And what a view indeed. Positioned on the edge of the Thames, overlooking the water and the O2 centre in the distance. However, A Grelha is not technically a restaurant in its own right, rather it is a make shift al fresco area of The Gun, which opens during sunny days and warm nights (May to September). As we are knee deep in the sweltering summer, I accepted the PR’s invitation to this docklands restaurants. I’ve done so partly because The Gun¹ is frequently cited as one of the best pubs in London, food is mostly praised by the community, even though I hear rumours of its apparent waning star power. I’ve not been to The Gun in case you’re wondering.

Belonging to Tom and Ed Martin (who also happen to own a chain of respectable pubs including The Cadogan Arms), the PR story goes that they love Portugal, and the al fresco way of life over there, and so have ported the experience to their Docklands pub. The result of which (unsurprisingly) is A Grelha, which stands for ‘The Grill’ in Portuguese. The concept is pretty straightforward really: jugs of sangria, the smell seafood and meat sizzling away on the barbie …seagulls flying over your head… taking in as much of the good weather as I could, for a moment, I felt like I was in Sydney.

Seafood is sourced from the nearby Billingsgate market, and the menu itself isn’t nothing to shout about either, aside from Cataplana (a seafood stew) and hanging lamb skewers, the rest is a case of simply grilled freshness.

(Warning! This meal was comped by The Gun’s PR, so please don’t take my word for it.)

We start with …a can of Manna sardine pate.

Unsurprisingly, a Portuguese product, and pretty good actually. We’ll be ordering them online from this website shortly.

Next, baby squid pan fried with garlic, coriander and chilli, £6

Yeah, this is what I came for. Nothing too exciting here, just grilled squid, with abit of pepper, chilli, roasted cloves of garlic and coriander, and a squidge of lemon.

Clams cooked in white wine, garlic, coriander and lemon £7.50

More of the same really, juicy clams, garlic and white wine sauce for seasoning and more lemon juice. Garlicky, simple pleasures.

Chicken Piri-Piri and chips, £14

The better half and I were debating the ‘authenticity’ of chicken piri-piri, aside from making comparisons to Nandos, neither of us have had the real deal. It really just tasted like grilled chicken to us, but it was as if the chef forgot to season the bird, it was a little dry to add. It was really plain. The waitress also landed a piri-piri sauce, looked like a kind of chilli mayo, it was mostly bitter, overpoweringly so. The chips were pretty good – crunchy and fluffy – and the large bowl of salad (tomato, lettuce) was alright. We were just puzzled with the chicken, I mean it doesn’t even compare to Nandos….. is this a case of me being used to an anglicised version of a Portuguese dish? Can any of you add to this perhaps?

Golden Bream (Dourada) , £3.50 to £4 per 100g.

I’d say this was about 600g, so say £15 for the whole fish? Well, it was nothing but simply grilled fish with sprinklings of sea salt. I thought it was a little overcooked, or that could just be the firm texture of the fish.

Sangria.

Yeah… two more jugs please… ohh…. what al fresco is all about right?

Honestly I wasn’t jumping for joy, the cooking was blasé, reflecting the general atmosphere of A Grelha really, the effects of summer mentality permeating the kitchens. It feels abit like a half rated resort for some reason, and the seemingly backyard style cooking is uninspired. I ordered some strawberries and creme fraiche ice cream to finish… but the strawberries were shockingly sour, come on chaps, it’s in season, surely you can source plump and juicy ones? It didn’t even deserve a photograph.

I wasn’t under any illusions, its got the sun, its got the cocktails, and its got the fresh seafood. One shouldn’t expect much more than that, but I had expected a more exotic choice, no lobster, crab, oysters or steak on the menu. I’ll give food a big fat zero (ok one and a half for the clams) but a seven for atmosphere (minus three for the giant flying ants using my plate as a landing strip).

In my humble opinion, A Grelha is more about enjoying the view and the weather, food is merely a distraction.

And so I’ll leave you with the view from our table during the visit…

The Gist of It

A Grelha at The Gun
Al Fresco, £30pp…
27 Coldharbour E14 9NS
Tel: 020 7515 5222
Tube: Canary Wharf

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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.

A Prologue

Chapters All Day Dining is located in Blackheath, South East London. Once the old Chapter Two to Chapter One, the latter a One Michelin Starred restaurant, and the former re-imagined in 2008 into the less formal all day dining venue it is today. A particular trek from West London personally, and my first time venturing to these parts.

Alright, so I wanted to write more about steak. I say more, since I had written a little piece about Beef a few months ago, and I thought rather than write a straight up non-review of a bespoke blogger event (which is not very useful anyway), I thought I’d use this backstage pass to talk about the salient points regarding the wonderful world of steaks. This dinner also gave me a little insight into how London restaurants prepared steaks today, particularly how restaurants are moulding their business to replicate famed New York haunts.

Meet the Chef

Trevor Tobin is the head chef at Chapters who cooked dinner for us. Us being a contingent made up of Niamh, Douglas, Denise, Carly and Luiz. Along with Exec Chef Andrew MacLeish, he had done a tour of famous New York steak restaurants including Peter Luger and Balthazar to see how the Yanks did it. Additionally, he had helped the Goodman team headed by John Cadieux to get their operations running. John trained on the Josper at Chapters prior to opening Goodman. Chapters are serious about their steak. Phillip Urasala, restaurant manager, informed me that Chapters are one of only nine restaurants to own a Josper (Hosper) grill in the UK.

Chapter One: Introducing steak

A well marbled, well hung, 10 oz rib eye on the bone, preferably Prime USDA, Angus, cooked over charcoal at 650 C. Perhaps some blue cheese or gorgonzola and creamed spinach on the side with triple cooked chips. Not forgetting a small bearnaise sauce, or maybe a choice of a bordelaise with bone marrow. For me, that’s the perfect meal. But what makes a good steak so special? Why does Wagyu cost ten times as much as a Sainsbury basic range and what makes a Josper grill the perfect steak-searing machine? I just love steak, and I wanted to collate my thoughts about it.

Fat = Flavour

Great steak is all about marbling. Marbling being the marbled pattern that is created from the intramuscular fat inherent of the meat. What you are looking for are those creamy yellow dotted bits. The more creamy bits you see, the higher the marbling, the fattier it is, the more potential for flavour. All the flavour is in the fat, folks. Marbling is partly genetics (Like say Wagyu, Angus or Longhorn showing more marbling than say a Charolais) but it is also affected by feeding methods. Length of time, feedstock (grain or grass … or beer..) and age of cattle also affect marbling. The secret in achieving good marbling equates to expensive beef. Marbling also contributes to tenderness as well, and as you suspected, the higher the fat content, the tenderer it would be. In Japan, the quality of marbling determines the grade of the beef, and the price is determined in an auction, hence the ‘market price’. As a point of reference, Prime USDA carries a marbling ‘score’ of 6, Japanese Wagyu is as high as 12, though I have seen 14th grade Wagyu being sold in Asia before. Beautifully marbled beef is suppose to smell great, almost fragrantly perfumery. There is also another reason for fragrance, and tenderness: Aging.

The importance of Dry Aging against Wet Aging

We can’t have a discussion about steak without talking about aging. Aging beef is perhaps the most crucial step in preparing the meat as it allows it to achieve much more flavour and tenderness than if you cook it straight from the abattoir. The process breaks down connective tissue so as to tenderize it. Aging is the natural tenderising process, as oppose to artifical tenderising powder which mimics the effect of natural enzymes breaking down the meat. There are two types of aging: Dry aging and Wet Aging.

Dry Aging involves hanging entire halves of carcasses or selected premium cuts in a cool, dry area to allow the beef to age naturally. When dry aging, the natural enzymes in the meat are allowed to break down the fibrous tissue which acts to tenderise the beef. Dry aging also means that the beef loses water content as it evaporates over time, leading to a loss of weight but which means that the beef gains concentration in terms of flavour. Dry aging is typically between 14 to 28 days, sometimes it can be as much at 40 days and at times up to six months. Dry aging also causes a layer of fungal ‘crust’ (which doesn’t affect the meat inside) on the outside. This is the reason why dry aged beef needs to be trimmed and this means throwing away as much as 20% of the initial weight of the meat, more if it is dry-aged longer than usual. As you can appreciate, Dry-aging is an expensive process, but it is the gold standard in enhancing flavour and tenderness. A well-hung piece of meat is dull red, instead of a fresh red. This is why premium butchers and high end steak houses are so boastful of their on site dry aging facilities. The next time you go to Goodman, ask for a tour. Dave, the restaurant manager will happily take you downstairs.

Wet Aging is to vacuum seal the meat such that no moisture is lost, the natural enzymes do their work, but in a slower way than dry aging. Unlike dry-aged meat which requires a more intensive surrounding, wet aging requires less maintenance. Basically, you are leaving the bag of beef to rot in its own juices, in a fridge over a couple of weeks. With the moisture retained, it is thought that wet aging takes three times the length of time to achieve the same flavour concentration as dry aging. A process that was pioneered in the 70s, it quickly became the preferred method for aging beef in the States since it is cheaper. Most lower grade US beef (USDA Choice for example) is wet aged. The beef isn’t as tender and not as flavoursome as dry aging of course. For more info, have a look here.

The moral of the story: Always go for dry-aged beef.

The Steak Cuts

Depending on which part of the animal the steak is cut from; it can be leaner, it can be fattier, it can more flavoursome, it can even be an offal masquerading as a steak. In this section, I thought it would be helpful to discuss the major characteristics of cuts, how to identify them and why people prefer one over the other.

The Fillet

The fillet is easily to identify: It looks like a red log. When sliced, it looks like a red medallion. It is also the leanest cut of the animal. Hence the redness. Marbling is usually minimal relative to the rest of the animal. The tenderness is largely because this is the least exercised part of the animal. Since it is so lean, it is also usually quite bland. But then equally the high degree of tenderness makes it perfect for a saucy recipe or having it to be paired with another more intense ingredient, like foie gras in a Tournedos Rossini or perhaps a bacon wrapped filet mignon and an oyster-stuffed carpetbag steak.

Some taster notes here on this: Chef Trevor kicked off the tasting with a Cumbrian fillet aged in his meat locker for 18 to 19 days. The beef is sourced from W.G. at Smithfields. Cooked in the Josper to medium rare. He chose to only gently sear the exterior so it was still as tender as the meat inside. He kept the cooking light to match the delicate nature of the fillet. Served closer to rare than medium rare, well-rested. The meat was so butter-tender. British Beef is mostly grass fed, and I was surprised how much flavour this meat had. Of course, this meat carried the smoky charcoal sensations, hallmarks of the Josper.

The Ribeye

You can think of the ribeye as the anti-fillet. Cut from the rib section, it is usually very fatty and you will see a high degree of marbling which leads to a juicily tender cut of meat. It is usually the 2nd most expensive cut – after the fillet – but it is the most prized cut amongst beef lovers, including myself. Because of the high fat content, it is usually seared abit longer to allow the fat to melt and baste the meat for flavour and juiciness.

Trevor prepped an Oz ribeye, Hereford and dry aged in-house for 40 days. Note the marbling! As you can probably tell, this meat is different from the fillet. The chef chose to caramalise the outer to a crispy crunch, the meat is closer to a medium than a medium-rare. I wasn’t too impressed with it though, the cut was surprisingly tough for a forty day aged ribeye, and the fatty bits were thin on flavour, no blue cheese here. Sorry Australia. On another note, Trevor did inform me that he has aged Australian meat to 180 days before, which as one can imagine, leads to pretty interesting results. Not today.

Bone-in Ribeye (Cote de Boeuf) and the Sirloin

The only cut better than a ribeye, is a ribeye on the bone, the cote de boeuf. The extra fat around the bone gives the meat extra flavour, oh yes it makes a difference, a juicier end product.

The shot below also depicts a sirloin (right). The sirloin is cut from the rear of the animal. There are two types of sirloin, the top is cut from just under the tenderloin, it is tenderer and is usually the cut throw into the grill. The bottom sirloin is tougher. I liken the sirloin to the happy medium in between the fillet and the ribeye. It has the flavour comparable to the ribeye, but it isn’t too mushy, while tender it has a very firm chewiness which people appreciate. I tend to view the sirloin as a very balanced cut of beef. Not too chewy, not too much fat, not too lean. I still prefer the ribeye though, fat rocks my world.

These are Chapter’s most prized cuts. Both are Prime USDA steaks from Omaha, Longhorn grain fed cattle. The meat is pre wet-aged (I guess on the flight over via NY?) and then dry aged for 18 days in the chef’s locker. So this is unorthodox… I wonder if Goodman does the same.

Now this is what we’re talking about. I immediately noticed the tenderness of the ribeye, much more so in comparison to the Oz version. Grain fed beef also takes on a much different taste, cleaner and dare I say ‘sweeter’ than grass fed beef. The fatty bits have a very distinct blue cheese flavour, almost verging on a gorgonzola with the same sort of creaminess, hallmarks of prime American.

Le Onglet or The Hanger.

This is sometimes affectionately referred to as the ‘butcher’s steak’ as it was originally the cut of beef the butcher kept for himself. Where it was once neglected by diners, this exotic cut of meat is now lusted after by steak-lovers for its strong offal-like flavour and a sinewy tender texture akin to kidney. There is only one onglet to each carcass. Technically speaking it is not a conventional steak cut, it ‘hangs’ from the steer’s diaphragm, and it is situated very close to the animal’s kidneys, which is what gives the meat its wonderful gamey flavour. The onglet requires abit of skill in prep, in that it has a noticeable central fibre which joins two pieces of onglets and there is very noticeable grain (like streaks) in the meat which when served, it must be sliced across the grain. Also, because of the grain, it is usually served rare, any more heat and it becomes too chewy.

This example is one-half of the conjoining onglet, English beef, grass fed. Served rare as it should be, it mimicked the chewy texture and flavour of kidney. Personally, I would have preferred it to be a tad more rare. Though, I could tell he was very scared to burnt this cut in the josper, as it wasn’t as caramalised and did not exhibit as much smokiness as the rest of the steak we had on the night. In my humble opinion, I think that because the hanger steak needs closer attention, perhaps an open grill or even pan-frying is better suited to delivering perfect onglets as opposed to the guesswork in a super-hot josper where you basically give up control to the charcoal. Personally, I feel that the French do better hanger steaks than we do, with a preference of pan-frying it.

The Porterhouse and The T-bone

Can you tell which is which? The Porterhouse and the T-bone are essentially the same except for one major difference: The former has a larger piece of fillet attached on one-side of the bone. On the other side, is a sirloin. In the picture below, you can clearly see that the one on the left is the porterhouse.

T-bone/Porterhouse steaks are the best of both of worlds. On one side, you have a tender fillet, on the other side a juicy sirloin. The meat on the bone is of course, a flavour-bomb. Plus it looks great. The porterhouse is the choice cut in this case, and it can be an incredibly satisfying experience tucking into one, especially when you finish, desperately digging into bone and then simply resorting to sucking on the it.

These are Prime USDAs and as you’d expect, succulent and tender, As we approached the end of the tasting, I found myself desperately trying cram more of steak in. I couldn’t do it.

Ok we are on to the big finish….

BRITAIN VS AMERICA.

So this is what we had:

West – Prime USDA Porterhouse and T-bones
North – Prime USDA Bone-in ribeye and Sirloin
East – Scotch T-bone and Sirloin
South – Scotch Bone-in ribeye and T-bone

British reps step up step up… Scotch Angus, dry aged 21 days, grass fed.

Mad props. The scotch ribeye has bags of beefy flavour, like a kind of clean flavour, purer. It is however much chunkier and firmer in general when compared to USDA. On the other hand, the Prime USDA exhibited a nuttier, creamier flavour, with a tinge of blue-cheese. It is alot more juicier and it is markedly more tender as the beef is more marbled after all. The last time I did a steak comparison at Goodman, the American stuff also came up top, personally. It’s the super tenderness, and the sweeter beefiness.

Debunking the Josper Grill

Despite popular belief that this kick-arse grill is all-American, it really isn’t. It’s Spanish. So just what exactly is it? And what makes it such a special steak-grilling machine anyway?

So this is what a Josper Grill- pronounced ‘Hosper’ – looks like. And I was surprised how small it was. Maybe measuring 3m x 3m only. It is basically an oven stuffed with charcoal that has refractory materials that can withstand temperatures up to 1000C (I’ll dispute the chef and say it goes to an average of 650C to 700C). The chemical engineer in me thinks that the refractory material on either side of the grill which prevents the intense heat from melting kitchen appliances around it are made from a magnesium alloy – that’s what is used to line the walls of blast furnaces which melt iron ores to make steel.

So the choice of charcoal is important. Different types of charcoal embers will create different types of heat, and I imagine pass on the flavour of the ‘smoke’ on to the meat. Chapters uses Argentinian charcoal, I’m not sure what Goodman uses. Because the josper is a sealed oven with its fuel source being charcoal, it needs to be opened every now and again to let air in (once the oxygen is exhausted) to reignite the flames from the charcoal. It quite literally sets the steaks on fire.

There are only reportedly nine Josper grills in and around London. We’re not sure how many exactly, but not many UK based restaurants have one. Let’s name drop. Maze Grill, Bellavista, L’anima, Hawskmoor, Goodman, Chapters Blackheath, Chapter One, La Chapelle…. and one more which we cant confirm yet. Circus? The Big Easy? El Pirata, maybe.

Our steak odyssey ended with Trevor showing us his meat locker chock full of beef. Here he is showing off his American prime rib. Note the seven ribs, Brit beef only has five.

In the end, this was a satisfying meal, Trevor surely knows how to grill a piece of meat, additionally he supplemented his steaks with an assortment of beautiful starters, especially the risotto in wild garlic and creme fraiche.

The pristine cream-coloured risotto was heavenly, it was textured like a smooth rice pudding, but it had rich aromas of wild garlic which translated into an intense flavour on the palate. A really lovely plate of food I thought, simple too.

Of course if I had to make comparisons, I think Goodman still comes out top, but that is mostly down to the sheer choice of meat they serve. O’Shea Irish beef, New Zealand Wagyu, Scotch Angus, Lake District Herefords… top dollar for top quality beef at Goodman, it had better be good. It is roughly £6.25/100g for Goodman’s Nebraska beef. Chapters’ Prime Omaha are a much more affordable £4.50/100g. The Oz Ribeye 320g is under £20 and the hanger steak is only a mere £11.50 for 250g. You do get great value for decent steaks at Chapters and if I lived in Blackheath (and if this meal is anything to go by) I would be confident in Tobin’s team delivering a juicy steak. The bearnaise is whippy, eggy and fragrant. We didn’t try chips so can’t comment.

Thank you Douglas, Trevor and Phillip for putting this together.

Where to Meat in London

I just wanted to close this discussion with a more informed list of steak purveyors.

Butchers

Ginger Pig : East moor farm boasts the largest herd of Longhorns in the UK. Longhorn cattle are Britain’s oldest breed, the beef has great marbling character and GP also dry-aged their own. It is probably the best of English beef, fans include Heston Blumenthal.

O’Shea’s Butchers – Dermot and Darragh O’Shea are 7th and 8th generation Irish butchers respectively. Their family established themselves in Tippery in 1789. Darragh O’Shea runs the Knightbridge shop. I believe their family farms Angus breeds. They dry-age in-shop at Knightsbridge. I bought a 40-day hung cote de boeuf which I thought was absolutely fantastic. Lots of marbling, plenty of juicy flavour. And it smelled so fragrant. I am beginning to be believe the best of British are O’Sheas.

Jack O’Shea – Jack is Darragh’s brother and his business is based in Selfridges, with dry-aging rooms there. I tried a t-bone and a ribeye which were great. The cote de beouf from O’Sheas was juicier though. I usually stare at the meat behind the counter at Selfridges. The marbling.. the marbling! They also import Prime USDAs.

Wholefoods – Scotch beef is hard to come by in London these days, but I think you can get good Angus beef at Wholefoods Kensington. You can see the impressive dry aging cabinets behind the meat counter, and the beef carries wonderful grassy flavour. Firm tenderness.

Restaurants

Goodman – O’Sheas, Nebraska Prime, NZ Wagyu are all on their menu. They also have their own dry aging rooms. Grain fed proponents and they dry age their own steaks downstairs, this is why I love them. Also, I think they have perfected the josper smoked steak. Trust me, you can’t go wrong here. The sheer choice of top quality beef is unbelievable.

Hawksmoor – They use the excellent 35 day aged longhorn stuff from Ginger Pig. Their steaks are beautifully cooked in the josper, juices well sealed. Bloggers love this place, but I prefer Goodman.

Maze Grill – Turn right for the Grill at Jason Atherton (or I should say James Durrant’s) well received Gordon Ramsay restaurant. Now, I’ve not actually been to this restaurant at time of writing, but rest assured it is in my list. Their specialities are Creekstone prime USDA, corn fed, aged 35 days and Australian Wagyu ‘9th grade’ Gold style.

Hey guys do chime in with some suggestions or if there are some glaring errors with my work here. Hope you enjoyed this steak-out. Read the precursor write-up “Let’s talk about beef” here.

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There are five restaurants inside the beast of a hotel that is Andaz. Situated right in the heart of the square mile, a part of town where I periodically get lost in. I did as I usually do to turn to my trusty GPS when I exited Liverpool Street station. This would be my third visit to the Hyatt owned hotel, based in a Victorian building dating back to the late 19th century. Once the Great Eastern Hotel back in the day. Red brick allegedly. It always takes me for a jog around the block before deciding to get serious. Machines. Just when you need them to do what they’re told, they do the hot stuff. Cast your mind back to the dizzy days of 2009 and you will recall I was invited to 1901 once upon a time. 1901 being the flagship out of the five restaurants within Andaz. I was even given a tour of the guts of a 19th century hotel, which is by far the funkiest part of the invite. All the rooms inside are somehow interconnected. Walls hide secret doors which open to neverland, and alternate universes. There are secret trap doors, dungeons and pleasure rooms. I’m obviously kidding about dungeons. Generally, I liked the food, though the grandiose space spooked me a little… anyway, the PR machine dropped me another invitation to try Catch, their seafood & bubbly bar. Oysters and Champagne you say? Hard to say no to.

As with all my invites, a disclaimer : The restaurant comped this meal, I didn’t pay for it.

Service was a little slow as the staff made us stand like nupties upon arrival. I counted two minutes before someone tended to us. There’s no formal reception, since the whole idea of the ‘new’ Andaz concept is to be chilled but yet maintain the sexy high production values. It’s abit like Daniel Craig playing James Bond, but we know that Sean Connery is underneath the blonde hair and muscles somewhere … “Pussy”. So they are largely successful with their concept. The space feels informal and chic, marble chic with baby blue walls. Tall ceilings give it an open feel. There is the hint of 19th century architecture remaining too. However, Andaz hotel being what it is, had clientèle whom were so well behaved and so well groomed, I could have mistaken them for mannequins. Luckily the staff were much livelier, and the chirpy service took away much of the stiffness – it’s progressive, though there is a general trend toward a more human approach to serving human beings in London. Generally speaking anyway.

As you have probably guessed, the ‘Catch of the day’ is both a plot device as well as the focus of the restaurant – a commitment toward fresh seafood. A giant fountain filled with shellfish serves as the main centrepiece in the room, and as a Chinese guy, sea salt quite literally courses through my veins, I’d like to think I know my fish, but feel free to dent my ego. I once remember paying a visit to a fishermen’s, er, warehose in Glasgow, feeling gobsmacked with not just the sheer quality of live catch, but more so with the depressed prices. Inflation clearly does not work in the same way it does down here. Unworldly scallops, muscular lobsters. So here’s the deal with the Catch of the day option : Whole fish, cooked to your preference, you know steamed, roasted, fried and then you get to choose from a selection of sauces. I was a little intrigued with their golden raisin & shrimp brown butter, which I don’t believe I sampled on this visit. Whole bream and lemon sole were the specials – both fish not to my liking, I skipped their daily catch.

Amuse Bouches was a pumpkin soup served like a cup of coffee. Brothy, stocky, peppery, watery, and I detected curry powder. I attempted to down the concoction, the flavours of pumpkin wasn’t quite coming through, and it was a tad too hot. I think there might even be celery in there, it has a kind of fibrous flavour which I intepret as watery. A little bit more cream perhaps.

Wine was in the form of a bottle of Alsatian Riesling, 2005 Rene mure. Characteristic of the Alsatian style and quite the contrast to German Riesling, this wine was very clean with a palate cleansing ability. A floral and peachy zest, but the best bit was an unusually strong acid hit which starts to sizzle right from the moment it hits the tongue – woah. The acidity continues all the down, very long finish. Brill, and hence worth a few sentences.

Starters, Crab bisque.

Aromatic shellfish check, thick and rich texture, uncheck. The soup is on the thinner side, but it managed to maintain a sharply distilled shellfish flavour. This is quite the subdued version of crab bisque. Personally, I prefer bigger aromas and a huge hit of seafood perhaps I am thinking more of a veloute than a bisque. But mellow did mean that it was much easier to finish. Not bad, but with only mere strands of crab in the latte-like broth… boring.

Next up : Wild octopus salad, shaved fennel and pepper salad

This I really liked, lively, slinky and citrusy octupus slices were so fresh, they could well be alive. The peppery fennel was also served with capers, rocket and parsley. A simple recipe, straightforward but well executed.

Of course, we had to get some oysters, Loch Fyne and Colchester natives, three of each… just a taster you know.

The natives were amazingly potent, fishy and I felt as if I was eating pearls from the sea. Just a feeling. Fantastically muddy and snotty, which in the case of oysters meant that they were delicious. The Loch Fynes, with shells sharp in shape are abit more on the neutral side, sea salty but alot more tame, more mineral. Oysters have such a unique flavour unlike any other food I know of, I could slurp a dozen easily, no three dozen. Where’s my wine.

We also ordered pickled crab with rillettes. Interesting stuff, large chunks of fresh crab compressed to a sort of tower form and seemingly soaked in a wasabi infused soya sauce. I tasted the sweetness of mirin, the moment it hit my palate. So this is what they did with all the juicy crab meat missing from the bisque. A seaweed and pickle salad accompany the forgettable pork rillettes. If I had to guess, then I would guess Pan-Asian, a touch of Japan. Well done.

Finally then on to the main event : Roast Monkfish with potted shrimp, curly kale.

The fish is juicy if just a tad overdone. Slicing it right down the middle into the bone, I noted it was cooked all the way through the entire thickness of the fish. I would prefer it to be slightly under, just slightly. The texture was chewy, erring toward the soggy side, as opposed to a springy bounce. I enjoyed the intriguing choice of garnish, lemon flavoured raisins, pine nuts and deeply seasoned potted shrimp. Curly kale is a good match to white fish, it has wonderful texture, with a tinge of bitterness, but it also has a great ability to soak up all the spewing fish juices. It’s a great ingredient, underused in my opinion. Same as samphire, another often underused but smashing ingredient.

On the side, a mushroom truffle mash – par excellence served with the fish. On the other side of the table was a pan-fried then baked bream. As per the monkfish, this was also a little over cooked and a little soggy. Both dishes are also under seasoned, which might be intentional. I get the feeling that the Chef – Stuart Lyall – prefers subtle flavours, I respect that. Natural flavour should be allowed to shine more often.

We finished our meal with a wintry warm pear crumble. A grainy pear sorbet accompanied the creamy vanilla custard, and it was a mellifluous ending to a meal that was equally so. I think if you like game, strong serious flavours finished with Anglo-French conventions, then 1901 is a good bet. But if you are after natural flavours, subdued and easy eating dishes then Catch is a better choice. Speaking generally, I think the Andaz restaurants provide good value for money, the standard of food is consistent, easy to understand and mostly delicious. Unless you are part of the fanatical foodie republic hunting for the next gimmick or spotting a trend, then I think you’ll do quite well with the relatively ‘safe’ dishes at Catch. As I alluded to earlier, it’s a seafood and champagne bar – the oysters are well sourced, which says it all really. I think it is only a matter of it’s puzzling location, not quite the foodie mile in Farringdon, nor the pseudo grungy environs of Brixton, not the glamour of Mayfair or even the rich diversity of Dalston Kingsland a mere stone’s throw away. It probably shares the same postcode as your workplace. The official website doesn’t list prices, but if memory serves me, the ala carte is in the region of about £40pp (£10/£18/£7), set menus are around £18. I suspect some of you already use Catch as fall back option for power lunches, expense account?

The Gist of It

Catch and Champagne Bar official site £45 pp
40 Liverpool Street EC2M 7QN
Tel : 020 7618 7200
Tube : Liverpool Street

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We are in the middle of the coldest snap known to mankind. It has decidedly grounded many of us – including the restaurant going republic, in fear that the tipple monster might never lead us home again. Thank the goodens for the dude who invented the neighbourhood cafe, because this means we can venture on nature’s locomotion to fill our tummies without resorting to the perils of mechanical transport.

I have a love and hate relationship with my neighbourhood; on one hand, SW7 is one of the more scenic postcodes. In between the leafy residences, and the perfectly trimmed hedges and the occasional embassy lies an eclectically chic high street which houses an array of quintessential lazy neighbourly cafes. On the otherhand, it’s just too bloody expensive to live there. So I received an email from Val who happens to own one of these neighbourhood cafes in Chelsea and had kindly offered a princely comped meal to in return for a write-up, to which I accepted. The attraction was obviously because I could wake up just in time for a Saturday brunch, and not worry about my tummy imploding on the way there. Situated on Walton Street, the surrounding area is also home to the iconic Michelin house which occupants include the Bibendum restaurant. Also in the area, is a local favourite of mine which serves French style open sandwiches – Tartine.

I was really surprised at how busy this cafe was at one in the afternoon, the place was so packed that I had to fall in line to join the elongating queue. Jak’s operates a manned buffet bar of sorts and the transcations occur over the glass counter in which you pick and choose your plates of food, well actually you find a table first and then get up and order and well, you get my drift. We managed to find two empty spots on one of the large family tables just in front of the counter. Val has turned this cafe into a lovingly cosy space and it certainly is one of the more vibrant spots I’ve been to of late – so much colour and chatter. I suppose the long tables are to accommodate groups of families, which coincidentally, largely formed the clientele on this visit. An educated guess suggested most were local to the area, some had come to read a book amongst the human warmth, while others were simply there to share quality time with the loved ones, and so was I it appears.

As I said, most of the food is cooked and arranged behind the glass counter to which you simply pick and choose what you’d like to have, and they’ll hand it over to you. There is alot of choice, and a largely colourful and seemingly healthy options what with a selection of grilled meat & fish, meatballs in hearty tomato sauces and a smattering of salads and rice which include Quinoas, Tabbouleh, Artichoke Hearts and many more which my memory fails to recall.

One is free to mix and match, and the missus started with an all fibres blazing : Quinoa, artichokes, peppers and spinach.

As the glutton that I am, I had to pause before taking up a spoonful of the healthy stuff. It was my first experience of quinoa, midly seasoned and with a relatively silky and fluffy texture – how else do I describe this, maybe as a cross between cous cous and barley.

As for my own ‘starters’ plate, I ordered the excellent chicken escaloped, breaded, and fried till crispy and still juicy on the inside (See photo here). Our food then came in waves as Val heated them up and brought them over. Next up is this gorgeous looking aubergine bake.

Stuffed with garlic, onions, parsley, and cherry tomatoes, as I said, I’m no green monster, but the evenly sour, sweet and pasty managed to enthrall my carnivorous senses.

Ahh finally then, some meat : pan fried sea bass.

A simply salted and floury fish that was roasty too, which fortunately was not overcooked. More fish came our way, including this tuna steak.

Again very simply charred, and i checked for pinkness in the centre – check.

I was beginning to feel as if this meal was abit of an impromptu detox session, and Val urged us to try his fresh juice bar, to which I obliged to his suggestion of orange, carrot and a dash of ginger. One is of course free to mix and match to create a detoxtail of choice.

Just as I was sipping my latte, Val come to me again to tempt me with a whole table worth of sweet goodies… ohhh..

..ohh… after the super healthy meal I just had, I felt as if I was duly rewarded to select from the droolworthy cakes… and boy did I choose well. The one that really stood out for us were the vibrant red and the rigid golden brown of the strawberry cheesecake. Honestly, mindful of my free meal and expanding waistline, I asked Val to provide me with a just slither.

Instead he brought me a quarter. Oh well, I’ll have to eat that then. Fluffy, puffy, vanilla explosions that melted away my tastebuds, about as luxurious as the woman behind the M&S advert voiceovers. The crumbly biscuit based soaked up the excellent strawberry syrup so lovingly lashed upon the cheesecake. Incredible.

The neighbourly cafe was good enough for us to return about 3 weeks later, this time as a paying customer and with a group of friends. On my return, each of us ordered a mains plus two greens plus coffee and cheesecake (to share) and the bill came to around £17 per person. I was surprised to find that Val recognised me on the second visit, and I could not turn down his requests to down a shot of apertif (I forget the name) with him at the end of the meal. To conclude, I liked Jak’s enough to return to the cafe, as I said before, this is the quintessential neighbourhood place, if you’re looking for a healthy yet delicious lunch with a touch of the Mediterranean, or if you are after sinfully gorgeous cakes or would just like to sip fresh juices and read your favourite book over a lazy weekend (amongst lots children and lots of people) – then Jak’s might apply to you.

Other viewpoints you might like to consider : In Magazines ; Gourmet Chick ; The London Foodie ; Telegraph

More photographs of the meal here.

The Gist of It

Jak’s Cafe official site £15pp
77 Walton Street SW3 2H
Tel : 020 7584 3441
Tube : South Kensington

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The first email from Ffiona’s PR lady was a succinct one liner in which she asked if I wanted to know more, and inquired about my publicly available site stats. Naturally, I replied with a link to my numbers and an obligatory yes to her offer. A couple of days later, Ffiona (the owner, hence the name) followed up on my reply with a personal pitch about her restaurant. She started her message by establishing both our passion for the edible things. Her pitch was much shorter than the milliards of superlatively written releases that I receive and I’ll be honest, I give very time to reading them these days. On the other hand, this was something I read almost halfway through. There was something a touch more personal about her email (or I’m just that gullible). She had told me about her hands on approach to her now sixteen year old labour of love and informed me that many local to the area, consider her restaurant to be the quintessential (ok that’s me paraphrasing now) cosy neighbourhood spot. I was sitting at a hotel lobby in Berlin when I got this and thought it would be nice to check it out.

As with all my invites I fully disclosure the circumstances and Ffiona was kind enough to comp this meal.

The restaurant occupies a cosy little spot along bendy Kensington church street, conveniently nestled between High street Kensington and Notting Hill.

“Hello young man, you must be Kang, I’m Ffiona.”

Woah. It must have been my starry eyes, as I was pleasantly surprised to be greeted by the restaurant’s namesake. The first thing I wanted to know was how hands on she was. Was she always on hand for every service, day or night? Was she still cooking in the kitchen? The place is small, low ceilings and the decor felt more like a home than a restaurant. I was a little worried about the lack of lighting and how it would affect the photographs, although the cosiness took away any fears and it was nice to simply relax and take in the candle-lit ambiance. Once we settled into our table, Ffiona talked us through the menu board; starters included grilled prawns, aubergine salads and calamari. Mains were a selection of recognisable British meat & fish recipes, including Ffiona’s fab fishcakes (which I didn’t try). The choices seemed rustic, and I definitely felt like we were invited to dinner at someone’s home, Ffiona’s home to be exact. My good manners were on the table.

So let’s have a peck at the food shall we. I couldn’t pass up the chance to try something entirely homemade, the duck liver pate with soda bread – all freshly made in the kitchens.

The first thing that struck me was grainy and coarse texture. There was a sort of whipped feel, where it seemed that air had occupied the spaces between the grains. It tasted great, fresh, warm and melty. The soda bread was the best thing about this dish – soft, warm and so wholesome, it gave out a fizzle with each bite. Well matched to the flavourful pate which reminded me of a childhood favourite: cheese flavoured twisties.

On the other side of the table, the dreamgirl opted for Moroccan aubergines with yoghurt.

Mushy, warm and with a chilli kick in the back end, cooled by a minty yoghurt sauce. The aubergines were nicely cooked and overall, I found the dish to be comforting, unassuming but nothing really spectacular. I much preferred the pate.

On to the mains now and we opted for the Scotch sirloin steak.

The steak was toasty, well salted and which led me believe that it was pan-fried. Sitting atop of it was a bunch of fried onions and mushrooms. It was ok, the steak was cooked on spec (medium rare) and the juices were still well sealed within the meat.

I’ve never tried Butterfish before, so I thought I’d chance it on this visit.

Served with with chilli, coriander, red onions and some new potatoes, I thought butterfish tasted similar to swordfish, though softer. A tad too much salt for my liking although I thought the fish was nicely cooked. Don’t tell Ffiona this but as I was shifting the candles around the table to light the dish for a photograph, I accidentally knocked one over and a wadge of hot wax had fallen onto the side of the dish and also on to the back of my hand, luckily the candles were not scented, and my skin was still intact.

Dessert was piping hot bread and butter pudding which had only just come out from the oven.

Mmm, you can smell the aromas from a mile away.

I think this dish summed up the Ffiona’s experience. The pudding was fluffy yet light, the juices spewing from the centre were rich & custardy. With just a hint of smokiness, this was a bread and pudding baked with pure passion. Mmm so rustic and so hearty. So Ffiona sat down to chat with us in between the courses, and she managed snippets of her history and how she had left the glitzy glamour of Park Lane to start this humble little spot of her own. As the restaurant filled up with patrons, Ffiona was running around the place with a passion and she seemed to establish great rapport with all the guests around me. As I observed the exchanges, I realised how everybody were regulars. Hugs, kisses and well wishes all around. The lead picture to this write-up is a photograph of two young lads out celebrating a successful work venture (I overheard through the grapevine) and they had asked Ffiona to lay on the champagne. I was struck with how they had chose a modest setting when they could have splashed out at a pricier location – there must be something special about Ffiionas. As I captured more information, I realised that they too were regulars and their exchanges with Ffiona were like a proud mother asking her boys how they’d like to celebrate their top GCSE grades… alright maybe not, but you get my drift. They popped their second bottle of bubbly just as I left the restaurant. What a romance, I’ve always admired sole restaurant owners – to borrow from the PR dictionary – and their ‘hands on’ approach to things. I think personally investing time in building a relationship with customers counts, and Ffiona certainly seems to work hard at it. The food may never arouse Michelin inspectors (or maybe they would, who knows, any of you readers know (or are) a Michelin inspectors?), though I don’t think it’s just about the food with neighbourly places such as Ffiona’s; it’s a place where you can keep going back to because you feel connected to it. My dreamgirl was happy with the meal, and we gestured at how this place would have been the perfect venue to organise a small company Christmas lunch with colleagues. Too late for 2009, but perhaps next year.

More photographs from the meal here.

The Gist of It

Ffiona’s official site
51 Kensington Church St. W8 4BA
Tel: 0207 937 4152
Tube: High Street Kensington or Notting Hill Gate

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I was introduced to the marketing whiz kids at the Andaz hotel through an associate who was telling me about yet another larger than life pop-up restaurant project to hit the Capital – Bistrotheque setting up a Supersonic Masonic Supper club during London Restaurant Week in October to be exact. Of course, I missed that boat completely. Instead, I found myself taken on a tour of the luxury hotel (formerly the Great Eastern) based in the heart of the square mile, including the five dining establishments within the Andaz brand, and at the end of it, a handshake and an invitation to eat at 1901, which I decided to accept.

Yes, a disclaimer – I didn’t pay for this one.

1901 has always been on my eat-list. Some of my much loved restaurant-going idols (Douglas, Agirlhastoeat and Marina included) had written up favourable experiences at this restaurant, and so I really wanted to try it for myself. Part of the appeal of 1901, is also partly the reason why I have decided to avoid it for so long. For one, it’s location suggest more of a power lunch than all out celebration, and the place is perhaps a little too posh, too grand and too elegant for its own good.

“We want to strip it down, it’s elegant you know, but laid back.” was the message the Andaz suits were trying to drill into my little skull while on tour. I appreciated their progressive approach of trying to play down the grandeur, what with the ‘no reception’ lobby and going as far to quoting a guest (on their website) who described 1901 as “unpretentious luxury for when you are feeling decadent”. Getting jiggy with the kids then.

Our evening kicked off with a frothy mushroom soup as a mouth amuser. Oo, warm.

It would be an incredible shame if I didn’t touch on the impressive dining space which 1901 is. If you are as obsessed about high ceilings as I am, then you will be blown away by the magnificence of it all. Of course, all this jazz also meant that the room itself was quite a bit too posh for its own good, at times, it did feel abit much. Thankfully though, the attitude of the staff were a complete contrast to the occasion – everyone was relatively chilled out. A violinist wandered around the room as well, with a roving DJ going around the tables and essentially constructing a playlist from the guests.

I picked Muse, Morceeba and Gotan Project. Starters was Aberdeenshire tartare, celeriac with truffle mayonnaise, bone marrow on toast.

Not bad, not bad at all. The tartare itself was standard issue, well-chopped, well-seasoned and spreadable and something any Parisian could be proud of. However I was more impressed with the value-added extras accompanying this dish, in particular the mini marrow toasts which married up nicely.

Turning now to the menu, it places an emphasis on being British, and they punctuate their commitment toward local produce. Each course lists the region in which the main ingredient is sourced from, like my tartare being Scottish for instance.Smoked haddock is from Lincolnshire, and the duck is from suffolk etc.

The other starter we had was the shellfish platter from the Shetlands; with razor clam, mussels, deep fried langoustine and pickled seaweed.

… And accompanying the shellfish was a light yet creamy foam and what looked like grated nuts. Served on a cold slab, I was really impressed with this shellfish selection – everything tasted fresh enough that I could almost smell the sand, especially with those juicily fried langoustines.

At this point in the meal, the sommelier was kind enough to pour us a couple of tipples of superbly branded wine to savour. If memory served me right, one was a ’71 Rothschild – abit tired, abit of an old musky bird, but still so mineral and so soily and had now mellowed into a smooth character.

Righto, on to the main courses. Suffolk Pork, slow cooked rib eye, roast scallop, carrot puree, pickled cherries.

Served with mash potatoes on the side, the pork was mostly good, food was cooked to the T, and the sort of classic roast & tart flavour combo was balanced and executed well. The single roast scallop was a nice touch, it did not seem to gel with the tender and well seasoned pork, but it did taste good. Yeah overall, this wasn’t the most exciting dish on the planet, boring but well-cooked.

With one boring dish out of the way, the other main course had to be something a little racier, and I decided to tackle something which I was going to try for the first time : Grouse.

The basic premise of the dish was similar to that of the pork rib eye, roasted, abit of tart for sauce, sweet saurkrauts and roasted parsnips in the place of a mash. I didn’t really know what to expect of grouse, I’d seen the celeb chefs shooting and then skinning them and then singing praises about the gaminess of the meat, but that’s about as close as I got to grouse. Served very pink, the first bite… oh gosh, I couldn’t swallow it. The meat was so incredibly gamey, that there was smoke, fire and just a forest stink that erupted in my mouth. Wow – there is alot of mature flavour, but it was too much for me to bear. Perhaps my palate needed more training. I found myself downing the vintage Rothschild just so as to wash away the muscular grouse. I was disappointed that I could not conquer my first grouse, and gave up half-way to the overly livery (is there a word to describe this over-gaminess?) tastes which was amplified with every bite.

The prices at 1901 aren’t too horrible for its ceremony, a two course lunch could be had for £19, and a three course dinner hovering the £55 mark. Food was straightforward, classic and mostly executed with an understated flair; save for a choice of meat I had yet to tame, everything else was rather tasteful. We ended the evening with a creme brulee topped off with abit of fruit and ice cream, and walked away with a pleasant memory of the night. In my humble opinion, it was still abit too posh for a quiet dinner and I come away feeling that 1901 is a place more suited for business rather than pleasure. In a sense, it is well-positioned in terms of it’s location in Liverpool Street (I’m not taking a stab in the dark regarding their clientele) , but then again, you could just go to spend the evening with mostly good food, marvelling at the ceilings and come away with a neck worth straining for.

The Gist of It

1901, Andaz Hotel official website £60pp
40 Liverpool Street EC2M 7QN
Tel: +44 20 7961 1234
Tube: Liverpool St

PS: More photographs here.

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Forty five minutes after exiting Temple tube station, I am still wandering around the area. I could have sworn I have walked past Buddha bar before – which faces the river – but for the life of me, all I can see is a Walkabout. Defying pride, I finally make the call to the restaurant for directions; they tell me I need to keep walking right, and then some.

Ah, there it is, under a bridge.

At first I thought the PR bods were sending me to a cocktail bar for a round of drinks, even Buddha Bar’s website suggests a sort of lounge with a kitchen attached to it. My assumptions were only solidified upon entry – Loud, dark, body hugging waitress outfits and a cloakroom. The reception area is very cosy, probably suggesting an equally cosy restaurant.

And then I see this guy:

The music got louder and louder as I passed through to the dining area – everything I had thought Buddha bar was, well it wasn’t. The high ceilings looked at least a couple of storeys high, and it was dominated by a huge golden Buddha washed in dim blue and red light. My eyes continually scanned the room, it looked like as if the tea house stage built for Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon had been converted into a club with the dance floor populated by tables. As my senses became saturated with the setting, I let out a silent ‘wow’, this place looks amazing.

For such a huge restaurant, they sure skimmed on the furniture and fittings. The tables were ridiculously small as it seemed to only just fit two menus. Flipping through it, I could barely see a thing. The light was terrible, so bad that the waitresses carried around mini torch lights while they navigated the dark like ushers in a cinema. Some diners were handed these mini torch lights, while I illuminated mine with an iPhone. I enjoyed the chill-out tracks oozing out from the ultra bass speakers but when I have to shout at my partner when ordering, that’s not usually a good sign for a restaurant. Our waitress brings around a bowl of edamame beans seasoned in salt and chilli – not bad. I ask for some water – leaning over – she still can’t hear me. Sigh, I shout louder. At this point, I can’t seem to take Buddha Bar seriously as a restaurant, the ambiance was becoming a distraction, and I couldn’t concentrate on my appetite, at all. In my mind, it’s still a cocktail lounge with a kitchen attached to it. Speaking of food, the menu is just about as confusing. They describe themselves as serving ‘Pan-Asian’ cuisine, which translates to sushi for starters and Thai for mains. Glancing at the menu prices which I could see, I was squinting to read it again as the prices seemed a little exorbitant.

The taster menu was available for £65 per person – equivalent to Michelin prices. I get the feeling that food is meant to be shared, everything is doubly pricy. Anyway, the sushi menu looked quite so formidable with a wide selection of traditional nigiris and sashimis, as well as a small selection of sushi rolls. Nothing in the hot starters section caught my eye, and so our meal began with a sushi selection.

The waitress seemed very proud of the toro (Belly tuna, the top of the list of sushi, and the most expensive at £4.50 per piece), she exclaimed that it was an item rarely available as their chefs only serve it when they get stock that was of high enough quality. I asked for two, she strongly recommended six and we settled with four. Accompanying the toro were turbot, unagi, seared lobster and wasabi tempura prawn roll. I also ordered scallop which never came and I believe that was drowned out by the music. As this meal was free, I didn’t really want to take the mickey and order too much. The sushi is terribly pricy, this platter had already clocked in at nearly £45.

I started with the wasabi prawns – not bad at all, a creamy wasabi mayo, the tempura was a powdery crunch and the rice had good stickiness. My mouth was beginning to water. Next up, the prized toro …. Ok, wow. It was surprisingly amazing. It disintegrated in my mouth, the quality of the fish was superb, oily, fatty, odourless; the toro was an absolute beauty that was cut to perfection. The rest of the platter gave the similar melt in your mouthness, the unagi was loaded with sweet soya flavours, the turbot was another smooth silk layered on rice and the seared lobster roll required eyebrows to be raised. I found myself nodding along, I almost don’t want to admit it, partly because I didn’t expect food to taste half as good, but also partly because I couldn’t see what I was eating; but dude….. that was one of the best sushi platters I’ve ever had in London. One expensive sushi platter, if for some reason my conscience hadn’t kicked in, I probably would have ordered eight more pieces of toro.

After the startlingly good sushi, I was really looking forward to what they could achieve with the cooking. Service was a little slow, we waited about half an hour before the food started showing up. Mains were roast black cod in sweet miso (£23.50), Beef fillet teppanyaki (£30) and crispy baby squid (£11) accompanied by egg fried rice and rice noodles.

Let’s start with the squid – yeah it wasn’t too bad, a little heavy on the salt, but overall good crispiness and flavour. The fillet of beef was so-so. Overpriced, overcooked and mushy. It came with an under fermented kimchi, there’s abit of mango flavour in the sweet sauce as well, where I expected sizzling smokiness (as it was advertised as a teppanyaki), I was greeted with a uninspired pan-fried dish. Ordinary at best. The black cod miso (£23.50) is a little cheaper than the Nobu original (£28). It looks nearly identical save for the drops of sweet miso on the side. Yeah, initial impressions exhibited the signature melt in your mouth flakiness with the deep miso flavours, grainy texture with just the hint of acidity. The fish was cooked well – just a tad under – I could still taste the fatty bits so that’s good. Its missing abit of the magic, a good imitation but an imitation nonetheless. Not as clinical as the original, the sauce is over smothered in my opinion, a tad too sweet, too intense and I think the fish needs abit more broiling. Close but no cigar. The side dishes were the dark horse – the egg fried rice was full flavoured and came with delicious large shrimps (lots of them) and the rice noodles were bouncilicious. The noodles were so consistent that the strands were impossibly long and hard to break – a good sign.

Um, yeah so just when I was about to take Buddha Bar seriously, the main courses let me down abit. Don’t get me wrong though, the mains actually tasted ok, there were no missteps or basic errors, fish tasted like fish and so forth, but it wasn’t anything spectacular, unlike the sushi. Although, I’ll note that the portions were deceptively large, we failed to finish everything on the table. On the whole, being mindful of how expensive this meal could be, I thought it was above average.

With food finally out of the way, I began to take in the rest of the unorthodox ambiance, its like a club where people are boogieing sitting down. I realised that the price premium wasn’t for the food, but it was most definitely for everything else. Buddha Bar is a swanky place to celebrate a special occasion, or more appropriately, it’s the swanky place to wow your first date. The darkness, loud chillout music and matrix-like atmosphere is the perfect distraction to hide first date jitters. Food is passable albeit overpriced; I would recommend sticking to working up the liquid courage and the sushi for food. Embrace the suggestive energy, feel free to be somebody else and really just have a blast. Inside Buddha Bar, everyone is leaning over to whisper something, and if you want to make that move, all I’m saying is that the stage is already set and you should lean over and make that move.

PS: Full set of photographs can be seen on flickr.

The Gist of It

Buddha Bar official site
£80 per person plus drinks
8 Victoria Embankment
WC2R 2AB
Tel: 020 3371 7777
Tube: Temple (and keep walking right till you see the bridge)

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There are two Toms in London who appeal to me. Both are men of food and both have legends written about their conquests in the kitchen. “Why yes of course I would like to sample an all expense paid meal at Tom Ilic” when their hype department called. Can we stop calling this food blagging and call it a blag-pass instead? It sounds rather more palatable.

Read at your peril.

I know very little about Wandsworth, or much of south London for that matter. I am however aware of its significance in culinary legend since it is home to Chez Bruce and the very same site was formerly Harveys; the restaurant where a certain Scotsman shadowed the effervescent gastro genius of his time. The same genius who later retired from the kitchen, dramatically renouncing his three coveted stars. A different era altogether, I’m sure I would have enjoyed eating food made with Mr White’s incendiary pans.

North of the Common is Tom Ilic – the restaurant widely acknowledged as the frugal man’s gastro getaway. I had arrived for a Thursday night dinner, the rain pissing down and soaking into the bottoms of my trousers. I was greeted with a humble setting not unlike an 80’s hotel lobby, and firmly rooted in reality. The sombre tone was a welcomed change from the rhythmic dribble outside the door. I sank into the armless chair and the rain which followed me inside, slowly but surely soaked into the carpeted floor. The resourceful ambiance was apparent from moment I walked in, and the economy was pleasing when I saw the prices on the menu. £16.50 for two set dinner courses – palatable in today’s climate. The ala carte describes a similar story with three courses made from attractive measurements: £7/£13/£5. The inviting prices were attached to delectable descriptions, both seemingly out of sync. Started had sautéed sweetbreads boudin blanc & truffle; Cured, roasted & tartar of Salmon; Mains included trio of lamb; baked fillet of cod with aioli and anchovy fondue and a saddle of rabbit with a tempura of frog legs. I was in wanderlust of what was to come, wary though, since I have been fooled by words before.

We start with a salad of Cornish crab with avocado and a chilled gazpacho.

I can still taste crunchy shells, I interpreted that positively suggesting fresh, handpicked crabmeat. The fragrant seafood leaked juicy flavours into the gazpacho, which was an appetisingly raw vegetable flavour; the zing was completed with a oily mouthfeel, to which I guess is olive oil. Heavy in garlic and a mild peppery end – the cold of the dish cooled the intensity of the soup, with avocadoes bringing a creaminess to texture. It was a light start, one that I enjoyed although I noted the sharply marinated celeriac at the bottom. Too much acidity and it was killing the mellow crab and gazpacho dynamic. I scrap to the side.

The alternative starter was seared scallops with couscous, grapefruit with lemongrass vinaigrette.

The scallops were seared so well it was almost bovine, the prevailing seafood was contrasted well against the cool acidity of the grapefruit and in the harmony of that balance was an appreciably simple scoop of coucous which soaked up all the flavours.

I can’t quite decide if I want to like either dishes or not as both didn’t excite the buds but I am leaning toward the former. The first mains to arrive were the fillet of kettyle Beef, Braised Oxtail ravioli, horseradish soufflé, roast bone marrow and spring vegetables. (£15)

The marrow was fattiliciously flavoursome; I spread the fully matured blobs onto bread and it was miles more exciting that the starters. The next element was tremendously good oxtail ravioli, and what a great choice of cut (offal?) as well. Deep beefiness, a silken texture to go with vanilla like fragrance, so far so good – I was prepared for a big time fillet. But those hopes were dashed with something overcooked; it was verging on being well done when we had asked for it to be medium rare, merely ordinary meat finished with a very tarty jus. The final element of this dish was the horseradish soufflé, digging in, it looked like a cheese puff and it gave off a sharp aroma. Tasting it had me popping eyeballs as it knocked the intensometer off the scales. It was so rich, so sour, so cheesy that I could not stomach more than a couple of bites – the whole roof of my mouth suddenly felt like it was on fire, horseradish smoke was coming out from my nose….

A difficult dish to call, I think it was trying to do too much. Better cooked meat with more ravioli and marrow, less of the tart and soufflé would have had me singing its praises, instead of fanning the flames.

Next: Assiete of Pork from the British Isles, Chorizo, white cabbage, caramalised apple. (£13)

A rather complex looking dish, lots of elements and it must be said that for the price, this is an achievement in itself.

There is an assortment of cuts on this dish, and I was sampling the different ‘regions’ by spinning the plate around. Starting with the far left hand side, and we have belly of pork, a little too firm for fat, I felt very concious about chewing on fat. Moving to the right, we have a fried pig’s head roll resting on top of trotter cake (I think) – This combo was very good; buttery, matured flavours fully enraptured in an oily coating. I didn’t quite agree with the next combination of very bloody tasting black pudding resting on top a very nicely caramalised apple. The mash tasted too processed and the crowning pork fillet was tough and forgettable. Things got a bit worse as the sour cabbage was too sour and it overpowered all meatiness in the dish. Overall I felt that this dish, again, tried to do too much as conflicting elements were pulling it apart. Parts of it was good, but the lack of focus made it a chore to eat.

We finished the meal with a satisfying ginger infused crème brulee. A runny custard that had pure sugary goodness, the madeline verging on being awesome but the highlight of the dish – and the meal – was the warming rhubarb compote with a citrusness that was reminiscent of a natural 7up fizz, so ethereal that it evoked memories of Peter Pan wishing for a colourful meal.

Overall, a tough one to call, ‘He loves me, he loves me not’. There were flashes of brilliance which grabbed me by the scruff; and then there were moments of flaccidity that released me from the same hold. Bogged down with too much on one plate, things were simply overdone. Let’s not forget the emphasis on value though, and for the price, Tom Ilic is a great local restaurant. But that’s where it stands for me, merely a good local, not enough genius at play to compel me to come back for more. I’m all for value but I feel that one need not bombard to impress, sometimes less is indeed very much more.

The Gist of It

Tom Ilic Official Site
123 Queenstown Rd SW8 3RH 020 7622 0555
£40 per person and a bellyful.
Verdict: Excellent value for money, but some dishes had too much which made eating it a little distracting.

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Here is the ‘new’ disclaimer: PR guy for Brouge emailed me asking if I’d come and review Brouge in Richmond, he covered the costs of the meal, and I said sure, why not. Am I gonna be totally objective? Totally. If you don’t trust the opinion, forget the words and just drool over the food porn (yes, you can do that, its a foodblog) , scroll on, fellow eater, scroll on.

Remembering Leuven

When I think about Belgian food, I think soups, hearty stews, bread, tartare, more bread, frites, frites, frites and of course, mussels. I had spent a short summer in Leuven – a town near Brussels – years ago and I had great meals there. I can’t remember the names, nor could I recall the street names; I do remember eating in small restaurants that served genuine food.

I do not know many Belgian restaurants in London (in fact I can only think of Belgo). Brouge was an interesting proposition when I got the invite, and I must say, if nobody told me about this place, I wouldn’t have ventured all the way out to Richmond to try it out. They have two branches, I went to the newer branch; the original is somewhere in Twickenham.

It took me a while to find this place, it is a basement restaurant and the notoriously placed signage meant that I was running in circles before finally, looking down. Right then, time for some booze.

My evening kicked off with the ‘bat taster’ of eight different types of Belgian brew. I can’t remember what they all were, but it was an able selection of fruit beers, blondes, cloudy ones, and bitter ones. The Belgians do have great beer, and this bat taster was a great way to try em all, without having it all go to the head too quickly (unless if that’s what you want that is, in which case, go large.).

Salmon and Ribs

The menu was a little confusing: where’s the Belgian food? Honey ribs with spring onion, huh? Scottish poached salmon, double huh? Buffalo mozzarella and Kent tomatoes, triple bah. And to top it off: Brouge mezze of tomato salsa. The authenticity. Personally, I don’t really mind if the chef decides to stray from convention, I don’t have much against fusion (well….) , as long as it comes out tasting alright, I’ll look the other way. Although, I did struggle a litte with so many ‘global’ choices.

Scottish poached salmon & smoked salmon terrine topped with lemon prawns (£6). That’s a long moniker. With the restaurant looking much like a pub with a ‘Belgian’ kitchen attached, I’ll be honest and say that I wasn’t expecting michelin standard brilliance. The first taste of the terrine was smooth, creamy and the zing was surprisingly appetizing. The lightness of the dish made for a wonderful summer dish, and those juicy prawns were simply tasty. There’s isn’t much else to say about it to be honest; it was as advertised, and as expected.

Alright, the other starter on the night (mine) were the Honey Spiced Lambiek Beer Ribs with Chilli & Spring Onion (£6). The sauce was tart and with just the slightest hint of chilli, it was pudding on ribs. I could not see the Belgian side of this dish; As far as I can tell, this is barbecue chinese spare rib. Don’t get me wrong though, it was actually delish. The fragrance of the spring onions contrasted well with the honey sweetness, and the ribs were cooked until the soft meat effortless fell off the bone. Um ok, how can I describe this: Ah. Like the perfect chinese takeaway ribs.

Before you gourmetheads pick up on the oxymoron that is ‘good chinese takeaway’, I do believe that food needn’t be poncy to be delicious, and good chinese takeaway really does exist, shame they don’t deliver to SW7.

Moules and Duck

The starters were quite agreeable. Surprising. I can actually take this place seriously.

I just had to order one.

Mussels and Frites; lemongrass & basil scented cooked in coconut cream (£12). Scented? Pretty adventurous copywriting there. I immediately noticed the larger scottish mussels. I was told that they usually use the smaller Belgian ones, but were out of season during summer. Regardless, bigger shellfish is always welcomed. Let’s start with the frites: bit of mayonnaise with that, mm, yeah not bad at all, any restaurant can be proud of them. They are abit fatter than I’d expect them to be, but that’s just nitpicking. The lemongrass broth is quite abit punchy, and it carried distinctive green thai curry aroma. Thin and runny, but with sharp intensity, mussels are cooked well. Nothing offensive and a rather mild rendition, and ably does its job.

Right then, let’s move on to a serious dish. Confit Leg of Aylesbury Duck served with a Grape & Garlic Jus (£14)

At this point, I’m convinced that the Belgian tag is just another moniker. Maybe Anglo-Belgian or International Belgian, so far the kitchen has churned out rather respectable dishes. Ok to the duck. The sauce is a good balance of fruity against a subtle garlic palette, ok perhaps just abit too tarty. The mash on the side was altogether forgettable and for a confit, it wasn’t quite as melt in your mouth. The duck itself wasn’t brimming with flavour and for me, it was just a little uninteresting. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but it felt like it was cooked, then placed under running water, then plated up. Nothing wrong with it, nothing exciting about it; it was quintessentially average (if indeed something average, could be quintessential..) .

When in Richmond…

Not bad.

Taking into account the price point, and what I think they are gunning for, I think that Brouge is successful in what they’ve set out to do. It’s got chatty pub ambiance, the faux Belgian cuisine is entirely believable and I think the food – while a little manufactured and unexciting – gets the job. I opted to finish with the White Chocolate & Orange Pot served with Shortbread & Crushed Raspberries (£6). Decadent richness with delightful fruitiness (I’m a white chocolate fan), the syrupy sauce texture was abit heavy on the finish but it left me feeling satisfied.

I have to say, I had quite low expectations, but it came out rather well. Don’t go expecting glamour and glitz, you won’t find it; instead, what you will find are easy eating dishes to soothe rumbling tummies. If it was just a little closer to me, I would quite happily pop in on a weeknight after work, unbutton the top two, ruffle the hair abit (for effect) and settle down for a bat taster and some chinese/belgian honey ribs.

The Gist of It

Brouge official site
5 Hill St TW9 1SX 020 8332 0055
£30 for three courses and a drink.
Verdict: For weeknights, great place to grab something simply hearty that tastes good.

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We start with the long bus journey from Waterloo station (bus 77, 35 minutes) past Battersea and into Lavender Hill in search of the supposedly hidden gem of an Italian restaurant. And I’ll take this opportunity to address a topic that’s been brewing among the twitterati of late.

When I got my first invites I was ecstatic, I thought of it as a kind of recognition that restaurants would invite me to do reviews. When it came time to write them, yeah there’s tremendous guilt and its difficult trying to come across as objectively as possible.

Bloggers are talking about it and its no secret that foodbloggers do get invitations from PR people to review their restaurants, with the restaurant covering the costs of the meal. I’ve covered this before in my past restaurant invites, and I make it known to everybody that I get invitations to write reviews. Is it awkward to write them? Yes of course it is. I do put down money for tips with every free invite, I know it won’t replace the cost of the meal, but I do try.

I chose to fully disclose the background to everything I write. Hence the segregation between ‘invites to review’ (comped by the restaurant) and a ‘review’ (which I paid for myself). I haven’t been afraid to pan invites which didn’t fly (Nahm and High Timber) and I have gone to try places, and indeed paid for the meal myself (belgo lobsterfest) after reading up on other blogger’s invited reviews.

I’m not a professional writer or critic and I have never claimed to be. I have never claimed to know everything about food, and I am simply someone who loves to eat and I am merely documenting my dinners. When I get invited to something, I go along to it and then I write about it. At the end of the day, its up to the reader to decide whether my stuff is useful or not.

As for the blogging bit itself, I try my utmost to review restaurants as objectively as I can; I spend about four hours on each write-up, and a further four hours on the pictures. As a result from this foodblog, I’ve taken an interest in photography and have since invested in camera gear. I do spend abit of time taking pictures of the food with every meal just to get a really good shot, all just for a blog post. I jot down notes of everything I eat, just so it’s all properly recorded as it happened, and finally maintaining an attractive, up to date blog design. And yes, I still have to tend to my day job which actually pays the rent. Alot of work goes into one review, and every single review takes alot out of me. Yeah, it’s become a little obsessive, I do put in alot of time and effort into this blog, and I spend alot of time with the blogposts because I want to write/photograph as best I can, partly because I want to create something entertaining for readers and partly because I am hoping that it will become useful to whoever picks it up.

The PR people behind Donna invited me to do a review, and I accepted it. Following the first visit, I returned to the same restaurant a week later for a meal I paid for personally, hence the wonky title. And so this will be abit of a combo review with dishes from two visits.

Actually, that’s two return visits in two weeks, Donna as well as Sketch. With Sketch, they offered me a £50 gift voucher and that was something that was publicly available (and still is). And both times, I went back because I liked the restaurant, and gladly returned as a paying customer.

That’s my position with these ‘invites’. I know I can’t please everybody and I can only do the best I can, so I will let my reviews speak for themselves. If you want to pass judgement over me, I welcome you to do so. Afterall, my reviews criticise the hardwork of restaurants, and I should be able to take criticism accordingly.

If my reputation is to be tested, then so be it.

I have always spoken plainly and openly. I don’t hide behind my blog and I don’t claim to be an expert. I am someone who enjoys eating. Inspired by, I look to emulate the illustrious foodbloggers who have come before me and I’m sharing my passion with anyone who cares to listen.

Donna in two

Phew, ok so that’s the political bit, back to eating. And just when I was beginning to think that the restaurant was imaginary, I noticed a string of restaurants and spotted Donna. Standing by the entrance was the head waiter. A bearded Italian Stallion – stern looking fella’ – whose frown quickly melted into a warm smile as he ushered us to our table. We arrived early at 6.30 on a friday, but the restaurant quickly filled up by 8pm.

The restaurant is richly adorned with all sorts of nostalgia-ware, football jerseys and B&W photographs; so much so, I regretted not taking more pictures of the décor. It screams local eatery and even has that musky smell of a restaurant that’s been there for too long. The restaurant prides itself in serving Neapolitan food, which by their own account is a result of a criss-crossing of several cultures which has affected the cuisine and resulted in a style that’s a halfway house between being refined and folk. Sounds good to me, I was just completely intrigued with their claim about the pizzas… but first, some appetisers.

Swimming

My family loves fresh seafood, especially the old man, he loves anything that’s still ‘Yau Siu’ (swimming).

Hmm.

Swordfish Carpaccio, rocket salad. The fish was quite a tough texture, almost like a robust tuna, it was chewy as opposed to being a puffy marsmallow. I assumed it was raw (Salted? Raw? Unsure, help?), but it tasted as if it was medium rare. It did carry a silky juiciness with it. It was zestified from the lemon juice but overall, the bold flavours of the fish dominated, which was a good thing. I love raw fish, and can only appreciate a good Carpaccio. A rustic start, if rather uneventful.

Next up: Deep fried calamari and sicilian prawns served on a bed of mix leaf salad.

The crusty exterior of the squid rings were extraordinary. I wasn’t expecting much of anything, but these were great as they reminded me of my mum’s recipe (she really knows best). Instead of a crunchy batter; this one was light, and almost powdery, interestingly enough, what made it tremendously delicious was an inherent eggyness that went really, really well with the squid. There was an openness about it, and the fresh approach made the deep fried calamaries a breeze to wolf down.

Similarly, the prawns were fried crisply and the natural seafood flavour was intensified with a sort of eggyness in the mix. The recipe somehow reminded me of Chinese prawn crackers, you know, a certain umaminess to the dish.

Best pizza in London?

Ok, I know what everybody is thinking: Franco Manca. That cannot be ignored, the benchmark for pizzas in the capital surely has to be measured against the Brixton Institution. So it won’t come as a surprise that I would be comparing DM with FM.

I was served the margherita (tomato & mozzarella & fresh basil ) on first visit (£5.90) and on my 2nd visit, I tried the Marinara (tomato, garlic and oregano £5.50) and the San daniele (parma ham, tomato, parmesan £7.95). Let’s start with the all important dough.

Ok, FM has competition. The pizza base is thin, thinner than FM and it is softer and rather more delicate. I also noted that it was served warm, as opposed to piping hot at FM (not sure if it was rested first or if the FM ovens were warmer). The base is very appetising and there was a silky bounce and subtle consistency to it, as opposed to a sizzling bang and a terrific pillow like chew which the FM pizza exhibits. Its very difficult to call, both pizza bases are very good indeed, but I may just give it to FM for better flavour and more chewiness and bounce as well as an overall wow factor. Having said that, I actually appreciated DM’s mellowness. As I said, a tough call.

Next: The tomato paste. I immediately noticed the freshness of the tomato paste, it was so fragrant that you could smell all the aromas. Eating it was a real pleasure, as I was tempted to just slurp the sweet juices off the pizza, it was fresh, bright and the highlight of the pizza. Very open flavour and the intensity was just right. Not too sweet, not too tangy, subtle and just the right balance of acidity. Coupled with the creamy mozzarella produced a fantastic body, with the rich tomatoes blending oh so well with the creamy cheese. I give this one to DM.

Thirdly: Toppings. Alright, I didnt sample everything on the DM menu. All three pizzas at DM were subtly flavoured and I thoroughly enjoyed them. The margherita was an instant classic but my favourite was the marinara as the garlic brought an understated punch to the juicy tomato base. I tried four of the FM pizzas and I have to give this one to Franco. The toppings are rich flavoured and one can really taste the intensity, I refer to the ricotta and artichokes; the anchovies and olives, as well as the brindisa chorizo which FM uses. Bursting flavours and sheer wow factor, I give this one to FM.

So is it the best in London? Erm, its pretty darn close. I think it’s comparable to FM pizzas although it is of a different style. I’ve been scratching my head over how to describe them, and the difference is abit like comparing an able Australian Shiraz against a subtle Burgundy. FM’s wow factor and big flavours, as well as the sizzling heat it is served with makes it akin to a classic Penfolds vintage, everybody will be in agreement that it’s a great pizza. With DM, its silkier, its more subtle, its juicier, its more fragrant, its mellow, its abit more complex and like a great bottle of Nuits St Georges (erm, Im leaning toward David Duband), I could stick a straw in and drink in any day and any night.

I think it comes down to a matter of choice, which do you prefer? Big robust flavours, or something abit more subtle? Both are very good.

Am I by the Sea?

Right, 1400 words and we’re only about half way through. Time for some pasta: O’paccher e`pusillipo, Paccheri pasta with prawns, mussels, porcini mushrooms, rocket, aubergine,Cherry tomatoes, basil and a touch of chilli.(£10)

The juices from the seafood has saturated the pasta, giving it a full flavoured fragrance, its very appetising, and its as if the entire ocean has been distilled into the dish, that is has become a sumptuous gravy. The dish is further coloured with the sweet cherry tomatoes and there is just a very faint hint of spice. Above all, the paccheri pasta was amazing. It was a dense noodle, very thick and rich in eggyness. The heaviness of the pasta soaked up a lot of the juices and every bite brought out bursting seafood flavours. I’m impressed with this one – it is very good indeed.

On my second visit, I had to try more seafood and I plonked for the A’grigliat ro’ Fusaro , (Plate for two) which is a char grilled selection of fresh fish served on a bed of mix salad (£35)

Normally its served with fresh whole seabass, squid, king prawns, mussels, clams and octopus, but they ran out of seabass on our visit. Everything is chargrilled to absolute perfection. The scallops and prawns were so sweet, my tummy was positively rumbling. The smoky grilled flavours were very evident, and there wasn’t a single thing that wasn’t delicious on this plate – I love every bit of it. At £35, the most expensive thing on the menu, and since we were there as a table of six, they spread the portions out over two plates.

Pudding? what?

The lemon brulee was rather good, it was made with a lemon sorbet underneath the custard, but overall I thought the desserts were merely so so. The tiramisu was utterly forgettable, and the torte carprese – almond and chocolate – was merely ordinary.

This could well be one of the most comprehensive reviews I’ve written, and I can safely say that Donna Margherita is good. Its not going to win any big awards, and in a way, that’s a good thing. The classical style is rustic and its just straightforward good Italian food. In particular, the pizzas are wonderful, almost as good as Franco Manca and the pastas as well as the seafood stand out. Its unbeatable when it comes to price, primis at £6 ; pastas at £11; pizza £8 ; meat/fish £13-£15 ; Dolce £4.

My only problem is that 35 minute bus ride. Otherwise, it’s Napoli in London.

The Gist of it

Donna Margherita official site
183 Lavender Hill SW11 5
(020) 7228 2660
£20pp
Verdict:Great Pizzas, lovely seafood and heartwarming pastas. An excellent Italian restaurant in the City.

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