bellaphon

Pizarro

2012-02-29T23:12:00.001Z

If I were to divulge about the top five world cuisines then Spanish wouldn’t figure. And if we were talking about the top ten instead, it would still lag behind the Japanese, Moroccans, Mexicans and dare I say the Vietnamese. Spanish cooking in general thrives on the best and freshest ingredients that doesn’t rely on unneeded complexities or the culinary rigmarole of the rest of the world’s best offerings. In spite of its simplicity Spanish cooking is also undyingly delicious. So it’s hardly a surprise that the clear majority of Spanish chefs who hold three Michelin stars have embraced rocket sciences and molecular gastronomy to achieve their respective merits globally; and to good effect I might add. Nicholas Lander, in his review of Jeremy Lee’s Quo Vadis for the FT said- ‘These are simple dishes that could be cooked at home, though they are even better when left to a consummate professional.’ Well, the statement sums up my experiences at Pizarro in its entirety.

Quickie notes:

To get there- crossing the Thames might be a chore too much for some.

Ambience- a welcoming bright and airy jaunt during lunch but too dark when supping in the evening.

Service- Smiley and pleasant but depending on where you’re sitting; if you’re allocated in some secluded corner facing Bermondsey Street then you might as well serve yourself or throw a tantrum.

Drinks- Filtered tap water, choice of still or sparkling served free. High mark-ups on the wines and sherrys indicated a trigger-happy mentality to keep the restaurant’s bank manager smiling incessantly.

Food-

The wonderful cover-charge-free enticement of radish and cauliflower was a good sign of what to expect.

Quail, Romesco

The anaemic looking bird belied its looks. It was beautifully cooked and thus moist and succulent. The sweet nutty Romesco sauce lent itself an immense apricity to the dish.

Salt cod, white beans, and spinach

The way the fish flaked so easily with the slightest of fork-nudges was a joy. Simply marvellous. It was a dish that was reassuringly rewarding created out of a combination of subtle tasting ingredients. And if the pescatarian disciples of the Dukan Diet had a sacred dish in mind, this would be it.

The next two dishes ordered are José Pizarro’s favourite dishes at the restaurant-

Duck livers, capers, Fino

Potentially another finely concocted dish that made me wish I was a humble peasant instead of living in W2 and faffing around with sliding doors. Fresh, sharp and earthy. This dish would’ve been fit for kings except that the livers were a little overcooked for my liking.

Lamb, lentils, radicchio

Lamb should always be cooked like the above; no more and no less. Impressive. However I was brought up on Sunday Roasts so where’s the gravy? And if the omnivorous disciples of the Dukan Diet had a sacred dish in mind this would be it.

Dessert of Vanilla ice cream, Moscatel grapes, PX

Sweet as hell but devilishly momentous, so much so and for my sins, one of my crowns broke in half. I blamed the almonds and injury lawyers were as a matter of fact, not consulted.

The second time I came back here the gaffer, José, was grafting his dues in the kitchen. Psychologically, the food can only get better and it did. Can I also say that Sr. Pizarro is my height, i.e. shortish…elation exclaimed!

Croquetas

José’s version was very good. Then, so too is Miguel’s, Jesús’, Santiago’s, Javier’s and Enrique’s but I love this the best because of the bacony bits.

Lamb’s tongues, red onion, gherkins

A dish whereby adjectives can do no further justice to. Memorable. A redeemable dish for those who have an aversion to lamb (taste nowt of and guaranteed) and for those who sigh about the myth that surrounds the melt-in-the mouth tedium.

NB just don’t bite your own tongue when enjoying.

Prawns, crispy Serrano ham, piquillo pepper

Impossible to share let alone oneself. The prawns may be not be the fabled Palamós y la gamba but they were one of the best I’ve tasted. Perfectly cooked and seasoned, and the crispy Serrano was beyond a tease! The only problem was…

…Michel Roux, Jr. has left the building!

Lamb, roasted winter vegetables, salsa verde

José loves his lamb, faultless and right up there but once again-

‘Love me tender, love me sweet,’

So, let's chant-

Gravy! Gravy! My kingdom for some gravy!

Iberico pork fillet, mashed potatoes, peppers, almonds

Heaven is akin to eating near raw pork without the fear of trichinosis. It was boar taint at its finest, a perfume no longer offensive but inviting and luscious. Blimey, how do the Spaniards get away with this sort of thing, I’m numbed out but overwhelmed. Although it was not exactly the much hyped Pluma Iberica it was still a brilliant dish. The mash was in itself a standout star, it was made and seasoned so well that MsMarmitelover would love and envy at the same time.

~~Cambridge burnt cream~~ Crema Catalana

Words ~~desserted~~ ~~desert~~ dessert me- like a child, I liked, liked and forver will like.

Simplicity at its best; that’s Pizarro. Highly recommended.

194 Bermondsey Street
London SE1 3TQ

www.josepizarro.com

The Set Lunch at Hereford Road

2012-02-18T07:42:00.014Z

''Poor and content is rich, and rich enough.''
William Shakespeare

Feeling brassic?

Well let's rejoice and celebrate one of London’s best kept secrets- Hereford Road’s Set Lunch. It’s the most perfect food-lover’s respite from the tedious uncertainties to do with the age of austerity.

Three starters, three mains and three puds- 2 courses for £13.00 or 3 courses for £15.50 and only valid from Mondays to Fridays.

And if you’re really über skint then there’s always the Express Lunch- a main course, a glass of wine and coffee for £9.50! (In reality a tenner isn’t really enough so make sure you have 69p spare…12.5% whatnot withstanding).

''...bread and butter, devoid of charm in the drawing-room, is ambrosia eating under a tree.''
Elizabeth Russell (née von Arnim)

Welcoming warm bread and butter served correctly at 21ºC. Gratis and no cover charge, all sorrows disappear thereafter.

''Divine Providence has spread her table everywhere, not with a juiceless green carpet, but with succulent herbage and nourishing grass, upon which most beasts feed.''
Thomas More

Starter of Suckling Pig and Watercress Salad

Wonderfully dressed salad with a generous amount of tender meat and take note, the raison d’être (crackling) was not omitted. Sometimes if you’re lucky enough you might find Deep Fried Calf's Brain or Lamb's Sweetbreads on offer instead.

''My favorite animal is steak.''
Fran Lebowitz

Mains of Onglet, Chips and Aioli.

We call it skirt and the Yanks, hanger- but the French, as always, have a way with words like the sweeter and more euphonic sounding enticement of onglet! Despite the alien nature of the grain and being a little tougher than the usual cuts of steaks, it was packed full of beefy flavour and tasted superb. Accompaniments included great chips, a token leaf salad to comply with the 5 a Day campaign and an excellent garlicky aioli. Capital punishment applies to those buffoons who insist on having the above steak cook beyond medium-rare.

''A dessert without cheese is like a beautiful woman with only one eye.''
Anthelme Brillat-Savarin

The hard to come by but excellent tasting Criffel cheese from Scotland, served with Italian ~~flatbed~~ flatbread. This was a decent sized piece of cheese on a plate and quite unlike certain rip-off artists like here!

Sex is beautiful. But at my age a good apple crumble takes precedence.

Apple Crumble and Cinnamon Ice Cream ordered from the main menu. It was piping hot, delectably sweet, soothing and had the crumbliest topping ever; it was with good reason the most ideal pudding to complete the proverbial last meal.

''I would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought; and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder.''
G.K. Chesterton

Tom Pemberton et al, your restaurant rocks and long may you thrive! Thank you.

My previous review of Hereford Road as an à la carte diner- here.

3 Hereford Road
Westbourne Grove
London W2 4AB

www.herefordroad.org
scoresonthedoors

Gaby's Deli

2012-02-10T09:05:00.002Z

Let’s say a prayer and help save Gaby's Deli.

If you’ve been banged up for a consideration stretch somewhere in the Altai Mountains then you best read about the above here, here and Norm’s biased review here.

The delectable falafel that begat Gaby's enviable reputation.

Although I’m no groupie of the houmous stuff- but I’ll happily scoff Gaby’s version with a malicious satisfaction every time

The salt beef.

It too substantiated Gaby's status as an institution.

It may not be the be all and end all of salt beef sandwiches but it’s still pretty good. I suppose the ideal time to sample the above at its best is between noon and 1pm when the beef comes straight out of the bain-marie; it’ll always be succulent, moist and gratifying.

The kebabs on offer here are unfortunately not in the same league as our Turkish friends’ efforts like here or here but Gaby's giant meatballs deserve a special mention for they were particularly memorable.

So readers and Londoners alike, like the mother of all nudges goes- please sign the petition and keep this place alive for years to come. Thank you.

30 Charing Cross Road
Soho
London WC2H 0DB

scoresonthedoors

How was your Sunday?

2012-01-31T18:45:00.004Z

Croydon Fun Weekend or #croydonfunweekend is the brainchild of @kake. It’s an event that lasts for three days and brings together a gathering of friends to appreciate what Croydon has to offer. The inaugural CFW began last weekend and the itinerary was devoted to the pleasure of good food and drink. It was all too tempting to turn down an invite that included the likes of wine, curry houses, dim sum, sushi, pub crawls, cooking and of course great company.

As I couldn’t make it on Friday and Saturday the following reportage is about the final day.

Started the day with a ‘breakfast’ lunch at a greasy spoon.
The sausages were piss poor.

Grocery shopping on London Road followed-

Palm oil
Apparently the Ghanaian variety is the best.

Head and shoulders

Knees and toes

A certain person’s idea of Hell.

Back at Kake’s for the prepping and cooking-

There’s nothing more laborious and tedious than removing the skins from black-eyed beans.
For a kilogram or so of the beans, it took the five ladies approximately 45 minutes to complete the task. So based on the National Minimum Wage, the effort alone was worth £23! I exempted myself from the chore pleading stinky hands due to being a heavy smoker.

Dried zobo leaves and petals (a species of Hibiscus).
The above is the primary ingredient of the popular Nigerian beverage also known as zobo.

What goes in the blend.

The zobo tasted essentially of a non-alcoholic fruit punch.
Refreshing when iced cold and heart-warming when hot.

Kake’s fridge.
It was like an exhibit being showcased at the Tate Modern. The individual labels remind what’s currently in her fridge/freezer and further depicted by the quantity left of each item!
I can see Damien Hirst ripping this off.

Rinsing the meat
I had to include the picture because I’m fully paid member of the Tripe is Beautiful Society.

Akara (black-eyed bean cakes) time-

Blend of peeled black-eyed beans, onion, scotch bonnets, sweet peppers, and seasoning.

Blitzing the mixture

Meanwhile the other dishes are on schedule

Here’s another painstaking task, this is Pern mashing the Iyan or pounded yam.

Deep frying the akara

Et voila, the golden bean cakes.

The Spread

NB notice the bottled drinks on the top left corner, well I can’t put it better than the following- ''If you had to look up what a Supermalt is, you’ve proven my point. One time, I saw a white dude drinking a Supermalt. It was like… like… seeing a unicorn...''

Tomato Stew (comprising of chicken and lamb)
Don’t fall for the plain jane name, this delicious dish is not for the chilli sissies.

The Draw Soup flanked by the bowl of pounded yam and fried plantain.
The soup is made with okra and Ogbono seeds (bush mango) and whilst tasty it was rather challenging to eat, it had the same kind of consistency as a bloodhound’s drool.

Egusi Soup
An amazing tasting protein-rich dish of goat, oxtail and tripe generously thickened with dried melon seeds. The addition of the bitter leaves was IMO, sensational.

Pepper Soup
With oxtail and tripe. This was the standout dish of the evening. It was herby, spicy and meaty. I’ll certainly try and attempt to cook it at home.

The young ladies who led the kitchen
Denise (sous chef) and Rafee (chef executive)

My first foray into Nigerian cuisine and I’m hooked. I’ve also learnt that the Indians and Thais are not the only ones who have a total disregard to the Scoville scale when it comes to spicing their dishes, the West Africans are right up there with them. And not forgetting the use of cheap cuts of meat and justifying it to its full potential, Nigerian cooking is perhaps the original soul food with heat.

Fun can be found in Croydon. Thank you Kake.

Additonal thanks to-

Rafee and Denise- great dinner and I shall retain the seeds in future when cooking with scotch bonnets.

Pern- your work ethic in the kitchen was mightily impressive.

@AlisonW- for suggesting I’m still young at 47 and giving me lift back to the West End.

Granger & Co

2012-01-19T10:22:00.001Z

Of late I’ve been solo dining a lot less as I’ve recently rejuvenated my dinner dates with MsMarmitelover. Of my entire regular dining companions she’s the most fastidious nitpicker and quite rightly so for she’s a prolific and thoroughly informed cook. Through her supper club and book, she has become influential and therefore deserves her place on the pedestal. But she’s also one who wears her heart on her sleeve and doesn’t suffer fools gladly…ask her a stupid question and she’ll hit you well below where it hurts with a snappy answer. She has a simple and very certain opinion about food related things, she’s my kinda pal.

My intense craving for eggs one Sunday morning led to my initial suggestions of either this or this, but they were vetoed because she’d ‘been there and done that, where else?’ We ended up at Granger & Co, we'd fallen for the rage about it.

In a manner that doesn’t encourages a longwinded prose, we both found Granger & Co disappointing. In fact MsMarmitelover more so than I, she felt let down by the blandness of the food and the lack of feedback from the waiting staff. Personally I thought the service was more than ok, the white T-shirt-clad staff were still acclimatising and burning in, they were polite enough to all the diners and I daresay worryingly too meek to report back about our disgruntlement to their managers as well. This is after all an allegedly all-perfect but casual eating joint created by an all-perfect geezer (who can do no wrong) for the near-perfect chi chi luvvies of Kensington and Chelsea. Like Daylesford Organic and Nicole Farhi’s 202 on the same road, Granger & Co has become a sacred hangout of the Notting Hill fraternity and so to speak negatively about it would result in immediate deportation from the area.

Bill’s Bloody Mary with Belvedere vodka.

Frigging expensive at £8.50 a glass! Any tomato juice bought off the shelf should have at least 20% salt in it to give it bite but the juice utilised at Granger & Co was probably of the usual organic sort sanctioned by the health-nazi brigade with absolutely no extras added; it tasted diluted at best. And as for the posh vodders - being forever and unashamedly uncouth that I'm, I couldn’t tell the difference between it and this. Incidentally my favourite Bloody Mary resides here.

MsMarmitelover’s ricotta hotcakes with fresh banana & honeycomb butter.

This was a dish Lisa Markwell for The Independent described as ‘sweet pillows of joy’. Most pillows, whether as a slumbering accessory or purely edible, are a joy anyway but not the above. It was sadly less satisfying than this humble effort. And what took the final piss was the total absence of Ms Markwell’s ‘unadvertised but very welcome jug of syrup’ to go with her pillows…MsMarmitelover, you’ve been undeservingly denied!
Poor.

Fragrant fish curry with jasmine rice & cucumber relish.

First and foremost, the cucumber relish was simply pathetic and lamentably perfunctory. The curry itself was Indian-inspired but the omission of fenugreek, garlic and additional chillies was hugely disappointing. I’m not denying that the dish was fragrant enough, the sprinkling of the fried shallots and coriander leaves were enough to assure one’s olfaction was still sound. This was one slapdash creation of mercurial proportions that took the piss of out my taste buds and wallet.

White Men Can't Jump and nor can they make a curry. If Bill’s intention was to create the best curry that’s both virtuously mild and bland then he’s been beaten a long time ago by the Japanese. He’s better off borrowing a few recipes from the Aussies’ neighbours of South East Asia or since he’s living in London now, traipse down to Southall and sample some proper masala fish.

Scrambled eggs with sourdough toast.

I left the saving grace till last. Bill, the redoubtable ‘egg master’ managed to live up to his tag. It was the silkiest, creamiest and eggiest egg dish I’ve eaten. It was fantastic. When it comes to scrambled eggs, the man’s a genius!

But would I come back, no not unless someone’s footing the bill. Granger & Co is affectedly trendy, fashionable, unavoidably pretentious and indignantly expensive.

175 Westbourne Grove
London W11 2SB

www.grangerandco.com
scoresonthedoors.org.uk

Grand Imperial

2012-01-08T11:31:00.000Z

I remember a time when Golden Wonder Cheese and Onion Crisps were the bee's knees, when Bovril actually gave you strength with its original recipe, when a can of regular Lilt contained no artificial sweeteners but good old sucrose and when green-top milk was sold at corner shops. I am of course talking about a period that was a little over two and a half decades ago. Sadly for me these foods don’t taste the same to me now; they suck. They have either succumbed to the pressures imposed by government policies which ultimately led to a revision and overhaul of the respective ingredients used or in the case of the unpasteurised milk, totally removed from shops or supermarkets. Thankfully the song remains the same with the traditional Dim Sum chow I’ve grown accustomed to courtesy of Chinatown’s stalwarts like Joy King Lau and Harbour City. The Har Gau and Siu Mai served at these places still taste essentially the same today as they did back in the late 80s when I first had them, it’s perhaps the expectation, consistency and the underrated mediocrity of the related dishes that tempt me back time and time again. What I detest most is when people start to moan about the authenticity of ethnic foods served in the capital like the genuine articles are only to be found in their spiritual homes. Well fuck that for a laugh, I’m grounded here in London and I have to make the most of it. Londoners, trust me, we are blessed with restaurants out there serving bloody good Dim Sum (and as good as the ones found in Hong Kong) such as Harbour City’s ethereal White Flower Fish Maw Dumplings or this highly divisive Xiaolongbao and not forgetting the great all-rounder.

On New Year’s Eve and as nobody likes me I chose to elect solitary confinement for myself. I snacked on worms that were long, thin, slimy ones; short, fat, juicy ones as well as the itsy-bitsy, fuzzy-wuzzy varieties. And all ably digested with the help of a magnum of third growth claret. I fell totally intoxicated before I had a chance to pop a bottle of Clos du Mesnil (a blessing no less) and inevitably missed the countdown to 2012. As a testament to good wines quaffed, I welcomed the New Year without a hangover and proceeded with my usual routine of breakfast and planning my usual Sunday lunch of Dim Sum.

I’ve been meaning to go Grand Imperial since its opening a few months ago. I came here not so much for its fine dining concept but was simply intrigued by the name of the chef; not Randall or Randy (witty remarks withstanding) but abruptly Rand, yes Rand Cheung! So take heed, to disregard macheteed first names like Lol Jenkins, Geo.F. Trumper, Malc Elliot and now, Rand Cheung would be churlish.

Grand Imperial is conjoined to the west wing of Victoria Station. It’s the flagship restaurant of the Thistle Grosvenor hotel; to me the Thistle Group spells two stars and the name Grosvenor, an esoteric five stars which makes the hotel 3.5 stars. The restaurant displayed a fair bit of opulence and grandeur, but since it’s a Chinese restaurant Sarah Lund jumpers and Simon Cowell's V-Neck will not be frowned upon. The service hierarchy is based on the Brave New World’s caste system-

The suited Beta males are highly selective about who they serve (it was probably them who gave Giles Goren a nosebleed because he was ‘being white in ANY chinese restaurant’- Twitter 4/1/12) and they absolutely don’t engage in small talk.

The black-uniformed Gamma males were simply there to honour your whims, top your drinks, hold your hands or clear the tables. They were efficient and friendly, and enlightened the diners with a weensy bit of small talk.

Deltas were unfortunately an all female affair clad in off-white cheongsams. Their job is to deliver the dishes from the kitchens into the dining room and transfer them to the Beta males who gently plonk what you ordered on the table with a sanctimonious sigh. The Delta ladies were sadly an entirely muted lot.

I’m confident that kitchen elves exist for a reason so Epsilons don’t figure at the Grand Imperial.

And what of the Alphas? Well there can only be one and that’s Rand Cheung.

Grand Imperial currently offers eat-as-much-as-you-like Dim sum lunches for £16.80 (weekdays) and £18.80 (weekends) per person. One’s presented with a short but tempting menu of Dim Sum dishes and a self-tick order form of what you desire. Can I just remind everyone to be responsible and not go nuts about ticking every single box, I suggest four to five dishes per person initially and if you’re still up for some more then you’ll be welcome to polish off the rest of the menu till you drop. Grand Imperial is not a registered charity therefore any requests to do with a doggie bag are profanely sacrilegious.

If you’re au fait with the following-

Thicker pastry skins than usual.
Fillings that are densely packed (not machine-ground but hand-chopped).
More steamed varieties than fried.

Then Grand Imperial answers your prayers and you’re in for a treat.

Prawn Cheung Fun
OMG moment...the start of something brill! The big fat prawns and the sweet soy sauce were responsible for the above.

Steamed black cod dumplings
I wasn’t convinced this was the ‘slippery’ black cod as suggested, it reminded me more of the usual haddock or plain cod instead. But whatevs’ it was unmistakably fresh and exceedingly delectable.

Stir-fried turnip cake with egg, bean sprouts and XO chilli sauce
The majority of Lo Pak Koh served elsewhere reminisce of rancid poo but the above was beyond moreish.

Har Gau
Very nearly the Mother of them all.

Pan-fried foie gras and beef dumpling.
An absolute waste of effort, the foie gras was totally obliterated by the five-spice seasoning and sickly sweet beef.

Dim Sum is best enjoyed with three or more persons.
Solo diners need not apply.

Shumai (hate that wiki spelling!)
Brilliant and on par with this.

Lotus leaf rice
Beautiful succulent chicken pieces and perfectly cooked rice. Exceptional.

Barbecued pork pastries
Not as good as Harbour City's but still praiseworthy .

Pokey poke time …this is strictly Yum Cha time.
We’re not at Ping Pong or Yauatcha now so don’t order any fancy pants cocktails or anything alcoholic for that matter, stick to tea please! There’s none better than the above; kook poh tea (blend of Pu-erh tea and chrysanthemum).

Congee with shredded chicken and conpoy
When it comes to a bit of cheering up the Jewish have this and the Cantonese have the above or chook. Thank you ~~Mum~~ Rand!

Congee with century egg and pork
The best 'chook' in London, sorry Richard!

Steamed prawn dumplings with XO chilli sauce
The best of any dumplings I've had in yonks. Spicy and mind-blowing.

Beef with coriander Cheung Fun
This might finally sway Mr Noodles.

Spare ribs and chicken feet rice
Emmanuel!*
I couldn’t work out the atheist equivalent :(

Steamed spare ribs in black bean sauce
Proper Cantonese peeps love their pork fatty and this fulfilled. Salty, spicy and shamelessly oleaginous.

Xiao Long Bao with Crabmeat
Despite the near absence any soup seeping out when the dumplings were punctured, they were still excellent. The profusion of crabmeat provided an additional but wonderful sweetness.

Deep-fried chicken straws (or spring rolls)
Not brilliant, it was too heavy tasting and both the curry spices and fish sauce were unnecessary. The kitchen would've been better off with good old Vietnamese spring rolls instead.

Char Siu Bao
Eat while it's hot and savour the delicious pillow-soft buns at its almighty best.

When it comes to Dim Sum I’m decidedly old school and I deplore intrusions that embrace a twist of fusion. So apart from the two ‘misses’ on the menu, the Dim Sum dishes I had at Grand Imperial were astoundingly good and this could well qualify the restaurant as one of the finest in the country serving the best dumplings and more. Highly recommended and especially so before they change their minds about the eat-as-much-as-you-like offer.

101 Buckingham Palace Road
London SW1W 0SJ

www.grandimperiallondon.com
scoresonthedoors

Medlar

2011-12-23T08:33:00.000Z

Julia Child once said ‘You don't have to cook fancy or complicated masterpieces - just good food from fresh ingredients.’ By virtue of the three best meals I’ve eaten this year the following restaurants reflect Ms Child’s quote unwaveringly. They are 500, Malina and Medlar.

I can’t exactly remember how Medlar caught my attention but it must’ve been a fleeting glance at the menu a couple of months ago when grouse was featured. But thankfully this proved to be well-noted tick from the wish list.

Medlar’s location on Kings Road is hardly a place that encourages any welcoming of hoi polloi and if a certain part of London was to be given a go-ahead with being entirely walled or gated then the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea would be a prime contender. Keeping out the great unwashed in this part of town was decreed a long time ago.

Medlar belongs to the ‘informal’ fine dining category. It’s gratifying not to have to hush-speak or be clinically phlebotomised by the stuffiness that’s rife in most upmarket eateries. As dictated by consent, abattoir* or shabby chic is a no-no; Medlar's dining room is properly done, properly kitted out, properly comfy and thus properly proper. The lunchers in their droves were mainly more mature than I am (and that’s saying something) and quite obviously not short of a bob or two. However I felt smug enough that I was allowed in wearing my ~~back-to-front baseball cap~~ moth-eaten beret, trademark distressed jeans and moon-stomped to the table with my pair of worn-out bovver boots.

The service was exemplary and never clingy. The Front-Of-House (was he Irish or from somewhere oop north?) was a total diamond geezer and he would’ve sorted Robert Dupea out in no time, diplomatically of course.

The concept at Medlar is simple enough, prix fixe for three courses only and if an aversion to puddings prevails on your behalf then auf wiedersehen, Pet…oh there’s always the cheese trolley that could soothe your soul instead!.

Most of the readers of my blog are non-foodies so I shall relief them of overused and poignant adjectives (but only for this post mind you). Therefore I shall only stick to one adjective and perhaps enhanced by the odd adverb of a numerical manner.

What my Dining Companion and I had-

DC’s starter of white onion soup with sautéed chanterelles, braised chicken wings and cheese straw.

It was delicious.

The chicken wing was memorable.

My braised tripe with soft polenta, tomato, fennel, paprika, bacon and gremolata.

This too was delicious.

I love tripe- so much so it was probably one of the reasons why my veggie GF and I are no longer an item.

DC’s second course of hake with a bacon and parsley crust, Jerusalem artichoke puree, rainbow chard and autumn truffle.

We both agreed the dish was doubly delicious (except for the odourless and pointless truffle).

Slight rant- the Spanish and Portuguese gobble up a substantial amount of hake landed by our fishing fleets, we should learn to embrace this fine-tasting fish more as it’s a viable alternative to cod and certainly a million times more tasty than the guilt-free but boring pollock.

EAT HAKE NOW!

My roast partridge with confit leg, pearl barley, foie gras and kale.

It was triply delicious.

This dish carried a three quid supplement but was not made aware on Medlar’s online menu. However the generous and delicious slice of foie gras more than made up for it.

The bird was probably hung longer than Hughie would’ve liked but I loved it and anyway he has morphed into a pseudo veggie, so good riddance to him.

The single confit leg also suggested that Medlar managed to pull off an exclusive by serving only one-legged partridges.

Tarte tatin with crème fraîche ice cream

A pudding course that was deemed quadruply delicious and possibly beyond.

The dessert was off-menu but my insistence acquired the better of me, the FOH gracefully relented and advised that discretion should be adopted when diving into the tart. Otherwise all hell would break loose if the other diners noticed we scoffing on something so enticing it would even sway the lotus-eaters.

Meanwhile the two ladies who were lunching next to us were enjoying their cheeses from the board noticed what appeared on our table. Thereafter a considerable ruckus occurred between them and the FOH. It was a case of ‘we want tarte tatin!’ to ‘sorry we’ve ran out of apples’ to ‘rubbish, they’re having it so we’ll have it as well!’ to ‘but they ordered it a day in advance’ to ‘but that gentleman wielding the camera noticed it on your menu online’ and to finally ‘Madame, that’s only a sample menu and we reserve the right to…ok (sigh), it’s only on this occasion we’ll serve you our last tarte tatin of the day but please I’m unable to fulfil the request in future’. The ladies thanked us for the heads up.

The tarte tatin at Medlar deserves to be a signature dish as it was undoubtedly better than the Maman version that I had at Raymond Blanc's Manoir many moons ago. You’ve never been to Medlar if you didn’t order the tarte.

Like kangcaneatnomore #sonottrue-

Medlar, bless its cotton socks, is my restaurant of 2011 as well.

* First coined by MsMarmitelover.

438 Kings Road
Chelsea
London
SW10 0LJ

www.medlarrestaurant.co.uk
scoresonthedoors

Monica Galetti

2011-12-21T21:01:00.004Z

What is it about Monica Galetti? Well there’s no doubt she’s a talented and articulate professional but she also has a very intimidating aura of menace and mystery about her. I believe the fear she instils on the contestants of MasterChef: The Professionals is a positive one and it would be better if the young chefs didn’t fear her. In fact they should fear the lack of her presence instead. Which is also another way of saying one can learn an awful lot from this lady.

But then again not all iconic figureheads are perfect. This post illustrates some of Monica’s quirky moments from the 13th episode of MasterChef: The Professionals 2011.

Her annoying trademark of pop-eyes.
This usually happens whenever she’s startled by a contestant’s incompetence or stroke of genius.

She can be blatantly contradictory but thankfully not all the time (more to follow)-

Josh’s dessert.

Our Monica was disgusted.

Nevertheless she had to tuck in.

Oh, oh…

Eating food off a knife, slap on wrist girl!

A dejected looking Josh.

Oh hello it’s Monica’s boss, Mr Twinkly Eyes, he who absolutely hates the green left on strawberries!

And look what he’s concocted as well, a strawberry something or the other with the detestable ‘green’ attached.

Dear Monica, Josh deserves, at the very least, an apology.

All screen captures courtesy of BBC and Shine TV © 2011

Merry Christmas everyone and a Happy New Year!

MEATliquor

2011-12-08T07:55:00.009Z

The following guest post is a review by MsMarmitelover-

" We aren't serving you burgers!" said the doorman (who turned out to be Mr @pubgeek) at 'Meat Liquor'.

I wondered for a minute if he'd read my tweets about being hog tied and hooked into coming to this place by Bellaphon. This is Fat Les' idea of a culinary joke: taking a non-meat eater to a burger joint.

It turned out the kitchen had stopped all new orders as something had gone wrong with the checks. They were, in kitchen parlance, seriously 'in the weeds'.

Three pm on a Friday afternoon, no burgers, but the place was still pretty full. Meat liquor, the permanent restaurant version of the pop up burger van 'Meat Easy', has an enviable location, just behind Debenhams near Bond Street.

I looked around at the elegant arches, no doubt inherited from the Italian restaurant they took over from. Meat Liquor had turned it into what I can only describe as abattoir chic: red and black paint splashed everywhere, blacked out windows, plastic curtains, cages, bare industrial lightbulbs swinging. Utilitarian tableware included prison trays, dixie cups, enamel bowls, jam jar glasses and kitchen roll to mop up the bloody juices. Real Heinz ketchup and French's mustard bottles were on every table.

The toilets had 'chicks' and 'dicks' scrawled in chalk on the doors.

It was part Hellraiser and part dive bar.

You blinked as you walked in, the dimness only relieved by winking red neon. Fast loud hillbilly music made you eat faster, I found myself grinding my teeth. It was not relaxing. Like many other establishments wanting to bridge the gap between fine dining and fast food, there were, my pet hate, bar stools but at least, unlike Spuntino*, there were some tables where short ladies prone to cankles could wedge themselves in.

Now to the food: pretty damn good bar the chips, sorry 'fries', which were a disappointment on a cardboard Maccie D scale.

Loved the fried pickles with a blue cheese dipping sauce. The waitress assured me that everything was fried in rapeseed oil and that the non-meat stuff was cooked a separate frier. Although disturbingly Les' chicken wings "good" were served on the same tray as my pickles, fortunately not touching.

But yes, vegetarians can eat here.

The halloumi burger was succulent, delicious even.

The onion rings looked like enormous stacks of doughnuts. The beer batter was the right combination of fluffy and crisp.

I didn't go for the 'rabbit food' salad but after some explanation of what it was to the Australian waitress, I did manage to get the root beer float, one of my favourite menu items in the states: I can report it was very good.

By now the kitchen had caught up and Les got a burger. He wasn't that impressed, said it wasn't seasoned enough and not medium rare. What the fuck do I know? I seem to remember people (Chris Pople?) going on about the buns but they seemed fairly ordinary to me.

We also shared a decently made Margarita with chilli salt on the rim. The wine list was amusingly written in fluent no bullshitese.

I liked the style: it reminded me of Break for the Border, the 80s hangout which introduced halfway decent Mexican and tequila slammers to London (where I also lost the enamel off my front teeth). Yet like a cow being led to the slaughter, I found it quite a stressful experience, the dark, the loudness of the music, the preponderance of bar stools. Usually you have to queue for at least an hour, funnelled single file? a sign of Meat Liquors popularity and all part of the meat packing experience. Maybe they need advice from Temple Grandin to make more humane.

I would return for the food, but restaurants like this are for those in their 20s to early 30s. You'd need a stun gun to get me back there.

(*Why don't they do what Macdonald's did when they first came to Britain and use tilted bar stools so that you couldn't even sit down properly. Hell, why stop there if you really want to turn tables? Use ejector seats, maybe via a painful anal butt plug, so you really don't hang about. )

74 Welbeck Street
London
W1G 0BA

www.meatliquor.com

All of the above photos were taken by Kerstin Rodgers

"One of the 1000 most influential Londoners" Evening Standard

@msmarmitelover on Twitter

http://www.facebook.com/UndergroundRestaurant

My blog: The English can cook: marmitelover.blogspot.com

Book tickets for The Underground Restaurant here: http://www.wegottickets.com/undergroundrestaurant

The go to site for supperclubs: supperclubfangroup.ning.com

My book out now: Supper Club: recipes and notes from the Underground Restaurant

Union Jacks

2011-12-03T23:50:00.009Z

For sometime now I’ve been aware that age has finally caught up with me and I simply cannot keep up with blogging about the endless stream of new openings in London. It’s actually quite a relief that the task is now eagerly undertaken by a nimiety of younger food bloggers who possess enough energy and fire to frantically race each other to the line with the first review. And when the plethora of reviews concerning a half-decent joint materialises- we’ll always expect the same positive and tiring outcome (endless aplomb, effusive gush, ~~comped meals~~ etc). These reviews invariably become so overly saturated that they simply put me off visiting or writing about places like Roganic, Jose in Battersea, or The Young Turks (MEATliquor being an exception and with post to come). Call me an old grumpy git if you like but I’ll stick to my own agenda and maintain a bit of that ‘contrarian rebel’ tag that has been bestowed upon me.

So if I’ve contradicted myself by posting this review, then so be it, because I needed to jump the gun and share the experience tout de suite. I actually admire Sir Jamie a great deal but I’ve never been to any of his restaurants until today. Saturdays mean lunch with feisty daughter and today was an exception; she had to meet her friends at their beloved hangout and our lunch-date venue had to be well within da hood. The piazza of Central St. Giles has somehow transformed itself into a cosmopolitan food courtyard and before you snigger Zizzi was unbelievably rammed whereas Cabana was deserted and the same kind of dead calm was also noted at Byron’s. The half-full Union Jacks was chosen because feisty daughter wanted fish and fish fingers were conveniently on the menu.

The lunch we had today was faultless and that’s saying something, as I’m not even that keen on pizzas. The architect responsible for Central St. Giles as a whole, Renzo Piano, is largely responsible for the charming and comforting ambience of all the said restaurants. The service unlike most new openings was excellent and there was never an instance whereby a self-centred tattooed waitress would appraise the level of hoi polloi-ness within you before granting a smile.

BUILDERS TEA
with sweet tea cosy

We shared three starters of the following-

1- BY-CATCH FISH FINGERS & TARTARE SAUCE
2- POTTED PRAWNS, MORECAMBE BAY SHRIMPS & DEVONSHIRE CRAB
3- WOOD-GRILLED SAUSAGE & BACON, ALE & SAGE MUSTARD

Nothing can replace Heinz Tomato Ketchup but our Jamie has managed topple Birds Eye with their fish fingers. Beautifully seasoned and fresh tasting, the by–catch fingers were outstanding (breadcrumbs or not). The tartare sauce was also good enough on its own as a moreish sandwich spread.

The potted prawn and crab was equally impressive- it was sweet, nutmeg-gy, and luscious. But Michel Roux Jnr would shriek at the shrapnels of crab shell I encountered. Serving this trio of fish at room temperature (it was after all fridge cold) with fresh wholemeal bread (instead of the Melba toast of granary bread) would’ve been immeasurably better.

The sausage or rather a coil of chipolata-sized Cumberland was obviously made by a ‘local’ food hero- it was peppery, herby and first-class. A few of my Eastern European friends have been pretty damning about Blighty sausages but they’ve yet to sample a true Cumberland, Lincolnshire or this one for that matter. And what little bacon that came with it was smoky, sweet and crispy. One of my usual dislikes is grain mustard but the ale and sage mustard suggested otherwise.

If this place were to serve breakfast then I can expect a tremendous Full English on the menu.

And as far as small plates are concerned, the Riding House Café need to go back to the drawing board and follow Union Jacks’ take instead!

The OLD SPOT flat
Roast shoulder of pig, quince & Bramley sauce, Cropwell Bishop Stilton, crackling & watercress.

The pizza Taliban would flip at this...wot no effing mozzarella and toms? Obviously to save his bacon Jamie had to call his pizzas flats. Well f**k that because it’s still a bloody pizza and a bloody good one to boot. The thin crust faithfully complied with the hallowed Neapolitan doctrine. The sweetness of the quince and apple gracefully embraced the tender shreds of pulled Spot and the addition of the world’s greatest cheese was pure genius. Jamie Oliver, you bugger, you’ve just created a world class pizza and it’s British!

We ended our meal with a RETRO ARCTIC ROLL.
Another well researched and developed dish. It brought memories of an Abigail's Party moment and a lit sparkler to go with the pudding wouldn’t go amiss. The addition of the honeycomb chunks was a clever touch. Unashamedly lovely jubbly.

Union Jacks is seriously good and if this is to be the pilot of many more branches to come then I’ll be saddened if complacency begins to creep in. Recommended.

4 Central St. Giles Piazza
London
WC2H 8AB

www.unionjacksrestaurants.com

SanXia RenJia

2011-12-02T13:25:00.001Z

SanXia RenJia is the only restaurant in London serving authentic Hunan, Hubei and Sichuan food…or so its website alleges. But as an insurance it also caters for the uninformed masses with such tired classics like crispy duck and pancakes, beef chow mein, sweet and sour pork plus the usual irrelevant dishes consisting of Singapore fried noodles, ~~cheeseburger~~ curry allsorts, chicken satay and wait for it, Thai fishcakes! The name SanXia RenJia is indeed a mouthful and certainly a perfect one for a tip-of-the-tongue phenomenon, but the translation (although longwinded) is easier to grasp with- Home of the People of the Three Gorges.

It would be useful to remind you readers of the differences between the three Chinese regional cuisnes-

Sichuan- numbing spicy.
Hunan- fragrant spicy.
Hubei- the Nick Clegg mate of Hunan’s Dave.

SanXia RenJia’s location is a perfect pull for the PRC students attending UCL, University of Westminster or the various TEFL centres dotted in and around the West End. The layout and ambience of the dining room possessed very little salvation and grace…the woeful Tsingtao sponsored lanterns take the biscuit! The helpful and pleasant service was thankfully devoid of any grimacing or gloating that’s generally expected of most Chinese restaurants.

Reverse chronology commenceth- personally I cannot think of anything more socially engaging (and delicious) than a steamboat or Chinese fondue meal. A hotpot meal at SanXia RenJia well set one back 20 quid per person. The baffling thing about the offer here is there are absolutely no limitations or restrictions as to how many of the boxes you wish to tick. A win-win situation I hear you holler. But going 'tick' crazy caused by gluttony is a no-no and utterly pointless, for there’s only so much one can eat in one sitting. It would be wiser to limit five to six ingredients initially per person and besides the waitresses are hardly harebrained, as they’ll never overload your table with everything that you’ve hoped for…they’re watching you all the time! So keep calm, eat to your heart’s content and if the grub runs out they’ll top it up accordingly. Lastly if you happen to callously opt for the bleeding Singapore Noodles or Special Fried Rice as well and by which time your over-indulged tummy decided to call it a day, I’m sure that your waitress will happily let you take it away instead (lunch sorted for the next day).

Some lost in translation moments-
Sliced pork is simply luncheon meat or Spam
Bibble should be bible (yes two types of tripe are offered at SanXia RenJia) Ribbon is this

The soup-stock options are spicy, clear, vegetarian (dubious methinks) or ~~witches’ brew~~ herbal.
Various dipping sauces range from sesame paste to raw egg yolks.

Certain rules apply when chucking in the ingredients. I suggest that the Spam, any strange offal and Chinese cabbage go in first, you don’t have to eat them but they do enhance the flavour and provide depth to the broth. Next the black fungus (cloud ears), tofu, dry beancurd and springy seaweed. Followed by some fish balls and meatballs, and as soon as they float, proceed with some prawns, squid, fish, various vegetable leaves and beef slices. Please don’t overcook any of the latter, scoop them out immediately when ready and enjoy. Repeat the procedure until the simmering soup is flavoured beyond the realm of utter umaminess.

About 90 minutes later (this is one rare Chinese meal that cannot be rushed) the soup is now ready for the finale, noodles of your choice are finally added to complete the meal.

A good steamboat dinner depends on the freshness and quality of the raw ingredients served but unfortunately SanXia RenJia fell short and the overall experience was in no way as good as here or here.

A few months’ back I came here for the first time. My dining companions and I were reasonably pleased with our a la carte meal.

What we ordered (with pics from the menu and what actually turned up in reality)-

Fish Head and Tofu Soup

Do not be put off by the main ingredient of fish head, as it is the most flavoursome part of any fish and the Chinese are renowned with curbing fishiness by adding ginger and rice wine. The milky cloudiness of the finished article is not due to any addition of milk or cream but a result of regular cooking oil and water mixing at a particular temperature. The main stock was quite clearly concocted using heads of salmon (two a penny at your fishmongers) but augmented by chunks of sea bass to make it look and taste more authentic. I loved it.

Braised Winter Melon.
It was ok but the kitchen was too heavy-handed with the MSG.

Double Cooked Pork Hotpot

This is a dish I’ve cooked successfully with relative ease at home but I must concede that the version at SanXia RenJia was outstanding and considerably better. It’s also a kind of dish that makes no difference to the kind of pork used (be it expensive Gloucestershire Old Spot or intensively farmed Danish porkers). This is due to the overwhelming flavours that come from the reddish Pixian bean-paste and hot chilli peppers…any importance to do with the pig’s provenance is soon obliterated. So whatever pork is used the meat will always end up tender and melt-in-mouth.

Hot and spicy prawns

The picture on the menu showing around 30 prawns was tempting enough for anyone to place an immediate order. But we were presented with nine king prawns instead. The Trade Descriptions Act was clearly violated here. That said, the prawns were well cooked and as prawns will always be prawns, they tasted excellent.

Beer Stewed Duck in Hot Pot

This was the highlight of the meal. The origins of this rustic dish stem from the Miao (or Hmong) people living in the Hubei and Hunan provinces. The inclusion of the beer simply tenderises the morsels of duck to great effect. A word of warning if I may; since a copious amount of dried chilli peppers was used as well as the fresh ones the Beer Stewed Duck is not for everyone as it was exceedingly spicy! This wonderful dish is pure winter fodder.

With over 60 dishes to choose from the Three Gorges’ menu, I think it’s good enough reason to come back for more. For my next visit I would need to gather some like-minded diners and feast on nothing but offal. With the exception of the steamboat SanXia RenJia comes recommended.

29 Goodge Street
Bloomsbury
London
W1T 2PP

www.sanxia.co.uk
scoresonthedoors

Malina

2011-11-20T11:08:00.001Z

The last time I had a Polish meal was also my first and that was an inexcusable three and a half years ago! Judging by the guesstimates of between 500,000 to a million Poles working or residing in the UK, it’s rather sad to see that Polish cooking has made little or no impact on us. Our perceptions of Polish cuisine as being stodgy and heavy have undoubtedly dented the progress of its culinary heritage in Blighty. We also presumed the Poles only ate potatoes and pork- ‘Oh how bleeding grey and boring that sounds, gissa a chicken tikka masala any day!’ And admittedly if you’re on a low-carbohydrate diet or simply conforming to whatever religious constraints, then you might find this kind of food all too challenging. But its satisfying attributes of both fuss-free flavours and hearty cooking are reasons enough for us to reappraise our thoughts and reconsider Polish cooking as a vital contribution to decent eating in Europe. Let’s face it, it’s certainly more creative and inventive than let’s say the Scandinavians and very nearly on par with ours (coz we do pies and they don’t), and looking on the bright side, that spineless FROGue dissed nowt about kuchnia Polska! There’s more to Polish foods than the dried-out kabanos bought from Lidl.

I’m no authority on the authenticity of Polish cooking but the dinner I had at Malina was extraordinarily pleasant. Malina is located somewhere between Shepherd’s Bush and Hammersmith, and that ‘somewhere’ is apparently Brook Green (never heard of it either). The restaurant is the baby of two ladies who gained enough know-how from managing London’s oldest Polish Restaurant to carve out on their own. The dining room reflected a vague input of homely Swedish influence but abruptly restricted by the use of conventional wooden chairs and the lack of pretentious white tablecloths. Pretty motifs of raspberries are strewn on the walls towards the back of the restaurant and that can only be appropriate; malina is Polish for raspberry. The restaurant was very nearly full by the time we were tucking into our mains, the service was friendly, efficient and panic-free. The aforementioned ladies were simply indefatigable.

A shot of bison grass vodka got the ball rolling.

Now take note, Malina doesn’t surprise the diners with a needless cover charge but they’re prepared to make you smile with this gratis while-you-wait.

Rye bread and smalec. The bread was superbly fresh and fragrant, it was hardly dense and certainly not acquired in taste. The lard spread, despite its questionable contribution to do with coronary issues, was outstanding. The smoky bacon, the herbs, the onion…bloody thing was crack-like! This freebie belonged to the on-cloud-nine category of comfort eating.

Barszcz z uszka- Borscht and mushroom-stuffed tortellini.

Like my chum, I’ve never appreciated the humble beetroot but this clear broth managed to address a perfect balance of acidity and umami (bacon again?). My first spoonful of the soup provoked a road to Damascus moment- ‘beetroot I shall no longer persecute you for I’m now yours…’ It was excellent, but the addition of the bland tasting tortellini was sadly perfunctory.

Pierogi- Polish dumplings. However one of my dining companions, Pete, insisted as they were too pretty and dainty to be called dumplings they should instead be ravioli, he was of course right.

Five for £5.50 or ten for £9.90 and choose from any of the following (the flexibility of being able to mix and match was thankfully encouraged)-

Mięso - pork and beef
Ruskie- cheese and potato
Kapustą z grzybami- cabbage and mushroom
Kasza z boczkiem- buckwheat and bacon
Kasza z wątroba- buckwheat and chicken liver
Szpinak z zoltem serem- spinach and cheese

The pierogi came liberally lubricated with butter (or was it bacon fat, my memory’s failing me…) and topped with chives and fried onions. Each and every one of them was cooked to perfection and tasted delectable but an additional kudos goes to the morerish buckwheat and chicken liver filling.

NB pierogi are also available as a pudding course with the appropriate ‘sweet’ fillings.

Our main courses-

George’s Zrazy- rolled rump steaks filled with onion, gherkin and more bacon, served with gravy and kopytka (heavy-going gnocchi shaped like hooves). George totally approved of his rich dish and quite rightly licked the platter clean.

Pete’s Grilled Chicken- the fillet was marinated in lemon and thyme, and served with garlic butter, green beans and mashed potatoes. Hardly Polish or let alone Eastern European you might indicate but Pete is my most unadventurous dining companion…he’s an MTV geezer. Apart from the mean rationing of green beans he too gave the thumbs-up for his mains and licked the platter clean.

And my Golonka...

...or pork knuckle by any other name. First thing that comes to mind was how the hell does one tackle a gargantuan monster like that! Easy, a majority of us love a bit of pork so starve yourself for 48 hours and piggy heaven eagerly awaits you. The golonka was roasted in beer and served with sauerkraut, roast potatoes, mustard and chrzan (a mild tasting Polish horseradish). This was basically a DIY pulled-pork dish and quite unsettlingly never-ending. As expected the dish was substantial but wholly satisfying; the rich layer of fat was sinfully sumptuous. Golonka is a dish of champions.

When defeat is inevitable, it is wisest to yield*…I failed to lick the platter clean. This dish has to be shared methinks. With hindsight I should’ve requested a doggy bag and make an ideal lunch of pork sandwiches the day after.

The desserts were unfortunately less successful-

Pete’s Tort Czekoladowy- chocolate cake. He thought it was ok but I thought it looked and tasted like plane food.

George’s Szarlotka- homemade apple pie and vanilla ice cream. The pie was an equivalent to a Grade C in GCSE Home Economics but the ice cream was rather good.

I abstained from the puddings because I was still recovering from being pork-knuckled. But if I’d had the opportunity I would've ordered the sweet pierogi or the off-piste Makowiec without fail.

Now what better way to end the evening than with some complimentary shots of ~~moonshine~~ home-concocted raspberry flavoured vodka. Especially so when the other two dining companions were hopelessly averse to spirits. Thank you Malina, you made my day.

Malina is a right little gem and it's also impossible to leave this place still feeling hungry. It impressed us all with its honest cooking, inherent warmth and decent value for money. 500 Restaurant was a strong contender for my restaurant of 2011 but I think I may now be swayed instead by Malina taking the crown. I thus urge you, please go and enjoy.

*Quintilian

166 Shepherd's Bush Road
Hammersmith
London W6 7PB

scoresonthedoors
www.malinarestaurant.com

The Admiral Codrington

2011-11-10T09:34:00.000Z

On settling the bill:

Fat Les- ‘Erm, what’s the cover charge for?’

Young Inexperienced But Obliging Waiter- ‘Bread’

FL and dining companion in unison- ‘But we didn’t have any bread!’

YIBOW- ‘Oh but ~~no but~~ there was the ketchup, sugar…’

FL- ‘What? You pulling my leg?’

YIBOW- ‘I don’t write the rules’

F**K!³
Gobsmacked, we paid and legged.

On re-inspecting the bill three hours later in my bath:

FL- F**K me! They actually charged me for a pint of Caledonian 80/- I never had!

Fat Les’ Imaginary Friend- You what?

FL- Well I did initially order a pint of the beer but was told they had ran out so I opted for a bottle of Michael Winner’s favourite instead.

FLIF- Pox on him.

FL- No, pox on the management for the lack of training and insight!

F**K!² x F**K!² x F**K!²

Ad Cod is located in a swanky part of London and so by default, its purposefulness of being an upmarket pub is understandably valid. In spite of the couple of hiccups, Ad Cod serves up seriously good no-nonsense food. My only reason for coming here was because of its praiseworthy burger mentioned by Tom at Honest Burgers. But the sheer number of positive reviews and gushing tweets surrounding Ad Cod’s burger have been alarmingly off-putting and as a result I could see my burger ambitions in SW3 thwarted in no time (think Bar Boulud). But I relented in the end and was rewarded with a damn fine meal.

The impression I got from Ad Cod’s homepage was it somewhat encourages all potential diners to book ahead or you’ll soon be sorry. This I duly did but it was all quite unnecessary (and embarrassing as well) as the restaurant was almost deserted on the Sunday evening we visited. The ambience had an air of stuffiness about it which unfortunately doesn’t bode well as a pub restaurant, in fact the dining room was more like a discarded wing from the nearby celebrity-haunt that’s Daphne’s. If talking with a normal voice approximate to a sound pressure level of 70 dB then the atmosphere at Ad Cod’s certainly suggested we should all utter at no louder than 65 dB. A good example of a pub serving top-notch food without any plaguey pretensions to do with interior design or hush-hush dining is The Harwood Arms.

However the service courtesy of YIBOW was polite and helpful. For wine connoisseurs you’ll be pleased to know that the restaurant possesses an enviable list of one of the greatest wines in the world. All the different vintages of Sassicaia available are priced at no more than £250.00 a bottle. The same wine at either Locanda Locatelli or L’Anima would set you back up to £800.00!

We started off with a snack of Scotch Egg.
Although it lacked the yielding and runny yolk that’s characteristic of most established standards like here and here, it was simply scrumptious. I believed the secret of Ad Cod’s effort was due to the sausage meat filling, in itself beyond compare. The next time I’m here, I would quite happily order three eggs and without an ounce of guilt or constraint, devour all of them in one go.

We shared a starter portion of Caesar Salad.
This came with crispy pancetta and a poached egg. Now I’m au fait with the latter for not being runny (yet again) as the dressing for the salad was probably made with raw yolks in the first place and to have more of it we’ll all panic and end up like Eggwina! I’ve always thought the best Caesar Salad I’ve eaten in London was at Le Caprice but I’m happy to report that Ad Cod’s version surpassed it. The relative formula of the crucial ingredients combined was spot-on but then again this could be down to the wonderful dressing. So whilst not the most purist of Caesars, Ad Cod managed to impress with their renditition, it was the best salad of its kind and done so without the addition of either chicken strips or anchovies. Brilliant.

The Dining Companion’s mains of Smoked Haddock and Salmon Fishcake with Steamed Spinach, Tomato Chutney and Sorrel Sauce.
For a dish that has been made with "leftover fish" and "cold potatoes"* I believe most of us have accepted and taken the ordinariness of fishcakes for granted. But not so at Ad Cod, like the Caesar Salad, the kitchen’s aptness in balancing the ingredients to create a standout dish shone through again. The smokiness of the haddock worked beautifully with the gentle sharpness of the sorrel and unlike most other fishcakes, the mashed potato within played an absolute second fiddle. This dish deserved to be put on the map.

The Ad Cod Burger

Or an 8oz cheeseburger served with pickles, lettuce, tomato, secret sauce and faultless chips. The burger was perfectly formed and proportioned. And it would be poncey to use cutlery to tackle the sandwich, so down on all fours please and get your paws dirty!

It was also the most medium rare of all medium rare requests. The burger nazis would balk about the brioche bun and the use of a non-American cheese, well they can ‘thcream and thcream and thcream 'till they’re thick’ because I’m having none of it, so-

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This was a kind of burger that no matter how hard I tried to nit-pick with every single bite, I failed. Everything about it was correct, precise and most importantly, delicious. The chap who conceived it must be a consummate master of burgers. I’ve decided to introduce tenths into my scores for the best burgers in London, the Ad Cod's version thus reigneths at 9.2. It would also be interesting to see how this scoring system pans out when I embark on my Hamburger Tour in 2013.

We ended our meal with a shared crumble of raspberries and summat.

It too was excellent, but too small to share; four spoonfuls later…absorbed.

The meal at The Admiral Codrington was by no means cheap, but both the execution and cooking of everything we ate that evening were consistently good enough to garner a must-visit endorsement. Let’s just hope you enjoy the home of London’s ace burger as much as I did.

* Mrs Beeton

17 Mossop Street
London SW3 2LY

scoresonthedoors
www.theadmiralcodrington.co.uk

The Rib Man

2011-11-01T11:45:00.000Z

Brick Lane

A great deal has been blogged, tweeted, discussed and bantered about The Rib Man so I’ve decided to keep the post brief. Like here, here and of course here, The Rib Man has successfully marketed himself as a decent food hero by way of mandatory networking.

The Rib Man’s stall thrives on rib meat rolls or wraps and racks.

The meat is tediously pulled by hand. I suppose the relative ease of the meat coming off the bone is a testament to The Rib Man’s mastery of slow cooking baby back ribs.

As handed over by Mrs Rib Man and I gulped at the size of it!

Heavenly succulence and gratifyingly delicious. Melting, sweet, porky and gently chilli hot. The rib meat was so well concocted; it didn’t need further dousing of the BBQ or hot sauces on offer. The filling was way too generous and alas I couldn’t finish the sandwich. I declared to Mark and the Missus that I was a wimp after all. Nevertheless it was five quid well-spent.

The only annoying thing about The Rib Man is he’s forever blowing bubbles whereas I’m a trophy-starved gooner. Get on down and prepare to be blown away. Highly recommended.

theribman.co.uk

Bánhmì 11

2011-10-25T08:55:00.000+01:00

Last weekend I took an extended lunch break from work. The journey time to and from Broadway Market was two hours ten minutes (I work in W1) and the queuing for lunch was an additional ten minutes but the actual scoffing of a whole sandwich took less than five minutes. I would like to think that food-lovers like myself are a committed lot and equally nutty.

I wrote briefly once before about Bánhmì 11 here so this second post is more of proper acknowledgement in praise of the outfit.

Bánhmì11’s stall can be found at Broadway Market on Saturdays or Chatsworth Road Market on Sundays. But as for the former, expect to queue patiently for the grub as it’s easily the most popular food stall there. And for those who’ve been away up in the mountains for yonks, Bánhmì11 specialises in the iconic Vietnamese sandwich that’s bánh mì.

Most of the meats are essentially barbecued and cooked on site to maintain the quality and enhancement of the fillings.

All the sandwiches on offer are technically bánh mì đặc biệt or bánh mì combos. And as of October 2011, the menu is as follows-

''Quad Meat Special: Pate, BBQ Pork, Roast Pork, Pork Ham in Banana Leaf, Chicken Ham

Fish Q: Grilled Turmeric Catfish, tossed with Dill and Spring Onion

BBQ Squared: Imperial BBQ Pork and Pork Meatballs with Roasted Rice Flavour

Cha Cha Chicken: Grilled Chicken Breast in Coconut and Lemongrass Marinade

Op La Di Beef: Sirloin Steak in Home-Made BBQ Sauce

Tofu Mushroom: Crumbled Tofu with a Trio of Mushroom, Carrot, and Rice Vermicelli''

Each and every sandwich is hand-constructed to order. On a more personal note, it was nice to see an alumna of St Anne’s making mine.

The bánh mì.
The bread was gorgeous. The thinness of its crust (quite unlike regular baguettes) is unlikely to encourage any kind of trauma to the mouth. The bread proper was delightfully airy and soft. If the Aussies and Kiwis can displace the Italians with their superior flatties then I can’t see why the Vietnamese shouldn’t do the same with the humble baguette!

NB I know of a lot people who despise coriander but that’s too bad so curb all the‘soapy dissents’ as the venerable herb is part and parcel of any bánh mì!

The Fish Q
Despite the menu suggesting the fish was grilled it was in fact pan-fried, and done so to order. When munched, any decent bánh mì should explode with extraordinary flavours and tingle the taste buds like no other sandwiches! The Fish Q ticked all the right boxes. The fish itself was excellent, flaky, beautifully marinated and perfectly seasoned (but it was also best to ignore the fact about the fish being previously frozen and imported from more than 6K miles away). It was the priciest sandwich on offer but well worth it.

I couldn’t resist myself and succumbed to a second sandwich- The Quad Meat Special.

This was what lurked inside the Quad. I had mine extra spicy with squirts and squirts of Sriracha. As a whole, this combo was stunning but let down slightly by the rather tough and chewy ~~char siu~~ BBQ pork. But heck, it was still bloody amazing and I fully understood why the Quad is Bánhmì11's most popular offering!

The baguette sarnies at Bánhmì11 are so well conceived and executed they simply leave this lot lagging behind. Burgers aside and regardless of ethnicity, Bánhmì11 is responsible for some of the best sandwiches in London! In their words- ‘Bánhmì11....I am coming to eat you!’

Highly recommended.

I paid £5 for the Fish Q and £4.50 for the Quad Meat Special. I shall not respond to any comments concerning the championing of egg and cress sandwiches.

Broadway Market
London E8 4HP
www.banhmi11.com

Mama Lan

2011-10-13T12:40:00.001+01:00

If Mama Lan was still an active supper club and I had a disappointing meal there; I would simply walk away and keep shtum about it. Publishing negative reviews about supper clubs are a no-no in my book as it provokes an inordinate amount of sentimental reactions. During the past two and a half years I’ve been to twenty-five supper clubs within the M25 and yet I’ve only penned about a handful of them (rather gushingly I might add). I’m simply not ballsy enough to publicly criticise the cooking of the various hosts, as it would be akin to unceremoniously stalling the ambitions of a three-year-old wanting to be a fire fighter. The amateur status of supper clubs means that they’re fully entitled to get away with murder should they fail to deliver. And by all accounts both the flaws and high-points of paying for your supper in somebody else’s dining room are easily forgiven and embraced without further ado. But I blog about restaurants and as far as I’m concerned the latter either have it or don’t.

To call it by its full name, mama lan @ Brixton is in effect a full-fledged restaurant in Brixton Village Market. Needless to say BVM is an increasingly important destination for food lovers in London. As suggested earlier Mama Lan started off as a supper club with Mummy Lan cooking traditional Beijing nosh and obviously through more than a degree of success they decided to go legit. Setting up a business like this comes with the usual challenges like- rent, overheads, business rates, VAT men, customers, reviews and of course the irritating presences of bloggers. Sincerely, I wish them well.

The menu is compact and no nonsense. To save you bothering with the magnifying glass I’ve copied and pasted the menu from their website-

''Beijing dumplings (5pieces)
All our dumplings are handmade on site and are served with pickled vegetables
Beef and carrot £4.00
Pork and Chinese leaf £4.00
Dill and spiced tofu (v) £4.00

Street Snacks
Chilli oil chicken £4.50
Slow cooked beef with Chinese herbs and spices £5.00
Fried vegetable balls (v) £3.50

Salads
Seaweed salad with toasted sesame (v) £3.50
Five spice boiled peanuts, wood ear mushroom and celery (v) £3.50

Drinks
Mocktail of the day £2.50
Tea blend of the day £2.50
Coke, / Diet Coke / Lemonade £1.50

(v) Suitable for vegetarians
All our meat is supplied by the Ginger Pig Farm''*

*(Correct as of 09/10/11)

I came here with two dining companions, one an established restaurateur and the other one, soon-to-be. We ordered everything on the menu except for the soft drinks.

My tea of day was a refreshing but caffeine-less chrysanthemum and wolfberry blend.

Wet peanut salad et al. Boiled peanuts are generally treated as appetisers before a main meal and provided gratis at most restaurants in China. Now because that we’re in Blighty you’re expected to fork out £3.50 for it but then again Brits do love a novelty or two. Alas, the nuts would’ve tasted a lot better if they were cooked with the addition of more soy sauce and star anise.

Seaweed salad. Highly processed brown alga is technically tasteless and the dish above managed to highlight the fact. Destpite the crunchy texture, the marinade and seasoning was disappointingly short of sesame oil, soy sauce, and generally, taste. Toasted black sesame seeds would’ve lifted the seaweed better than the pointless white ones. I think this dish is best left to the Japanese or Koreans. Poor.

Veggie balls-
The slightest hint of curry spices within evoked a ‘fusion confusion’ moment...ChIndian perchance? The initial joy of the crispy crust was immediately wiped out by the unexpectedly glutinous texture of the tasteless insides. Any aspirations of tackling bhajis or pakoras are immediately thwarted when you and I know that the Indians or Mr Bashir do it immeasurably better. And while we’re at it, Mama Lan, why don’t give this a go instead…it’s less ostentatious!

Chilli oil chicken-
We all know Westerners love flavourless breast meat but an addition of the brown variety would’ve enhanced the dish infinitely. The chilli heat belonged to the Korma School of Spiciness i.e. zeroish Scoville heat units and to make matters worse, the meat was dryish. The ‘lil piece of flat bread was frankly taking the piss, hardly enough for one let alone two or more…imagine a smug Robert Atkins approving. This £4.50 dish possibly confirmed a badly researched and developed inclusion on Mama Lan’s behalf. And as I’m known for rubbing salt in the wound, for the same amount of dosh one could’ve something more rewarding with three pieces of this.

Spiced Beef- it was admittedly the only standout, so a sharp tongue was unnecessary.

Dumplings (jiaozi) are the mainstay of Mama Lan. For some reason or another, outside China jiaozi is perceived as Beijing Dumpling. They’re usually served as shuijiao (boiled) or guotie (pan fried). Mama Lan serves the latter (dare I say to comply with the needs and preferences of the predominantly non-Chinese diners who throng the place).

The 'neither here nor there' beef and carrot dumpling

Some purists would argue that even the most basic of jiaozi dumplings is intrinsically unexciting in taste and you’ll need to enhance the flavours with the addition of rice vinegar and chilli oil (incidentally the latter was woefully cloudy and poorly executed). If that’s the case then Mama Lan have been amazingly consistent with all three versions of the dumplings we had, they were spectacularly bland. And when it came to the various fillings, yet again, was there a chronic shortage of salt, white pepper, spring onion, Chinese chives, sesame oil, and huangjiu when we were there?

The overall meal was insubstantial, expensive and we remained hungry thereafter. Better tasting dumplings can be found relatively nearby (£3 for 10!) or IMO, the best Beijing dumplings in London bar none (£5 for 8).

The following is a summation from one my fellow diners-

‘If this is the true taste of Beijing then our taste buds have obviously been corrupted and we have moved on. And no thanks to you for dragging me out of my Sunday lie-in, it was a massive disappointment you bloody wind-up merchant!’

If you’re after Chinese food that’s unquestionably mediocre then Mama Lan comes highly recommended.

Unit 18

Brixton Village Market

Coldharbour Lane

Brixton

London SW9 8PR
mamalan.co.uk

Bright Courtyard

2011-09-30T11:10:00.000+01:00

Lai Tong in Cantonese could mean house soup, staff soup or also soup that can be served all day. In larger Chinese restaurants the kitchen has to cook a meal for the staff before service kicks in at midday, this would inevitably include separate dishes consisting of meat, fish, green vegetables and of course soup. Cauldrons of the latter would’ve been made hours in advance to intensify the flavours and ending up what’s essentially pork stock. This bulk product is also the base for other forms of soups, noodles soups and countless dishes found on the menu of your regular Chinese restaurant. But what’s left of the extra broth is not gone to waste, most of the cheaper eateries in Guangdong would pass it on as a freebie as an incentive to accompany your paid one-dish meal. And there’s one restaurant in London’s Chinatown that continues to uphold this practice by serving you a bowl of gratis Lai Tong during lunchtimes. So a big applause to Young Cheng on Shaftesbury Avenue for its charitable deed.

But some folks have the gall to charge you £6.50 for a bowl (or tumbler) of soup that tastes basically the same as the one served at the above ~~soup~~ Lai Tong kitchen.

Bright Courtyard or to give its full name Bright Courtyard Club (as well as having a sister branch in Shanghai) is a fine dining Chinese restaurant serving primarily Cantonese cuisine with a token bit of regional Chinese thrown in. And in order to appease the newfound eating habits of the rich Mainland Chinese; sashimi is apparently a showcasing speciality of the house (but no sushi). The addition of the misnomer ‘Club’ is probably due to the Chinese obsession with keeping up with the Jones; Royal China Club is conveniently located directly opposite. The Bright Courtyard premises was once briefly occupied by the misguided but thankfully ill fated West Fifty Five.

The dining room belongs to sort of restaurant that’s attached to a hotel or half-decent airport terminal. Warmth was simply done away with from the original interior design brief. But then again PR folks would beg to differ and call it plush modern but I think contemporary banality befits better. The service although good was leaning on overbearing and clingy. On my first visit I asked the lady supervisor about her recommendations, her response was ‘oh I dunno, food too expensive here for me to eat!’ My heart slumped but ‘nuff said and onward we proceeded-

BC’s soup of the day or literally ‘old fire’ soup of the day. For the sake of comparison here’s Young Cheng’s version.

In order to emphasise the perceived value of the overpriced soup, the usually discarded stuff from the bottom of the soup pot is scooped up and dished separately. Pathetic.

The dining companion’s pricier and equally unexciting Cantonese double boiled soup. Essentially the same as the above but with added ingredients to provide a little bit more of yin-enriching and yang-fortifying properties. By ordering this kind of soup one would expect it to enhance one's well-being but unfortunately it was more like enhancing BC’s pockets. A right ‘piddle fart’ of a dish! Pathetic.

The BC cold platter

Supposedly consisting of five spiced beef, drunken chicken, sea blubber, marinated pork shank, and smoked fish. Yes, a couple of prawns somewhat intruded onto the plate.

Pork shank should have been translated as pork knuckle and WTF is sea blubber...fragrant slippery tissue of an elephant seal? The chicken was as tough as my Doc Martens, the beef was too cold and under-spiced, pork was ok and the fish overwhelmed by a sickeningly sweet sauce. We remonstrated about the missing blubber and weren’t prepared to accept the average tasting sweet and sour prawns were a valid substitute.

Ah there you have it, the missing sea blubber suddenly appeared from nowhere as if I was a trading standards inspector about to leap out. Why the hell hadn’t BC call it jellyfish in the first place was beyond me! The cold platter was mean, half-hearted and simply disgraceful. For the best examples of Chinese cold starters the chefs and managers have obviously failed to engage in a bit of industrial espionage at either Phoenix Palace or Princess Garden before they set up shop! Pathetic.

It wasn’t difficult to overhear what one of the cooks in the open kitchen was muttering about in Cantonese, ‘I’m going to take some of that delicious roast duck home tonight since there are loads left over!’ I fell for it and ordered half a bird-

Boneless! A Chinese restaurant immediately commits a cardinal sin when it serves roast duck sans bone (let alone any bird for that matter!) to Chinese diners.

It was ok but it did cost twenty quid and one could have a better whole roast duck for around the same price at any of the Four Seasons restaurants. Pathetic.

Enoki mushroom tofu hotpot. A braised dish of fried pieces of silken tofu and very little of the said shrooms, plus the bleeding obvious additions of soy sauce, oyster sauce, MSG, etc. Considering the base ingredients came to around 2.5 quid in total, you and I could’ve cooked it better. £12.50 was an awful lot dosh to pay for such a simplistic dish! Pathetic.

The small plate of fruit salad came with the bill, a distraction some would say. I paid over seventy pounds* for mediocre meal and for the same amount I could’ve taken away 15 orders of Singapore Fried Noodles from Wong Kei to be distributed among the Big Issue sellers in London or a more rewarding dinner consisting of half a Nanjing Duck, Fried black Cod and Minced Pork, and Crispy Beancurd with Broccoli at the Phoenix Palace and of course not forgetting the ten portions of the delicious laksa plus the free soup at Young Cheng! I left the place bruised and dumbfounded.

*That also included a 10% reduction on all food ordered during their soft opening honeymoon.

Came back as I did but only for the Dim Sum. What with high rents and crippling business rates in Westminster it was inevitable of BC to dabble with the above during lunch hours.

Freebie pickles of cucumbers and mustard greens to whet your appetite.

Courtyard Seafood Rolls or literally ‘thousand threads sea king roll’.

Beautifully crispy but the prawns were scarce as hen's teeth. Sighish ho hum…

Shredded Turnip Cakes or ‘thousand threads turnip short pastries’

Like the above, immensely crispy and the filling was melting beyond words. I actually liked it.

Beef Cheung Fun- steamed rice noodle rolls with ground beef. Disappointingly bland.

Chicken Feet or phoenix claws. It wasn’t braised enough and seasoned likewise, it tasted too much of birds with poor barnyard hygiene.

Har Gau. Excellent lardy tasting fat prawn dumplings and no corners cut. Lush plump prawns within. Ended up mildly shocked but suitably impressed.

Siu Mai- the likes of Dim T and Ping Pong have managed to cock up and misrepresent this hallowed Dim Sum dish big time but BC’s Siu Mais are the best I’ve had in London. Succulent and divine to boot. The addition of the flying fish roe was radther inspirational!

Although The Dim Sum lunch fared better than the doomed dinner, frankly I can’t see BC lasting the distance, the concept is clueless and badly applied. Your only reason for dining here is one of the following-

If either of the two Royal China joints turns you away
A trip to Chinatown might be entirely oblivious
A resident of the Portman Village where the term ‘state pension’ is considered a profanity
Or if you were a ‘made-it’ Chinese person you certainly wouldn’t want to be seen gobbling dumplings amongst the plebs!

Not recommended.

43-45 Baker Street
London W1U 8EW

lifefashiongroup.com

How was your Sunday?

2011-09-20T16:02:00.007+01:00

Prepped myself with a tipple of Navarra and a rather large spicy lamb roll from the Ginger Pig in Marylebone. (As for the latter, avoid, ‘twas a case of doing away with excess meat before due disposal’, stick to their excellent pork sausage rolls instead).

Headed eastwards towards the City.

Not the kind of the dish that broadcasts live matches of my beloved Arsenal but Anish Kapoor’s Sky Mirror.

The reflection of the Lloyd's building…

…but done better by the architects of the Willis Building. Eat your heart out Mr Kapoor!

Pompidou Centre effects courtesy of Baron Rogers of Riverside.

Leadenhall Market
(Pizza Express WTF?)

Quaint vents.

The imminent and second home of the fabulously wealthy Qataris that’s Shard London Bridge.

Peloton re Tour of Britain.

The Monument.

The imposing aquarium that dominates the reception area of the Heron Tower.

And also attached within, The Drift- a place to booze and pile on the lbs.

‘Tis a place that offers fish and chips, pasta, and Thai green curry on its menu or every cuisine of the world except this. Perhaps a little too cringeworthy for discerning food lovers.

A glass of Susie Amy to kill off the remaining afternoon.

Did I mention that the place was littered with seashells.

Tap water nazi.

The HM Revenue & Customs’ biggest nightmare!
But welcome to Café East anyway.

Bánh cuốn

A massive portion with lovely steamed slices of chả lụa. Good bánh cuốn should always be thin and delicate but here they were made too thick and ended up as a poor version of the Cantonese cheung fun.

Chả chiên- fried Vietnamese sausage.
A dish that’s nearly impossible to fluff up. Excellent.

Phở

Garnishes for the above.
Once again Café East don’t cut corners when it comes to dishing out generous portion.

Phở tai-
with rare slices of beef.

Although the soup was not as intense as I would've liked but it was still pretty good. Dinner came to 15 quid per person. Long may Café East thrive!

Lucky Chip

2011-09-12T23:10:00.007+01:00

A massive thanks to IHC for prodding my shoulder about Lucky Chip. But I shan’t torment you with me sloppy writing about the finer details of LC as Kang the Devourer has already done so and albeit more eloquently. Please read his review here.

The regular menu.

The burger of the week.

The John Travolta’s Royale with Cheese.

An aged beef patty (allegedly of provenance à la Ginger Pig), American cheese, lettuce, toms, gherks and LC’s homemade hamburger sauce were sandwiched between.

How about the droolworthiness? Let’s do away with the negatives first; the patty was over-salted, bordered on medium-well (a heart-sinking consequence) and the special sauce was simply a combo of mayo (sadly it doesn’t bode well with her) and I believed, spiced-up ketchup. Eating the burger was a messy affair (a good sign nevertheless), with the juices running down one’s hands or elbow and as if by nature’s intervention, you simply lap up the excesses instead of using the urban napkins provided. Like HB this was one helluva burger. It was satisfyingly tasty and juicy i.e. double happiness! The Royale with Cheese triumphed with its near perfect formula of combining the good stuff (beef and bun) and the scummish tings (like cheese and sauces) therefore I don’t think it would be churlish to suggest it was the best street burger I’ve eaten in London.

Based on the sole burger I had at LC, a score of seven stands. The best London Burger* for me still resides in Brixton.

*A London Burger needn’t facilitate a slice of Kraft cheese or let alone satisfy the annoying whims of the blind leading the blind disciples of the ‘Burgers are Resolutely American League’, cheddar is perfectly fine as it savours better, it's home-grown and hardly synthetic. Long live whatever Blighty, and long live the London Burger!

I paid seven quid for the Travolta burger.

Netil Market
London Fields
London E8 3RL

FB Info

#Game 1

2011-09-06T23:10:00.003+01:00

From now till the end of Jan 2012 I’ll endeavour to eat as much game as I can. And that’s hopefully without breaking my teeth courtesy of the odd lead shot, or let alone swallowing the blasted projectile to encourage undesirable symptoms like insomnia, delirium, cognitive deficits, convulsions, hallucinations, etc.

The red grouse together with the ptarmigan and snipe are the first meted out victims of The Glorious Twelfth. Now if you can afford to, eating these game birds immediately on or after the 12 August is not such a bad thing; the shot birds are usually the hyperactive young ones and hardly ‘hung’ i.e. more tender and most certainly less acquired in taste.

Le Café Anglais is only ten minutes’ walk from my abode but I’ve never been overwhelmed. Perhaps its location within a shopping centre that’s inherently culpable of soul sucking as soon as one walks in doesn’t help. Whiteleys is woefully damned and a grim place. Thankfully the guests’ entrance on Porchester Gardens deters any deviation into the ~~graveyard~~ ~~spaces~~ ~~scraps~~ realm left vacated by what was and the not-at-all-missed Food Inc. And please FGS don’t even accidentally enter the All Star Lanes next door; a place strictly for the upper-class dorks and their pretentious kids attempting to skittle feverishly whilst eating faux Big Macs. Believe me, ice-skating with the hoodies at Queens and a duck rice frenzy from the Four Seasons thereafter are collectively an experience more fulfilling!

The service on the Sunday evening I turned up was excellent. I hazard to guess it was somewhat inspired and led by the presence of the chef proprietor’s daughter, Ruth Leigh.

The trademark radishes and breadbasket that are part of LCA’s cover charge. Just to say that I’m entirely au fait with it here.

Fish Soup with Croutons and Rouille.
My dining companion suggested the soup was a tad too fishy but forgivable nonetheless seeing that she ordered a fish dish on a Sunday evening. A mea culpa moment she admitted. She also fussed about the ceremony concerning DIY croutons.

Pike Boudin with Fines Herbes

If the pike is a fish then I certainly failed to taste any of it. I know that I’m be treading on contentious territory but the quenelles de brochet I had in Lyons were immensely richer and more flavourful than the above fish sausage. It was essentially bland and what little saving grace there was the superb creamy butter sauce graciously supplemented. Overall it was gravely disappointing and an overpriced first course.

Not photographed was the dining companion’s mixed omelette. That she pronounced as beautifully seasoned and herby but sadly overcooked. Any omelette lacking the inviolable runniness within fails big time.

The primary reason for my visit that evening.

Roast Grouse

It came with game chips, bread sauce, giblet gravy, redcurrant jelly and heaps of watercress stuffed up the bird’s cavity. The game chips without the requisite perforations were the best I’ve had and the bread sauce likewise.

Like a good steak the grouse can only be served pink or more rare.

And what did it taste like? The following words spring to mind- bitter, sweet, earthy, woody, memorable, one-off and obviously gamey.
The roast grouse at LCA was a majestic and inspired dish, it enhanced my evening on and on for a long time.
However my dining companion was less complimentary when she tasted a bit of the bird- the stench was that of a handmade soap shop and a number two procedure both rolled into one and as for the taste, raw chicken meat marinated in quinine…eewh, never again!
‘Such a misinformed philistine!’ I immediately rebutted.

Waste not, want not and gnawed to the bone because it was that delicious.

LCA is forever nothing more than a 6/10 effort, the consistent misses let down an otherwise decent and ‘well to do’ but informal brasserie. But because game is a thing of beauty, both physically and edible, LCA knows a thing or two about how to serve them well. If the grouse is not your cuppa then go for the chicken with tarragon cooked on the showcasing rotisserie (the leg at £6.50 has to be one the best bargains found in London). Enjoy your grouse.

8 Porchester Gardens
London W2 4DB

www.lecafeanglais.co.uk

A Sunday Sojourn

2011-08-28T23:06:00.004+01:00

How was your Sunday?

What with a cheeseburger and chips…my one was suitably a godsend!

My chums from Streatham agreed that the best London Burger is found here.
I would like to add that the chips I had today were a lot better than my previous visits.

Now as I hardly venture into South London I had to possess a secondary stomach and pay homage to Imran Bashir’s Elephant Café. Like all the businesses within Brixton Village Market, it’s tiny but perfectly formed.

It specialises in authentic Pakistani street food.

The chicken thali at less than seven quid.

And it came with daal, naan, rice, raita, and salad. As expected it was astoundingly delicious and cheap as nuts. But if I were allowed to be pedantic then more chillies would further the otherwise excellent chicken curry and due to health and safety standards, a missing tandoor oven obviously vetoed the freshest of flatbreads. That said, the bread was well ‘gheed’ or lubricated. Quite possibly the most accomplished thali in town.

Anne, the queues at Federation were impossible at best so the Flat White aspirations were ditched instead by tea and cakes at the wonderful Relay Tea Room. I was reliably informed that the red velvet cupcake was brill.

Kimchee Restaurant

2011-08-23T21:45:00.002+01:00

Where’s the gochujang?

There’s absolutely nothing outstanding about the dishes served at Kimchee but the loos are admittedly rather plush and quite possibly the best amongst all the restaurants in London (but then again it was inherited from its fallen predecessor, the excellent but pricey Japanese Matsuri High Holborn). And lest I forget, the dining room was additionally worthy of a mention in the Architectural Digest. But I’m afraid that’s all folks so if you’re after something more of a mere approximation of Korean food in Central London then head here instead.

I sense that Kimchee restaurant is backed by a group of wealthy City individuals who happened to chance it with a prospect of the most opportune bandwagon. It’s simply a case of hiring a high-ranking chef from Seoul or New Malden and initiating the procedures to the non-Korean apprentices about how to concoct a bibimbap or jjigae (sod the bulgogi as anyone can do that!). Once the vocation is achieved- ‘Good bye, good night and good luck Chef, we’ll take care of the rest’. Alan Yau’s Wagamama chain thus springs to mind- a prevailing lack of heart and passion in the eventual cooking leads to the inevitable; faux ethnic food on your plate (alas, not entirely a bad thing for the undiscerning masses and in fact quite the opposite).

The following dishes ordered were clinically consistent i.e. vague, disappointing and invariably dumb-downed.

Kimchi

The definitive 'Korma version' of any kimchi found in the capital- annoyingly mild and the word ‘kick’ doesn’t even come into it!

Beef Tongue Skewer

Their words- “Charcoal grilled beef tongue served with a hand made Korean barbecue sauce”. My words- tough as old boots and the marinade…WTF? Where’s the gochujang?

Crab Tuigim-
Deep-fried soft-shell crab in panko

I do acknowledge that crab of this ilk is inherently tasteless but at the very least Kimchee should’ve jazzed it up more, it was woefully under-seasoned and the synthetic-tasting dipping sauce negated any claimed chilli inclusion. If only I brought my own bottle of Sriracha.

Scallop Skewer-
well priced at £3.50 but the photo looked better than it tasted.

Hot Pot Bulgogi-
Thin slices of beef in a soy sauce marinade cooked with vegetables and glass noodles in a broth.

Kitchen elves, skim the sodding scum! And there was way too much sugar in there! Red dates are naturally sweet so why add more sugar? Poor!

Bulgogi-
Barbecued beef

Now if this was dish was ordered at any decent Korean joint in London a pretty young thing not too unlike her would be doing the honours at your table. But not so at Kimchee where all the grilled dishes are cooked on the robata in the open-plan kitchen. By the time it reached us the beef was plaintively lukewarm, overcooked, sickeningly sweet and the ‘charcoal’ euphoria was notably absent. Pitiable.

Seafood Bibimbap-
served with scallop, calamari, prawn and oyster sauce or so the menu claimed.

A sad dish, which contravened the Trade Descriptions Act on two counts-

i) the scallop was replaced with mussels

ii) for a Dolsot Bibimbap, the layer of rice on the bottom of the pot should be golden brown and crispy, but heck, no!

The damn thing tasted like wet soggy fried rice with an odour of sodden Golden Retrievers.

BILL PLEASE!

There you have it and where’s the gochujang? Not at all recommended.

71 High Holborn
London WC1V 6EA

www.kimchee.uk.com

Shu Castle

2011-08-04T13:55:00.006+01:00

Verily, I say unto you, for he that eateth no Sichuan food, be thou removed, and be thou cast into the sea- for thou knoweth sod all about the grub of olde Cathay.

Ten years ago we would all accept that the Chinese food served in Britain is nothing more than regressive Cantonese. But now that the PRCs have arrived in droves, London town is blessed with a growing abundance of Chinese restaurants not specialising in Cantonese cuisine. The latter’s reputation in London is dangerously close to being displaced by discerning food lovers and bloggers as the one and only ‘Chinese’ when dining out. But then again these young observers are more acquainted and obsessed with the likes of Dim Sum and Roast Duck, they’ve somewhat forgotten or perhaps ignored that Chefs Leung and Tang in Chinatown are whizzes at exemplary dishes like Fish Maw Soup, Steamed Lobster with Egg White, Eel with Black Bean Sauce or Crispy Duck with Mashed Yam. Compared to all the other regional cuisines of China the Cantonese still rule the waves when it comes to full blown banqueting and bespoke dishes. That said, it’s also true for one who doesn’t experience Sichuan food is also clueless about Chinese food. The embracing of Sichuan food in London is mostly due to its macho stance of spicy and pungent flavours (courtesy of the vital base ingredients that are chillies and Sichuan peppers). It’s a tired fact that most folks misinterpret Cantonese food as greasy but the Sichuanese make that all quite tame since they like serving foods in hot (both temperature and spicy) boiling oceans of Mazola. Despite what I’ve just uttered, Sichuanese cooking is still absolutely brilliant and it’s definitely here to stay…just don’t eat the chillies neat (think of them as purely decorative) and glug the excess oil!

I was first dragged here by her and I’ve been back four times.

Its location is a bleeding good excuse as a worthwhile pit stop from a Monopoly route expedition. Mao caps were also noted on Old Kent Road, no wonder Shu Castle pitched their tent here.

The smallish restaurant is tarted up with shop fittings imported from ‘back home’, rather lavish I might add, and not because of its location on Old Kent Road but more so the grim 1* hotel it’s attached to. The service unusually for a Chinese restaurant is warm and convivial, perhaps being a mate of Kake made a difference! The diners were as expected, predominantly of ‘my kind’ with the exception of the odd Baltic tourist or Benny from Crossroads tackling the origami process re pancakes and Crispy Aromatic Duck.

Thankfully we don’t have to suffer from apartheidical menus at Shu Castle, no more separate menus for the Hans and non-Hans! Instead the highly illustrative and vaguely descriptive (minor typos withstanding) menu is pure godsend! Just don’t take the photos for granted as 15 prawns might actually mean 10 in reality and the chilli ticks (to depict the levels of hotness) are nonsensical…a zero chilli tick could end up deceivingly hot as well!

What we ordered first time around.
NB Kake can read Chinese but I struggle like hell!

Lotus Leaf Harrow-
I agree the last word is dumbfounding but these were essentially steamed Jiaozi dumplings but made with glutinous rice flour instead of the usual wheat.

The sticky and chewy ‘leaves’ (filled rather generously with well-seasoned pork mince and spring onions) were splendidly morerish.

Xiaolongbao-

unusually these dumplings were filled without the hot burning soup within so they are perfect for those meek individuals who are prone to matters regarding trauma of the mouth…such disappointing news for injury lawyers. Like the harrows, the steamed buns were very good.

Sautéed Pickled Beans with Minced Pork-
tangy and hot tasting; the beans added a welcome crunch to this flavourful dish.

Marinated Black Fungus (savours better than it sounds, the Chinese adore the texture thing and in this case it was moist crunchy) and the acid test dish of Mapo Tofu (authentically it should blow your socks off with help of the most natural and organic local anaesthetic that’s Sichuan pepper.) The latter was admirably and faithfully concocted at Shu Castle. Quite possibly the best Mapo Tofu I’ve had in London.

The soups-
They were brilliant but I suspect they were all made from same base stock of ‘pig-head-bone-soup’ with different ingredients added to distinguish the five choices available from Meat Ball Soup with Bean Sprout to "Kingdom" Oxtail Soup.

Fish Head & Tofu in Casserole-
an immense soup dish that also included Spam (luncheon meat), pork stomach (not to be confused with belly pork), meatball, fish cheeks, and Chinese mushrooms. For £3.90 I call that seven-treasures-in-bowl bargain!

White Gourd and Sliced Pork Soup-
a most neutral recommendation and utterly well balanced for those too stricken by the thought of offal and other strange intrusions on their plate.

Griddle Pig Feet with Chilli-

the God of Pig’s Trotter would probably pipe up in horror with ‘mon aimé, mon pied de porc, quel dommage!’ Erm, yes Pierre, the Chinese don’t bother with the dressing and disguising procedures, they’re more at home with the take-no-prisoners approach like ‘oh those trotter nails haven’t been clipped properly , nice touch’! It was the most melt-in-mouth and unctuously porky dish I've eaten to date and goes without saying it was also sadistically hot. When ordering this dish, don’t rush them give the kitchen plenty of time to create what I experienced or better still order a day in advance.

Bear's Paw Tofu-
bear's paw refers to the tofu pieces shaped like bear paws and the dish is supposedly hinting at what the real thing might taste like (think mock turtle soup). Quite simply it was just tofu braised with pork, black fungus, chillies and spring onion. It was too bland and hardly stimulating therefore I now know what bear tastes like…so no thank you.

Fire Exploded Kidney Flowers-
a most poetic name that comes down to earth as plain sautéed pig's kidney. This one of my fave dishes from the Sichuan region, if you crave earthy tasting morsels with a bit of ammonia whiff, this dish says ‘well, hello, eat me’. Delightful.

Fried Shrimps with Salted Egg Yolk-
Chinese foods in general exist with its concept of yin yang to maintain and enhance the quality of our well-being. But not this dish, it somewhat eggs on your cholesterol levels and high blood pressure readings instead. Why ffs?Because all naughty foods taste heavenly!

Sautéed Chicken with Spicy Sauce-
diced chicken on the bone, frog legs are sometimes represented in this dish but let’s be honest chicken tastes a lot more fulfilling than the watery- bland tasting amphibians. An unforgettable dish that's equally great for snacking.

Boiled Fish with Pickled Cabbage and Chilli-
I've left the best 'til last; this big-portioned dish makes an old fart like me weep shamelessly with joy. Although it doesn’t quite command the same penchant as the illustrious Sliced Fish in Hot Chilli Oil at least you can eat everything and leave the bowl dry and empty. The slices of sea bass fillets were wonderfully poached in an intoxicating stock that tasted heart-warming and for want of a better word, addictive.

Shu Castle is one impressive joint and Fuchsia Dunlop ought to take heed. Highly recommended, thank you Kake.

194 Old Kent Road,
London
SE1 5TY

www.shucastle.co.uk

The Newman Arms

2011-07-25T21:41:00.004+01:00

The following is a guest post from my once-monthly dining companion, Pete-

''I was filled with anxiety when Les asked me to contribute a post about last night’s dinner, after all, my knowledge of things food could probably fit on a postage stamp. Godammit, I don’t even cook! My usual haunts are those sort of places oft despised by foodies but loved by the “man in the street” (with one exception, a delightful Italian eaterie whose owner I’m familiar with, which will remain anonymous).

The Newman Arms in Rathbone St, W1, from the outside looks like one of those timeless places which might have been there since horse drawn carriages were the popular mode of transport. It’s a tall, thin building sandwiched in a terrace not far behind Tottenham Court Road. Even though it was Thursday, rather than Friday, night, it was already packed inside and spilling out onto the pavement. Our mutual friend and fellow diner, KC, assured me this was because the area was Media Land, and these people aren’t really affected by the recession.

I get nervous around large crowds in confined spaces so I was grateful when we went straight upstairs to the dining area. From the outside, the Newman Arms appears to have three more floors above ground level so I was surprised that only the first was being used for dining - it would be hard to imagine more than twenty diners fitting in. No wonder when Les and KC went there unannounced some while ago they were strictly limited to one-hour maximum!

This time the table had been booked so no such restriction applied. Both Les and I finished our main course first and our plates were cleared away before KC had finished which I thought a bit unprofessional. Les assured me it’s normal practice in pubs! I did get the vague impression that we were, although not exactly “hurried along”, being kept to a fairly tight schedule.

The Newman Arms does pies, so that’s what we had.

Well, Les had Steak and Kidney pudding whilst KC and I had pies. My Steak and Guinness pie was fine, attractively presented, vegetables fashionably undercooked, and steak chunks pretty edible, if not exactly premium quality, in a nice tangy gravy. For the very reasonable price, it was a very reasonable dish.

KC knew exactly what he wanted without consulting the menu. Turns out he’d already consulted the menu on the web before we even got there. Got to admire planning like that. But, it didn’t quite work out. He ordered Chicken, Gammon and Leek pie, which had even me, with my love of steak, getting a bit envious

As we were tucking in I noticed KC rummaging around inside the pie and enquired what he was looking for.

Turns out the gammon was not just minimal, it was, err, completely absent. The leek was represented by a few mixed in bits of green which, as KC later pointed out, could have been virtually anything of green colour! He’s not one to complain and stoically worked his way through what was apparently a perfectly good chicken pie. When I offered him a bit of my gravy for flavour he gratefully accepted, so I imagine it was a bit bland. Les managed to catch the waitresses’ eye and explained the problem.

I found her explanation that it was mixed and cooked in a large pot and therefore subject to some portions (pies) getting more of one ingredient than another rather implausible, as there was not a single, minute, bit of gammon in sight. We queried it again, but she was adamant that no mix-up had taken place, just a lack of proper mixing, as it were. I wasn’t impressed by her certainty in the face of the bleedin’ obvious! Anyhow, KC was offered a free drink by way of compensation, which alas he didn’t take up, as he didn’t desire any further liquid.

Dessert went off without further hitch,

with both Les and I having a delicious Spotted Dick with custard pudding.

KC had apple pie with ice cream. He said it was OK, possibly a little bland and dry. It wasn’t really his lucky night! My coffee was OK. Not the best, but respectable for an English diner.

I enjoyed my meal, as I believe did Les. KC didn’t fare quite so well, though he, being the discreet, modest person that he is, didn’t want to complain about it. A bit more humility on the part of the, otherwise pleasant and efficient, waitress wouldn’t have gone amiss. Other than that, a nice meal in a hospitable, if rather cramped, pub, at a decent enough price.''

Thank you Pete.

And for my tuppence worth: this family-run pub serves gratifying pastry-based grub Delia would’ve been proud of and smitten with. Despite the denial of the ‘customer-is-always-right’ policy regarding the awol gammon from the chicken, gammon and leek pie (and the latter for that matter), the Newman Arms deserves a strong commendation for serving delicious pies as good as your Nan’s or Mum’s efforts.

Message to all my non-foodie and non-Brit. friends- suet has never been primarily vegetarian and it’s certainly not margarine or a veg…Taps (plonker and all), you were thinking of swede!

23 Rathbone Street
(off Charlotte Street)
Fitzrovia
London W1T 1NG
newmanarms.co.uk
scoresonthedoors

Big Apple Hot Dogs

2011-07-21T23:55:00.004+01:00

Now that every man and his ~~hot~~ dog has written about Abiye and his stall so it’s best that I ~~relief~~ relieve you of my usual ill-formed and typo-ridden gibberish. But allow me a few words-

These dawgs are a massive ‘thumbs up’!

Disclosure- Ron Jeremy was included in the tags.

239, Old Street
London EC1

www.bigapplehotdogs.com

Honest Burgers

2011-07-19T23:36:00.006+01:00

When I first came to Britain I didn’t care much about the burgers found at McD or Wimpy as the humble ones from my hometown were vastly superior in every way, shape or form. The quality of beef in Malaysia then, and as ever for that matter, has always been inferior to what we expect in Blighty. But give any bland tasting morsel of meat to a South East Asian, they’ll season it better than most and transform it into something that blows your palate away (and I don’t mean chillis). I had my first decent UK burger hereabouts back in 1983 when I was skiving repeatedly during college days. The place was called Peppers and they served genuine American-style burgers (please note that I haven’t been back since 1984 so I can’t vouch for their present offerings). The delicious charbroiled cheeseburgers had a profound effect on me, as it was also my first ever experience of the onset of rigor mortis on a plate; the burger was cooked medium rare and quite quite bloody! Eureka! From thence I learnt more about how to appreciate one’s beef dinner ought to be cooked than the Engineering Science degree I was struggling with and clueless about! Burgers are succinctly pleasurable.

I first heard about Honest Burgers from Limster, a prolific contributor on Chowhound. It’s located in Brixton Village, a redevelopment of nearby Brixton Market. Truth be told the last time I came to Brixton was a couple decades ago and that’s for no other reason than a lame one; I falter at the thought of crossing over the river.

The place is a shack, well at least size-wise it is. Turn up during peak-hours at your peril and you’ll be fussing about the queues and lack of tables. The cooking area alone occupies around 40% of the c.24m² space. Furniture is strictly self-made and at best raw and rickety. A few additional tables are available outside for pseudo al fresco dining (‘tis a covered market after all).

Here’s Tom, one of the head flakes at HB for he’s the one who does the cooking. A rather splendid and convivial chap I might add. And as scoops go, he was fond of the burger at Bar Boulud and the one at the Admiral Codrington pub was to be respected as well.

The no-nonsense menu on the wall.
Non-beef eaters and veggies are made to feel welcome as well.

Home-made lemonade.
Very good it was.

The cheeseburger.
All the burgers are served with triple cooked hand-cut chips seasoned with rosemary salt.

The beef comes from the legendary Ginger Pig butchers and has been dry-aged for more than a month. The cheeseburger comes with a choice of either cheddar or Stilton, much as I love the latter on its own I’ve always found it too overpowering when applied on a patty of good provenance, so cheddar for me instead. For those harbouring a fear of tomatoes, your wish is by default granted; slices of tomatoes are mandatorily excluded as they intrude on and drown the essential bits of an Honest burger.

One’s not asked about how they want their burger cooked. House rules suggest medium rare and so be it, and hip hip hooray for that! It was ~~perhaps~~ the juiciest, beefiest, tastiest, and most satisfying burger I’ve had to date. Alas, the chips were not to my liking; skin left on chips are a no-no in my books, tad too limp and soggy although I must admit the rosemary salt seasoning was pure genius.

If the very good burgers offered here and here are eights then HB deserves a nine. The home of the best and original London Burger does exist; it’s found at Honest Burgers.

Unit 12
Brixton Village
London SW9 8PR

www.honestburgers.co.uk