“..surrounded by the greatest wines of the world..”

The dining room is relatively small but is as intimidatingly as it is posh, as the website’s official photographs suggest. Built around the ‘wine salon’, the restaurant’s private room takes up to 8 people and is encased by temperature-controlled glass walls filled with some of the sommelier’s (Alex Gilbert) most prized bottles. All completely out of my spend range for this solo Friday lunch (or any meal for that matter). Indeed, all of the world’s most storied labels grace Alyn Williams’ wine list, and I feel it only apt to dedicate the following paragraph to this exceptionally procured cellar:

All the 1st growth clarets feature, from average to exceptional years, including a ’90 Lafite. Beyond the formidable Pauillac region, an ’85 Haut-Brion (the sole non-pauillac 1st growth) is listed with a centurion ’82 vintage of La Mission as the proud emissaries of the great wines of Graves – arguably the most romantic of all Bordeaux wines. Cos, Palmer, Petrus represent St Estephe, Margaux and Pomerol. Glaring omissions may be the popular Pontet, the age-worthy monster Montrose and Graves underdog Chevalier Rouge, all three producing consistently fabulous wines in recent years. Personally, I was drawn to the millennium Figeac, the 2nd tier GCC from St Emillion …for £400, easily a 3x mark-up (Liv-Ex trading at £90-110/bottle in bond prices) and only just within a sensible spend (maybe for my birthday)! You know this is a proud British restaurant when it features such a complete set of Lynch-Bages. They hold all the legendary vintages which the chateau has produced in the last century including the ’89 and ’90 at the £650-£700 mark – also 3x mark-up here, but I suppose within the bounds of fine dining restaurants. Outside of the Bordelais bubble, Dujac, Rousseau and Robert Chevillon stand out from the Cote de Nuits list and there are 3 bottles from the mythical Domaine de la Romanee-Conti: Romanee St Vivant, Richebourge and Echezeaux. The top of the line La Tache or Romanee-Conti don’t feature. The two biggest names of Barossa: Grange and Hills of Grace are also on the list; Stag’s Leap ‘Fay’ (no Cask 23) and Ridge’s ‘Monte Bello’ represent the Napa and Sonoma …and beyond that my knowledge of great labels decline.

In comparison, I drank a very modest glass of ’09 St.Laurent by Heinrich (£11.50). An Austrian red and a varietal which I’ve never had before. On the palate, I mistook it as a pinot noir, silky but somewhat spicy, with a sweet finish, like longan.

Alyn Williams spent 5 years as Head Chef for Marcus Wareing, and many more before that in across Gordon Ramsay restaurants in its heyday, as well as stages in The Greenhouse, Zafferano and Chez Bruce: All of London’s long time institutions. Like his predecessors at GR, Alyn has finally put his name above the door. It opened to glorious reviews late last year.

As trends push us away from ‘fine dining’, it’s rare to come across new restaurants which have a dress code. I called 2 hours ahead and was a little surprised to secure a table. I was even more surprised to arrive at an empty restaurant on a Friday afternoon. Only a further 3 tables were occupied later on. The eerie silence was very deafening. This room was crying out for some background music to make up for the lack of chatter.

In spite of the similar positive reception, it is in stark contrast to the runaway success of Dabbous which opened a few months after Alyn. A restaurant which you’d be lucky to nab a table for in October.

Fashion aside, Alyn Williams is still a 2 star chef who has a track record in producing brilliant cooking. His promise to keep the superb value pricing (for at least a few more months) is still held. The 7 course taster a ‘mere’ £55 (also rivaling Dabbous) and £115 for paired wines. The 3 course set lunch is a recession beating £24, ALC at £45 for 3 courses.

Amuse Bouche: Truffle risotto balls, crackers with pickled broccoli, and prawns.

These were all very wow amuses, showing beautiful concentration of flavour. Especially the fried truffle-laced risotto balls – yummy. Not pictured were his brilliantly light as feather gougeres stuffed with stinging Fourme d’Ambert.

Course 1: French onion consomme/crab/gruyere/potato wafer

The menu kicked off with a classy rejuvenation of french onion soup. Served cold, as both a liquid and as a jelly, in a martini glass. The jelly was like a concentrated reduction of beef and onion, dissolving with the liquid in the same glass. A tiny ‘log’ of what appears to be beef cheek with picked crab meat was also present. For a cold soup, I was surprised the smell of onions were still so present. A spoonful of everything produced a precise hit of beef and onion flavours. A cheese wafer on the side served as the cheese crouton. Naturally, the balance of flavours were admirable. What finesse, it reminded me of Jason Atherton’s BLT at Maze.

Course 2: Orkney scallop/cucumber/smoked roes/sea urchin

Another cold starter, but this time with the cutting mineral smell of cucumber fighting against the fishiness of smoked roe. The single scallop remained beautifully translucent in the centre. I didn’t quite get the ‘milk’, was it made from the sea urchin perhaps? Delicious, but too subtle for me, and the least memorable dish of all.

Course 3: Smoked egg/celeriac/truffle soldiers

I know, I know, slow cooked eggs are cliche these days, but I am still intrigued with the many variations the capital’s best chefs has created. I actually swapped out the foie gras semi-freddo for this dish.

Served in a tea cup, the smoked yolk was dizzyingly satisfying. It was perfumed, to me, it smelled sweet, like vanilla for some reason. The custard-like texture was as expected. I’m quite certain the yolk rested on some sort of yoghurt or sour cream, making this either a variation of a Turkish recipe or a variation of a French recipe or me completely wrong-footed, once again. I dug around the cup, but couldn’t find the celeriac – might it have been shredded into the yoghurt? I don’t know.

The truffle soldiers were simply that, toast with truffle. It was absolutely sublime in primal way, buttery with earthy funk. I could have this truffle spread for breakfast everyday. As he cleared the plate away, I told the restaurant manager – whom I assumed was Giancarlo Princigalli, also ex-MW – that the soldiers were to die for …and pleaded for more! He smiled, nodded and scurried away…

Course 4: Sweetbread/chicken wing/chervil pappardelle/pea puree with ramsons

…but instead of returning with more of the truffle soldiers I yearned for, he brought out an additional dish which he explained, that the chef was still tinkering with. Thin layers of pasta sandwiched with chervil with pan-fried sweetbread and chicken wings, both intensely seasoned. Over it, he poured a reassuring warm pea puree scented with ramsons, a sort of wild garlic. Such elegance, control of flavours and delicate texture. The dish was a absolute pleasure to eat.

Course 5: Mackerel/seaweed cracker/miso/cockles

The smell of smoked fish, this is nearly Wales on a plate. The mackerel was nearly transculent, tremendous texture, oily flakes easily sliding off one another. Like the 1st dish, there was a commanding purity of flavours about this. A very intense hit of sweet miso, such a lovely compliment to white fish, the cockles and the nori, reminding me of this was a dish from and of the sea. I suppose this dish is Japanese in inspiration, and my favourite of whole afternoon. I think it was good because it looked completely innocuous, and yet it tasted so completely powerful. It probably summed up the theme, a set of dishes which displayed excellent control of flavour, intense without being overpowering. It seemed like something that may appear on Dabbous or even Hedone’s menu.

Course 6: Devon red beef sirloin/jersey royals/leafy turnip/capers

The beef was cooked to a perfect rare, as requested. This would be my 2nd time eating Devon beef in as many months (the other time was at Michael Caines’ restaurat at Abode Hotel, Exeter) and it exhibited glorious beefiness that I’ve generally come to expect from English beef. Juicy, leading me to believe that it was well-rested before serving. The plate was very hot, as it should be to keep the steak warm, so top marks for the attention to detail. A wedge of the beef’s own fat was laid over the meat – it was all guns blazing with intense blue cheese notes. This was good beef presented in an effective manner to highlight its strengths. Tender for a sirloin with all signs pointing to it being well hung.

For a beef dish, it was delicate, juice-filled turnips just cut away all of the heaviness of the dish, they were sweet like sugarcane. The potatoes were gloriously fluffy, something that may rival Rogan’s vintage potatoes. I always expect beef to be extravagant in high end restaurants – nothing wrong with epic dishes – but I think the lightness was a nice surprise. Eerily precise cooking.

Course 7: Cornish cows curd cheesecake/passion fruit/honeycomb with ’03 Castelnau de Suduiraut.

It was suggested to finish my meal with a glass of this sauternes (£13.00), so I did. Not quite the power and lusciousness of a good d’Yquem, but this wine was supple without being in your face. The 2nd wine of Ch Sudairaut, a first growth.

It was well matched with this minute cheesecake pudding.

Course 8: Baked apple/rolos/hazelnut

However, the wine really sizzled when paired with the baked apple, for which it was designed to do. Rolled-up cooked sliced apple, exhibiting bold sharp flavour. It required this medium sweet pudding wine to find harmony. The hazelnut ice cream was very good, but I didn’t enjoy the caramel-centre rolos. It was very hard to bite into, and after I’d manage to crack my jaws over it, it stuck to my teeth like solidifying cement. Maybe it was too cold, but only part of this pudding I didn’t enjoy.

Reflecting on the meal, I am reminded of restaurants which strive to showcase a sort of distilled elegance. Menus that are designed with precision and poise. If I could use one word to sum up the meal, it would be : control. It’s not surprising, after all, Alyn has spent much of his career cooking ‘perfect’ food, albeit within the bounds of the classic fine dining restaurant likely to charm the bib. And within those parameters, Alyn Williams (the restaurant) is certainly worthy of one, perhaps two macaroons. It is clear that he has got to the very top of his craft because he understands how flavours are supposed to work together.

I paid for £95.06 for the whole nine yards and coffee – justified value considering the level I reckon. But most importantly, I thought food was delicious.

I think the major challenge for the restaurant is probably the intimate yet intimidating setting. There is no doubt that the immaculate design of solid rose wood, sparkling carpets and glass booths that pulsate with fancy lighting, is stunning. But with no windows and those imposing wine fridges, it also feels like an immaculately decorated resting place for a Pharaoh. I just think the room needs a little livening up, starting with some background music. Maybe that’s why Dabbous is doing so well, it’s so airy and open, so too the majesty of HB’s Dinner with the centrally installed kitchen and rear facing tables that overlook Hyde Park. As I stepped out, I wondered about the hotel’s front bar (the Polo Bar?) and thought if Alyn could perhaps migrate his lunch menu (or part of his restaurant) there, it may attract a bigger audience, for which his food thoroughly deserves.

I have no idea how they do at evening service, at the level of cooking (and price) it should be completely booked up, but I didn’t call to check. Having said that, the booths in the restaurant seem very private, which is what you want. It’s just I think that the decor makes it feel like its a once-a-lifetime restaurant, which it doesn’t have to be. I’ve seen much seasonal change across reviews, which suggests that it might be worth multiple visits.

Service was top-notch, everybody was hardworking, a little nervous but genuine, down to earth and human. They even managed to dig out the daily copy of the Times for the lonely diner that was me. I probably sat for 3 hours, long enough for Alyn himself to come out to greet all of his patrons, at the end of afternoon service. I was flabbergasted, I stood up to shake his hand nervously, told him he should win the 2 stars for himself soon and that my favourite dish was the mackerel. The conversation culminated with a discussion of Marcus’ perfect egg custard pudding. A lovely recipe indeed.

He claimed his restaurant was still in its beginning days, fighting to compete for the public’s affection and far from being the complete product he envisions – what admirable spirit. Very affable fella, incredibly modest for someone as accomplished as he is.

I remain intrigued as I write this, especially with these bespoke menus which the staff were telling me about through the meal. You will probably see another post about Alyn Williams soon, and I suspect dishes are still being fine-tuned, even though they are already quite high calibre as it stands. It’s definitely worth considering a visit to Alyn Williams, especially while prices remain as they are.

The Gist of It

Alyn Williams at the Westbury
British £80-130pp.
The Westbury Hotel 37 Conduit Street, W1S 2YF
Tel : +44 (0)207 078 957
Tube : Oxford Circus

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This is my 3rd visit to the fabulous Admiral Codrington in as many months. By now, you’ll have heard about Fred Smith’s near obsessive detailed experiments in continuously honing his version of the perfect cheeseburger. In the last few weeks, he’s been causing tidal waves of instagram drool with diners tweeting his elusive specials: the double patty burger code named ‘The Double Stack’ and the other elusive animal : ‘The Chilli Burger’. Ironically, on both previous visits, I missed all the specials for dinner as depending on how busy the kitchen is, specials are (mostly) a lunch only option.

Away from his Ad Cod stove, you might have already eaten the Fred Smith x Tom Byng collab on the latest Byron special called ‘The Chilli Queen’, set to run till early June. With green chilli, chipotle mayo, American cheese and a glazed bun (first debuted for the Uncle Sam) ; The burger is a sort of condensed version (for the 22 Byrons across town) of Fred’s original chilli burger. I was fortunate enough to be invited to a preview by Tom and thought it was great. The spice kick was a nice compliment to the already perfect everyman – around nearly every corner – hamburger, all of which rested on a bed of shredded lettuce – another signature Fred Smith move. I had promised Tom that I would resume my run-to-a-byron routine now that he has opened one in Camden, a 30 minute run from Queen’s Park. I haven’t done it yet, but with the Chilli Queen’s closing date drawing near, it provides the motivation to do so.

I’ve tried all but one Byron special, by my estimations, the only non-beef burger, the lamb burger which only ran for National Butcher’s Week last year. While we’re on the topic of 2011 Byron specials, I must mention the beloved Big D (after its creator Darragh O’Shea). Yes, the various Byron restaurants had trouble maintaining cooking consistency for it being such a massive patty, but when they got it right, it was a burger of sheer elegance. It needed the strength of the gruyvere, but the result was neither gourmet nor cult, but just a damn good burger. Sadly (for me), it won’t ever be seen on a Byron menu every again.

The first time I sank my teeth into the Ad Cod Burger, my eyes widened. Beef sourced from Darragh, a blend of rib & chuck, but smoother and more intense …gasp, could this be …the son of the Big D?

(The original patty is actually available to buy at Darragh’s Knightsbridge shop, so you could still try it at home, if you’ve missed it all. )

Since that visit, I’ve craved mid-week returns to the Chelsea pub to erase mid-week blues. I followed up the 2nd visit in April, and was surprised to find the american cheese had been upgraded to Fred’s own concoction of a bacon infused in-house cheese ‘blend’ with american, parmesan, and – correct me if I’m wrong – a sort of chopped onion reduction.

Honest, Meat and Lucky are all very good but a mission to get to, and the overall experience can become a little chaotic during busy times. Maybe I’m just fussy you know, I think the Ad Cods’ dining area is a welcoming change. It’s civilised and comfortable. With the impending long summer days, the skylight roof which runs the length of the room just slices open the ambiance completely. And you can book tables!

Actually a full fledged gastropub, with a hardworking chef, dedicated kitchen and committed front of house (3 visits, still won’t let me into the room until 6.30, and after they set all the tables according to spec), they continue to remind diners that they have the capability to deliver reasonable non-burger food. It’s difficult to come here and not order the burger, but I think everyone is intrigued by the other things Fred can cook. For this meal, we went only as far as the starters, as Fred had invited the missus and I down to sample the latest version of his chilli burger. Food on Fred, drinks & tips on us.

Salmon, jalapeños, lime.

So we began with a zesty ceviche to kick things off. Very fresh, wiped the palate clean, stinging jalapenos.

Diver caught scallops, cauliflower, lime.

I went to Alyn Williams’ (I’ll post the write-up after this obviously) for lunch on the same day as this evening visit to Ad Cod, and also had a similar single scallop dish. Alyn’s version was served with cucumber, smoked shaved roe, sea urchin and a sort of ‘milk’. Both I gather were diver caught Orkneys.

Not to take away from Alyn’s version (which was obviously very exciting) , but I preferred Fred’s classic take. The scallop looks pan-fried, I would have liked to have seen more heat on the outside, but on the inside, beautifully transculent, juicy like lychees. However it was the cauliflower whip, lifted by a dash of lime that took the scallop to the clouds. I only just detected a hint of curry, maybe caraway seeds, on the fringes. I can’t see it on his current menu, so I’m not sure if it’s a dish in late beta testing or otherwise. As it stands, it’s delicious.

Foie gras creme brulee with brioche soldiers.

This was still a work in progress, Fred had brought it out to test on us guinea pigs. He says that it’s made just like a creme brulee, except with foie gras dissolved into the custard. A crack of the flamed demerara roof revealed a runny custard. According to Fred, he admitted that he hadn’t given it enough time to set.

Though the missus and I both thought the runny texture actually worked well, especially since it’s meant as a dipping for the soldiers. Of course, the distinctive flavour of foie gras was ever present, just aligning with the sweetness of the custard. This is a tricky dish to pull off since both sets of flavours can easily become sickly if balance is not sought. But I thought Fred’s version was well executed. It was mellower than anticipated, but I think potent enough to overwhelm if you quaffed large spoonfuls. It’s better with the sweet wine we were served it with (South African Late Harvest Semillon, judging from the wine list is my best guess) , but really shines as a bread dipping. Visually, it’s like egg yolk gelling on the brioche soldier. Buttery, syrupy, savoury flavours which all hang together very well. Again, I think it’s a successful dish, at least to me, it certainly demonstrates Fred’s ability as a chef, and importantly, his attention to balanced flavours. Now he just needs to decide if this is a pudding or a starter.

I once had something similar at Le Petit Normand, a tiny French bistro in Wimbledon, where they served it as a starter, with foie gras and apple. That was a little overcooked and probably too tart.

The Chilli Burger with chips.

What do you think? Looks good yes? The cheese still melting around the patty, like hot yellow lava flowing down the sides of a volcano.

Here it is from another angle:

Phew. When I saw it last on the table, my jaw dropped. Is there such a thing as a beautiful burger? The burger is larger than it looks, stacked very high.

Bear with me for this, Fred ran through the details very quickly, and hopefully I didn’t make too many mistakes here. But do correct me.

Starting from bottom up:

1. Glazed brioche bun, Millers.
2. Chopped iceberg lettuce.
3. Chopped red onion, red & green chilli slaw.
4. Mustard Mayo with Chipotle Cheese.
5. 5 or 6 oz O’Sheas Rib & Chuck Patty, aged & prepared in house.
6. Fred’s in-house made cheese with crispy bacon bits, american cheese, raclette, parmesan.
7. Jalapenos??
9. Braised short rib chilli.
10. Fred’s in-house tomato spread??
11. Glazed brioche bun, Millers.

Here is the cross section, medium rare, too pink for some, but for me, juicy and perfect.

It’s a breathtaking burger. Surprisingly restraint, no knock out blow of chilli. In its place, a subtle gradation of spice, of discernible chilli flavours. I felt a warming crescendo that just kept building and building as I worked my way through the burger. The 5 or 6oz patty is much smaller than the standard 8oz Ad Cod cheese, but with so many layers, it seemed it could be slimmed down just a tad. I was not complaining however, the more patty the merrier, though it did slip out of the bun barely able to hold itself together after four or five bites.

I think the most profound ‘layer’ may be the braised rib chilli. It tasted like the best chilli con carne I’d ever had, melted over arguably one of the best burger patties in town. One that was so imbued with hefty flavour (perhaps from ageing) that it was more than a match for all the spices. Fred still follows the Heston method of uniformly lining up the mince to prepare his patties, so the patty is surprisingly smooth when biting into it. I don’t know if it’s simply because I know of the technique, but it certainly does come across as such. Though Fred says that these days, he spends less time making it uniform, and rather prefers a patty that is ‘less tidy’.

As I finished the last bite of this amazing burger, I noticed a faint, warm fizzle at the back of my throat, the smell of the chilli and grilled beef still hanging around in the olfactory. So far, the best burger experience I have had are the Lucky Chip’s Bill Murray burger and the MeatEasy cheeseburgers. But I think this tops both.

I asked the missus if she thought this is the best burger she’s ever had. She replied “Yeah. Maybe.”

For £15 with chips, it certainly isn’t cheap, but it is such a stunner. Fred limits the fleeting appearance of these monsters because he thinks the rest of the menu will suffer if he devotes the time required to prep them to his exacting standards if he had to do it everyday.

The missus and I deliberated and we certainly felt like this burger had an air of a well-thought out, complete dish. Rather than stylish junk-food. The burger is certainly a chef’s burger, one in which it is apparent that copious work following serious thought, has gone into ensuring that each detail isn’t just perfect, but that each building block works in tandem with the other ingredients in the same sandwich.

I was joking with Fred that I thought the complex gamut of flavours this burger displayed versus his standard cheeseburger was akin to comparing the 1st and 2nd wines of a Bordeaux 1st growth.

On the topic of wine, they offer clarets from good 2th growth chateaux (Palmer and Leoville Barton) from drinking vintages (as opposed to ‘collector’ years) but I did note their top selection is a venerable Hills of Grace, and I suspect they are also BYO as a nearby table were had brought their own bottles. Unconfirmed though. If this is the case , then the next time I go there, I’m bringing a bottle of First Drop’s The Cream to savour the burger with. Arguably, the rising star of the Barossa Valley which may one day share the same status as the noble Grange.

I think Fred thoroughly deserves his reputation as an excellent burger constructor, but I also think he deserves to be seen as a talented chef. I googled his background and found this interview on King’s Road Rocks. He has stinted in Wales and Australia, and one of his (Chelsea) favourites is Medlar, incidentally, one of my favourites too. Amazingly, he manages very edible dishes from a kitchen no larger than those you see in the beloved food trucks which have been trending the past year.

I think the market is completely saturated with very good burgers, it’s startling how high the standard is these days, but I think the competition is only good news for end consumers. From what I’ve heard, there might a few other variant off-menu specials in the near future, but I think the only way to keep track (and to find out when what special is on) is actually to follow Fred’s twitterstream @fredsmith_.

There’s so much I haven’t tried myself and I am far from being the burger expert, so it’s only apt that I end this over-written gush fest by directing you to the burger-erudite for more detailed and accurate reports: Burgerac , Hamburger-Me.

The Gist of It

Admiral Codrington
Pub, with a great burger £35pp.
17 Mossop Street, London SW3 2LY
Tel : 0207 581 0005
Tube : South Kensington

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I have asserted in the past that Bryn Williams is the most underrated chef in Britain, and that I’ve wanted to return to his restaurant, Odette’s to delve deeper in his cooking, beyond the GBM dish that sent his career into overdrive.

Perhaps it is because his restaurant is in a tucked away location (in Primrose Hill) , and that it’s a little old fashion which is probably why it doesn’t receive the same kind of attention which centrally located counterparts may enjoy.

Odette’s has also been in the same spot since ’78, albeit changing ownership many times over the years, before Vince Power took over the reigns in 2006 and lured the young chef away from the clutches of the Galvin Brothers. Bryn has since bought the restaurant out, and has been Chef Patron since late 2008. If those walls could speak. I just think there such romance to Odette’s. You can’t beat heritage (no matter how patchy) and I think history is embodies the ideals of a neighbourhood restaurant. Food is part skill, but also part nostalgia. White bread, ketchup and bashed fillet steak with black pepper might not be ‘gourmet’ but the smell of pan-fried steak always takes me back to my childhood Sunday lunches.

The ambiance (and by extension the leafy neighbourhood locale of sleepy cafes & pet shops) is cocooned and cosy but most of all, the cooking is slick as snails. My first visit to Odette’s was in 2010, after trying Bryn’s lamb and mint at the 2010 Taste of London. I revisited late last year for one of his Sunday Supperclubs , which Bryn personally hosts. During both visits, I loved the cooking.

Curiously, it is also one of the most reasonably priced ‘fine dining’ menus on the circuit. The 6 course taster is £50. Set lunches menus could be had for as low as £17. Granted Bryn has been cooking at Odette’s for nearly six years now, the bib has yet to bestow any macaroons, but maybe its a good thing. After all, this is a small-scale restaurant which would have been worthy of keeping as a secret in the good old days before blogs.

I had returned to try the full tasting menu, expecting something extra-ordinary. But like all restaurants I hype up, I was a little nervous that my own over-excitement may lead to inevitable disappointment…! Thankfully – pre-empting the following waffle- all fears were utterly unfounded, as the meal was completely enjoyable.

Unlike the first 2 visits, Bryn wasn’t in the kitchen for this meal. I was told he was on vacation in St Lucia, and front of house noted that ‘the guy [in chef robes] who just walked past is head chef today’. Don’t know his name, can’t find it online, but if you do, please let me know.

I drank a glass of 2008 Munoz de Toro by Bonarda. Argentinian. It was ok, fruity, medium bodied, sweet, got the job done at £6.50 for the glass.

Now that I’ve suddenly become ‘wine-aware’ (or Bordeaux-aware to be exact) ever since I started my BBR cellar plan, I’m studying wine lists in more detail. I feel that I have more meaningful things to say about it these days. (As opposed to nothing at all in the past.)

For me, the wine list appears to favour light & fruity styles. The (red wine) list is short features a number of Beaujolais, Old World and New World Pinots. Ch Musar, a Lebanese wine, is always a good pick. Their 1st wines are affordable if you consider the price of top Bordeaux these days and usually are a good pick (I do recall usually paying no more than £30 for a bottle, for most vintages). Though I’ve never tried the ‘Jeune’ range, which appears to be the estate’s 2nd wine.

At the top end is the ’98 Haut-Bages Averous. A lovely wine from a well reputed Chateau. I actually drank a bottle of this exact wine a few weeks ago. The 2nd wine (now renamed as ECHO) of the famous Bordeaux 5th Growth, the Lynch-Bages estate. Affectionately the ‘lunch-bags’ which are notably popular in Britain, and in the 1st class cabin of Cathay Pacific flights. For me, the wine has a wonderfully opulent nose that fills the room immediately after opening. Decanting does not appear to enhance the wine (as if writing), as I would imagine that at 14 years of age, it is drinking well right now. Berry fruits, just a tad of acidity and just a touch of pencil lead. Very grippy tannins even after 2 hour decant (and I think I did it correctly), but for some reason, I felt the wine was more ‘invigorating’ straight out of the bottle.

At £121, that’s almost a 3x mark-up from retail. I paid £45 at Robersons.

Course 1: Crispy duck egg, baked celeriac, truffle salad

I swapped the mackerel course for this one, because the duck egg sounded more exciting. Plus, who can turn down truffle.

The styling was very minimal, a crisped crusted duck egg with a yolk that’s just starting to gel to a creamy custard. Immediately, the lovely smoky perfume of truffle was evident.

I’m guessing that the egg was sitting on a salad of chopped celeraic, it’s sharp like mustard seeds and lemon juice, just beautiful balanced against the creamy yolk. Extremely appetising. I think the lingering flavour of truffle was what did it for me. I know, egg and truffle, not a new combo, but this one was executed so well.

Shall I go for it? Yeah it’s go for it – Like an elegantly deconstructed scotch egg built for the most delicate of palates. Ohh…

This rivaled the excellent Copitas version of Duck egg and truffle.

Course 2: Pig’s head & black pudding terrine, crackling, pickled mushroom

Fabulous depth of flavour! Like brawn rubbed in rock salt, I detect just a tinge of spice within the layers of black pudding. Like curry powder. The terrine was in total contrast to the sharp apple puree. Clean, crisp, precision bombing of intense flavours. Very focused stuff.

Course 3: Roast turbot, braised oxtail, cockles & samphire

Ah yes, the mythical Great British Menu winner … appears to have been tweaked! The cockle foam gone and replaced with a rich sticky sauce. Very salty, very intense, a little mineral, sandy and like seawater, perhaps this reduction was also made from cockles. Also redolent of Chinese abalone and oyster sauce. The turbot was fried with a perfectly crispy shell, but just wonderfully under-cooked in the middle for extra flakiness. The samphire and cockles gave the illusion like I was dragging my mouth along a sandy beach. Lovely reminder of the Welsh seaside. Oh Tenby, I miss you so.

Course 4: Roast mutton, pickled salsify & mint …

… and Shepherd’s pie on the side. Correction, the best shepherd’s pie on the side. Very mellow flavours, a light mash and a beautiful mince soaking in rich roasting juices.

The mutton exuded a stealthy gaminess, but really it was the mint sauce that lifted this dish. It tickled the tongue and just distracted from the natural strength of the mutton.

My only dislike were the pickled salsify. Much too sweet, nearly sugary and just threatening to derail the overall zen of the dish.

At some point, I felt this was like mutton dancing with different flavour partners as I moved from one end of the dish to the next. Almost I do feel the shepherds pie is very special. Just a good roast. Colourful. Could be a contender for a perfect Sunday afternoon roast.

Course 5: Selection of Welsh cheese, fruit chutney & bara brith

Correct me if I’m wrong, blue was Perl Las, the semi-hard was Caerphilly and the soft was Perl Wen. I liked the soft one the best, very creamy like a good camembert, but with jersey milk richness. Very sharp for a soft cheese. The fruit chutney was honey sweet, made with cranberries I think. Bara brith, or speckled bread, was very dense, not quite fruitcake, but more fruit bread. A generous cheese platter, considering it was rolled into the price of the taster.

Course 6: Pistachio cake, caramelised apples, calvados cream

Look at that. Isn’t it lovely? It looks like a spaceship! Such vibrant colours, matching the decor too. The cake was crumbly and rich in pistachio, the browed apple slices provided a lovely sharp contrast, but it was the well-whipped, spiked cream that made this pudding such a joy. A re-imagined rum-baba perhaps?

I paid £66.94 for the meal, plus an espresso. Good value considering the length of meal.

I will say though, out of 3 meals, I think service – while friendly – can be a little stiff and a bit of a mood killer. Maybe it’s the old fashioned ‘fine dining’ sensibilities kicking in, but considering its a neighbourhood restaurant, I think they can more than afford to loosen up a bit. Maybe a green shirt as opposed to the black uniform? In shiny green silk.

Short of laverbread, the menu is a lovely representative of Wales. Whoever the chef was on the day, I tip my hat, I thought he did a fine job. To sum up: I think Odette’s is elegant. I think the level of cooking is high enough to rival the capital’s trendiest restaurant, but it flies well below the radar with an admirable reticence. I think the cooking is rooted in classic styles, and it appears completely disinterested in chasing trends (eg: no shaved ice, ceviche raw fish, or beetroot cream). A refreshing change.

It does appear that Bryn knows exactly the kind of food he is comfortable cooking. Honing a signature style, to chip away at the identity of a body of work, in search for the perfect expression of an aforementioned style, is for me, the primary reason in visiting restaurants (ok, hyperbole over). Precise cooking, inspired by Welsh heritage. It’s almost nostalgic. So easy to love this kind of cooking, a kind of restaurant you could easily revisit, and most importantly, take friends to.

PS Bryn if you happen to read this: Please consider laverbread, cockles and bacon as a weekend brunch option.

The Gist of It

Odette’s
British, £65pp
130 Regent’s Park Road NW1 8XL
Tel: 020 7586 5486
Tube: Chalk Farm

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Ah …Easter weekend. We drove all the way to the Sidmouth coast, to marvel at the bronze cliffs, seagulls and took in other bits of Devon (like Beer) while we were there too. Aside from M.Caines’ iron grip on Exeter dining (We did eat at his restaurant at ABode Exeter, but not worthy of a write-up imho) , we were on the look out for something decidedly local.

I couldn’t secure a last minute booking at La Petite Maison nor did we try a Rick Stein chippy, but instead we made time for this well-regarded humble fish & chip shop located on premises at Darts Farm in Topsham.

Curiously the farm is a set of modern looking buildings which hosts an Cotswold outdoors shop as well as an AGA outlet. It certainly looks more like the facade of a leisure centre than a traditional farm. Started initially by Roland Dart 40 odd years ago as a small hut selling produce to the locals, it’s now morphed into a major food hub in Devon.

I suppose if Wholefoods were to expand their influence, Darts Farm would be the ideal candidate to mount a take-over. Inside, the main shop floor sells local produce, a local (award-winning) butcher and a cider & ale corner. I do regret not picking up a bottle of aged cider brandy!

The Fish Shed is very modest, literally run from a shed extended out from the main shop building. There’s an al fresco area, but there were also tables right inside the food shop looking out to the shed.

The owner is Dave Kerley, a one-time scallop diver and so has insight into securing the best available fish for his chippy. They claim to only ever cook fish which is caught & landed from nearby Lyme bay on the same day (or within 12 hours) , ensuring freshness and quality.

Naturally his daily prepped beer batter (finished in a fryer filled with beef dripping) has been lauded and ultimately led to whispers as one of the best fish & chip shops in the country. In addition to the greasy option, all fish can be served grilled.

On the day we visited, the option for lobster & chips wasn’t available (perhaps Devon Lobsters weren’t yet in season), but there was a pretty wide range of fish available including cod, brill, haddock, monkfish, lemon sole and john dory.

Fish cakes and sausage (with chips) was also on the menu, but we avoided. Everything came served in sturdy take away boxes labelled “The Great British Take Away”. Nice.

Beer Battered Cod (£7.15) , chips (£2.75) & mushy peas (£0.80).

The bubbling and crispy golden batter was very light and immediately appealing. Already well-seasoned so only the lightest dabble of salt was necessary. The batter certainly tasted quality (and clean) , not overly greasy and on the lighter side.

The fish was tremendously moist and flaky, it certainly was eye-openingly fresh! I’m no fisherman, so have no idea about the likelihood of cod caught off Devon (maybe deeper seas?). But whatever the case, 3 out of 4 of us had the battered cod and we were all cooing with delight. Certainly one of the best fried fish to my tastes.

The other half decided against deep fried fish, and opted for her John Dory to be grilled. We also noted the supple freshness of the fish. Incredible stuff.

Chips were thick cut, fluffy and golden. They were alright. Mushy peas were a bit of a let down I thought, a little deflated and dry.

Scallops, £7.70.

Devon scallops are tiny …but god were these good! Not over-grilled, and just perfection! Really fresh, and amazingly sweet. Could have had two more boxes of them.

I don’t want to turn this into an opera, but I did really like The Fish Shed. Regret not making a return visit the next day. London restaurants blog posts may saturate the internet these days, but it’s slim pickings when it comes to finding decent places outside of the M25.

Anyway, if you’re headed to Exeter anytime soon, I think it’s worth dropping by Darts Farm for lunch. I’m not a chippy expert but I will say that for me personally, the visit to the Fish Shed was certainly worth the 3 hour drive.

The Gist of It

The Fish Shed
Fish & Chips £15pp.
Darts Farm, Topsham, Exeter EX3 0QH
Tel : 01392 878200

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“The change is more than skin-deep” – First words you’ll read on the newly revamped Tom Aikens website. Words from a chef (or franchise I should say) who seeks a fresh break from his past. One which has always had a question mark hanging over it. From his accidental searing of a sous chef with a hot knife to the more recent financial woes which involving the way he had gone into administration, and the fate of the debt owed to small scale (presumably angry) suppliers using a pre-pack administration / phoenix insolvency process. Effectively this allowed him to carry on business as usual, free of debt but burdened with a slightly sullied reputation.

On the other hand, Aikens was one of Koffman’s original group of proteges (and then installed as head chef) when Le Tante Claire won 3 stars, and he was one of the youngest chefs in his day to gain (retain) 2 ** during his time as head chef at Pied de Terre. It is undeniable that he has real talent in cooking, invariably met with universal praise. In late 2011, his eponymous restaurant closed for refurb, reopening earlier this year with a new outlook on (what appears) all fronts. In the process, Tom had lost his star, which probably might be a good thing for this reputation rebuilding campaign.

For all the time he’s been cooking in London, this will be the first time I eat his food. I made a last minute call for the last lunch sitting on a Friday afternoon, but was rather surprised to find a restaurant that was nearly empty. Overseeing the stoves on that day, is newly installed Head Chef Lee Westcott. It’s claimed that Tom A is present during most days, but kitchen control is probably just as assured under Lee.

It appears that the redesign has taken into account the the New Nordic wave, what with this newly in-formalised and zen-like setting. The room looks like it has been hand-chipped from the same bark of tree, closed with walls painted grey and over-sized quotes printed over it. It’s a little like an Alpine lodge cum basement cellar with cave man scribbles, and it reminds me a little of the industrial look at Dabbous.

Table-cloth free, the light weight look is sort of cool I guess. At the corners, there are panes of wall length mirrors strategically angled such that I can see the reflection of the waiter (on the other side of the room) staring back at me in the mirror. Perhaps it’s part of the functionality of the design, since it is possible wave to him in the mirror (I chose to sit at the furthest isolated corner in the restaurant), but this was both surreal and a little disconcerting.

The taster menu is £55/£75 for five/eight courses , and the ALC is £50 for three. I did the ALC, but also added an ‘addendum’ course.

Bread in a warm sack, with three kinds of butter.

Plain, cep and bacon & onion I believe. I liked the one with the mushrooms, and the bread (presumably baked in house) was hot, moist and pretty great.

Amuse Bouche Ham hock terrine.

This is more like a creamy rillette, with shavings of dried ham. Rich, oily , lovely concentrated flavours of ham and incredibly appetising. The generous portion would be a starter sized dish in other restaurants, but here it’s free. It set the tone for the lunch, a bang for your buck kind of meal. (Well, as much bang as you can get from £50 ALC menus..)

LOBSTER, pickled cucumber, yoghurt granité (with £6 supplement)

A lot of things on this menu appear to be cooked sous vide, including this lobster dish. Take a look at the translucency of the claw. First time I’ve seen lobster done this way. My waiter (Matteo, it says from the receipt) explained that Lee had vacuum packed the claw with its own sea water (struggle to imagine where the seawater comes from.. within the lobster?) in the same bag before cooking in the water bath.

Anyway, this delicate texture was certainly unique. It was glacial like raw scallop, but then it was also fibrous like – dare I say – raw chicken or maybe a little like oyster. If the chef had told me he had fermented this, a la ancient Japanese sushi style, I would have believed it. I enjoyed as I made my way through it. In terms of flavour, each bite was met with spewing juices that tasted like sea water. It was juicy like a freshly shucked oyster, but with all the rich natural flavour of lobster. The three slices of tail meat were more familiar, also translucent, but chewier, less fibrous and just fantastic. It was juicy, meaty, with just a light punch of pepper, the natural sweetness was incredibly appealing , and it was as if I was eating it as a sashimi. The combination of cucumber and yoghurt rounded off the light and fresh theme, and this resulting flavour was like a very good ricotta. It appears that sous vide does work on seafood, and I would imagine that this kind of dish would be the envy of places like Hedone. I think the various powders include frozen yoghurt and powdered lobster. Intentionally or otherwise, these powders seem to suggest Nordic influence.

Irrespective of the provenance of recipe, this was one of the most unique (and delicious) lobster dishes I’ve eaten.

BRAISED BEEF SHORT RIB, bone marrow, melting tendons, herb purée (addendum course, £9)

There appears to be a consistent ethos in presentation – food is hidden under layers, and it is a little like coming across a pile of nicely arranged edible things on a forest floor. Probably foraged by squirrels.

The bone in rib looked amazing when it arrived, meat lovers surely would rejoice! A huge bone cut down the middle revealed a huge wedge of marrow. Two thick strands of tendon, yellowish brown which seems to suggest that it had been slowly stewing in the same pot as the rib. I’m told the beef had been slow cooked for 40 hours.

The rib fell away from the bone easily, meltingly tender, served hot and chock full of braising flavour. There is a mellow sweet BBQ-like sauce drizzled over it, but the meat was so infused with flavour that this sauce was not necessary. I don’t think I’ve ever stacked slices of marrow and tendon over beef rib before, but I did it here, and all I can say is that it was incredibly satisfying. For those burger fiends out there – this was like a reverse burger patty! Haha.

There were also these little fried meat balls. I think they were made with the rib and some truffle, but I couldn’t tell, it was certainly sharp and strong in flavour. I liked that it wasn’t over-seasoned, and that the natural flavour from the three main components of this dish were simply allowed to shine naturally.

Maybe this is something that could give Pitt Cue a run for its money? Hah.

ARK CHICKEN, slow-cooked egg, roasted pine nut butter, soured endive

The last time I had sous vide chicken was at Texture, and I recalled eating a moist and almost slimy breast meat. I’ve always thought that sous-vide breast seems contradictory. It’s a tougher muscle, and if the idea was achieve a moist and tender texture with the sous-vide, then wouldn’t the thigh or drumstick or even chicken oysters make a better choice?

I didn’t think this chicken was sous-vide, in fact it was served so hot, it tasted like roast chicken, but with fruit and nut. There’s this apricot jam buried on the dish, and this tangy fruit sauce versus moist chicken kind of works. It felt like a contemporary remake of duck a l’orange. Classic I guess, in terms of flavours, I thought it was fine, mostly delicious.

However, as I said, I thought the chicken breast was a little tough and dry. Presentation wise, some things were just baffling. I didn’t really see the point of wrapping an egg inside a single sheet of pasta, nor did I notice the advantages of serving egg with chicken.

Apricot sous-vide chicken oysters and thigh with apricot jam, pinenuts and soured endive – that would make better use of the Exeter bred sheltered chicken in my opinion. But then again, I’m no cook, just a lowly blogger.

WHITE CHOCOLATE CRÈME, black pepper, pepper caramel

Yes, I know, white isn’t actually chocolate, it’s butter, milk and sugar, but I love it (remember Hershey’s Cookies n Creme?) and prefer it to real chocolate! I thought this plate of white chocolate in many different guises was simply genius. There’s shavings of frozen white chocolate, white chocolate mousse, creme brulee, sheets of white chocolate with crushed whole peppercorns, white chocolate foam and white chocolate parfait. Who knew that temperature and whisking to butter, milk and sugar could deliver so many different textures ? It is rare enough to see white chocolate on restaurant menus, to have so much of it, in so many ways, prepared with in epic proportions like this, was incredibly satisfying.

Petit fours …grande.

I ordered a double espresso when I saw this land on my table, and truth be told, my brain had switched off by then. I had been completely defeated by this massive lunch. No OXO tin though, just more slate, stone and sweet things. Would have been nice if they offered to wrap up the remnants for me to takeaway.

Expectedly, Tom Aikens is expensive. I paid £87.19 for the ALC 3 courses plus the addendum beef rib, a glass of Gaillac red, the coffee and service.

Well done to Lee Westcott, I’m struggling to find much written about him online, but on the back of this meal, he’s a certain sterling talent, and should ensure that the macaroon will be reinstated very soon.

The food reminded me of North Road, which indirectly suggests that it is Noma-ish. I’d already noted the excessive water bathing which brings to mind similarities to Texture. Incidentally, Ollie Dabbous who resident at Texture for a couple of years.

I’m just not sure what Tom’s style is to be honest, as I said, I’ve never eaten his food before, but I struggle to think of the identity of his cooking that is uniquely his own. Save for the days when he supposedly ‘reinvented’ fish & chips. No trotters on this menu. Tom Aikens – The great chameleon of the industry?

OK, so fine dining is dead. But post-fine dining appears to in convergence. Perhaps some sort of shift from French to Nordic progression, or maybe the trend riding is simply headed toward becoming the next cliche. The death of post-fine dining itself. But that’s a debate which is still a few years away yet.

Overall, I thought that the cooking was generous and fabulous. I think these guys have created a menu which should satisfy most people, once you get past the elaborate plating, though to be fair, the dishes do have a strong visual impact. Take a look at the website and click on through to the gallery. The dishes do all look great, a little Viajante-ish, photographs which you could stare at all afternoon long.

Subtle, rustic big bang cooking, dressed up in elaborate New Nordic stylings. I find myself compelled to visit again, if only to try the waiter’s description of the pigeon consomme poured over all kinds of dehydrated then powdered things.

If Tom’s previous misgivings hadn’t cast such a long shadow, this restaurant may receive even better reviews than it already has, and with it reflected in fuller dinner services. I’ll admit that it had affected how I should think of this restaurant. However, focusing purely on the product: food & service are at a high level. I don’t think it can be denied that food here is of certain high quality. Lee can certainly cook, and I think you should definitely give it a go (set lunch starts at £24). You may even find Tom cooking your food too, if you’re lucky…

The Gist of It

Tom Aikens
British in Nordic Robes £100pp.
43 Elystan Street, SW3 3NT
Tel : 020 7584 2003
Tube : South Kensington

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I am too tender in age to have lived through the days when Conran restaurants were the pride of the industry. Those glory days are no more than urban legend as told by the doyens amongst food writers… some of whom have exhausted equal column inches in slagging off the same restaurants dreamed up by the original Design Entrepreneur.

I’ve wanted to write about the radio initiative of Tyler Brule’s pioneering (and my favourite) print magazine, Monocle 24 for some time now. I love it so much; it has become an integral part of my gym routine. There are 12 radio shows, my favourites are The Menu, The Entrepreneurs and Section D. In this particular winter special, Section D managed an interview with Sir Terrance, who spoke about his Habitat days as well as his career high in striking a tie-up with M&S. It meant he got to sell his furniture to the masses, as opposed to being niche. Or to paraphrase – how distribution of his designs were democratised.

Alongside his entrepreneurial adventures in home furnishings, Conran’s expansive brasserie empire grew to include The Orrery, Bluebird, Coq d’Argent, Pont de la Tour as well as Bibendum at the Michelin House in Chelsea. Eventually he sold up to the D&D group which now operates this group of restaurants. The owners Des Gunewardena and David Loewi are both ex-Conran.

Conran’s legacy also include the Design Museum and the resident restaurant, The Blueprint Café. This brings us (finally) to the darling chef of the moment – Jeremy Lee. His tenure at Blueprint lasted for 16 years, garnering a number of glowing reviews and long time admirers along the way. So the story goes that the Harts have always been hardcore Lee fans, and they had been pining to obtain his services ever since they took over the reigns at QV (responsible for such hits as Fino and Barrafina) in 2008. His poaching earlier this year had generated a lot of buzz on the internet (and in print) , but I for one have never visited either restaurant at any stage of their ownership. I fall firmly in the category of this new generation of chef worshiper, engaging in the reintroduction of Jeremy Lee to the scene.

I visited for a very late Friday afternoon lunch a couple of weeks ago.

A faint whiff of mutton filled the air inside Quo Vadis, it’s very chatty, fully booked and nearly everyone in the room was smartly dressed in weekender polo shirt at a minimum. I must say, I enjoyed the revived old school (at some point table cloths were off), theaterland, brass, linen and leather booth ambiance. The ceilings are quite low, making the restaurant feel a little chamber-like (dungeon & dragons?). It is one of few (if any) London restaurant lit by natural light from beautiful stained windows. There is certainly an undeniable je ne sais quoi with the throwback vibe, it is a perfect venue to entertain business and friendly dinners.

Jeremy’s cooking (to me) appears to be classical Anglo-French cooking, and reviews indicat his food’s timeless quality. Some of his dishes sound like this: Daily pie of hare & beef £16; Brill, celeriac & puntarella £18; Sardines on toast & a fried egg £7. Rather reticent but descriptions are also reminiscent of the post-polpo openings. Though perhaps I think the restraint is more the case of someone highly attuned to and in total control of the forces which govern umami.

As an aside, Jeremy’s influence appears to linger on the Blueprint Cafe’s menu … or at least it appears that Blueprint hasn’t yet updated their website. The menu still shares an uncanny resemblance to the newly Jeremy Lee-fied Quo Vadis one.

Smoked Eel & Horseradish Sandwich, £7.

There is it – Jeremy Lee’s now legendary smoked eel & horseradish sandwich. Sweet, a little smoky, sour and a concentrated horseradish cream that bit my nose off! A generous wedge of chunky smoked eel, a sharp cream with charred then oiled sourdough was an unnervingly straightforward recipe. Surprisingly effective and addictive, it was certainly a version of a perfect sandwich. I did however feel it was just a little small. It probably measured no more than 3 inches by 3 inches.

Middlewhite & beans £18.50.

A charcoal dusted crust, a rim of bulbous fat and then plump perfectly pink pork inside. This is genuine comfort food. Middlewhite when cooked ever so slightly under like this is always incredibly tender and juicy. With a delicate lick of smokiness, this was a version of perfect grilled pork. However, those slices really need to be twice as thick; the portions are just a little too meagre for £18.50, in my opinion.

The Green Sauce. Gremolata. Salsa Verde. Jeremy Lee’s secret weapon…

The green sauce which coated the beans was unbelievably good. This is the kind of recipes which generates profit. What was in it I wondered? Was it cress, coriander or parsley? It tasted of capers, a little fishy, with a garlicky punch. Whatever it was, it was gorgeously appetising, it’s the kind of comfort food that you only read about in cookbooks.

St Emilion Au Chocolat, £7.00

A classic recipe of dark chocolate and crushed macaroons, with originating credits tracing back to a cookbook called French Country Cooking by Elizabeth David which was famous in the ‘60s. Essentially, this is melted dark chocolate with egg, butter and sugar solidified over a base of crushed macaroon, pre-soaked in brandy. You can just about notice the two layers (with the bits of honeycomb crumbs on top). The pud was served cold, but each spoonful promptly melted in the mouth, with wet crumbs of macaroon. The chocolate had regal richness, so the dash of cream on the side really did help to smooth over the intensity. It’s a lovely pudding, it is a real classic, the way it sucks up your body heat to melt itself in your mouth was a racy sexual encounter. A version of a perfect chocolate pudding, personally, second only to the posh kit-kat that is the Louis XV.

With a cup of black coffee, the bill for one came to £40.50 plus service.

One of my best lunches ever, in fact, each dish as I mentioned, resembled a level of perfection. Even though I felt the portions could have been a little larger, I ended the meal feeling completely well-fed, happy, red in the face and ready for an afternoon nap. Saying that, I’d like to still see more on a plate, simply because it was so delicious that I would have loved to have a larger (or second?) serving.

While bare bones, unplugged cooking is trendy, it isn’t always delivered with such class, efficiency and style. Lee’s kitchen doesn’t dick around with concepts or gimmicks, they seem to just be interested in delivering delicious cooking, which is all anyone expects from a meal. Jeremy Lee is certainly a master of his craft. The old school ambiance makes for a memorable experience, but it’s the easy cooking which will tempt you to make return visits to the restaurant. At the end of the day, QV is dependable, produces high quality food and (its ALC) is just on the fringes of being good value for money.

So if you ask me where I’m going tonight, then I’ll tell you that you will find me at Quo Vadis.

The Gist of It

Quo Vadis
British £45pp.
26-29 Dean Street, Soho W1D 3LL
Tel : 020 7437 9585
Tube : Leicester Square

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Ohh.. that yellow, is that *gasp* american cheese? Hah. Yeah it looks great doesn’t it?

8oz Cheeseburger with Chips, £15.

It looks dangerously risky for a medium rare, which is to say, it satisfied expectations for those of us who like burgers to be bloody. I don’t really want to open up another debate on this issue, but personally I feel that a rarer patty has better texture, juicier (or less dry I should say) and has better flavour than something more cooked.

This is indeed a pretty good burger. Actually, it’s better than good, it’s probably one of the best burgers in town (yes I know, every other burger place seems to be somebody’s ‘the best’ these days).

Pople, Young, Burgerac and Bellaphon have roundly praised the burger, and after this visit, I can only echo their opinion. Those guys really do tell a more eloquent story about the technicalities of why this patty is so good, but for what its worth, I think the resultant product is quite special.

On Burgerac, Fred Smith explains that his patty is ‘blended’ from 50% rib cap, 25% chuck and 25% of trimmed fat plus some other little bits. The beef are supplied by Darragh O’Shea , cuts are dry-aged in house prior to mincing. The impression I get is that Fred continually finesses his blend over time, so if revisited next year, this burger could well be more delicious. Then again, I think most burger places tweak their patty recipes from time to time anyway.

I was reading up on AHT’s excellent recreation of Heston’s (laborious) recipe for his perfect burger. It is noted that Fred’s approach borrows its inspiration from this recipe, such as lining up the strands of mince so they are rolled together in the same direction before forming the patty to shredding the lettuce to form a sort of mattress for the patty lay comfortably over it.

I don’t know if the current iteration is still made this way, but I certainly noticed the uniformity of the mince. Each bite was very smooth as if each cube of beef had been individually tidied when the patty was formed. Its textures were more akin to tartare than grounded beef. I thought the patty’s exhibited lovely rounded natural flavours. All the beefy, fatty unctous flavour was redolent of Darragh’s (of O’Sheas) Big D patty (which hopefully should make its annual guest appearance in Byron sometime this year). On paper, Fred’s basic recipe does seem to resemble Darragh’s blend.

The smell of grilled beef-fat was simply fantastic. However, I found myself dipping this burger into mayo & ketchup after a couple of bites. Counterintuitively, it felt like all this rich beefiness required more seasoning to really bring them out. You know, it’s a little bit like a great steak eaten without salt and pepper.

Perhaps all it needed was for the cuts of beef to be rubbed with more salt prior to mincing. I don’t have anything against american cheese, but I think a sharper cheese such as (Byron’s option) of gruyere (or a blue cheese) can be a good compliment to this sort of rich steak-like patties.

I would say that the broiche bun may be just a little small to handle the 8oz patty. It’s supplied by Miller’s, whom I believe are the same folks who turn out buns for Byron as well as Hawksmoor. In fact, dare I say, this bun is strikingly similar to the one used in Byron’s Uncle Sam special last year. Given the size of this patty, the base bun was completely soaked through, after I chomped through half the burger. It seemed only just able to keep the juices in, tethering on the edge of breaking apart.

Of the London lot, I still think the Meatwagon buns are the best. They have a pleasant fluffy density but also a chewy plasticity about it. But as I said a few weeks ago in my Honest Burgers post, there is this elusive St John sourdough that’s made cameo appearances on BurgerMondays, which seem really great but aren’t often used. Although, I have only had it once, my lasting impressions of the bun was its ability to hold juices in quite well. I also remembered it being quite doughy. Almost like a good neopolitan pizza base…

Chips were so rough cut, they were more like wedges. Pretty damn good, crispy and fluffy, I liked it just fine.

At £15, it’s priced on the higher end. But I do think that you are paying for a quality product, and also a comfortable environment to enjoy it. We arrived at 6.30 on a tuesday night, cooking times were about 15 minutes, there was no need to queue, since you can book. Admiral Codrington itself is a rather decent pub with a dedicated restaurant area (that has a retractable glass skylight/roof) with walls painted beige and booths and chairs lined in red suede with rose patterns. So the feminine surroundings were actually a welcomed change to the rough and ready sweaty and loud guerrilla burger bar. It is South Ken after all.

My brother paid £65.64 which included two glasses of wine, a £2 cover charge, £3.60 to add melted raclette to two portions of chips and a sticky toffee pudding to finish. At nearly £33 for a burger, a drink and half a pud…. yeah actually that does seem quite expensive.

(It never ceases to amaze me how much bullshit I actually generate with each post. In this case, over 1000 words for a burger..!! Do you actually read it all or just take in photos + skip to last para?)

Kudos to Fred Smith. His burger is certainly a great product which deserves high praise and its high reputation. I think it’s just one more place to add to the list of burger nights, in case you’re tired of the Meatliquor or Lucky Chip queues. O’Shea steaks are on the menu, and I’ve read that Fred has access to in-house dry ageing facilities (dehumidified fridge?) to hang his cuts. With the attention to detail he has put into the burger, I’m certainly curious as to what he has done with the rest of the menu. It certainly warrants a revisit, no doubt you’ll read about Ad Cod again in the near future.

The Gist of It

Admiral Codrington
Pub, with a great burger £35pp.
17 Mossop Street, London SW3 2LY
Tel : 0207 581 0005
Tube : South Kensington

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Perfection is a state of mind, especially so when it comes to restaurants. But perfection was all that I could think of this very meal as I negotiated the last spoonfuls of blueberry cheesecake sundae. It was simply one of the very best Saturday pub lunches I’d ever had.

Bull & Last are entering their 4th year of service, now firmly established as a landmark and a local favourite for Hampstead Village residents. I went there sometime last year, and I was so bedazzled by the quality of the cooking, I vowed to return to try more. This 2nd visit had only reinforced my perceptions of the gastropub. Their home-made charcuterie platter is probably best in London, possibly rivalled only by Bar Boulud’s own French smorgasbord equivalent.

Somehow I had managed to get a table within 2 hours notice, last Saturday for lunch, so off we went to this idyllic part of North London.

For me, the restored aged interiors of stuffed bull heads, stuffed foxes, wood panel floors and walls made for a cosy place to sip beer, especially when the sun shines. Split over two levels, the pub is expansive, the walls feel like they are layered with history just underneath the paint, proud, loud, cosy and a conducive family environment. A quintessential pub. The dining room upstairs is just as big but a little tidier, with smaller windows and more stuffed animals.

There are a couple of chalk boards upstairs, sometimes they scribble about their guest ales, other times they pay homage to their long list of suppliers. It would appear that Bull & Last place emphasis on seasonality and quality of produce. There seems to be a theme of wholesomeness about the menu. Everything suggests that food is kneaded, hand picked, hand cleaned and hand-made (with love) in their kitchens. Quite possibly the reason why food turns out so damn well here.

Take the bread for example. Each basket may comes with a surcharge of £2.50, but well worth it. There’s a lovely effervescent fizz about their brown soda bread. Another was scented with caraway seeds. Curry flavoured I remarked! “No you daft food blogger” said the missus. “They are caraway seeds, you twit.” .

Expectedly, this pub menu reads like a thumping belly cry of a feast. It reads like a reward to recharge after a torturous week at work. It does change from season to season but at time of writing, some dishes sound like this: Confit Chicken Thighs, Coco Blanc Casserole, Rainbow Chard & Soft Herbs. Brown Crab Macaroni, Crispy Soft Shell Crab, Tomato, Tarragon & Crème Fraiche. Slow Cooked Ox Cheek, Snail & Parsley Risotto. Oh that last one sounds like a winner doesn’t it.

Fish Soup, £3.70.

A brothy, fluidised shell of shell fish flavour. Thin and light, with some freshly whipped rouille and deep fried balls of cheese. Mmm. The missus literally licked the bowl clean of its very last drops.

Handmade Pumpkin Ravioli with Sage Butter, Amaretti Crumb & Parmesan £7.50.

Sweet, nutty, loving, gorgeous seemingly hand pressed al dente pasta. Like putty, with a rich paste of fresh pureed pumpkin. It was certainly comforting and it was incredibly wholesome.

Cornish cod with oxtail ragu, gnocchi, monk’s beard, £21.

Look at that dish, this stuff will make you grow up tall, healthy and strong. A loin of cod so beautifully bouncy and flaky, it was wonderfully matched with a mellow oxtail ragu. It may have been stewing for hours to reach this melting flossiness. Gentle packets of fried herbed gnocchi, with a residual juice that I lapped up with the last slides of the caraway seeded bread. An elixir for soothing the soul. This was honest, real food!

Prune & Armagnac Ice Cream, £2.50.

Any restaurant that serves home-made ice cream deserves praise. Those which offer the classic prune & armagnac ice cream deserve to be elevated to the heavens. Not quite as decadently alcoholic or rich and sticky. It was a little too smooth and milky for my tastes. More prunes soaked in brandy would have been nice, but then again, I am just nitpicking.

Blueberry cheesecake ice cream sundae, £6.00

Just when I thought the meal had culminated, this sundae landed on our table, and I was just flabbergasted. It’s too much, I was well and truly defeated by the meal. It would appear the Bull had the last laugh (are you amazed at my terrible puns yet). The proof was indeed in the pudding. A terrific way to finish an immensely enjoyable lunch.

We paid £62.10 which included a glass of wine, and a pint of Hooky Bitter.

At the end of the day, eating out should feel convivial, a minor life-changing experience (or life affirming) , and a celebration of why it is we work so hard to build a life. This sort of food reaffirms the very essence of what it means to have a lifestyle.

In my opinion, the cooking at B&L is in the same league as The Sportsman and Harwood Arms, if not better. It is refreshing and has harmonious clarity about it. The pub has a special ambiance, but it remains an easy going, genuinely great place to catch some simply awesome cooking. Not that they are the same (in fact, very different) , but the spirit of this pub reminded me of the fabulous The Dogs in Edinburgh. On my third visit to B&L, I’m going to try their gargantuan fish & chips. Plan well ahead if you want to go because Bull & Last are popular, and deservedly so. In the meantime, I am plotting a visit to their sister pub, The Prince of Wales in Putney.

The Gist of It

The Bull & Last
British £35pp.
168 Highgate Road NW5 1QS
Tel : 020 7267 3641
Tube : Gospel Oak

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Well, I finally made it to this Honest Burgers. There was a bit of a wait to get our table – 45 minutes – for a late lunch at 3pm on a Saturday. We were a table of five, we didn’t have to queue physically, as they took down my mobile and called up to let us know it was our table was ready.

As you have probably read elsewhere, they’ve received much publicity last year, and is generally held in high regard by the burger lovers. As high regard as the Meatwagon & Lucky Chip burgers. On the same token, there are those who have written about an inconsistent experience.

The Cheese, with house chips with rosemary salt, £7.50.

That’s a neat brioche. The patty looked wet & juicy, the cheddar only just melted over it. The red onion relish is the unique condiment which sets the honest burger apart from its competition. The smell of rosemary filled our table, so much so, I could hardly detect grilled beef – a change in the usual burger outing.

Like most democratic burger restaurants these days, food is served in wartime enamel crockery. I did some digging around, and found Falcon enamelware which has been trading since the 20s.

Our immediate reaction were that these burgers looked a little small. More like oversized sliders. In fact, they looked about the same size as the supersized slider at Mishkin’s.

I asked for mine to be medium rare.

Served with only a knife, which I suppose is their way of suggesting to the diner to slice it down the middle to check for doneness.

Would you say it’s more medium than medium rare?

There are various reports that the grilled patty is finished in a similar way to Meatwagon/Lucky Chip, by allowing its own vapourised juices to re-condense under a metal cloche. I think most burger places tend to do this now, so it’s no longer as novel as it used to be.

I liked the patty (even if it came a little overcooked) , it was juicy, and the aged Ginger Pig mince certainly exhibited sharp and strong beefy flavour. So concentrated in fact, that I felt it was verging on blue cheese. I don’t know if it were a combination of the sweet bun, the cheddar and onion, but this big-bang flavour was certainly pleasing. The patty did remind me of the equally big flavoured Hawksmoor burger, which is also minced from Ginger Pig Longhorns, with a few dollops of marrow for extra oomph.

I thought the onion relish was a nice touch, giving the patty a sweet contrast, but personally, I could have done without it. The airy brioche was adequate, but perhaps just a little on the dry side. It’s strange really, most people have written about wanting doughier buns, but it seems restaurants are still adamantly sticking by variations of – in my opinion – rather ordinary buns. I think the Meatwagon (steamed) buns are probably the best available in town. However, I did try some experimental St John sourdough (with an O’sheas patty) at a BurgerMonday event, which I thought was fabulously the right doughy consistency. But that was about a year ago, and I haven’t actually seen it come on to the market. Logistics and perhaps high costs probably prevent better buns from coming into the burger equation. The bun can either complete the burger or be its weakest link.

As for the rosemary scented chips – yeah they were pretty nice. Very crispy and it reminded me of Kettle chips…. but I thought they were horribly over salted.

Everybody else on my table went for the special (£10) of the day which was Beef, manchego, chimichurri, brindisa chorizo and braised chillies. It sounds over the top on paper, and indeed it was horrendously salty in practice. I split my burger with the missus, and really regretted parting with my much mellower cheese burger. My friends couldn’t stop reaching for wine to wash away all the heaviness.

Overall, everybody thought it was a pretty good burger, but we also thought they should reassess their salting philosophy. More flavour is nice, but with such a strong flavoured patty, I think it is more than capable of pulling off a solo act. I don’t have a preference for processed cheese, but yes, it would be nice to see it as an option on the menu, if they were interested in offering it up. Afterall, a classic cheeseburger can be an elegant creature.

We paid about £74. That includes a couple of homemade fizzy lemonades and a bottle of red. I can’t remember what it was, but it was cheap, £14.50. It would appear they have gained a license since opening.

With burgers being the ultimate universal meal, it is only natural to expect the best ones to draw crowds and attract opinion. I think everybody has their own expectations as to what a perfect burger should taste like, even if its just nostlasgia.

For a few years, I ate the McD’s 69p cheeseburger every thursday as a reward to munch on some junk food after basketball practice. I still do it occasionally. I’m not suggesting that McDonalds are the default champions of the humble hamburger, but it certainly is interesting to note how this fast food has slowed down while gaining a fervent following. I still haven’t tried Shake Shack or In and Out or a Pat LeFrieda patty. I’m curious how any of London’s burger developments compare with the ones which really started it all.

The biggest challenges (in my humble opinion) of dedicated burger restaurants are in maintaining consistency and managing wait times. Ironically however, these speciality burgers take time to cook to a certain level of perfection, and it isn’t strange to wait a couple of hours for a burger to arrive. I suppose good burgers do take time (and care) to cook.

Meat Liquor continues to entertain long queues, and I think they’ve largely cut down cooking times with their burgers (The last time I went was Nov 2011, I think). I never made it to the Lucky Chip residence at Sebright Arms, and I think their term has only just come to a close, so it’s back to the truck at Netil Market.

I don’t know about you, I like burgers but I really don’t see the point of long waits by a food truck or being crammed inside an overcrowded pub.

I suppose the advantage of Honest Burgers is that they are neither. It is a smallish restaurant inside the brilliantly vibrant Brixton Village. They manage table turning well enough, and they maintain reasonable cooking times. I think we only waited about 20 minutes for our burgers, all of which turned out with good consistency. For what it’s worth, I enjoyed the Honest Burger experience, but my favourite (recent) burger memory is still the Lucky Chip’s Bill Murray Life Aquatic Surf and Turf.

The Gist

Honest Burgers
Burgers, £10pp
12, Brixton Village
Tel : +44 (0)20 7733 7963
Underground : Brixton

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The man is almost too beautiful to be a chef.

As we ended the meal, I told our waiter to give our compliments to him. “Oh you know Ollie?” he said. I said “No, but I read about him last night, five star game changer to paraphrase Fay, and we are tempted to agree.”. Shortly after, the chef came over to greet us. He seemed a little nervous meeting paying customers but he was clearly enthusiastic with his new restaurant. He had a blue pinstriped butcher’s apron around him, but wore a thin white loosely hanging tee underneath, giving us a glimpse of his his well-endowned (and furry) man-chest. No heavily threaded chef robes here. I noted his well manicured beard. “I heard somebody knows my first name, so I thought I’d come over to say hello.” he said.

His name is Ollie Dabbous (phonetically Dabboo). Remember that. You’ll be hearing a lot more of him from now on. He is but one of the talents which represent the future of British cooking. Ollie started as a protege at Raymond Blanc’s Le Manoir before travelling around the world to stint in the kitchens of some of the most written about chefs in Europe. Like Andoni Luis Aduriz, Claude Bosi, Pierre Gagnaire, Heston B, Rene R, Wylie Dufresne, before moving to lead Agnar Sverisson’s under-appreciated Texture. (I hear what you’re saying – another young chef’s CV that can match these glittery restaurants is Ben Spalding. And maybe the Young Turks fellas.)

That was about two years ago, since then he’s done Loft Project pop-ups and been trying to secure enough funding to get his solo project off the ground, but now he has finally done it. Simply christened Dabbous. Can we say his cooking is French-Icelandic? How about North-West European? Let’s say it’s French-Icelandic.

I’d have to agree with Fay about Ollie’s cooking being influenced by Le Fooding movement. All these young guys seem to be doing it. A style of cooking that is artsy, liberated and inversely-pretentious. I wouldn’t say modern or even post-modern nor is it breakthrough or even new, but perhaps just a differnt way of eating. My personal view is that Le Fooding is the culinary parallel of the Surrealist movement of the 20s-30s. You know, Cartier-Bresson and Dali, the decoupling of high art and high society, etc.

I think restaurants are going through a period of growing pains now, and some kind of post-fine diner is forming (if it’s not already happened) where something between a bistro and a traditional table-clothed starred restaurant is emerging. Food may be bastardised re-interpretations of what the chef has experienced in his own travels. Whatever right, what do I know, I’m just an idiot blogger. Trying to describe influences is moot unless we actually sit down to ask the chef where his ideas come from. But one thing is for sure: Bistronomy is very cool, it’s a way of eating/cooking that has already permeated European food culture.

Let’s leave ambiance to the last leg of this post, and go straight to the menu. ALC prices are competitively, starters at £5-7 , mains for £11-14 and puds at £6, the 6 course taster is £49. But you’ll probably be interested in their 4 course set lunch for £24. By inspection, it seems like the set is a subset of the ALC, rather than a menu comprised of cheaper ingredients.

Bread. Freshly baked and Warm.

And bagged and dated too to keep it so. A charming start to the meal, setting the tone for the laid-back service.

I went for Friday lunch with Mr Mystery (who cannot be named for legal reasons, but really he has eaten with me for most of my review meals) on the 3rd of Feb, at which point, the restaurant had only been opened for exactly 2 weeks. Ollie was in the kitchen, and we decided to do four courses each, one from the set and the other plucked from the ALC.

Starters.

Beef tartar with cigar oil, whisky and rye (Set).

Well would you look at that. I’ve never seen a healthier looking tartare. Quail egg replaced by tiny gold coloured petals, capers by monks beard and powdered rye for crisp bread. Was it good? No, it was better, it was bloody fantastic. Mysterious thought it was simply illuminating.

I tried a spoonful and thought the same, and wanted one for myself. The tartare was chopped to a mushy mince, it tasted raw and pure but also floral and herby. It did remind me of negi-toro (bashed tuna belly), and so was more Japanese than French, or perhaps more Scandinavian than Japanese actually. Only the slightest hint of smoke, a little minty and delicate aftertaste of fruit & sugar. Yeah, we thought it was fucking great, it’s absolutely reversed-engineered tartare. (Sorry Thomas, turns out I can’t help myself after all.)

Coddled free range hen egg with woodland mushrooms and smoked butter, £7

Fay and Guy have already dedicated a couple of column inches to this dish, turning it into the poster-dish for the restaurant. It looks the part yes? Whisked egg served in its own shell, coddled in a bowl of hay. Full marks for presentation. What kind of redolence are you evoking? Are you standing over a hen’s nest with a silver spoon ready to crack an egg (still warm from her bum) open? You sicko, the hen is behind you.

Look at that huh, ain’t it great? The textures were amazing, a golden-hued viscous custard cream consistency. A real visual delight, served warm, my palate coddled on to every spoonful of before it was forced down the rest of my system. Breakfast in a shell? It could even do with some soldiers maybe. It reminded me a little of the reverse of Atherton’s fluidised english breakfast, but it’s much less pretentious, and is a more superior dish altogether.

This dish is a talented chef flexing those cooking muscles. It’s the best scrambled eggs & mushrooms I’d ever had. An organic, return to nature kind of feeling. And it’s refreshing that this isn’t sous-vided, slow cooked or an onsen egg. I loved it to bits, but Mark loved it more than I did. Opps.

Fish

Grilled monkfish cheeks, squid ink, virgin rapeseed oil mayonnaise, Jerusalem artichoke (Set)

Look at that glistening translucency right under the grill lines: That there is the epitome of perfectly executed undercooking-tethering-on-the-edge-of-being-cooked technique. On the surface, its a simple construct, but it’s four high impact elements which are designed to work toward high impact unified umami. Which they do by the way. Squid-inked flavoured monk fish (serious), with perfect slithery textures (approaching sous-videness). A side of simply roasted (maybe) and richly flavoured Jerusalem Artichokes provided texture, a perfectly whippy for seasoning. Considering the difficulty of monkfish, I thought this illustrated how good the cooking really was. Fundamentals, something often sacrificed for creativity is ever present here.

And this is part of a £24 four course set – Amazing. What do you think? Wouldn’t be out of place on a Le Dauphin menu at all yes?

Roast king crab with warm buttermilk and hispi cabbage, £12.

This blew me eight ways to a castle full of fire breathing dragons who eat lobsters for breakfast. Again, let’s start with the superb texture of the cubes of crab claws – absolutely spot-on, remarkably tender, fresh, juicy, as perfect as crab can be cooked. How this kind of texture was achieved by roasting was beyond me. Deus Ex Machina perhaps, the unseen force that guides the chef’s hand may be beyond human comprehension.

The buttermilk sauce was even better. Textures were somewhere between a milkshake and olive oil. Flavours, a little tangy, a little like sour cream, a little like milk and a little bit like regurgitated hollandaise, I know this seems like a strange description, but really it was absolutely brilliant. This really is bistronomy done right. That buttermilk coating for the crab was nothing short of sheer genius. Ollie didn’t just set the lake on fire, he dropped a nuked in there and everything went thermo-nuclear.

Meat

Braised veal cheek with spelt, mixed alliums, and a light St. Gall broth , £11.

I can see your eyes rolling – yeah it’s foam but who cares, it tastes great! In fact, the veal cheek was so good, Mark gobbled it all up and then apologised before I had a chance to dip my spoon in. I did try the rest of the innocent foam with the wheat: Calming, pure, Nordic-like, kind of healthy.

Barbecued iberico pork, savoury acorn praline, turnip tops, homemade apple vinegar, £14.

I chose the iberico pork loin. I cut into it and my hand trembled – fucking wow. Dense but soft, juicy but chewable, pink but cooked all the way through. How did he do it? There wasn’t any hint of smoke, how did he bbq a side of pork so gently? We probed our waiter: “Water bath? Ban Marie? Steam? Magic?”. Technically speaking, this is a work of art. Wait? Isn’t that an oxymoron? The praline was like a kind of rocky-road biscuit base. Nutty and caramel in terms of flavour. There doesn’t seem to be any salt, butter, pepper, red wine in this one. And again, the dish felt (not just tasted) so natural, so organic, so refreshing, a little French, a little Scandinavian and nothing like any of it at all. The bottom line: Quality ingredients cooked to absolute perfection. This was almost as good as Ash PM’s pork chop at Dinner at the Mandarin Oriental. Almost.

Puds

Barley flour sponge soaked in red tea, Tahitian vanilla cream, £7.

Or Rum baba without the alcohol. The sponge cake was wet with tea instead, a whipped Tahitian vanilla (truthfully, I can’t tell how Tahitian Vanilla is actually different) being lighter than Chantilly.

Chocolate and virgin hazelnut oil ganache, basil moss, sheeps’ milk ice cream, £7.

I ended on this stumble-upon recreation of a conifer forest floor on a plate. The chocolate log was actually quite lovely. It crackled like what I imagine a dried dead log of wood would feel like, if I was to bite into one, I suppose. Honestly, I didn’t really like the herb flavours (basil and.. douglas fir?) but thank goodness he didn’t use ice shavings in this one. I’ve had better forest-floor type natural puddings, like the stuff at North Road for example. This looked better than it tasted, the only dish I thought was average through the meal. The barley sponge was clearly better.

We both had a cocktail each (I had a great Saceraz) and we paid £90 in total. That’s great value for money.

Portions were a little small, but I think considering the cooking, it’s justified for its price. You’d have to have a four to five course meal to fill up, in which case, it’s a no brainer to choose the £49 six courser for the voracious lady and the £24 for the gym bunny fella. In a way its a good thing, the small dishes give you the opportunity to sample his range of dishes.

Yes. Dabbous is a revelation, it’s probably still a work in progress given it’s only 2 weeks old, but its a bloody amazing work in progress. On the other hand, I think it may perpetually be a work in progress. The cooking is stripped down and there is a raw energy driving this restaurant forward. Each dish is a thoughtful if efficient construct of few ingredients which work together to achieve umami.

I think the cavernous wood and steel cube-shaped room is utilitarian and a little blade runner-esque. It certainly feels like it belongs in a metropolis, but equally it looks like it could be perched atop a summit overlooking a valley somewhere in central Europe or Japan.

This restaurant feels young, fresh and bold. I think we’ve seen a small number of restaurants in London which have tried to bring about the next step change in ‘fine dining’ or perhaps to rationalise alternatively dining (which may qualify as edible art) as a viable business. Concepts seem to bog down many. But with Dabbous, I feel there is a clear focus. The food certainly entralls and Ollie may be the one who come closests in transitioning this type of uber-cool dining to the mainstream (if there is such a thing as mainstream haute cuisine..).

I get the feeling there’s a lot more brave ideas swirling around this young chef’s mind (who is barely older than me.. if not actually younger) and that Dabbous may evolve into an exciting beacon of culinary progress. Maybe. Crucially, I enjoyed the meal because I thought the fundamentals were spot-on. Ollie and crew understand the importance of balanced flavours and the nebulous zone of undercooking. As I’ve pointed out before, I believe that punters go to restaurants to witness how chefs display their perfect triple flip-triple toe loop landings on plates. Good ingredients are obviously important, but a good procurement policy should only serve to compliment great cooking and not the other way around. There’s only one dish with truffle on this menu, and it’s served as part of mash. Potatoes and truffle – you may think ‘cutting edge’ but there couldn’t be a more classic pairing. For me, these restaurants intrigue because the people behind it appear to be global high cooking otaku who build their ideas on the foundations of the established foundries, but who come out with something completely new on the other side.

What is that old adage about the probability of great chefs who can cook anything and turn it into something delicious. Ollie Dabbous can probably do this… but I think he’s also spent a lot of time working on a set of winning recipes, which are er, winning over people like me.

At the moment, it looks like items on his set lunch (£24, ridic value for money) are subsets of his ALC. At least in these beginning days, it seems like the restaurant is offering a genuine discount for lunchers. As I understand it, the phone-lines are already bonkers, and their books are filling up quicker than they can punch it in.

Some of you will be bewildered by this post-modernism, others are still mourning the slow death (I am in some ways) of the table-cloth army of the macaroon go-getter, but I think there will be some of you who will absolutely love (Ollie) Dabbous. We celebrate the arrival of the Fooding spirit in London. Yeah man, it’s not just the four senses of taste, it’s the holistic feeling, total food, total mind and body experience, ohh … you feel it yet?

But it’s still early days, let’s coddle the chef, and shield him from hype and the pressures associated with expectation.

For me, I loved it enough to book a return visit with the missus for next weekend as we settled the bill. I have a promotion to celebrate (yes, I still have a day job). Maybe I’ll bump into you? If so, please feel free to give the Chinese fella a hug from behind.

Dabbous
Modern, £40pp
39 Whitfield St, W1T 2SF
Tel : 0207 323 1544
Tube: Goodge Street

Reviews: Fay ; Guy ; Sbib ; Ray

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