The air fryer isn’t as new a phenomenon as the current cost-of-living spike in its popularity might lead you to believe. I first encountered one about 13 years ago, one of the bulky Tefal Actifry things intended to replicate the effects of a deep-fat fryer on chips. I recall the owner being effusive about it but then giving the concept little thought until the last year or so as they’ve gained so much traction. I had various objectives in mind when I picked mine up, in particular speeding up the cooking of frozen beige food demanded by Little Fork as well as being able to knock up bacon and sausages etc for a speedy breakfast. The added cooking space when putting together a Sunday roast would also be a bonus and the thought of it shaving a bit off of our huge energy bills was enticing too.

Unboxing my new Ninja Air Fryer was as exciting as ever for a new kitchen toy. I noted minimal use of plastic in the packaging too with cardboard inserts replacing what would in years gone by have been blocks of polystyrene. First impressions of the appliance itself are good: it’s sensibly proportioned and fits perfectly into the space I’d assigned for it. I’d feared that it would be somewhat monolithic and dominate the kitchen but it’s perfectly unobtrusive next to the microwave. Accompanying documentation is comprehensive, giving details of how the various modes work and how to adapt cooking times for air frying. So after giving the cooking tray a quick wipe down I’m giddily comtemplating what to first subject to its fan assisted clutches. Rather unimaginatively this turns out to be a handful of frozen chips, but I may as well start from the beginning and see where I fancy going next. Unlike some other brands I researched, Ninja recommends preheating the appliance for 3 minutes which slightly undermines the perceived benefit of being able to cook from cold. Still, 3 minutes is hardly an undue inconvenience and the machine only takes two button presses to get heating up, a marked improvement on the eternity my grill takes to come up to temperature. Even with that 3 minutes taken into account it was about a dozen minutes later that I was tucking into crispy, fluffy chips that were a marked improvement on the oven. An impressive first gambit.

Showing a distinct lack of imagination, I then threw in a couple of chicken Kievs for dinner which were perfectly crisped, cooked through and not at all dry after twenty minutes. Bacon is turned around similarly quickly and before long I’m confident enough to ditch the oven for days at a time, happily cooking anything in the air fryer that’s appropriately sized. Obviously there’re a couple of missteps such as the pizza I took perilously close to carbonisation and the small piece of parchment I set fire to by not securing properly, but what’s life without risk eh…not nearly as close a call as those kebabs I set fire to in my bedsit that time. After this the positive reception continues pretty much unabated: it saves a great deal of time, is easy to clean, produces results at least equal to a conventional oven and as a lower power device powered up for a shorter time must by definition be cheaper to run.

Downsides? It’s taken a mental recalibration to accept that meat can be cooked to a safe temperature so quickly that I use a probe thermometer for reassurance still. I’ve had to buy a rack to provide more internal real estate for bacon and so on… and I can’t think of much else. Earlier today it produced perfect roast parsnips and carrots for Sunday lunch, saving me from needing to use the smaller side of the double oven and I’ve just heard it beep from downstairs where it’s turning out a grilled cheese sandwich for an early evening snack. Most tellingly it’s been adopted without hesitation by Mrs Fork, who’s just returned from a week abroad for work. She has a pathological aversion to “gadgets” so I’d intended ordering one to be delivered mere hours after her flight departed so I could spend a week familiarising myself and cooking in a smaller appliance suitable for solo meals. However, my nerve failed me when I realised the heavily discounted model I’d ordered would take up a fair wedge of our counter space. Having confessed my intended misdemeanour, I grabbed the Ninja, which had a smaller footprint than the Tefal model I’d seen, and after those early experiments she was sold.

Clearly it’s made a positive impression on this household and my hoped for ability to bring food to the table speedily enough to counter Little Fork’s journey to the snack cupboard has materialised. I still need to play around with dishes that would more traditionally be deep fried and really get into the breadth of the baking and dehydrating functions it has but I couldn’t be more pleased with my Ninja. It’s achieved everything I hoped it would and more, immediately becoming a staple of the kitchen. Clearly as the last decades have illustrated I could live without it, but I wouldn’t want to now.

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The Rockfish fresh seafood range varies week to week and is made up of a limited number of portions of whatever has been landed, with the remaining number of portions of each listed on the website as they sell. It should be noted that pricing is going to make a few of the cuts difficult to justify for some with the most expensive cuts topping £18 for a single portion, which makes it all the more important that the accompanying guidance hits the spot and lets you make the most of your investment. Irrespective of price though, it’s hard to argue with the freshness here as the fish is portioned immediately after landing before being shipped for next day delivery.

Your Rockfish fresh seafood delivery, which arrives in recyclable or returnable packaging, also comes with an engaging booklet that lays out what cooking techniques best suit each cut of fish, all presented simply and with handy tips for flavour pairings and which of the range’s flavoured butters to use. It’s also worth checking out the recently launched range of tinned fish, in particular the mussels are as unique as they are irresistible – I would definitely be sneaking those into any subsequent orders. Everything is neatly packaged and easy to store in the fridge ready for you to start meal planning. 

I opted to get stuck into some Gurnard first that I pan fried and finished with some of the Rockfish béarnaise butter to serve with asparagus and roasted baby potatoes. These fillets were just the right size for a light meal and were slightly oily, reminiscent of mackerel but much more subtle, to make a positive first impression of the Rockfish offering. Next up some smoked haddock that I oven roasted with some kedgeree butter for a really memorable breakfast when sandwiched between a slice of sourdough toast from a local baker and a fresh poached egg from next door’s chickens. It’s not hyperbolic to say that this was one of the best brunches ever eaten in this house, and the kedgeree butter has been depleted quickly in the aftermath too!

Scallops require a bit more thought in their presentation, with my efforts throwing into sharp relief the skills that chefs put on the plate, but regardless of the slightly amateurish plating, the end result hit its mark perfectly. These were some of the sweetest scallops I’ve yet had the pleasure of and set the scene for a real headliner in the form of a turbot t-bone. Cut from the centre part of the fish and with the bone remaining in situ, this was my first time eating this cut, and indeed cooking it though by now I was confident in the guidance that accompanied it – indispensable when tackling an £18 cut of fish for the first time! Simply oven roasted and well seasoned this was a memorable bit of food, the meat remaining succulent and flaking apart beautifully to work well with sauté spinach and a roasted then seared cauliflower steak. Last up were some hake fillets that I cooked en papillote (using parchment to create a tight parcel in which to roast them) to great effect and served with more of the well judged kedgeree butter.

The Rockfish fresh seafood service is a cohesive and well thought out way to experiment with seafood cookery at home, making sure that you get the best out of the produce you order and giving transferable instruction on how to cook seafood consistently. It would be perfect for the friend I mentioned earlier who was unsure of how to approach regular seafood cookery at home. It must be said that this is a premium product and is priced to reflect that, with most single portions around £7-£10 but there’s no doubting the quality of the seafood, the accompanying flavoured butters and sauces or the guidance surrounding it. It’s also a great way to try different cuts of fish as the range changes. I’ll be keeping an eye on what’s available and putting in a repeat order when something catches my eye.

(Disclaimer, PR product supplied at no cost)

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My experiences of the Zaap Thai branch in York have been very good but the standard of the ready meals really impressed me, particularly given the abbreviated timeframe in which they were introduced, so their entry into the recipe box market was intriguing. The Ban’s Kitchen recipe kit boxes are each designed to offer a particular Thai dish and clock in between £19 and £26 plus shipping. I plumped for the Massaman kit and looked forward to getting cooking. The kit includes the majority of the fresh ingredients you need, though you need to add your own protein, garnishes, stock and rice. It’s noteworthy that the quantity of the dry ingredients delivered are far, far in excess of what’s needed for one meal though, which comfortably compensates for the slightly curious absence of rice.

The instructions included with the Ban’s Kitchen recipe box are durable enough to last a good few cooking sessions worth of spills and easy enough to follow without the need to extend one’s mental facilities too far. I augmented the included potato, carrot and onion with some chicken breast and after a very manageable amount of chopping, stirring, cooking and simmering I was ready to dish up and garnish with generous amounts of coriander (I’ll hear nothing against the stuff). The results lived up to the promise of enabling us to “cook the perfect Massaman curry at home” with the mild balance of sweet, salty and tangy well achieved and comfortably competing with takeaways or restaurant dishes. I was even compelled to ponce the rice into a bit of a shape to serve.

In all honesty ‘recipe kit’ is something of a misnomer here. While it includes some of the fresh ingredients needed to bring the meal to the table, the quantity of the dry ingredients will let you cook the same dish repeatedly with the addition of onions, potatoes, carrots and your choice of protein. The building blocks of curry paste, fish sauce, palm sugar and star anise will envelope many more than the included coconut milk. It’s almost more appropriate to describe this as a ‘Thai store cupboard in a box’ with a convenient recipe thrown in. I’ve made Massaman from this on more occasions than I can bring to mind now, it suiting leftover turkey particularly well, and absolutely recommend trying it for yourself if you’re missing Thai meals out at the moment.

Disclaimer: PR Sample with no charge.

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If you’re looking for silver linings, and aren’t we all at the moment, then the opportunity to enjoy meals from geographically diverse restaurants is one to grab with both hands, reflected nicely by Patty & Bun’s southern stomping ground. Their burger delivery kit offers the core ingredients needed to replicate their beef or vegan burgers with just a couple of recommended fresh additions to pick up, not that there’re any restrictions on your imagination to embellish the finished product in whatever way you see fit. The kit for 2 burgers rounds out to around £20 (I saved a few quid with a discount code) including delivery, which is pretty fair to make something of an event of an evening in this barren stretch. I’ve been lucky with deliveries throughout this pandemic so far (how’s that for tempting fate?) and that run continued with the product arriving in good condition and as promised, with packaging and instructions looking smart and easily digestible.

You might think there isn’t much nuance in cooking and assembling a burger, but each occasion on which your thumb has penetrated the bun, sauce drooled itself onto your top or the whole thing crumbled into constituent parts after over zealous filling betrays an opportunity to compromise your enjoyment. The instructions provided make a good fist of steering you away from making any such faux-pas with tips such as to bisect the bun above the equator for a solid footing efficient layering of fillings. Cooking the patties themselves inevitably relies on an element of personal judgement given you’ll be using your own equipment, the guidance being to sear for 4 minutes on each side though. I measured them at 40c internally after that (a probe thermometer is inexpensive and indispensable in my view) so gave it a few more minutes before popping under the grill to melt the cheese. Perhaps that step would have taken the core temp to something I was more comfortable with but my attempt didn’t end up overcooked or dry regardless. Incidentally, 1 sheet of the included cheese per patty is probably enough, though an excess of cheese is something I’ve never regretted to date. Having fried the included bacon in the fat from the beef while the cheese melted we were ready for assembly.

The final eating was comfortably beyond the standard of anything I’ve put together from anything available in a supermarket, the standard of the ingredients and consideration to balance between the onions, sauce, bacon and texture of the bun clearly evident. The amount of cheese I’d subjected them to did make them look faintly ludicrous but that’s hardly a flaw, perhaps I’d have also gotten more from them with a bit more planning to include some more outlandish ingredients but these really did a great impression of a high end burger joint.

As long as you have to cook and clean for yourself, a recipe kit is only going to approximate dining out so much, but that’s as good as it gets for those of us unable to afford a private chef (a debatable indulgence in a pandemic it must be said) right now. Twenty quid for the bits you need to eek an evening’s entertainment from a couple of top quality burgers is a bargain to be savoured and an indulgence I’d recommend without reservation. As soon as more travel is practical I’ll be curious to try a Patty & Bun burger as prepared by the pro’s for the sake of comparison.

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Source York has been an important part of the food scene in the city since opening a few years ago, successfully placing feet in both vegan and omnivore camps. Its mix of innovative plant-based dishes along with a range of pulled meats, ribs and so on deprives meat eaters of an excuse to avoid visiting somewhere that serves up such distinguished veggie and vegan dishes. With their restaurant being shut for the moment Source York has, alongside a whole industry, been after ways to keep sharing its joys and hit upon the idea of a picnic for enjoyment at home.

While we may have a little more in the way of personal freedom than we had a couple of weeks ago, we still opted to enjoy the picnic in our own garden (a luxury that I’m all the more appreciative of these days) which enjoys easy access to running water and conveniences along with the absence of other people less keen on the etiquette of social distancing. The picnic concept Source came up with has allowed them to transplant a clear sense of their ethos and identity into a different setting, bringing elements of the restaurant dishes together to create an impressive and visually striking spread that needs no preparation before enjoying. A tie up with York Gin popped a couple more goodies into the mix to enjoy in the sun too, their award-winning Old Tom being perfect to enjoy in the warm weather.

The centrepiece of the spread was a pair of Buddha Bowls, each featuring a half avocado, crusted with sesame seeds, and bang-bang tofu with pickled mushrooms and red cabbage along with quinoa that turned the pickles into proper little show offs.. Hummus shortages are a rare thing in this house so the burnt onion variant included didn’t last long and the nacho bowl was demolished in equally short order with its embellishments of avocado and other sauces. Some pulled jackfruit and pulled pork finished off the savouries and both made a great adjunct, though it speaks well of Source’s ability to balance a meal that it would have been no lesser experience with the absence of meat.

The meal was ended with a vegan chocolate mousse with almonds and goji berries that punched in a good bite of chocolate bitterness along with a smooth, luxuriant texture. I’d never have guessed that this was vegan if challenged, a both technically impressive and delicious way to finish.

The big question remaining is when you’ll have the opportunity to sample this experience, which I gather is unlikely to be repeated due to the scale of the endeavour and practicalities of mass catering from a restaurant kitchen. That doesn’t mean it’s not a big success though. I think it’s absolutely key at the moment for restaurants to maintain a connection with the customers who they’re looking forward to welcoming back in due course. While very different to a restaurant experience, Source absolutely succeeded in making this representative of their unique place in the York food scene and have, hopefully, piqued people’s interest for a takeaway offering that will be coming soon. Keep an eye on their social media channels for more news.

Disclaimer: No charge was made for this meal. Opinions are impartial.

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The food at Vice & Virtue is the creation of Jono Hawthorne, who’s come up with eccentric masterworks in the past such as cheeseburger spring rolls and the insta-friendly “Hangover Cone” that counted brownie, ice cream, ready salted crisps and pretzel amongst its ingredients. The food at Vice & Virtue has dialled back these excesses in favour of more classical dishes but it’s still very much of its own mind and recognisable, with striking plating. As with so many other of our favourite hospitality businesses, V&V have had to do some thinking on the hoof about how to proceed and have come up with a version of their tasting menu to plate and enjoy at home.

As a restaurant, there are obvious issues to address with trusting the public to cook your food. The crux of which being that we specifically go out for food experiences that can’t replicate in the domestic setting. A lot of the at-home options we’re seeing remove as much personal responsibility from the process as possible, mitigating again enthusiastic amateurs mucking up lovingly prepared ingredients. V&V’s approach puts a bit more faith in you though with cooking that requires some judgement and intricate plating to have a stab at. Speaking personally, this seems like a much more experiential approach that’s bound to bring to mind those questions I posed earlier.

Preparing for a meal like this really shines a light on the quality of your tableware, or lack thereof. Each of us would need 12 plates to get through the experience along with associated cutlery, not to mention a few glasses and pans. Spare a thought for the kitchen porter whenever we’re able to enjoy restaurants again! Thankfully the standard of the food exceeded the standard of the plates it was served on. (I’m pretty sure one was from the Kitchen Reject Shop in Cambridge ca1997.) First up came snacks, parmesan doughnuts and black pudding to nibble on while warming through a wild garlic veloute, into which I microplaned cured egg yolk before scattering hogweed flowers over the surface and drizzling with rapeseed oil. Feeling almost like a proper chef after that flurry of (low skilled) activity, we tucked in and immediately felt like this really was as close to a restaurant experience as possible at the moment, the combination of flavours and textures whetting our appetites for the next courses.

Plating the next course involved encasing a portion of whipped chicken liver pate in beetroot, burnt watermelon and cereal and then finishing with torn raspberries. This one really played with texture, the crunching cereal really accentuating the depth of flavour in the pate and the earthy tones of beetroot. Next came a fish course of gin and tonic cured trout dressed with yarrow and buttermilk and coupled with bold spikes of flavour from capers, elderflowers, and discs of cucumber to throw in some crunch. The dressing brought this one together with real flair, underpinning the texture of the fish and letting the bombs of caper detonate pleasingly.

The meat course required a bit more prep, with some portions of aged striploin beef to be finished in a pan having already been subjected to a waterbath. The extent of the cooking needed depended on the diner’s preference for rare meat so being confident in my ability to cook a steak, I showed the meat to the pan for a brief sear before resting and plating. After moving the meat through the pan, I wilted dandelion leaves to underpin the meat while simultaneously warming a jus and some aubergine puree. The dish was finished with petals, strawberry and a dusting of vadouvan which reminded me of currywurst spice more than I suspect was intended. Arranging this on the plate and coordinating the elements’ arrival was genuine fun and the result was as delicious as it was striking.

Finally, and perhaps visually the most arresting dish was a sweet dish of vanilla and tonka-accented goats cheese. Around this, there were positioned studs of rhubarb before the whole lot was encased in tiny meringues dusted with tarragon. It’s very unusual for sweet dishes to feature in my favourite memories of a meal, but this has really struck in the mind, perhaps thanks to tonka and tarragon being unusual notes on which to end a meal and the striking visuals.

Going back to those earlier questions, I felt like our plating stood up well enough thanks to the relaxed timing we were taking over it. I suspect it’d have been less successful had we been hit with the demands of a series of customers demanding repeated perfection. Does it replicate a fine dining restaurant experience? To a point. While the food exceeded my expectations and was beyond what I am skilled or equipped to produce at home, my conservatory (as fond of it as I am) doesn’t have the same atmosphere as a restaurant. Doing the washing up was a necessary side effect that could wait until the following day without detracting from the experience. This minor annoyance was more than compensated for by the experience of getting involved in putting the dishes together, which was to some extent an interesting insight into running service in a fine dining restaurant. Not that I’m suggesting it replicated the pressure in any way! As for whether or not it was the best meal I’ve ever eaten in my own home? The only comparison that springs to mind is the time a private chef came round to cook for a dinner party. Being on the premises gifted him the advantage but certainly nothing in the way of a decisive win. The experience of assembling dishes such as this was unique and fun, making the food as rewarding as it was memorable. This is a wonderful treat to give yourself in these trying circumstances that offers a little bit of genuine insight into the experience of preparing dishes like this while offering as close to a restaurant experience as we can get at the moment. That feels like a bargain for £35/head to me.

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A price of fifteen quid made this pizza kit an impulse purchase that had dropped out of my consciousness a little bit by the time I received notice of the imminent delivery, which was slightly delayed from the original date. All the packaging is environmentally on message, featuring sheeps wool insulation, cardboard and compostable pots to keep the components separate and the packet neatly aped a pizza delivery.

The following day we set everything out for dinner and watched the instructional video, realising that there wasn’t really any further prep to do and that we were good to have a bash at turning balls of dough into pizza bases. Obviously this is a skill that can be honed and perfected over years so we were never going to turn out something more than tolerable, but we had fun doing it, which is surely the point, assuming the end product is edible! After all, if it was possible to mess it up badly enough to warrant an emergency takeaway, I’d be unimpressed. That wasn’t the case though and we were soon arranging toppings.

Up until this point we’d not really deviated from standard pizza production but the lack of a pizza oven in our domestic kitchen was about to push us down a different route, the clue rather being in the title. The trick to this technique would be to combine a hob and a grill to effectively cook the base and toppings so while stretching the dough, I’d got a frying pan as hot as practical and the grill pre-heating. With the base successfully transferred to the hot pan, further assembly was straightforward and included quality San Marzano tomato, Fior de Latte & parmesan cheeses as well as a drizzle of olive oil and basil leaves. Thankfully this wasn’t too much of a race against time to complete while the base took on some colour and I was soon ready to shift to the grill and give the cook some symmetry.

After a few minutes the crust had begun to blister and the cheese melted appealingly into the tomato to produce a good approximation of a top quality take out pizza from one of my local favourites. The quality of the toppings was beyond question and that all important dough had obviously been subject to plenty of development and love. In all honesty it was evident that the end result came from a domestic setting; there wasn’t the same depth of blistering and lightness of touch that a quick cook in a super hot oven brings to the best pizza, but that’s missing the point slightly. I learnt a bit about making pizza, was entertained in the process then got to eat something delicious at the end of the process. Seems pretty fair value for fifteen quid (for two pizzas) to me.

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Homage 2 Fromage are now delivering themed boxes of cheese that let you replicate their experience at home, with the added bonus of the element of competition thanks to the addition of a board game! The set includes everything you need to make an evening of your cheese, with a playing mat, counters, dice and reward badges to heighten the stakes along with crackers chutneys, plates, tasting notes and flags to number all of your six cheeses. This is necessary as the cheeses are presented anonymously for you to attempt identify. It’s that identification that forms the basis of a rudimentary, but no less fun for it, game as you roll the dice and work your way around the board to earn the opportunity to match a cheese to the description/region.

We made sure that the cheeses had ample opportunity to breathe and enjoyed the heady aroma of six strong French cheeses filling the house before diving into the game. That said, I was more proud of our feat of correctly identifying all of the cheeses at the first attempt. Incidentally, these were Munster, Bleu de Saint-Flour, Tommy de Savoie, Mimolette, Camembert and Ossau Iraty.

As far as I’m concerned, cheeses should be, by and large, sinus-rattlingly strong and this sextet included a good few to fit that billing. The Mimolette was perfectly nice but a touch mild for my taste while the Bleu from Auvergne was quite intimidatingly plonked at the other end of that spectrum, super salty and wonderfully pungent. The remainder sat between those extremities and all impressed with varying textures, strengths and flavours. Whether or not the amount provided is “all you can eat” depends on your appetite/extent of your gluttony, but two days later we still had a couple of tiny morsels left in the fridge.

The game element could have been a little forced but it worked perfectly to encourage discussion and repeated sampling while thankfully remaining good natured (I can’t promise that will also be the case in your house!). I shall certainly wear my “Curd Nerd” badge with pride for sometime. This is a significant amount of entertainment and more cheese than we could eat in one sitting for the very reasonable sum of £40, an absolute bargain as far as I’m concerned.

Disclaimer: No charge was made for this package. Opinions are impartial.

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Hello Fresh is one of the main players amongst those who offer this service nationwide, Gousto being the other big name. Incidentally, my favourite amongst those that I’ve tried (who are still operating) was from Riverford whose veggie dishes were really well rounded and have stuck in this household’s collective memory.

Signing up to Hello Fresh was as easy as one would expect, barriers to entry being anathema to a service such as this, and it only took a few minutes to choose my three meals and arrange delivery. I went for sweet chilli beef, spiced pork ragu and harissa lamb pie all of which were delivered exactly on schedule within an hour long time slot confirmed on the morning of that day. The (contactless obviously) delivery was carried out exactly as promised and I quickly got stuck into the box of neatly presented ingredients.

Each of the meals came with the ambient elements packaged separately in paper bags, with a separate chilled bag accounting for the chilled ingredients. The accompanying recipe cards were clearly labelled and the instructions logically presented requiring minimum of interpretation. There’re few things more frustrating than cooking instructions that throw a surprise at you two thirds of the way through. None of those indiscretions were here though thankfully with a logically constructed list of kit and ingredients followed by well paced steps toward a completed dish.

All the produce came with surprisingly long use-by dates so after a pause of a couple of days we put our first meal through its paces, choosing sweet chilli beef. I tried to follow the instructions as closely as possible to remove any influence of my competence (or otherwise) and while the timing went a little over that advertised, as it always seems to with this sort of deal, everything went to plan and the dish gave us plenty of flavour and generous portions to enjoy.

Second up came the pork pappardelle that was similarly easy to construct and pleasurable to dispose of and generous of quantity, even flowing into a light lunch the next day, and finally we enjoyed a harissa lamb pie. This final dish included a combination of crushed and whole chickpeas that bulked it out more than I anticipated and will be a technique I replicate. The leftover pastry turned into some wild garlic and cheese swirls the following day too, bonus!

All three dishes that made up my first order delivered on flavour and ease of preparation, removing the need to buy large quantities of a particular ingredient for one meal and giving me a couple of new ideas while maximising convenience without sacrificing freshness or nutrition. I’ve no idea if this habit will continue as our freedoms continue to return, but I’ve already placed a second order…

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Le Cochon Aveugle has a deservedly strong reputation both in York and nationally thanks to the efforts of owners Josh & Vicky Overington, who’ve created a gastronomical refuge that serves its tasting menu blind, to the delight and surprise of their customers. Not necessarily the easiest thing to translate to a home environment but, undaunted, it’s now possible to enjoy Josh’s deft touch in the comfort of your pyjamas, should you choose.

The format is similar to that which I enjoyed from Roots recently, a three course meal delivered to reheat at home which Cochon augment with a bottle of wine (or non-alcoholic alternative). This meal for two with wine comes in at £45 including delivery, an extremely fair price for food from a chef who showed so well on Great British Menu just a couple of years ago and whose establishment has been tipped to receive a Michelin star. Predictably enough it’s been selling rather well too, so I jumped to it when my diligently-set phone reminder went off.

Having successfully booked, the delivery arrived as promised. There’s not much specificity to the booking slots but with being in the house the default status, this is hardly an issue. Delivery was made onto our now semi-permanent delivery table in the corner of the porch and we were all set for the evening.

Everything was neatly & logically portioned and ready to go so a few hours later we were happily in the process of getting everything reheated for our meal. The first course was a soup of onion and cider along with Cochon sourdough bread rolls that paired up nicely with a Verdejo, coincidentally from sister establishment Cave Du Cochon. The bread gave the course substance, accenting the soup’s balance well and allowing each of the main elements to shine before we moved onto the main event of belly pork stuffed with sausage meat, apricot and breadcrumbs. This one was served with “Lentils Petit Salé” and green sauce that weren’t too taxing to get onto a plate, effectively being to get the pork into the oven on a hot enough heat to blister the skin into crackling while reheating the lentils in the microwave. We had to give the pork a few extra minutes to bring the skin to its full potential, an unavoidable variation from a domestic oven I suspect.

The green sauce and richly nuanced lentils really made the pork dish feel like a well developed main course in a good restaurant and gave the sense of delivering something it’d be very difficult to otherwise replicate in a home. Soft meat, well crisped skin and sharp sauce were all underpinned by that bed of lentils, which was further developed by spikes of silver skin onion.

The experience was polished off by a strawberry jelly topped with a fig leaf chantilly that was just the kind of light mouthful you’d want to finish on. All three courses did a great job of recreating a restaurant vibe in the home, though the washing up will always be lurking to puncture that illusion at some point! Forty five pounds for a three course meal and a bottle of wine of this standard is great value and a fantastic way to stay in touch with one of York’s best places to eat.

Times are hard for restaurants at the moment and this sort of meal presents a whole new set of challenges for chefs to meet, requiring that dishes can be reheated at home by amateurs with (let’s be honest) something of a mix of abilities. That’s no comment on the standard of this excellent meal, but there’s no practical way to replicate the intricacies of high end restaurant service in the home. That said, this is a new problem which suddenly has the attention of a whole host of talented chefs whose solutions I can’t wait to acquaint myself with. I’m sure Le Cochon Aveugle will remain at the vanguard of this and the speed with which they seem to be selling out just serves to further demonstrate the gap that closing restaurants has left in our lives.

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