I snubbed breakfast and arrived absolutely ravenous and half an hour an hour early for the Jerk Cook Out. I wanted to get the measure of the place, formulate a plan of attack and talk to some of the cooks. As the meat hit the grill and the smoke started twisting above the trees though, I got impatient and began repeatedly texting and calling my friends until one of them turned up; some pleasantries were exchanged (“how are you?” “yes yes fine whatever so let’s go to this place first then this then this…”) and we were off.

Tasty Jerk have won the competition two years running. I asked them if they fancied their chances but the answer came that they were just in it for kicks; if you win twice in a row then you have to take a year off. We got stuck right into some of their jerk pork belly. The fat was like eating the pork scratchings of my dreams. I like a touch more cloves in the mix but the allspice was prominent enough and I wonder if they put berries in the coals to infuse the smoke. As styles go it was more dry rub than sticky glaze but there was skill in the cooking and confidence in the spice.

There are different styles of jerk; there’s the all-in-one marinade and then the dry rub and glaze. I want to experiment with the latter. Some places seemed to be serving the meat with a sweeter sauce on the side. Last year’s runners up Jerk Lan took this approach, with disappointing results. Their sign urged us to ASK FOR SPECIAL SAUCE and so of course we did, which was a shame because it ruined the meat. I was thinking hot pepper paste with a kick to rival a donkey but instead we got saccharine gloop which seemed to be a mixture of the worst sweet and sour sauce of my life, sugar syrup and water. We could only judge the meat by licking the crusted remnants of chicken skin from the corners of our mouths, which, incidentally, were good and garlicky.

Over a swift pint of Meantime Pale Ale at The Florence it was time to re-group and digest before riding back on the second wind. My friend enjoyed our third portion better, although I can’t say I thought much of it. The real surprise came in the form of a spit roasted lamb, again from Tasty Jerk. Shards of crunchy skin and fat with a proper heat elevated to an out of body experience by the accompanying chilli sauce.

The lurid artificial hue of a drink is directly proportional to its level of efficacy in quenching the fire in your mouth. Everyone should know this. A couple of Slush Puppies the colour of 1980′s neon legwarmers brought us back from the endorphin super highway. Thought you’d turned your back on the SP at ten years of age? Think again.

The problem with an event getting bigger of course, is that quality becomes diluted. Our pork and lamb were great, although I did know of them and make a beeline. A later impulsive purchase of curry goat was watery and timidly spiced but there were so many places to choose from, it was hard to know where to start over-indulging. When considering this conundrum, it seemed that my only chink of light would come in the form of my judging the competition, so that I could visit each and every stall. I would systematically work the field, savouring each nugget of pork, fish and chicken like it was my last before slipping peacefully into a jerk coma.

And then I’d wake up.

The annual Jerk Cook Out Festival takes place in Brockwell Park (formerly Horniman Museum) in August. Dates vary so keep an eye out. This year’s event ran from 12-6pm.

If you like jerk check out my jerk recipe and my top tips for great jerk.

[Edit: I have since been back to Suya Express after David's comment below and I am sorry to say that it wasn't very good. I think I got lucky that day and the quality is highly variable. This is such a shame as it was so good the first time and I hope they get their act together. I'll update this when I try it again in a few months time].

I have discovered the suya. Just down the road on Peckham High Street is a place selling skewer after sizzling skewer of this African street food. The suya originated in Nigeria and is basically like an African kebab; thin strips of meat are rubbed with ground peanuts and spices and then grilled. A traditional accompaniment is sliced tomato and onion.

I’ve been eyeing up Obalende Suya Express ever since I moved to Peckham. It’s a scruffy little place, the waiting area consisting of a few battered chairs that look like they came from an old boys’ club in Blackpool about 20 years ago; the paint peels from the walls and there’s a strip of those plastic backlit signs above the counter a la classic ‘bab shop. Behind it though, is the grill, and this is where the magic happens. I tried hard to remember the last time I’d eaten such smoke infused meat. It didn’t happen.

My beef suya strips were tender in the middle and then almost jerky-like at the edges, with treasures of crisp fat. Even the jollof rice was good and I’ve never really been a fan; it was almost dry yet not claggy, held together with an orange, hot peppered paste which hummed in our mouths. The really big surprise though, was the fried plantain. I’ve always struggled with its sweetness and often mushy texture but Obalende had cooked theirs with a touch of acidity and boy, does it make all the difference.

We scuttled off to a nearby park bench (classy as ever) and forked as much as possible onto each white plastic tine. Suya is officially my new takeaway of choice. Okay maybe not ultimately more than jerk but there are similarities; the chilli, ginger and garlic are there but it’s the ground peanuts that take this off in a different direction. Once you’ve chosen your meat from the selection of beef, goat, gizzards, chicken, lamb, fish or er, ‘crocodile/shark’, they sprinkle some of the extra meat rub on top. It’s like a soft-hot smoke bomb going off in your mouth.

The portions are enormous; we paid £5.75 each (Chris had goat) and neither of us finished. If I had one criticism I suppose I could say that it looked a bit of a mess, but then this is street food. It’s all about the flavour and a wise eye and greedy appetite will see its beauty. Their website claims that “many publications” have dubbed them the ‘African MacDonald’s’ but I think this gives the wrong impression. It’s fast food, yes but 100% genuine and it’s got guts. It’s classic Peckham, let’s face it.

Obalende Suya Express
43 Peckham High Street
Peckham
London SE15
Tel: 020 7703 7033
info@suyaexpress.com
http://suyaexpress.com

You can’t say you haven’t thought about it these past few days. A few spots of drizzle and it’s pie o’clock.

One thing I didn’t expect to find myself making though was a vegetarian pie. It’s inspired by the Italian Easter pie, torta pasqualina and the filling is a deeply savoury mixture of roasted artichokes, crème fraiche, eggs, cheese and spinach. I just can’t get enough spinach into my body at the moment and it’s so darn cheap in Peckham; 3 or 4 huge bunches for just 1 of your shiny quids – that’s about 400g  of spinach once you’ve trimmed the stalks and it’s ready to use. I cast my eye over the sorry looking shelves in Tesco Express yesterday for comparison – £1.40 for 260g of baby leaves in an inflated plastic bag. What a rip. It’s baby spinach yes, but I prefer the mature, ballsy stuff to be honest.

One thing that doesn’t come cheap however, is a decent egg. I used Clarence Court eggs for The Big Lunch and I’ve developed a bit of a habit; Cotswold Legbars are my favourite ‘old breed’ with their rough textured, pastel-blue shells and rich amber yolks. This recipe uses a lot: 6 in the filling mix, 4 on top. They set the filling as well as enrich it though, so you can cut a slice without everything oozing out. I wanted the mixture to be quite coarse but absent mindedly puréed the lot. It didn’t matter, the result was a pleasant light texture.

So it’s not a traditional torta, but it is a very tasty variation. Usually, the pie contains ricotta but I used crème fraiche and a bit of grated cheddar because well, that’s what I had. It’s amazing really, just how satisfying this pie is. I lay in bed one night and seriously considered getting up in the wee hours for a nibble.

The olive oil pastry is rolled out very thin and arranged in layers – traditionally 33, to represent the number of years that Christ supposedly lived. There was no way I was doing that many layers (coming from a woman who skins chickpeas) and anyway, I can’t imagine it being particularly pleasant to eat. I managed 5 or 6, and felt rather chuffed about it, particularly because they were clearly distinguishable in the cooked pie. My recipe uses 8 tablespoons of olive oil, which I’m not sure is much in the way of fat in pastry-land, and yet it’s very silky. A keeper.

We ate indecently large wedges with a simple tomato and onion salad; perfectly ripe fruits layered with red and spring onions, drizzled with good balsamic and olive oil, salted and peppered. I never thought it possible, but this pie was every bit as satisfying as a meaty version.

Torta Pasqualina (to make a more classic torta, substitute the crème fraiche and cheddar cheese with ricotta and some Parmesan if you have it).

This fills a 23cm spring form cake tin.

800g spinach (this is the equivalent of 6 large bunches bought in the mighty Peckham)
200g crème fraiche
A large handful of large cheddar cheese
1 massive onion, chopped fairly small
2 fat cloves of garlic, finely chopped
1 large handful (about 30g) flat leaf parsley
250g roasted artichokes from a jar
10 eggs

For the pastry

660g plain (all purpose) flour
8 tablespoons olive oil
2 teaspoons salt
1 egg, for glazing
About 230ml cold water

First, make the pastry. Combine the flour, oil and salt in large bowl. Gradually add the water and mix to form a dough that is fairly stiff. Turn it out out onto lightly floured surface and knead until smooth and elastic, about 15 minutes then transfer to a bowl, cover and leave it for 30 minutes in the fridge.

Allow the spinach to wilt down in a dry pan then allow to cool and squeeze out as much water as you can. Soften the chopped onion gently in a tablespoon of olive oil for about 10 minutes, then add the finely chopped garlic and artichokes for a few minutes longer, stirring regularly. Combine this mixture with the parsley, creme fraiche, cheese and 6 of the eggs. You can do this in a blender but do remember to pulse not blend! Season heavily with salt and pepper.

Preheat the oven to 220C

Brush the tin with olive oil and divide the dough into 10 pieces. Roll each piece out very thinly on a lightly floured surface so that they are large enough to fit the pan. I used 6 layers on the bottom and 4 on top and brushed each layer with olive oil before adding the next. Add your filling, then make 4 indentations in the top and crack in the other 4 eggs. If you feel there is too much white you can get rid of some by letting some run off as if you were separating the egg.

Add your pastry layers to the top then crimp the sides and brush the whole pie with beaten egg. Bake the pie for 45 minutes to 1 hour. It should be golden brown all over.

A truly ripe peach is a juice bomb. It requires a special, forward-leaning eating position, or else the juice will collide with either your t-shirt, your laptop, or the one important paper on your desk amongst all the other miscellaneous crap. Despite this trickery, a snatched and frenzied slurp-fest can be a real pleasure; un-fussed and fuzzed.

If you find yourself up against a batch that are a bit under-ripe though, this is the recipe for you; they’ll be capable of holding their own in the pan. Grilling also works.

If there’s anything a heap of honeyed peaches is crying out for, it’s a little salty somethin’ somethin’. Two courses of action that will never let you down: pig route, cheese route. Grilled bacon slots in effortlessly like the cool kid at school. A sharp cheese like a feta or goat’s will seem more restrained but delivers similarly satisfying results. S’ up to you.

Pan fried peaches with walnuts and feta

6 slightly under-ripe peaches
Olive oil, for brushing

For the dressing

1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 generous teaspoon honey
2 teaspoons olive oil
1 tablespoon chopped mint
1 teaspoon chilli flakes

Garnish

150g feta cheese
1 large handful of walnuts

Preheat a heavy based frying pan or skillet over a medium heat. Meanwhile, cut the peaches in half and remove the stones. Brush each one generously with olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Place each peach cut side down in the pan and leave until slightly golden. Turn them over carefully and give them a minute or so on the skin side then remove and allow to cool slightly. Once cool enough to handle, cut each half into 4 wedges.

Toast the walnuts by putting them in a dry pan over a fairly low heat and leaving them for a few minutes, moving them around regularly to stop them burning. Remove and set aside.

Make the dressing by mixing all the ingredients together well and seasoning with pepper and just a little salt as the feta is salty. Combine in a bowl with the peaches – gently, to stop them breaking up. Arrange on a plate and garnish with the feta and walnuts. Serve immediately.

My event of the summer. I’ve been to The Jerk Cook Out competition for the past three years and every time it gets bigger and (in most ways) better; so much so in fact that this year it has moved from the gardens of The Horniman Museum, to the larger and much more suitable, Brockwell Park. The Horniman gardens, although lovely, are hilly and the stalls were forced to spread out; you could never really get the measure of the place. Planning your course around multiple jerk stalls is a serious business and one needs to size up the scale of the challenge. You could never do them all though, we’re talking a week’s worth of eatin’ out there.

Jerk chicken, pork belly, fish and crab claws. Rice and peas, plantains and fresh coconut water. Rum. Music. My advice is to get there early (the queues can get a bit silly) and to go seriously hungry, because one plate of jerk is never enough.

When: Sunday 15th August, 12pm-6pm
Where: Brockwell Park, (Dulwich, SE24 9AE)
Cost: Free entry, then you obviously pay for the jerk.