The Greedy Pig Kitchen + The Cheese Truck, Leeds

Back to the Battle of the Beards, aka Belgrave Music Hall’s Street Feast.

Brace yourselves.

In a bold, exciting and divisive move, the post ahead contains no references to burgers, pizzas or, indeed, chips. Not a patty, a pepperoni or a triple-cooked-skin-on fry to be had. (Well, not many.)

This time around, being writers of, y’know, a food blog, we thought we’d get into the spirit of things and try a few of the guest vendors rather than the usual in-house lot. Good little greedsters that we are, we stuck to our word.

And if you’re going to deviate from the usual grub you chuck down your throat, you may as well go the whole hog (or in this case, cow), and have some offal tapas.

The “Tongue Taco” and “Bone Marrow Slider” may sound like novelty sex toys but they were actually a couple of refreshingly different dishes from the Greedy Pig Kitchen people. Damn good they were, too.

The slider; a palmful of brisket topped with the mustardy and buttery bone marrow, was beefy and rich and encased in a rosemary and sea salt focaccia from Leeds Bread Co-Op. Perfectly seasoned (i.e; salted liberally), chewy and more-ish as it was in its own right, you could argue that the focaccia was a bit too thick for the cargo within. But that’d be churlish.

(In reference to the ‘no burger’ statement further up, we’re getting away with that write-up as it was, technically, a slider. A tenuous and pedantic excuse, I know. That’s me in a nutshell.)

Imagine fillet steak. Now imagine it tasting of something. That’s what we got with dish of the day: Ox Tongue Tacos. Meltingly tender and gamey strips of tongue topped with a subtle creamy yoghurty cheesey topping. A kind of offaly Steak Diane. “Tongue Diane” if you will. Although Street Feast is meant to be a day for the family.

That offal duo cost a fiver. Bargain.

Reaching full agreement that the arteries could probably do with a bit more furring thereof, we detoured to Trinity Kitchen on the way to the station to give The Cheese Truck a go.

Cheese toasties are the kind of food we wax lyrical about. Do them well, with some quality ingredients, and you’ve got yourself a top drawer tea. Do them badly, and, there’s no polite way of saying this, you’re a bit stupid.

Luckily, The Cheese Truck do the good stuff. Nothing asks “what’s Paleo?” more succinctly than lavishly buttered and grilled slabs of bread rammed with various combinations of cheese and meat. Of the couple that we had, the Cropwell Bishop Stilton, Bacon and Pear Chutney (sounds good, dunnit?) was the standout and cost £5.50. Generous portions, quality bits and bobs; faultless execution.