Love it, loathe it, the annual revision to the Michelin guide is still relevant. Widely scrutinised, lambasted and worshipped by restauranteurs and restaurant lovers alike, it is perhaps the most recognisable of all restaurant guides. But, it has probably lost some respect with stakeholders in this edition, which coincidentally, marks the bib’s 100 year ‘presence’ (actually 38th published edition) in GB.

As ever, the red guide’s annual selection process polarise opinion. People seem to feel that chosen restaurants are skewered toward larger operations, French food, good capital investment (..the grade of cotton used for hand towels..), popularity of chef. So much so, it appears that savvy restaurateurs have seemingly nailed down a formula for consistently winning the coveted macaroons.

This year, the national tally increases to 140, surpassing the (previously record) 2010 haul. In part, it has helped propel the status of British restaurants to yet another new high…at least if you believe the bib’s estimations. There are no *** inductees this year (how long before AD wins another eh) , but two reputed chefs, Helene Darrozze and Nathan Outlaw have made the leap to the ** club, bringing the London total of 2 star restaurants to 8.

I had expected the Galvin brothers to cap their year of expansion with Michelin success. After the (surprise) Windows award last year; they make on the list yet again, this time with their big budget opening: La Chapelle. Gaining a star after only about a year or so in operation. Commercial (and critical) success probably belonged to the Galvin restaurants in 2010. The other master chef behind the rise of London stars is of course Phil Howard. And with W8 gaining a star, his influence on the London guide, spans his own double starred, The Square, and his former protege’s The Ledbury and also Harwood Arms.

Of course, as you well know, 2010 was a great year for London restaurants. There were lots of exciting openings, thankfully not all were geared toward the stuffy conventions which the bib apparently gives out its stars on. Nevertheless, it’s good to see Alexis Gauthier and Nuno Mendes making the cut, after only being opened for such a short while. Both men already have a good reputation, and I do think their recipes are ace, and they deserved to be recognised.

Gordon Ramsay gained one this year, and didn’t lose any. I went to Petrus early last year when it opened and already thought it had nailed a secret formula to winning stars (Gordon does have a closet full of ‘em afterall), what with Mark Askew at the helm, it was always in with a shout. But I think therein was the problem I suppose – the quintessential definition of a Michelin restaurant, no longer seems to command allure like it used to anymore.

Just look at the success of places like Polpo, Trullo, Bar Boulud (to a certain extent Bob Bob Ricard and Bruno Loubet) and Koya. Egalitarian, modern, down to earth, completely down with the tweepers. Although to be fair, half the London gastroheads were eating burgers through 2010.

Not to say that old guard, red guide approved institutions are bad; far from it of course. The likes of Zafferano and Le Gav for example – both of which represent the idea of Old World fine dining – are in my opinion, still the best at what they deliver, but I feel that we are now more sensitive to value for money. We also prefer hearty and wholesome. On the other hand, I think some Michelin restaurants are just not worth the attention. It does baffle how the bib favours glamour over quality of cooking…sometimes.

Perhaps, that’s why the Bib Gourmand might actually step out of the shadow of the Michelin Guide. In its current state, it is no where near as practical as it could be, but the guideline – “good food at moderate prices” – sounds much more sensible. They list 28-50, Trullo, Zucca and Polpo, which I do agree fit the guideline.

As with any list, it means very little, especially with food being the subjective topic in itself. But that’s why so many blogs and critics continue to plow the ‘net with their opinion. Something which I still believe that as restaurant goers, we only stand to benefit from the range of opinion out there to help you decide on what to eat and what to avoid.

Commiserations to Francesco Mazzei for missing out yet again, though I do think L’Anima is almost there, if he is still interested in getting there. And to be fair, my favourite restaurant in London, Cambio de Tercio – which in my opinion serves the best Spanish food in the city – has been doing it since the late 90’s , and how the bib continues to ignore its brilliance is utterly beyond me.

Who else should I mention ? How about Terroirs/Brawn? the husband & wife outfit that is Sushi of Shiori ? Yashin ? Bryn Williams at Odette’s? Or the juicy work Goodman/Hawksmoor are doing? Let’s not forget some old school heroes like Andrew Edmunds, innovative openings like Parle’s Dock Kitchen, and the always dependable GQS (which is in the Gourmand list). And how can I not mention Uncle Lim’s awesome Hainanese chicken rice…pho at Café East…. And for a limited time throughout the month of February, 2011: The Bryon Big D. We know they’ll never make the red guide, but we love them, and in my mind, they have become London institutions in their own right. No guide is ever definitive, especially something like the Michelin guide.

And the clock resets itself.

Three Stars

• Alain Ducasse at The Dorcester, Mayfair
• The Fat Duck, Bray, Berkshire
• Restaurant Gordon Ramsay, Royal Hospital Road, London
• The Waterside Inn, Bray, Berkshire

Two Stars

• Hélène Darroze at The Connaught, Mayfair – 2011 Addition
• Restaurant Nathan Outlaw, Cornwall – 2011 Addition
• The Ledbury, Westbourne Grove
• Le Gavroche, Mayfair
• Marcus Wareing at the Berkeley, Berkeley hotel, Knightsbridge
• Pied á Terre, Bloomsbury
• The Square, Mayfair
• Hibiscus, Mayfair
• L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon, Covent Garden

One Star

• Kitchen W8 , Kensington 2011 Addition
• Petersham Nurseries Café , Richmond 2011 Addition
• Viajante, Bethnal Green 2011 Addition
• Galvin La Chapelle, Spitafields 2011 Addition
• Pétrus, Belgravia 2011 Addition
• Seven Park Place, at St James’s Hotel and Club 2011 Addition

Gauthier, Soho 2011 Addition

• The Harwood Arms, Fulham
• Bingham Restaurant
• Apsleys (at the Lanesborough Hotel), Belgravia
• Galvin at Windows (at London Hilton Hotel), Mayfair
• Tamarind, Mayfair
• Texture, Regents Park
• Chapter One, Kent
• Hakkasan, Soho
• Rhodes TwentyFour, City of London
• Club Gascon, City of London
• River Cafe, Hammersmith
• La Trompette, Chiswick
• St John, Clerkenwell
• Tom Aikens, Chelsea – On my eat list
• Rasoi, Chelsea
• The Glasshouse, Kew Village
• Chez Bruce, Wandsworth List
• Amaya, Belgravia
• Zafferano, Belgravia
• The Greenhouse, Mayfair
• Murano, Mayfair
• Maze, Mayfair
• Benares, Mayfair
• Umu, Mayfair
• Kai, Mayfair
• Semplice, Mayfair
• Wild Honey, Mayfair
• Nobu (at the Metropolitan), Mayfair
• Nobu Berkeley, Mayfair
• Sketch The Lecture Room and Library, Oxford Circus
• L’Autre Pied, Marylebone
• Rhodes W1, Marylebone
• Locanda Locatelli, Marylebone
• Yauatcha, Soho
• Arbutus, Soho
• Quilion, Victoria
• Deleted- Nahm, Belgravia
• Deleted – Roussillon, Victoria

Source : GB Michelin Star List 2011 ; GB Michelin Bib List 2011.

I didn’t realise cameras in restaurants were still such taboo. This week I had two journalists ask me what I thought about the act of pulling out a camera in a restaurant, which some say is equal in every sense to dropping your trousers in the middle of the dining room and shouting:

“Look at me! Look at me!”

Halfway through answering a Q&A via email, I realised that it could make for light reading, and perhaps debate… so…

How often do you photograph your food when eating out?

Every meal, which I am allowed to photograph. If I return to restaurants, I rarely bring my camera on the return leg, but sometimes I do, especially if it is a restaurant I enjoy.

Have you ever received any negative reactions – from chef, waiting staff, other diners? Any examples?

Some restaurants have strict no photography policies. The Wolseley comes to mind, Helene Darroze, and I believe Murano has a no-photography policy as well. Usually, it is clearly stated on their website, or that they will highlight it to you, when they confirm your table over the phone. At which point, I simply obey the etiquette. I’ve never taken my camera into Nobu, Hakkassan or Yauatcha, and these are restaurants which I have visited multiple times over the years. I’d like to think I know how to behave myself in a restaurant and know what basic table manners are, but perhaps I don’t.

If there isn’t a policy, then out of courtesy, I usually ask my waiter for permission to take pictures of the food. Sometimes, they’ll check with their manager, most of the time, restaurants happily oblige (sometimes almost flattered) when their diners find the food so enthralling that it need be visually recorded. Sometimes the staff will even help you take pictures of you, with the food, if one so wishes.

Most of the time, when restaurants ask me why I’m taking pictures, they usually ask if I work at a competing restaurant. To which I say “Yes…. I work for Gordon Ramsay.”. Cue belly thumping laughter.

Once, I was mistaken (or not?) to be a spy for Pizza Hut, at an independent pizzeria.

Sometimes, people think I am a photography student pursuing a quirky art project, by testing the waiters’ patience with the impromptu photo-op.

Only once, was I ever approached by a Maître d, asking me – what seems like – the most obvious of questions “Are you, possibly, a foodblogger?”

“No.” I gasp.

I have only been turned down a handful of times. Both times – believe it or not – were at more laid back eateries; one exclusively sold burgers, the other was a bistro, both times, I was tucking away burgers.

You’d be surprised how many diners like to photograph their meals at higher end restaurants, who are not bloggers. And you would be surprised at how normal it is to see the average punter photographing a meal at a starred restaurant. There are only 4 three-star restaurants in the UK, securing a reservation takes weeks if not months, and it costs upwards of £100 per head. It is logical if some people will want to remember the special occasion, it would defy logic, if otherwise.

Speaking of which, I remember vividly of when I visited The Wolseley, I was nervous because I was mindful of their no-photography rules, but yet I still wanted to try my luck anyway. I was shaking like a headless chicken throughout the meal, and then a nice lady tapped me on the shoulder, she sat on the neighbouring table, and asked if I would help her take a picture of her and her mum. They were celebrating her birthday, and they came over from Chester. When the waiter came around, and we held our breathe, he nodded and said it was fine as long as he didn’t have to hold the camera.

Someone told me a joke about cameras in restaurants once and this was based on his visit to The Fat Duck and how every table was laden with cameras, everybody was there to record their special visit.

Negative reaction ? I think this topic is more about misconception, more than anything.

What has the reaction (if any) been from chefs about your photographs of their food? Any examples? Are you ever contacted by restaurants looking to buy your shots?

Honestly, I’ve not received negative feedback about my pictures, either from chefs or readers, and I think it is rare for chefs to even comment about ‘bad photos’ of his food on the internet, or to even comment on photographs generally.

At least in my time, I’ve not heard of a London chef who has complained about bad photos publicly. Besides, I would have thought that chefs have bigger fish to fry.

I think, if anyone were to complain, it would emerge from the PR team who handle the restaurant’s image and I think more to the point, that photographs are the least of their concerns. Probably what worries the establishment more, might be the overall image as perceived in public. At least, that’s what I would worry about, if I were the chef, a reputation is difficult enough to build and then to maintain. But then again, I’m no chef, just a lowly food blogger.

Sure I have. Restaurants and magazines. And I’ve been fortunate enough to have some of my pictures appear in the National papers as well, which is nice.

Does amateur food photography/writing make it easier for diners to get a good idea of restaurants’ menus before their visit?

I think all opinion is valuable. I think that having an abundance of critic pieces and blog posts gives the reader – the prospective diner – a number of considered viewpoints in which the writer/blogger has spent a good amount of time crafting a well-prepared, targeted piece of writing to help the reader better understand what they’d be paying for.

To answer your question, I think so, but I think it isn’t just blog posts which help, I think that general rise in density of reviews helps.

Does developing technology – no flash needed, powerful but unobtrusive cameras – make it easier for the food blogger community?

Maybe… maybe not, but what does it matter? Unobstrusive cameras have existed since the 40s, albeit with film as the ‘sensor’, and people have been using them (Flash-free) to photograph (politely) stealthily when in public. The question is rhetorical, when some well-read, well-respected food blogs do not feature pictures, at all.

I think it is more about the advancement of the self-publishing tools available for amateurs, be it the speed of connecting to the web, as well as the software required to post things online, in a presentable manner. All help ‘make it easy’ for the amateur to air their uncensored thoughts. But I think, this phenomenon (if we can call it that), is part of way we have embraced Social Media, and people are just fuelling their desires to share the experiences they had with the wider world. And since food is something we need to face on such a frequent basis, it is probably also, the easiest and most logical one to talk about.

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All text and photography on this blogpost is copyright and belongs to Kang Leong, LondonEater.com. If you repost this without my permission, bad things will happen. So please don’t do it.

Photo atrributed to Eivind Z. Molvær (cc)

I have been dipping my head into various design blogs whilst perusing some of the more sophisticated iPad RSS apps which have the ability to turn multiple news sources into a consistent news resource. Like the Twitter Times for example, which turns your twitter stream into a newspaper. I love the Pulse reader on the iPad and most recently have been hooked on Flipboard which makes Twitter and Facebook streams appear as a dynamically generated social magazine. These apps had me thinking, what if blogs amalgamated to create a true social magazine (of sorts), and if they did, would it be useful?

Outside of Word Of Mouth, there are few (if any) multi authored UK based food blogs around, which resemble say Serious Eats, and I wondered if the esteemed bloggers would ever band together to write ‘columns’ on a larger scale, unified platform.

So I stumbled upon The Newspaper Club while browsing through Mag Culture and thought it was an interesting service which grants self-publishers another outlet to get their stuff printed in a professional capacity. Basically, they print bespoke user designed newspapers, and they achieve this by making use of the downtime of newspaper printers. I think it’s a grand idea, just thinking of the sheer permutations of creative projects which could utilise such a service. Some examples already printed: A newspaper of wedding photos; magculture created a ‘paper’ edition of his archives to coincide with his blog turning 4 and a paper which chronicles the conception of The Deptford Project.

Needless to say, the scope to lay down all kinds of crazy ideas is large, but entertain the idea of printed blogs for a moment. Let’s say a weekly edition, pulling together a raft of bloggers whose content vary from one to the other, a mix of recipes, opinion, debate, trends, travel entries, photographs and reviews. As blogs are seasonal with their content, the newspaper format just seems to fit well with it, the paper in this case, replacing the internet as its platform. Mostly, it would be an outlet to showcase the pure creativity of blogs, completely unshackled from the rules of old media.

By definition, most bloggers are hobbyists afterall (who mostly create content for nothing but pride and adulation), so there isn’t a scope of failure surely, it’s just another means of getting eyeballs on said content. The cost of printing is anywhere from £1 to 30p depending on the print run (for colour), and I guess it is only fair to pass the cost on to the reader. With more and more sophisticated RSS readers hitting the market that are capable of dynamically compiling social news, it would seem only sensible to see some kind of tangible manifestation of the digital social age, that is driven by the community in it’s entirety.

I know right, when the print world is turning digital, and here I’m suggesting internet spawn go the other direction… but I love print, books and magazines and it is my belief that it will never die. The same way film will be around forever.

Would it work, would it fail? Well, I don’t know. But what I do know is that there is something unique about holding the written word in your hands and that feeling is something the internet cannot translate, yet. Who would get more satisfaction out from this: the blogger seeing his stuff in newsprint, or the reader buying a compilation that is instantly superseded by its online counterpart the moment it is released. What do you think? Mere mindless rambling, or worth your thirty pence?

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All text and photography on this blogpost is copyright and belongs to Kang Leong, LondonEater.com. If you repost this without my permission, bad things will happen. So please don’t do it.

Sir Joshua Reynolds, the 18th century painter held the view that defining good art required standardisation and classification. He argued in one of his discourses on art that general beauty makes more sense than particularities because it was rational and because that’s how the human mind operates. Of his most famous critics was William Blake who replied to his notion of general beauty that “To generalise is to be an idiot; To particularize is the alone distinction of merit” Yes, I have finally eaten myself to madness. I once held the view that London was the gastronomic capital of the world. I have had some wonderful meals in the last eight years in the city, defending the Big Smoke’s reputation against naysayers. London restaurants naturally become my benchmark when defining a good meal. Generally speaking, there are lots of great places to eat in the city, but I just wonder if we examine the city’s gastronomic landscape through a microscope, would the finer details alter the general aesthetic?

Let’s start with the obvious metrics, the most obvious of them all being the Michelin guide. Favoured for it’s ‘uniform’ methods (if controversial) in forming city based lists around the world, and also for its general revere among the most illustrious of names in the business. The hunt for those ‘macarons’ (I was watching Will Sitwell’s show when I edited this) can become a hazard to health. In 2010, there are fifty London restaurants listed in the red guide but only two from that list hold the coveted 3 stars. New York has 55, with five 3 star restaurants; Paris boasts a whopping ten 3 star restaurants out of a total 96 and Tokyo glitters with eleven 3 star restaurants out of the total of 197. Does the Ledbury’s salt crust celeriac compare against Per se’s Oysters and Pearls? Who knows, if we were generalising, illustrious lists say very little about the strength, diversity or culture of a particular region’s (or city in this case) cuisine. All it is really saying is that there are fifty way to splash your cash.

Don’t get me wrong though, I am not disrespecting all the talent and hard work sunk into finely tuned Michelin kitchens, but rather than examine the high profile backslapping amongst the most talented as well as the most well connected, I want to look at it from the other side of the fence, from an everyman’s view on what the London dining scene looks like. And so, we are now the ultimate idealists. Our cause is not to search for a total sensory experience, nor is it to focus on the fine twill of Egyptian cotton hand towels; but we are more interested in keeping it real by looking at properties which are tangible, local and truly unique to it’s surroundings. Every city has its own footprint of gastro gems; New York boasts Josper flamed strip-joint strip-loin; Parisians with their bistros (craving confit du carnard..) ; Taipei and it’s microcosm of beef noodle houses; Sydney for the overwhelming selection of seafood and to Hong Kong where I believe they have perfected the egg custard tart. You see where I’m getting at right – what’s our trump card?

The city has always been known for its diversity. Take a look at the recent fads: viet-baguettes, coffee culture, steak, the tapas culture, dim sum, burritos. And then think about the incalculable types of genres you can sample in London, I’ll bet that you can name at least a couple of ‘good’ restaurants in each style of cuisine. Variety is never a bad thing of course; it means we get to experience all sorts of rather good imitations of imported cuisines. Personally, I am a fan of Spanish food, and I love all things Japanese, but I have never bought iberico ham from Huelva nor have I tried fishing for unagi at Lake Hamana. In my head, what I think are good examples of either cuisine, is limited to those restaurants in London. It’s all a matter of setting a point of reference isn’t it? Just what determines how faithful a cuisine really is, and more pressingly does authenticity correlate to quality? And what of champions of fusion; If a superior marriage of ingredients occurs, does it create a ‘new’ cuisine in itself, or does it get absorbed into the culture local to the area? Which cookbook does the california roll – born in Los Angeles – belong in?

It is that problem I have sometimes when making comparisons of imported cuisines, having only eaten at say a few hundred restaurants in my lifetime around the world – who I am to be passing judgement right? The point I am so desperately trying to get on to is in establishing the identity of London gastronomy. So. What is it? Roasts, curries and kebabs? I hardly believe London is the destination for fish and chips and how does Brick Lane compare to the Manchester Curry Mile? Surely there are restaurants in London which represent the pinnacle of British cooking. The obvious candidate is Henderson and St John : Holder of a Michelin star, high on the world top 50 list, internationally renowned – The London restaurant? Too obvious. I think a master chef is one who understands that brilliant cooking is a result of harnessing the power of local produce – it is the single most meaningful competitive proposition a restaurant can boast. You know, as much as I am in love with the idea of St John, I much prefer the crabs on toast at 32 Great Queen Street. When I take a harder look. I see the Hereford roads, the Harwood Arms of London and the concept of the Gastropub stands out for me. The reticent style which lets quality of local produce take centre-plate, a type of restaurant which is unique to this country, and a style in which I hope has its quintessence in London.

And so there it is, I don’t think I could ever say for sure where London lies in the premiership of gastronomic capitals around the globe, and I think I would indeed be a fool to make that kind of generalisation. Cracking restaurants exists in London, and cracking restaurants continue to open every year, I know I have eaten some wonderful meals in the city, and the belief that there are even greater restaurants to visit drives my adventure on this blog. So now it’s your turn – what’s your take on London restaurants, have you had memorable meals in London, and if so, where and if London is not your pick, then where are your favourite restaurants in the world?

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Hello folks, I am officially back from my month long vacation, trust you have applied yourselves positively while I’ve been away. My yearly visit to the folks is always enlightening if perspective bending though this is the first time in eight years that I went home in time to celebrate Chinese New Year. I’m carrying alot of holiday weight right now, five kilos to be exact, heavy stuff. Astrologists are predicting a gold rush this year and have interpreted the year of the Metal Tiger to be one made of solid gold. Bling. I had originally intended this post to be the closer to my run of unofficial Chinese New Year write-ups and was suppose to coincide with Chap Go Meh – the fifteenth day of the new Lunar year – the same day which also marks the end of the Chinese New year festival… but other more pressing commitments had ensured a five day delay – building websites still doesn’t quite pay the rent. I had spent most of the time travelling between Brunei, Singapore and Taiwan, the latter was where I decided to spend my money. I have good reason to stuff myself silly and I filled my schedule with pit-stops to restaurants which served something representatively local – like a crash course into the native cuisine. It’s all well and good that we have so many restaurants which cater to all sorts of world cuisines, but it occurred to me that London has been the first destination that I have sampled certain international flavours. Something as common as say pizza for example – I can’t say I’ve actually tried a Neapolitan recipe passed down from the ages. This holiday would double as gastronomic adventure and I view it as a way to build my CV in a particular style of cuisine, so that I’ll always have something to compare my London exploits against. And so Kang’s quest to catch a glimpse into the world of Taiwanese cuisine was born. Here are his notes (So weird writing in the third person).

The scene is Taipei. The capital of the island republic, it is situated on the Northern tip of the country and its name unsurprisingly translates to ‘Northern Taiwan’. Home to 2.6 million, it is an emerging ultra modern metropolis of Blade Runner style concrete jungle and it’s skyline proudly accomodates Taipei 101, once the tallest building in the world. Like all cities, there are shades of vintage buildings still lingering underneath all the shiny metal and glass. Old shop houses prop up the neon signs, lighting up the city’s night like a Christmas tree. It’s wonderfully urban, tight street corners just wide enough for cars to pass through and temperamental rainclouds which make London feel like Cyprus. In the belly of the beast lies a diverse range of restaurant, cafés and their famed night markets which play host to hundreds of independent street food vendors making it a sort of foodie’s wet dream. In fact, there is so much diversity in it’s food, a week is simply not enough time to try everything. But I tried anyway. My excursion wouldn’t be as impactful if not for my extended family taking me around the city, so I have the C and C’s to thank for all the recs.

With Londoners experiencing a spike in Sichuan food, I thought it’d be appropriate that our first stop was Chuan Ba Zhe – a Szechuan restaurant that does all-you-can-eat ‘Ma-la’ hotpots for about 8 per head.

The local flavour – Gold Medal Beer. The brew is light and carries a chrysanthemum sweetness about it – very easy drinking stuff. We started with a selection of ‘small dishes’ to share dishes and to start – something which is characteristic of a Taiwanese meal – including Kousiu (Saliva) chicken , Quaiwei (weird taste) vermicelli, Dou gan zhe (bean curd slices) and Mala tripe. As it was a Szechuan restaurant, everything was red in colour, evident of potent sliced chilli everywhere and the tranquilising effect of Szechuan pepper slowly started to grab hold of my tastebuds. Terrifying.

The main highlight of the meal was the all-you-can-eat hotpot, the freeloading aspect in that we could order as much meat or vegetables we wanted to chuck into the soup.

Now, this is properly spicy stuff. The soup was made with szechuan pepper and as I alluded to earlier, doesn’t just burn your tongue and throat, it actually conjures up a strange numbing sensation that firstly starts on the back of your tongue, and if you’re greedy, works it’s way into the back of your throat. I downed several glasses of gold medal beer to put the fire out. Eventually, I couldn’t feel my tastebuds anymore. If you head to Angelis in Kilburn or No.10 in Earls Court, you’ll be able get your hands on a Ma-la hotpot. It’s usually protocol to have a layer of oil floating on top of the soup, it’s suppose to keep the heat in and also to cook whatever you’ve dunked into the soup. I am certain that London restaurants hold back on the peppers – this place didn’t.

Our next visit would take us to the outskirts of Taipei, to the seaside township of Danshui.

We rode the MRT – Taipei’s equivalent of the tube – to Danshui and to the very end of the line. The town is a scenic getaway from the high tech city of Taipei. Here, people rolled around in vespas and flip flops and beyond the bridges, you can watch fishermen barbecueing their triumphs by the beach. Restaurants lined the coast, and as we went on a Sunday, it was as if all of Taipei had descended upon this area. We had trekked all the way here to visit the Black Shop, and to sample the locally celebrated pork chop rice.

A large bowl of their signature pork chop costs two pounds, less if our political system was in better working order. Like all umami infused food – this bowl of rice smelled hearty, rustic and fragrant. Served piping hot, the large flap of chop garnished with bean braised tofu and pickled cabbage that carried a vinegary stink. The rice was glutinous, almost sushi rice (but I daren’t claim it) and the savoury flouriness of the pork chop was unmistakable. There was a thin outer which encapsulated the piece of meat, eggs must have been used and the coating absorbed alot of moisture leading to a juiciness which softened the texture of the pork. The combination of the bean-flavoured tofu, the vinegary pickled cabbage and the soya infused egginess of the porkchop gave way to an exemplary example of umami… I finished two bowls.

The black shop was still entertaining massive queues at 3pm in the afternoon, and this was a huge restaurant spread over two floors – such was the popularity of it’s pork chop rice. While there, it was also an opportunity to give one of Taiwan’s best – if common – small dishes a try : Cold creamy tofu with sweet century egg.

When I say creamy, I mean really creamy. The texture is so consistent, it hardly broke and is akin to the density of say a pannacota. Flavoured with a sweetened soya sauce, the purity of the tofu melds well with the mushy liverness of the preserved duck eggs. The strength of this dish – in my opinion – is dependent on the quality of the tofu. The real deal, everything in London is a mere imitation.

Details

Black Shop Pork Chop rice 黑店排骨飯
8-10, Lane 62, Sec 1, Zhongzheng Road, Danshui.
Tel : 02-28052790
MRT : Danshui

We headed out bright and early the next day so that I could run a few errands while in Taipei. Things are generally cheaper, I had my Seiko Kinetic fixed for just under £40 compared to a whopping £85 minimum if I sent it to Maidenhead. I also had bought a pair of thick black rimmed glasses – Clark Kent style – for a reasonable price…. yes, as if Gary Rhodes would suddenly recognised me attempting to ‘review’ his restaurant, says my ego.

Next stop was for breakfast at a local soya milk shop.

We went to Jiang Jia, not particular special, nor exciting but it was something distinctly local and also open 24 hours a day.

A bowl of salty soya milk made with pickled lettuce, rice vinegar, sesame oil, maldive fish and a tiny splash of soya sauce – definitely a change from the rock sugar syrup of HK style sweet tofufa. My favourite were the glutinous rice roll stuffed with pork floss and pickled radish. I thought it was interesting to have a dough explosion of sorts with a youtiaw – fried dough – stuffed with a chinese style omelette on a sesame crusted bread roll – called a ‘shao bing you tiew jia dan’ or otherwise a chinese breakfast butty perhaps.

I spent alot of time getting lost in the side streets which hid makeshift markets and the occasional street food vendor, photographing this street life proved to be one of the highlights of my visit to Taipei.

All I could see was the romance of the older parts of Taipei, so rustic, raw and human, it was here that I felt the life and the buzz of the real city.

We have now just got off Dingxi station and my other half and decided to take me to one of her old favourite noodle shops. Small, unassuming and humble. There would be nothing high brow about it, but again the attraction was apparent in it’s unpretension, just so real.

And here, I had tasted one of the best spare rib & taro soups to date. The soup was oily, but filled with meaty and stocky flavours – very homely. Like most of the soupy meats I had sampled in Taipei, the spare ribs melted like ice cream.

Finally, our last destination led us to the Golden Formosa, famous for none other than authentic Taiwanese cuisine, and I was assured that it doesnt get more authentic, or local than this.

There are several variations of the ‘White-Cut’ Chicken in the different types of Chinese cuisine, and it so happens to be a local favourite in Taiwan, which claims a variation of their own. It’s a mainstay in Cantonese cooking and is a sort of a national symbol of Singapore cuisine in which it is referred to as Hainanese Chicken

The skin is salty and oily, but the meat is juice heaven and silky smooth. There is rich chicken flavour and a clinical taste on the palate. The chicken bounces with every bite and is just a joy to eat – getting breast meat to soften up is a family secret, and the breast meat at Golden formosa was much like caressing the equivalent assets of a beautifully woman, or…

Ginger tripe with bamboo shoots.

What is aromatic to a Taiwanese person just reeked to my untrained palate. This dish stank of bamboo shoots and vinegar, the tripe added to the soured livery flavours of this dish. It was a difficult mouthful for me, not my cup of tea this one, but about as Taiwanese as it could get.

Scallop and Oyster Pancake was up next.

I think the thick gravy – slimy and very fishy – was probably made from the juices scallop and the oyster. It was like a runny pizza with a dough that absorbed too much moisture. Very potent, I could only have a slice before the fishiness became overwhelming.

Finally, deep fried spare ribs.

This one I really enjoyed – one of the most memorable dishes from my trip. Crunchy popcorn like exterior, bubbly crispiness and a peppery hit with a worschester sauce tang. I am certain that there was curry powder in the mixture and which which really gave ribs a spice of life. The meat still juicy on the inside but the distinct sour and spicy crackle on the outside.

Details

Golden Formosa 金蓬萊
101 TianMu East Road, Taipei
Tel: 02-28711517
MRT: Zhishan

So that was my trip to Taipei. The most memorable meal has got to be the Pork Chop rice – simple food, but oh so good. In addition to this, I wrote up on one of Taiwan’s greatest treasure – Beef noodle soup at three of Taipei’s most respected Beef noodle houses. Alright, well a belated happy new year of the Tiger folks, hope you enjoyed my adventures away from home. I think it’s about time I got back to writing up about London again. See you monday.

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Ask any Taiwanese what their number one to-eat dish is and the answer is likely to be Niu Rou Mian. Originally a Northern Chinese recipe, it eventually made it’s way to Taiwan when millions of Nationalist Mainlanders fled the Middle country to escape Communism (source : Travel in Taiwan). It’s a relatively simple recipe, but that’s also why so many adore it. Niu Rou (beef) Mian (noodles) are slow cooked beef slices (Either sirloin or stewing (braising) beef is used) ; spicy soya sauce (or lighter clear broth ; some vegetables and the all important mian. Today Niu Rou Mian’s popularity is so wide spread and deeply rooted in Taiwan’s gastroculture that there is an annual Beef Noodle Festival with the intent to rubber stamp Taipei as the bona-fide capital of Beef noodles. Speaking of Taipei, the city is like a really large open-air food hall. There is just too much to eat. On almost every other street corner, you’ll likely find mobile kitchen units. These movable street vendors are usually manned by single individuals, selling a savory or sweet snack and with nothing but the loudness of their voice as their main form of advertisement. If there is something you crave, chances are you’ll likely run into a street seller just by walking down the street. With such a wide selection, the problem isn’t finding something ‘authentic’ in the city, it’s about finding where the real gems are hidden. Of course, like many things in the world of food, the way to find out about the best in town is through word of mouth. Fortunately for me, I have my entire extended family in Taipei to help me put this hit-list together. On this occasion, we went to three of the most established names in the Taipei Beef Noodle scene, namely Lao Chang, Lin Dong Fang and an unnamed shop in Taoyuan Street. This isn’t the stuffy world top 50 awards folks; This is old fashion, word of mouth street food opinion. Let’s get slurping.

Contestant Number One : Lao Chang Niu Rou Mian

Lao Chang is one of the most respected families in the business. It’s a brand respected and celebrated by the local residents and as far as I know, their noodles are so dependable that it’s usually a representative destination for tourists looking to sample Taiwan’s national treasure. Therefore, it seems fitting for us to start our Beef Noodle adventure with Lao Chang.

One of the unique features of beef noodle houses are their selection of ‘Xiao Chai’ or small dishes. Usually pre-cooked and prepared on a counter as a kind of self-service sort of thing, while there are some staple dishes such as bean curd, tofu and pickled bitter gourd, each restaurant has their own family recipes unique to them alone. I suppose you can treat them as side-dishes, it’s a little more inventive than say garlic spinach and chips. At Lao Chang, we opted for their shredded beancurd, some greens (unfortunately I forgot what they were) and one of their signature small dishes – steamed spare ribs with rice flour. I liked the sort of chilli spiked oatmeal packed with the wholesome spare ribs – we have imitations of this in London, particularly at Leong’s Legends, but when compared, it is like a photocopy of a photograph.

OK, onto the mainshow, Lao Chang’s Niu Rou Mian.

Their signature rendition is a spicy braised soup, reddish in colour and equally potent in taste. The stock is decidedly beefy, and almost carries hints of marmite and also flavours of soya beans. The soup is hearty and the balance of spicy punch against the bovine is just right, with just a light layer of oil – nothing in London compares. Their beef noodles also come in a lighter, clearer broth, free of oil and devoid of spiciness, but still rich in beefiness, we ordered both and also with tendons and beef – half and half as they say. The slow stewed beef exhibited hallmark rip-away-tenderness and with the broth completely soaked into the meat, carried with it a soggy richness – this is textbook good. Though sadly, I thought the noodles were just textbook good. Full of bounce but not dense enough. It easily slipped away from my chopsticks and they tasted a little too rigid, with little inherent flavour, most of all, it didn’t have that oxygen releasing wow factor that I associate with great noodles.

In the end, I thought Lao Chang was pretty good, but not outstanding – the worst of this lot. Everything was textbook, still it beats everything we have in London. Interestingly enough, there is another reputed Niu Rou Mian house situated next door to Lao Chang called Yung Kang which some argue is the better half. But both noodle houses have their set of fans and are split down the middle. My extended family so happened to favour Lao Chang to Yung Kang. Maybe next trip I guess.

Details

Lao Chang Niu Rou Mian, £3
105 Ai-Guo East Road near Yong Kang Street.
Tel: (02) 2396-0927
Links : Taiwan Embassy; A hungry girl’s guide to Taipei

Contestant Number Two : Lin Dong Fang Niu Rou Mian

When we arrived at high noon, it had a queue. A pretty long one, which gave me a good quarter of an hour to photograph the surroundings. This place is proper old school and is actually spread over three separate old shop houses. The owner had chosen to maintain the traditional setting – something which I appreciated as I think Taipei’s old shop houses are now attaining a kind of vintage ambiance with time. What can I say? I’m always hopelessly in the mood for romance.

Right then, let’s start with their small dishes. Beancurd, Dragon whiskers with ginger and Bamboo shoots.

The small dishes here are modest, nothing to shout about, oh and the Dragon whiskers is really just a fancy name. It’s blanched vegetables.

Ok here we go, presenting Lin Dong Fang’s Niu Rou Mian.

Alright, this particular recipe is slightly different. The soup is something special – it is supposedly made with a medley of secret herbs, giving it a Chinese medicinal, herbal style taste with just a faint beef flavour, but that’s not the only thing that makes it something special. The soup is relatively mild in terms of flavour, instead, the real USP is the home-made beef butter concoction. Supposedly derived from beef stock, beef fat, oil and chillies giving way to a kind of grainy chilli beef butter which would actually make for a good sandwich spread. That stuff is amazing, it’s elemental in that it’s buttery, spicy and beefy. When the butter hits the soup, it melts and turns the soup into an oily and spicy red soup – basically the customer has the opportunity to control the degree of spiciness with this garnish. It’s like a sort of secret ingredient, when added to the relatively light herbal broth, really turns it into an eye-opening mouthful. Chilli herbs, woah. I also asked for mine to be half tendon and half beef slices – the tendons were similar to Lao Chang, springy marrow-like flavours. Naturally, the beef slices were also melt-them-polar-ice-caps fantastic though the superstar of this dish were the noodles. In a word : awesome. The noodles were dense and had amazing soaking ability. This meant that as the beef butter melted into the soup; the noodles start absorbing more flavour. They tasted better and denser the longer it stayed in the soup. Oh and yes, out of these three places, Lin Dong Fangs’ noodles were the ones that had that oxygen releasing liveliness of great hand-pulled noodles. This was brilliant, the more I ate it, the better it tasted. I just couldn’t get enough, I ate half of my partner’s portions too. This is the reason why I’m 80 kgs now.

This isn’t the average Niu Rou Mian, the soup is herbal, it has beef butter (that’s my term, and also sold separately in jars..) and the noodles are out of this world lively. What do we say, al dente? Hell yeah.

Details

Lin Dong Fang Niu Rou Mian (林東芳牛肉麵) £3
274 Bade Road, Sec 2 (八德路二段274號（中央日報旁)
Tel : 02 2752 2556

Contestant Number Three : Tao Yuan Street Niu Rou Mian

Finally we go to Ximending to visit one of the most well regarded beef noodle houses in Taipei. This one is quirky – it has no name and so people simply refer to it as the ‘One at Tao Yuan Street’. Firstly, abit of culture, Ximending is home to Taipei’s oldest theatre – The Red House, now a tourist landmark of sorts – and was once the busiest Theatre street in town, sort of analogous to the West End I suppose. Incidentally ‘Ximen’ means West Gate. Anyway, today, it’s otherwise nicknamed the ‘Hirajuku’ of Taipei, home to independent fashion shops, Japanese stationery and book shops and otherwise funky youth culture outlets. Cinemas, lights, pretty girls and massive billboards – sinner’s paradise.

Tao Yuan Street’s nameless shop is nonsensical, lit with garish white fluorescence painting a sobering ambiance, as if it was some sort of interrogation room. Service was terse, disciplined and serious, it kind of gave me the impression of a sort of prison mess, ala Wentworth Miller’s screwdriver. Anyway, customers slurp their noodles with a military-like demeanor; the room was mostly quiet, anti-chatter so deafening, pins dare not drop. I spotted a signage inside the shop which loosely translated to ‘The only shop, genuine article, no branches, no exceptions’. It doesn’t even announce itself as a Beef noodle house. Packed to the brim when we visited, and we had to share a large table with strangers.

OK here it is – Tao Yuan Street’s finest.

Woah. This is another style of Beef noodles completely unique and different to the two other noodle houses. The soup is greasy and has a deep beefiness about it. The no-nonsense philosophy is carried into it’s food – no tendons here, just beef, lots of it. I love the beef here. Deep spiciness matched with rich beefiness. It’s salty and the beef are thick cut with wonderful fatty bits that manages the now familiar disintegrate-upon-chewing tenderness. I didn’t like the noodles here though, for some reason, it didn’t quite match up to the quality of the beef. Perhaps there was just a tad too much oil, making the noodles heavy instead of lively.

Still, it was an awesome bowl of beef noodle soup, albeit an intense experience – second to Lin Dong Fang I’m afraid.

Details

Tao Yuan Street Niu Rou Mian, £3.
15 Tao Yuan Street
MRT : Ximending Station
Links : Tripadvisor

And the winner is…

On this particular trip, it has got to be Lin Dong Fang. The noodles really did it for me, it was lively and springy, the herbal soup was an interesting twist and that beef butter just rounded off an excellent beef noodle experience. Honestly though, I am comparing the local favorites in the city – all three noodle houses have their loyal customer base, and choice is a matter of taste, so to speak. I don’t think one can really go too far wrong with beef noodle soup in Taipei, the standard is just so high that I somehow think it’s impossible to have a bad bowl of niu rou mian… well I say impossible. Regardless, the benchmark is way, way higher than in London and there are tens, if not hundreds more noodle houses in Taipei which I’ve not been to. There is another called Liao Jia which I wrote about here that I visited in 2009. The noodles were exceptional, if not better than Lin Dong Fangs’ and they specialise in a clear broth made with ox tail and in the absence of soya sauce, as opposed to popular red braised one with lots of soya.

Well, my niu rou mian education was enlightening if not fattening. I hope you found this resource useful, my Taipei conquests doesn’t end here; Next Tuesday is going to be Authentic Taiwanese Cuisine – six restaurants, six perspectives into Taipei’s finest, all in one piece.

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As you know, I am now half way round the other side of the world basking in the sun. It’s been eight years since I left sunny Brunei, and in that time, friends have moved on to the bigger and better, I somehow feel as if I had only just awoken from a long coma, as the world is not the same as I remembered it. I have been catching up with some old friends from high school and I remember the days when Terry was the bonafide babe magnet at St Johns – I mean, girls used professed their love for him in the playground and all, very public. Good times, that was a long time ago. Today, Terrance is the chef/owner of his cafe in our home town, Kuala Belait, aiming to bring a sense of style to the humble town – coffee, elegant puds and a cosy laid back setting. I have much respect for independent cafes and so I thought I’d ask for the opportunity to gain an insight into what it takes to run a cafe.

The first thing I noticed about Terry was his passion for cooking. He spends fourteen hours a day at his cafe and as the chef proprietor, he not only does all the cooking himself, but also manages the cafes finances as well as the logistics of produce. Save for a couple of waitresses, Tez Amore is pretty much a one man show.

“Gordon Ramsay’s food always looks so nice on TV, what does it tastes like?” His eyes trained on me but I decided to tell him that Ramsay’s cuisine wasn’t as respected as it once was, instead I directed the conversation toward a more contemporary figure of London gastronomy – Bjorn van der Horst. He loves food and I could tell as it beamed out from his decidedly upbeat character. I sat with him for a session on his only day off during the week – Wednesday – to chat about this behind the stove thing I wanted to do with him.

“So you must be busy these days” I said. “Well, I’ve become a blur at home, when you see me, I’ll have gone [to work at the cafe]“. His culinary awakening began while he was pursuing his tertiary education, initially his interests were business and law, but he was lured by the grandeur and spectacle of the illustrious career of a chef, in particular he was enamored with his house-mother’s brother who runs a kitchen in a Hilton in Adelaide. With a clear idea of where he’d like to steer his future, he applied to the Adelaide TAFE commercial cookery courses and then to the Regency cookery school specialising in pastry. The real world then beckoned, and Terry assisted various kitchens with assignments as a pastry guy as well as a baker. As with all independent setups, funding was always going to be a challenge, but with the little he had, he used it to put together an efficient space, simple yet cosy, in his words, almost like a home. In the background, he had a cookery channel on TV and in between our conversation, his attention would suddenly switch to the TV as he sees some new idea he could bring to his cafe. He tells me that his favourite is seafood, though his true passion is in the puddings. An admirer of regimental haute cuisine, refined elegance was something he aspired to in his work, “It has to be beautiful”. In a small town like Kuala Belait, starting up a revolution as it were isn’t exactly simple, the scale of economies are also several magnitudes smaller compared to say, London, afterall the population of KB is only about 40,000. The upshot of a quieter locale is that chef owners are closer, much closer to their customer base – something which is characteristic of eateries in Brunei – the personal touch.

Terry opens shop at 9am everyday, he dons his slick black and red chef gear, and armed with a smile says to me that he was going start his Thursday prepping a few of his favourite desserts for me to photograph.

Here he is holding a huge tub of Monin chocolate syrup – the chocolate he uses in his puds and his hot chocolate, an ingredient in his dark chocolate orange creme brulee.

Here he’s browning the demerara sugar top crust, I come very close to the action, very close because Terry was a little camera shy, so instead of shooting him, I started with the details. As the sugar caramalises, the kitchen starts filling with the aromas of a warm pud….ohh, can’t wait to dig in.

His recipe is quite authentic and the subtle hues of orange flavour stays on the back of my tongue. The custard is cold , while it’s a little grainy, the hallmark eggy sweetness is present making it a pretty juicy spoonful. I prefer his original creme brulee recipe, though his brulees also come in green tea flavours – something which is popular in Asia, but hasn’t quite picked up in the UK as yet…soon I suppose.

Brunei is a really sunny country, like seriously sunny and so the light is perfect for illuminating portraits. No strobes involved, this is all natural light, 100% at-the-edge-of-the-equator sunshine – great for some on location glamour shots. I finally got Terry to pose for me, he was still a little nervy but I think this shot came out rather well. I think he looks abit like a Hong Kong film star, Nicholas Tse… what do you think?

Here’s another of his creations – this is his Oreo cheesecake. It’s one of his ‘remixed’ recipes, the usual biscuit base is broken down and then mixed in with the rest of the cake, served with a dollop of vannila ice cream. He asked me if I thought the decorative chocolate syrup was a little OTT, I said I thought it was pretty cool.

This one I really enjoyed. He was very excited when he told me about his ‘on the spot’ tiramisu, which I would describe as a sort of reverse Tiramisu. On the spot, since he makes it to order. Made in a short glass tumbler, I was surprised to find the thing was warm. The mascapone cheese made with a white chocolate sauce all of which sits on top is cold, the middle has the sponge biscuits absorbing much of the espresso, and the last third of the glass is warm coffee. I think this was his piece de resistance, as the contrast between the cold and the hot gave way to a rather interesting way of having tiramisu, albeit a kind of deconstructed version and in the place of heavy cream, was a light coffee dessert. It felt as if I was having an espresso, and a latte and a pudding all at the same time, quite an interesting experience.

One of the best things about growing up in a small town is that you have friends for life, there is a kind of innocent charm where the neighbours are all friendly. The cafe is quite obviously geared toward fostering this kind of atmosphere.

In a way, I really admired the rather humble setting, furnishings are done on a tight budget, but it lends itself to a personal charm and character – to me, I feel that this was the beauty of the independent sole proprietor. I should say, soul proprietor. There wasn’t anything pretentious about the decor, it was cosy and I could freely let my hair down.

Time to go behind the stove.

I would describe the kitchen as being very homey. It’s not very big and he’s still in the process of acquiring professional ovens, it’s clean and but large enough to have about three people squeeze past.

I told Terry and his staff to pretend I was invisible, blending into the background isn’t always very easy with a camera as large as my D700.

Terry works fast, spirited and he is a jovial chap. If you hadn’t noticed, he works in the kitchen alone and manages all the cooking. Obviously, his two waitresses will pitch in every now and again, but mainly the kitchen is really a one man show. I’ve photographed many kitchens in the last couple of years, and every successfully run kitchen has a sort of heartbeat which jives to the rhythm of the restaurant. The more customers, the lively and more spirited the kitchen becomes. It’s a kind of organised chaos you know, full of life – this is the reason I love doing these behind the stove write-ups, the life and soul of a kitchen is inimitable, and one of the few work places which makes one feel so alive and so human.

Terry is only just putting the finishing touches to his Parmesan Chicken and Chips – its another one of his inventions. Again, like his puddings, his chicken is also ‘on the spot’ and made to order. He starts with pounding his chicken to tenderize it, before laying on his secret seasoning and then pan frying it. He finishes off his parmersan chicken with a creamy garlic gravy.

It’s a seemingly efficient dish as the robust sauce was a punchy knock on my palette. I’m more of a french fries sort of guy, though I can deal with the crinkly too. Mainly though, I really appreciated the hearty rustic sizzle this dish exhibited – simple, tasty, unpretentious and refreshing. I said to Terry that he really should bring abit of Asia influence into the mix, I recounted the story of one of my long time local favourites in the nineties, and my mum and I used to order take out at this place alot – KB restaurant. The food was in a similar vein, a kind of Italian inspired cuisine, but instead of chips, they complimented their meats with butter steamed rice with a hint of garlic. Something which I hope will makes its way into Tez’s menu. Before I forget, he’s a health nut too and so his cafe serves these healthy fruit smoothie drinks. He made me a low fat apple yoghurt smoothie kind of drinks to go with the chicken – refreshing.

As I write this, we are closing in on the 1st day of Chinese New Year. Terry is opening his restaurant for dinner service since it coincides with Valentines Day. He briefly told me about his rosemary roast chicken and heart shaped butter breads which he is planning for, though he hadn’t revealed the specifics as yet. He does have a facebook page to keep his patrons updated with current progress.

As my 48 hours with Terry came to close, I noticed how happy he was to be in the kitchen, for me, it was fulfilling watching a young’un take up the challenge of trying to make it in the world of food. “There is a big difference between $3.80 and $3.50 for a tub of ice cream” he tells me. “That’s 30 cents per tub, or $3 for ten tubs, $30 dollars for a hundred, the different between breaking even and risk running a huge loss”. The restaurant business then is a precarious one to get into – which is why it’s a labour of love. As with most of my kitchen assignments, I came out feeling rewarded and I only have the utter most respect for independent kitchens, this is where the human story really stimulates me and something which I hope you find exciting and entertaining as well.

Finally, Terry’s nickname while he was in Adelaide was Tez. He had wanted his cafe to be named the ‘Chocolatier’ or ‘Amore Cafe’ instead the authorities decided to merge his names when he was registering his business. And so Tez Amore translates to Terry’s Love, or perhaps more accurately, Terry’s passion.

Hope you enjoyed this little photo essay folks, I’m still roaming the lands in South East Asia, I will continue to bring you back stories whenever I come across something interesting. I’ll drop in on you again to say a few words on Chinese New Year… and also for Valentines.

PS: You can see the entire set of photographs on my flickr account.

The Gist of It

Tez Amore Cafe Facebook fanpage BND15 pp
Lot 8501 Unit 20 Wisma Yakin
Kuala Belait, Brunei
Tel: +673 8738583
Email: tezamore@hotmail.com

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Dim sum is one of the most unique and entirely accessible experiences in food. The literal translation for dim sum is ‘touch your heart’ – a term chosen to describe the style which is suppose to be small, packaged, and dare I say ‘bite-sized’ to tickle your fancy rather than cure a ravenous appetite. Dim sum is interchangeable with ‘Yum Cha’ – which simply means ‘let’s go for tea’. So the saying goes (according to my old bar manager) that in the same way an Englishman can hold his pint, a chinese guy can hold his tea… well quite the same thing but you get my drift.

This culture of going for tea still exists today as you can find dim sum places serving as early at 6 am in parts of Asia. The older generations would tell you that dim sum or yum cha is a time for them to catch up with the week’s worth of current affairs (especially the men). As this is the only time when busy folks have the opportunity to sip tea, read the paper, and to take the whole family out for a meal. This is also the same reason dim sum is a breakfast/brunch meal, usually on the weekends. What was once simply a way of describing ‘drinking tea and hanging out’ is now a full blown restaurant experience in itself, some even say a cuisine. As a simpleton, I cling to my conservative preconceptions about dim sum, and that this is primarily a time for family and close friends to catch up. Dim sum is all about warm laughs, sharing and that feel good factor. The particular style of food is usually based on the original Cantonese iteration, and I say usually because depending on where you are, other variations have been introduced to dim sum menus, particularly shades of Shanghai style cuisine. Broadly speaking though, dim sum dishes come in small portions, with the dishes being shared by the entire table. There is confusion as there are parallels with other sharing style pseudo-cuisines such as tapas for example. Where in truth, sharing has always been part and parcel of Chinese cuisine, and this has been going on for centuries. The difference being that for a full blown Chinese dinner, the dishes are larger, and touch your tummy more than your heart.

Typical dishes usually fall in two categories : fried or steamed. As far as I know, the ‘old’ way of serving dim sum is to have a manned trolley that goes around the restaurant floor. I think the old romantic scene of a waitress announcing the contents of her cart by shouting ‘Charsiu bao, Charsiu bao’ has long since vanished. Instead, waitress will wheeled over a trolley of fried stuff first. Usually, it is a mobile glass cabinet, so you can peek into it and see what’s available. Typical fried dim sum include prawn croquettes, yam croquettes and you will usually also find triangular shaped baked roast bbq pork puffs (char siu sou). If you think of this as a ‘course’, then this would be the starters. After that, the waitress would bring over a heated trolley filled with the recognisable bamboo steamers. It is part of the experience (if you will) to ask for to see her stuff – she’ll then give you a peek under each steamer. Typical steamed dishes include har gao, shui mai, chicken feet, spare ribs in black bean sauce, char siu bao and steamed chicken with ginger. The other famously typical dim sum dish which is usually ordered off the menu is of course the cheung fun (made from rice noodles) filled with either prawns, charsiu or youtiaw (fried dough). For pudding, it’s got to be the egg tarts, sometimes custard buns as well, or tofu fa (silky tofu in warm syrup). And that to me is a pretty typical, and traditional dim sum meal. One needn’t necessarily follow this formula as there are plethora of dishes which I’ve not mention, including lo mai gai (stuffed glutinous rice).

Speaking now on the contemporary way of serving dim sum, I think there is generally a shift toward trolley-less service (you certainly won’t see trolleys in London) which are quickly becoming archaic. In fact I haven’t seen one in the last five years either in London or elsewhere. There are several reasons for going trolley-less, chief among them is that food would be more fresh when made to order. As opposed to a trolley which might be keeping food which could have been going around the restaurant floor for hours. I prefer having dim sum steamed to order, food is alot more appetising when it lands on the table piping hot.

There is another one crucial topic to speak of which is the cha. While tea is part of the ceremony of dim sum, there is no obligation to do have it with dim sum, that’s a myth. I’ve quite happily had iced coffee and iced milo to go with my dim sum in the past, then agian that could just be that I like breaking the rules. Though if you must have tea, then my tip is to never ever ask for just ‘chinese tea’. While this isn’t explicitly written in the menus, generally speaking, chinese restaurants stock a range of popular teas ranging from something lighter say Xiang Pian (Jasmine tea) or Te Quan Yin (a type of Oolong) to something hardcore like Po lay (a black tea). If you’d like to try something alternative, I suggest giving Chrysanthemum a try (with abit of rock sugar if they can manage). More of a floral hot beverage, it carries a mild nectar sweetness to it as opposed to the usual roastness of teas.

Living in London, there’s actually a good range of dim sum restaurants. Generally speaking, not very many are exceptional, but across the board, many serve dim sum to a good standard. I can’t say that I have been to every single dim sum place in town, but I have been to enough to put together a list of what I think are stand outs:

1. Pearl Liang Paddington – This is my benchmark dim sum in London. Food is good across the board, prices are reasonable and the dining room is atmospheric. Bog standard, in a good way.

2. Yauatcha Soho – As much as I loathe the idea of Alan Yau turning what is supposed to be a relaxing family affair into a high nose, high culture, highly snobified excuse to charge money, I actually think that food in Yauatcha is very good. I’ve been about a dozen times over the last few years and each visit has also been positive. Their juuk (congee) in particular, I rate it highly, as good as you’d find in Hong Kong. And their venison puffs (a twist on the charsiu sou) is expertly crafted. Very expensive though, and I still dont understand dim sum for dinner…

3. Royal China Bayswater – This place used to be my benchmark, the shui mai was once the best in town in my opinion, but I think standards have declined in recent time. Still, very good, and constantly packed out on weekends.

4. Yum Cha Camden – Not to be confused with Yum Chaa, based in Camden, the food is excellent and might actually be better than Pearl Liang. Their egg tarts in particular are great, and they also serve very capable xiao long baos.

5. Leong’s Legends Chinatown – If you order well, you can have a great meal at Leong’s Legends. Taiwanese influenced dishes are found on their dim sum menu as well, so they set themselves apart from the pack with this twist. Although, there are howlers on their menu – their shui mais are torrid, but their juuk is benchmark material. I think this is Chinatown’s best offering, many restaurants along Gerard street are average at best.

6. Wing Yip Cricklewood – Touted as a Chinese ‘Superstore’, the restaurant is attached to a big warehouse supermarket. Abit out of the way, but on the weekends, one of the few places I know which has the bustling, oversubscribed family atmosphere that is part of the dim sum experience. Food is good but not exceptional, though it really is the ambiance that makes this place special. Also, the restaurant is done up in the old fashion grandesque banquet style which adds to the overall experience.

This list is not meant to be definitive, just some personal favourites. There are others out there who write more extensively regarding the range of dim sum places in London. Further reading includes World Foodie Guide also the food section of DimSum.co.uk which is the official British community website. Anyway, hope you find this little write-up useful, do let us know how your next dim sum quest turns out and do make sure you tap your fingers on the table when somebody pours tea for you, it’s only etiquette.

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As many of you have heard, the big news for restaurant obsessives this week is the (leaked) release of the 2010 update to the Michelin Guide. As usual, there are some winners, some losers and some shock decisions where potentials didn’t make the big time. Whether you love it or hate it, backpatting exercise or true culinary standard, winning a michelin star (or two) is still seen by many as the ultimate accolade in the restaurant world. The iconic Red Guide has been kicking around Britain since 1974 and in it’s latest iteration has decided to award another three jewel to the British gastronomical crown. As of 2010, Britain now boasts four three-star restaurants. The lucky fella is of course the international brand name Alain Ducasse, and the winning restaurant is based in the Dorchester… which coincidentally is owned by the Sultan of Brunei.

The other big winners are of course the rising star himself Mr Brett Graham and by extension his mentor Phil Howard of The Square. The Ledbury finally lives up to their ‘rising stars’ status bestowed upon them last year, and in my view they have scored a surprise whopper with the addition of Harwood Arms to the list. So now both master and apprentice share the limelight in London, both on equal footing with two stars. I think 2009 was definitely the year of Howard and Graham, I had already alluded to this in my Ledbury/Square reviews in 2009 and while they weren’t quite the hottest tables in town, they certainly ran the best kitchens.

So who were the biggest losers then? Without a doubt, it’s got to be Gordon Ramsay. Whilst his pride and joy at Royal Hospital Road remains untouched; Claridges has been stripped of it’s solitary star. To add insult to injury, reports of his GR Holding’s financial losses certainly does not help. So this looks like a personal kitchen nightmare for Ramsay, it would be interesting to see how he digs himself out of this. Less TV work, less books and more time in the kitchen perhaps? For more on this, you can read Jay Rayner’s extended commentary. Though probably more damaging is The Capital being stripped of both stars! I was planning a visit (I still am) since it was the most affordable of the London two stars, but I had thought it was more underrated rather than dipping standards. Oh well, now that they have lost their stars, I have somehow become more fascinated with it… will they suck it up and cook their pants off this year to recapture the glory days? Has anyone been and what were your thoughts?

One announcement I was expecting never came and I am still reeling from the shock of Eastside Inn’s exclusion from this list. For me, this was 2009′s breakthrough restaurant, and I think Bjorn thoroughly deserves his sparkles. Coincidentally, I actually dine at the Bistro last night, and had a chance to speak with Bjorn himself about this year’s revision. I could tell he was gutted, well I am gutted for him as well. Though I fully expect them to gain a star when I do this write-up again in a year’s time.

Which brings me to speak about the significance of this list – how accurate is it, and what are their benchmarks? Does it guarantee good food? In my view, I feel that the Michelin guide doesn’t simply seek out great cooking, it’s judging a much smaller pool of restaurants which are backed with moneybags, or chefs with star power… sometimes, I just feel that it is abit of a back patting exercise, and stars being granted on the basis of reputation than on the back of bloody great recipes, executed by well-oiled kitchens. Then again, I don’t want to say that there is a definite pattern to things, because I don’t think there is any conspiracy here, nothing more than a madman’s babble. I think if one enjoys old fashioned wining and dining, the validity of the michelin guide still hold true. Not to say that the restaurants in the current guide serves bad food, but that good restaurants do exists outside this guide. Heck two of my personal favourites are not even in this list, Cambio de Tercio and Eastside Inn. I think it is down to different people having different perceptions of food, afterall, it is such a subjective topic that sometimes pinning down great cooking to a set of rigid standards is paradoxical to the spirit of food. One aspect of the guide that gets overlooked is value for money. As much as I love throwing money away to fund my ever increasing trouser sizes; the prices at multiple starred restaurants are simply out of reach for me. One thing is for sure: this list is not definitive. Somehow I feel that in the new mellenium, this sort of worship of the glamarous is horribly outdated, but still, I respect it.

Finally, looking into my personal crystal ball, I predict 2010 to be the year of the Galvins brothers. As I alluded to in my Bistrot de luxe write up, I think they are blazing a trail of glory this year; Windows has already won a star this year, and I am now ever anxious to see what the kitchen at La Chapelle is really capable of. They are highest on my list, and I expect to visit very soon.

Ok so what are your thoughts on this year’s guide? Feel free to share. I have put together the London List below and the information has been sourced from the official Michelin Guide website. For the restaurants which I had been to, I have linked it to my write-up where applicable, for the ones where I didn’t write it up, I have included a short remark of what I thought of the place. Deletions are marked with a strike through.

I’m hardly a Michelin Star worshipper, having only been to 19 from this list of 50 in the last two years. If you would like to follow a foodblog dedicated to the glamourous try Gen.u.ine.ness and FoodSnob.

Three Stars: 4 Restaurants

Two Stars: 7 restaurants

One Star: 39 restaurants

Source : The Michelin Guide for Great Britain & Ireland 2010 )

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I have vivid childhood memories of tagging along to the supermarket with my mum and her methods of judging if a piece of meat was fresh or whether it had gone off, she would always sniff the meat – if it smells good, it can’t be bad. Growing up in Brunei, everybody has a passion for beef, so much so that the government owns a cattle farm in Northern Australia, over 2000 square miles and just a shy larger the country itself – completely dedicated satisfying the appetite of a nation. Ironically enough, quantity doesnt equate quality as the produce is of largely forgettable quality; so bad that I would say it’s some of the worst beef I’ve ever eaten. Local supermarkets would use red tinted fluorescents to light the glass counters so as to make the beef look more appealing. My mum would always hold it up against white light, and she almost always opts for the tenderloin and nothing else because that was the only cut of beef tender enough not to turn into a rubber tyre after searing. This meant that all beef had to be tenderised before cooking. My mum started out with powdered tenderisers, though it soften the meat, it gave it a horrible plastic taste. Later on, she switched to a more ‘direct’ approach to tenderising with a studded steel hammer designed to pound the life out of the meat. Her speciality were seared black pepper tenderloin steak sandwiches. I liked mine with white bread and just a dash of Heinz… those were the days. Beef import choices weren’t always limited to the government owned ranch and back in the colonial days (Eighties), supermarkets stocked air flown Prime USDA beef, and even scotch beef, but that was a long time ago. In the ensuing years, my family’s quest for the bovine would be supplemented by regular trips around the globe and unsurprisingly, we would seek out the best grills in town to satiate our ever growing appetite.

Today I still carry the torch to continue my dad’s legacy of searching out for the best beefy things around. Cattle of one form or another has been consumed since the stone age and several methods of cooking has evolved over the centuries ranging from just eating it raw to slow stewing. I count myself fortunate to have tried many variations including recently conquering a fine piece of Biltong which my colleague brought back from his trip home to Jo’burg. Some recipes I’d like to try out include a carpetbag steak – an interesting one – which is basically a steak stuffed with fresh oysters. Something which doesn’t sound as appealing, but equally intriguing is a restructured steak: basically, an inexpensive steak formed by binding together small chunks of low-quality meat to create something which taste more expensive … artificial.

A discussion about beef has to include abit of blurb about the major breeds. Various sources suggest that there are anywhere between 250 to 800 recognised breeds across the globe which largely fall into two categories. Bos indicus are adapted to hot weather; Bos taurus for cooler climates. The cattle site is an excellent resource which describes the different known beef breeds in further detail, in addition to in depth and albeit scientific articles regarding the cutting edge of cattle breeding. Among the more popular breeds in today’s kitchens are the Black Angus and the Wagyu breed which in recent decades has gained in significant popularity due to it’s signature marbling and natural flavour.

One area of beef which I continue to find fascination with are the cuts. As I understand it, the entire carcass is first divided into the primal cuts, before being diced into derivative bits. Depending on which country it is, primal cuts vary slightly but let’s use this butcher’s chart prepared by the American Angus Association as a go by:

• Chuck – Is the meat cut from the upper chest of the animal. Otherwise sold as braising steak in the UK, it is usually used for in stews or slow cooking.
• Brisket – This is cut from the lower breast of the animal, immediately below the chuck. It is usually a tougher cut and so is often used in slow cooked recipes. Brisket is also used to make salt beef.
• Shank – The beef shank is lean and tough, it is after all what the animal exercises most. It is rarely sold due to its size and difficulty in cooking it. Though if you find one, it is usually one of the cheapest cuts and the bones would make great stocks.
• Short Plate and Flank – This belly bit of the animal produces the Bavette – a relatively tough cut of meat, and is usually roasted and cooked to rare or medium rare. When a kitchen can get the tenderness right, this cut of meat has great flavour.
• Rib – This particular part of the animal is probably the most prized. Situated at the top of animal, it is the least exercised part of the animal, and is also where the supposed prince of steaks – the rib eye is cut from. Rib eyes are prized for their marbling which produces a wonderful balance of tenderness and flavour. This is personally my favourite cut of meat, particular a bone-in ribeye – the bones and fat are where all the flavour lies…
• Short Loin – This section produces the most tender cut of beef : The tenderloin. However it’s tenderness comes from the fact that it is the least exercised muscle, however it is a relatively lean meat, and so is usually quite bland in comparison to say the ribeye. There are two other famous steaks which are cut from this section too : The porterhouse and the t-bone. Both steaks basically have two distinct cuts of steak held together with a bone in the centre. Both steaks have one side made up with the sirloin, and the other side with a fillet. The Porterhouse is differentiated by the relatively larger cut of tenderloin when compared to the T-bone.
• Sirloin – This cut is easily recognised by it’s layer of fat across the outside of the meat. Sometimes known as the New York Strip, it is one of the most popular steak choices, since it has a good balance of flavour and tenderness. Some prefer it to the ribeye because it is a leaner meat, with the top layer of fat providing the flavour… but not me.
• Round – Finally the cow’s bottom, is where you will find the round or rump steak. Tougher than the more expensive loin or rib cuts, but when prepared correctly can be extremely satisfying for its great flavour. If memory serves me right, the rump is particularly popular in Germany.

Oh there is one more cut that is gaining much popularity these days and that is the hanger steak. It is located in the flank area and is close to the kidneys. This gives way to an interesting string-like toughness but most of all, it imparts wonderfully rich and liver-like flavours. It’s wildly different to any of the conventional cuts and is sometimes known as the onglet or the butcher’s fillet – as the legend goes that butchers would not sell these and traditionally save this cut back from themselves. Must be had rare to medium rare due to its relatively toughness.

Which brings me to talk about the degree of cooking which ranges from raw, blue, rare, medium-rare, medium, medium-well to burnt like toast. Personally, I like my steaks still bloody and prefer medium rare because it preserves juices, flavour and maintains the natural tenderness of the meat… with just enough of the inherent fat melted into the meat to ooze flavour… ooh… in terms of figuring out how cooked a steak is, the rule of thumb is pretty accurate by simply comparing it to the tender bits on your face : chin – rare ; tip of nose – medium ; forehead – overcooked.

So far, I have had tried most of the popular breeds from their respective countries. This includes Prime USDA, French Charolais, Scotch Angus, English Casterbridge, Welsh Black and Australian Wagyu. Everything in that list, apart from the American classification was eaten in their native country. To me, a perfect steak is a combination of an expert griller and also a high quality of meat. I place more importance to the latter than the former. I look for wonderful marbling which usually translates to flavour and tenderness. If we use the ribeye as a point of reference, then the most tender steaks I have tried thus far are Prime USDA ribeyes. They just have a buttery texture that simply disintegrates in the mouth. French Charolais, in opinion are tougher than their international counterparts and are best eaten very pink. In terms of flavour, I like Scotch Angus ribeyes which some say is due to the grass they are fed on in Scotland. But the best steaks I have ever eaten surely have be the wagyus in Sydney. 450g of pure bovine bliss, I don’t remember the name of the restaurant, but I do remember that it overlooked Bondi beach. There is just a wonderful balance of rich flavour and chunky tenderness.

One particular type of breed that continues to elude my voracious appetitie are what I believe to be the true King of steaks : Kobe beef. Bred in Kobe, Japan, this was the original location of the vaunted Wagyu cattle, before breeding began in elsewhere in America and Australia. The ‘new world’ pretenders does not seem to replicate the original Kobe steaks in terms of truly ridiculous marbling. Unusually high in unsaturasted fat, as a point of reference, while the most expensive cut of prime USDA is graded at 6 on a marbling scale of 1-12, Kobe beef tends to be graded at 12 (Source: Wisegeek) , giving way to sensations incomparable with any other beef (including wagyu breeds but raised elsewhere). Of course, nobody really knows how or what the Japanese feed their wagyu cattle on, some say their coats are brushed with sake, others claim they make the cows listen to classical music, while most will claim that the cows are simply drunk all the time from excessive beer bingeing. A Kobe steak is distinctive in the way it looks; it is more white with red speckles of muscle instead of the other way around. Take a look at a picture of the meat here.

Of course just when I thought I had my eye on the real target, I stumble across another variant of the Wagyu known as the Matsusaka. Sometimes affectionately referred to as ‘Art of Meat’, the cattle are raised in Matsusaka in Japan and are rumoured to be even richer in marbling and flavour and supposedly better than the best of Kobe beef. There is alot of mystery behind the cutting edge of Japanese cattle breeding, exactly how they do it, nobody really knows. There is a concise history which you can reference here if you’d like to know more. Anyway, the most prized Matsusaka cows have apparently sold at auction houses for six figure sums. Take a look at a picture of raw matsusaka.. look at the marbling on that badboy! Anyway, as far as I know, Kobe or Matsusaka beef can only be eaten in Japan. Japan is on my vacation list this year, so I will report back to you know once I come back.

Steaks are a personal journey for me, from a childhood of watching my mum pound fillet steaks to a pulp to sampling beautifully aged porterhouse cuts, my mum is still sometimes amazed that there are some steaks which need no tenderising. Anyway, after this love-letter to steaks, I will need to recharge the protein batteries. If you’d like to do the same and you live in London then there are only four names you need to know : Goodman, Hawksmoor, Jack O Shea and The Ginger Pig.

PS : I would love to hear your stories about your favourite steaks and some tips and recommendations too, so feel free to leave your mark in the comments section folks.

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