worth, approximately 10 minutes.

When the grapefruit, shallot, and vinegar mixture has sufficiently reduced, begin to add the butter. Whisking constantly, add one cube at a time, allowing each to almost completely melt before adding the next. When all the butter has been added and the sauce appears thick and lighter in colour, drizzle in your grapefruit syrup slowly, whisking constantly. Once all the syrup has been added, continue to whisk and season with freshly cracked black pepper and sea salt. Strain the sauce into a bowl through a sieve. Set aside.

Steak and to serve:
75g blanched Marcona almonds
2 ribeye steaks
Sea salt
Freshly cracked black pepper
25g butter
Large handful sorrel (if you can’t find sorrel, substitute rocket or watercress)

Allow the steak to come to room temperature. Season both sides generously with sea salt and black pepper. In a small frying pan over medium-high heat, toast the Marcona almonds until they’re golden-brown, approximately 7-10 minutes. Set aside.

Heat a heavy-bottomed frying pan over high heat until hot. Add the butter and melt. Add the steaks. For medium rare (recommended), cook on the first side for 2 minutes and 30 seconds before flipping and cooking on the reverse for approximately 2 more minutes. Remove from the pan and allow the steaks to rest for 10 minutes before slicing.

To serve, put down a generous dollop of grapefruit sauce on each place (and do a swirl with the back of a spoon if you’re feeling fancy). Divide the steak and the sorrel leaves between both plates. Top both steaks with the frizzled shallots and toasted almonds. Go to town.

Claire M. Bullen is a professional food and travel writer, a beerhound and all-around lover of tasty things. When she's not cracking open a cold one, she's probably cooking up roasted lamb with hummus. Or chicken laksa. Or pumpkin bread. You can follow her at @clairembullen. Pick up some Beavertown Bloody Ell while stocks last in store or at our online shop