The man is almost too beautiful to be a chef.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bread. Freshly baked and Warm.

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

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

Starters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fish

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

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

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

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

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

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

Meat

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

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

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

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

Puds

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reviews: Fay ; Guy ; Sbib ; Ray

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To kick off the new lunar year, we travel to the hidden path within the mountains of Xizhi, Taipei. Where gravity defying monks tend to visiting tourists in between meditations and wu-gung practice. This is not merely a restaurant review. This is retelling of the legend know as …Shi Yang Culture Restaurant.

(warning, an overly long prologue below. Scroll to middle-ish to skip to food)

Whuppa. No seriously, we had to drive up a mountain to get here, here being Taipei. It was one of the more illuminating meals I’ve had, a kind of a mountain-top cuisine in zen-like surroundings. Take a look at the outside:

Talk about restaurants with a view. Forget about those which oversee some of the worlds greatest city harbours, or the world’s greatest city parks, or even those which will overlook our beloved Ol’ Smoke. A birds eye view on human progress may be breathtaking but it is also a reminder of the way man has levelled and desecrated mother nature with our heretical obsession in forcing our electrical wizardry upon the world.

In Shi Yang, it couldn’t be further away from the modernity of life as we know it. Here you eat under the motherly gaze of nature’s original skyscrapers. Surrounded by these hulking mountains with puffs of clouds brushing by its summits as they whiff past – It is humbling.

The restaurant looks like it was built by hand, with steel beams holding up solid timber planks, all painted black. It’s inspired by real ancient China. Song Dynasty, 10th century China. So wonderfully organic, humanistic, much harmony. As if the 21st century had forgotten to touch this part of the world, or more accurately, as if this place had deliberately stayed away from the march of technology. Ironic considering Taiwan’s economic awakening was built on the silicon boom. The restaurant is essentially made up of conjoining private quarters, there is no communal area, and each table is located in its own private room. As we made our way into our allocated room, I peeked into the others, and saw that they were filled predominantly by large groups of tourists from the Mainland, armed with their cameras hovering over the food.

The cobbled narrow walkway lit by bamboo lamp shades and flickering candles on the ground was cinematic. We took our shoes before entering, and sat down at a low long table, made of cold steel allowed to age to a natural rust, and held up by solid wooden legs. Sturdy, permanent and long lasting – a feeling in total contrast to my hectic, vacuous and fast paced world. For background music, chinese mandolins sent every mitochondria in my cells into a resonant sway.

The Force I feel, is strong with this restaurant. I feel at peace with myself, I feel I could move the mountains I was communing with. I felt hugely replenished. A large pot of extinguished charcoal letting out residual heat kept us warm. Only the sight of a kettle attached to an electrical socket, prevented me from glimpsing into the parallel brane universe.

The Taiwanese think of this restaurant’s cuisine as ‘creative and traditional’. But maybe it’s much more than that, but perhaps also very much less. You could say it’s a minimalist kind of high mountain food, leaner and far removed from the rest of the world below. There is so much clarity, it’s analogous to a spiritual stripping away of the burden of materialistic life, a rebirth to a purer version of self.

Or you could say this cuisine is a direct reflection of Taiwan’s mixed heritage. The island nation of flaming mountains, valleys of terrible beauty and a people who identify with sweet potato. It is a sort of cultural melting pot where the best of the Chinese and Japanese is found. From its original influx of Chinese migrants from the Fujian province to its eventual legacy rule of law left over after centuries of association with its (former) Japanese imperial master. For the foreigner (that’s me) whose had the fortunate pleasure of learning about Taiwanese culture first hand through my better half, it really strikes me as one of the most uniquely distinct cuisines/cultures in the world. It is both Chinese and Japanese, but neither at the very same time.

The man behind Shi Yang is a rather elusive character, which I think translates loosely to ‘Nourishing Eating Culture retreat, on a Mountain’. The restaurant has moved from mountain to mountain in its roughly 16 year history, from its original Xindian City location, to Yang Ming Mountain and eventually to Xizhi. The owner is Lin Pin-Hui, a former architect; The story goes that he packed in his successful city career to move to the mountains to lead a more spiritual life and to indulge in his true life passion of building a space to appreciate Chinese Tea.

Occasionally, he would entertain his buddies by cooking this purified lifestyle food, eventually it became a kind of underground restaurant. On those foundations, it grew to become a sort of transcendent purveyor of modern Taiwanese cooking and a tea house, famous not so much in guide books, but more so by word of mouth. I suppose the story is paralleled by Stephen Harris and The Sportmans in Britain. Move closer to nature, cook what you find around you, live a more enriched lifestyle. Yeah I’d like to do that once I’m done writing for you folks.

There is a more romantic report of his origins, his kitchen ethics (Culinary ‘partners’ as opposed to sous chefs) here.

No menus, the food is completely seasonal, and think of it as a vegetarian based (think monks’ food again) with the odd injection of the freshest seafood delivered from Keelung harbour, and some pork and chicken thrown in. Yeah that’s right, local provenance, no imported truffle or foie gras here. Tick, tick, tick.

The menu-less menu costs NTD1100 per person. NT what? That works out to be £26 each. That’s INCLUSIVE of service. And that’s for 9 to 10 courses, irrespective of lunch or dins. Yeah I hear you, £26 is actually cheap(ish) in Taipei terms too, but really it’s amazing how affordable it really is. I went with the family, 6 adults and two 3 year olds. Everybody eats the same thing, that’s to say, every item was times 6 (kids picked off their parents).

Ok, ok no more hot air, food below.

Course 1 : Vegetable soup with flying fish roe

Almost veloute like in texture, a root vegetable with rich umami flavours, perhaps akin to celeriac. I was completely sold on the first sip. The fish roe adding extra textural layers. We also drank this with a herbal tea, you know, I forgot to write it down, but it was medicinal, like a sort of strong ginger tea.. or something. Detoxing, different, cleansing.

Course 2: (L-R) Mochi with flying fish roe ; Pomegranate with wood ear ; Peanut tofu with olive tapenade.

This trio was like a kind of appetizer, uniquely and quite strangely cleansing.

There was a sequence in which I had to eat this in, but I forget the order.

My notes indicate that I started from the middle with the cold pomegranate juice with wood ear. A jolt to the soul. Then I moved on to the crisply fried and gooey mochi with a centre filled with a flying fish roe paste. I remember the crunch of the mochi, and thought how peaceful the cooking was. Did they use some kind of clean vegetable oil as opposed to lard?

Finally, I moved on to the peanut tofu. Great wobbly pannacotta textures, also served cold, it was fabulously dense and silken, as good as the best and freshest tofu I’d ever had in Asia, but with the surprise of peanut as opposed to that of pure water. Paired with perfectly boiled rectagular blocks of squid, an olive tapenade for flavour and some sort of mucus-like seeds – this was immensely brilliant cooking. I could honestly say I’d never had anything like this before. Seriously, this would change your mind about what tofu could taste like.

Course 3: Chawanmushi or “Chawan Steam” with scallop.

Or steamed egg in a tea cup. I was amazed at how the entire table (of my extended Taiwanese family) gestured “Chawanmushi!” as this arrived. To me, this wasn’t Chinese food, this was completely Japanese. But to them, it was completely Taiwanese. It occurred to me how different their culture was to my own ‘Nanyang’ ideology of Chinese culture. This was the Japanese part of their Taiwanese upbringing.

Anyway, look at that savoury egg custard. Look at the texture.

That’s zen cooking right there. Beautiful unbroken blobs of cooked protein. Seeping in the gorgeous flavour of intense dried scallop with some kind of pickled mountain vegetable. I get it now, chawanmushi is suppose to nourish the soul, this nourished my nuts alright. Energising stuff.

Course 4: The seafood and vegetable platter.

Or the sashimi platter, whichever way you want to look at it. My parents are still averse to raw food, it’s just so unthinkable to have raw food (generally speaking obviously) in Chinese cooking. But in Taiwan, again, it’s that Japanese side of their culture – raw fish was part of a healthy diet.

Flamed scallops, dried beadcurd, aubergines, sea urchin (these were gorgeously creamy), sea bass (maybe?) or mackerel, local mushrooms, lotus leaves, baby abalone, smoked salmon maki with fish roe.

Here’s my little selection I picked out for myself. It was the most beautiful sashimi platter I’d ever seen assembled. It was the very crux of Taiwanese culture, a perfect fusion of China and Japan. (Mindful of history, I mean no disrespect with that last statement.)

Course 5: Lavander, Guava juice with Passionfruit.

A mid-meal palate cleanser of guava juice. At this point I thought to myself, that I never realised detoxing could ever be so delicious. And entertaining.

Course 6: Grilled prawn with pumpkin and inari sushi

A sweet beancurd skin wrapped rice ball with anchovy and a giant grilled prawn. Alright, nothing too much to write about, aside from the fact that it was a juicy prawn. Delish.

Course 7: Glutinous rice with Italian salami, wood ear and some kind of local mushroom.

Dressed up like a cooked salami nigiri, but really it’s a classic steamed glutinous rice which could have easily been made with Chinese salami too. But this was nice too. The mushroom and the woodear were of exceptional quality, needless to say the rice was redolent of homey memories.

Course 8: Boiled chicken soup with ‘blossoming’ lotus flower.

The pièce de résistance. The kids were mesmerised by the blossoming flower.

Hah. And so was I.

I forget what the boiled broth was cooked with, but it’s a mystical blend of Chinese herbs, lotus root and probably ginger. (There’s almost always ginger in Chinese boiled broths).

Like most of these Chinese boiled broths, I hazard a guess that it’s been slow cooking for at least half a day. Yup, soothing chicken soup for the soul indeed. For me, double boiled Chinese soup is a family thing, it’s the love of a wife, mother and grandmother re-condensing in the pot, and ready to energise her family after hours on the hob. For me, I could only ever love my mum’s double boiled black chicken soup (I always used to choke on shark’s fin and fish maw anyway) , but this was cooked with spiritual zen (and a blossoming lotus flower!), I applauded its heartiness. This was the very essence of Chinese cooking.

Course 9: Yuni, oatmeal (or barley), longan, red date syrup.

Yuni, or mashed yam (taro) served piping hot with a thick caramel-like syrup was incredulously decadent stuff, a bona-fide pudding, but perhaps a rare one that could actually be good for your health.

We also ate sliced kiwifruit and bellfruit, the latter being quite symbolic of Taiwan.

I still can’t believe how ridiculously cheap the meal was. It was my turn to buy everybody lunch, so I paid NTD7260 or £159.59, for six adults and two kids.

Amazing. Just amazing. Beard stroking zen masters would eat here and grow to an old age, gain amazing human wisdom, and glide from tree to tree until David Carradine sends Uma Thurman to become an apprentice.

Shi Yang is an exceptionally unique culinary experience. But it can’t win a star (yet) because there is no Taipei version of the red guide. (There is a green one).

It’s absolutely one of a kind, culturally aware, modern yet traditional, it’s on the side of a mountain. It’s a destination restaurant. The waiters meditate in between service.

What’s that I hear? Noma? How much do they charge for making you cook an egg on your table? Surely more than £26.

If the bib has a ‘social responsibility’ in its power to enhance the reputations of whole national cuisines, then they should cast wider nets. Let’s not even take the Top 50 guys into consideration – that is no more than a back patting exercise amongst the power brokers of the food industry.

But you, Mr Punter, if you are searching for a holistic culinary journey that isn’t inflated with ridiculously materialistic awards – This is the ticket.

Let’s revisit the Lung King Heen (world’s first 3 starred chinese restaurant) dilemma. The Michelinism of the repackaged cha chan teng. But really, be honest now, LKH is exactly that. Aside from that view on HK harbour, tell me, what exactly is so ground breaking about LKH’s food? The innovative use of truffle? How about the burning of my wallet with the double charged bottled water. It is no surprise that I came out of LKH feeling so drained.

Did I mention Shi Yang rolled in all the cost of tea/water for free?

Luxe chinese cooking CAN be special. I am not saying that the traditional hotel banquet Canton restaurant shouldn’t be celebrated, it should and rightly so it is already. But I also think that the culinary world needs to look closer at ‘outcasts’ of Chinese cooking like Shi Yang which is creating something truly different. It changed my ideas of what Chinese cooking could be.

Call me a hopeless romantic but I just love the idea of this place: A remote getaway location wrapped within nature, cooking that is not only nourishing, but healthy, seasonal and entirely local. You have to travel to experience it, Shi Yang cannot come to you on a plane to Harrods.

So if you ask me about luxury Chinese food, and who to pat on the back, then I would very much like to put my paws on Mr Lin. This is a clean slate, purer beginnings, and it is not the tired old design of those dripping in the indulgence of excesses where haute cuisine is a place to broker the next depression. Of course, high cooking is inexorably linked to money, after all no matter how puritanical we all aspire to be, in the end, money makes the world go around. Especially in the restaurant business which depends on it. It’s business after all. Not to say money moves all intentions, but really we need to be realistic, and where lots of money is generated, great restaurants follow closely behind. Having said that, there are the outliers, and those are ones which really intrigue. (Also discounting the obvious exceptions to every stereotype)

All things considered, Shi Yang is a gem, it’s just fantastic. This is a gastronomic experience like none other, it is nearly spiritual, and – to borrow an oft abused word to describe destination restaurants – a genuine pilgrimage. Most importantly I would go back, partly because I can afford to. This is the reason why people like us collect restaurant experiences. This is what I aspire to write about. This is why restaurant blogs really exist. Now book a flight to Taiwan.

The Gist of It

Shi Yang Culture Restaurant
Taiwanese, £30pp
No. 7, Ln.350, Sec.3, XiWan Rd
XiZhi City, Taipei County, Taiwan
Tel : +886-2-2646-2266

There are others : Andre in Taiwan ; My Several Worlds ; Taipei Times ; Pace J Miller ;

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First things first, check out the much advertised view from the Four Seasons Hotel restaurant (let’s face it, this is the view that has won it the coveted third star) :

Hong Kong has long been considered the gastronomic jewel of South East Asia. It is as much the home of the well-travelled Cantonese cuisine as it is from its birthplace in nearby Guangdong.

For the latter half of the 20th century, Hong Kong flourished become a powerful economic beacon – and one of the last bastions of British colonial power – in Asia. Perhaps the greatest gift the Brits gave to the lands which surround the fragrant harbour was free trade.

Eventually, Britain’s 99 year lease hold on HK expired in 1997, and as you know China couldn’t wait have custody of their beloved lost port returned to them. Today, Hong Kong still plays the major part of the ‘One Country, Two systems’ structure of governance, which in many respects is in place to preserve HK’s sustained prosperity.

I was about 13 when I was last in Hong Kong (my Cantonese never progressing past that time) but my food memories of the city of islands are as fresh steamed fish. Blue-boned ‘swimming’ garoupa, piping hot egg tarts, chewy-bouncy prawn cheung fun and the ‘dissolve-on-first-bite’ char siu buns. My uncle has been living in Hong Kong for at least 30 years, he had now silvered into a gentle old man. His children teach other children and discipline guilty men.

The standard of food in Hong Kong is very high, food is part of the pride of Chinese culture. Certainly when it comes to Cantonese cuisine, really, you’re not gonna find better Cantonese food in the world.

Ok now for my ill-informed bloggero insights. Here’s how I see it right – Cantonese food in HK is revered because of two very important cultural outlooks on eating:

1. HKers are obsessed with super fresh produce, especially seafood, hence the colloquial to insist on ‘swimming fish’ when ordering at a restaurant. Which is to say that the fish is alive and flopping and not frozen before cooking. This is why you see fish tanks greet diners at the entrance of Chinese restaurants. Plus its good Feng-Shui. So I think.

2. ‘Eat it while it’s hot’. Personally food that is served piping hot burns my cat tongue, but in HK cuisine, it leads on from the fresh produce. Cook it while it still flops, and eat it as soon as it slides off the sizzling wok. When food goes cold, it goes in the bin.

So.. for LKH to beat the standard HK cha chan teng to three stars, Chef Chan must have had to pull off some amazing feats.

Say what you like about hotels in London, but personally I think hotels in London are too old. South East Asia’s hotels are overly luxurious in comparison. These days they aren’t exactly cheap, but still they are more affordable, considering the scale of luxury. I stayed at The Langham in Tsim Sha Tsui (itself hosts T’ang Court, Michelin-starred Canton restaurant) and I was blown away by the luxe, and excellent housekeeping.

Anyway, so we take the lift up to 4th floor to LKH. The restaurant is massive. Low-lit, with low wavy brass ceilings, huge bouquets of flowers. To be honest, this is just another anonymous high budget, high brow, money-money ambiance. It’s old fashion and will probably look good in a movie, but really its devoid of any character whatsoever. This is where the guy who employs your dad’s boss’s boss would take his client to keep his employees employed.

Except for the view of the most famous fragrant harbour in Asia of course. At night with all the Kowloon lights glowing, and high speed vintage junks jetting about the water – I have to say, I was impressed.

The menu – oh man it’s long. Too long, you best read it yourself. It reads like any Chinese banquet menu with ‘big fish and big vegetables’ such as abalone, fish maw and birds nest. However, the old world premium ingredients which get the bib all excited, like foie gras and truffle are also present. To me, that kind of thing is a little unnecessary, from a cynical point of view, it’s just the chef fishing for brownie points. And wasabi. I know its permeated Chinese restaurants, but I still find it weird. Wasabi is Japanese, dare I say, it’s a contaminant.

The chef who has achieved the ‘historic’ 3 star win is Chef Chan Yan Tak.

Amuse bouche : Pickled beef shin with pickled lettuce and oyster sauce.

Served cold, it was perfectly sweet, salty and a little pickled. Sort of like pickled brawn. Amusing.

Stewed Frogs’ Legs and Chicken Casserole with Taro in Coconut Milk HKD200 (£18)

Huh? Coconut milk and Taro in Cantonese food? In a self-styled purveyor of the finest Cantonese food? In what world.

This is skidding into the Pan-Asian curb, maybe even a little Nyonya and I think it so dangerously easy it is for these kind of restaurants to fall into this trap. I mean, stars means continual innovation yes? Or at least a commitment to creativity and an effort to carve signature dishes.

Tradition aside, the first dish showed that this was a capable kitchen. The dish was well cooked, flavours were balanced and it was nice dish of food to eat. The coconut soup was a little like a mushroom soup,a salty coconut elixir. Nice. Umami, calming, hearty, soothing. The little bulbs of frog thigh muscle were incredibly delicious.

They must have selected the athletes amongst edible Chinese frogs. If you’ve never had frog, it tastes like chicken. Serious. We couldn’t tell the chicken from the frog legs apart from that the chicken were so perfected sliced, that these chefs could have careers filleting sashimi as sushi itamaes. I could find little fault with the dish, in fact I quite enjoyed it.

It was definitely seasoned perfectly, and the produce was certainly of a high standard. But was the recipe ground shatteringly memorable? I wouldn’t say that my local Thai restaurant’s green curry is better, but it’s not really that far off. For £18, completely overpriced and in its ***, fine dining hotel setting, and as one of Chef Chan’s specialities – it felt out of place. I can appreciate the creativity but I can’t shake the feeling like it was a borrowed recipe from another Asian cuisine. Having said that, let’s not take away from the fact that it was cooked well, and tasted nice.

Wok-Fried Prawns with Shrimp Roe, Ginger and Spring Onions. HKD360 (£32)

This was definitely wowzers for me. The prawns were really muscular and bouncy, superiorly fresh buggers. There was pleasant ‘wok-hei’ , a gentle caramalised crispness to the exterior, and that texture, it was so good it may as well have been black magic. I thought the roe covering the prawns (now fried and grainy like texture, akin to sand in cockles) made for an interesting texture. The smell of grilled roe. Mmmm. Yeah. Classic Hong Kong cooking here, and perhaps the best stir-fry prawns I’ve yet had.

Braised Australian Wagyu Beef Cheek in Gravy. HKD300 (£27)

Can you see the tendon bits? These melted in the mouth tremendously as beef cheeks should. The melty texture was another sign of a really an extremely able kitchen. The sauce was very sweet and fragrant. Like vanilla ice cream mixed with oyster sauce. But perhaps, a little too sweet, and it exacerbated the already mature flavours of cheek. So it was nice, but the more I ate it, the more I thought it was a little overwhelming. It’s a departure from the concept of ‘purity of original flavour’ as this was quite a heavy dish. Good but no dice.

Wok-Fried Iberico Pork Loin in X.O. Chili Sauce HKD220 (£20)

Our Maitre’d tells us that they usually use Japanese black pigs (Kagoshima’s which in turn are descended from Berkshires – an English rare breed) , but apparently they are a little hard to come by this time of year. So we had to make do with Ibericos.

Pork were expertly filleted, every slice was pillowy tender. A little chilli, a little peppery, a little bit of wok-hei. Yeah this is classic wok-fried pork, dare I say, it’s more Hakka than Cantonese, more Taichung than Hong Kong. It was good but no more.

Wok-fried Kai Lan with garlic HKD120 (£11)

Some vegetables to ease digestion. It was soggy and terrible. It was as if the kitchen thought it was beneath them to stir-fry some vegetables, as opposed to cooking more premium ingredients. Considering having a plate of vegetables are the very heart of any Chinese meal, this was really disappointing.

Lung King Heen Lobster Fried Rice with Seafood HKD260 (£24)

I was looking forward to this, but it was awful. Given there was lobster, the flavour was surprisingly flat, save for the sharp after taste of shellfish. The rice may have been too fresh, that is to say, a little too sticky. Good fried rice is all about the individual grains. You can only achieve that kind of consistency with overnight rice that’s been ‘aging’ in the fridge. In terms of presentation, I was expecting more gold than green and dull yellow. My missus had it and looked up, my dad had it and he put his chopsticks down. We all thought it was a bit of a joke, and an expensive one at £24.

Look, I’m old fashioned and a little romantic. A good Chinese cook is defined by how well he manages the fundamentals. Fried rice is a fundamental. Fried Ho Fun is a fundamental. Stir-fried fish fillet is a fundamental. Char siu rice is fundamental. Stars apart, what separates the true greats from the merely good ones are guys who have the innane knack in measuring the exact amount of sweet versus the salty to achieve a rare clarity of flavour. This holy grail of balance is the essence of Cantonese cooking, if not the crux of cooking in general. This fried rice wasn’t it.

Double-Boiled Egg White Milk Custard with Bird’s Nest HKD130 (£12)

That virgin-like unbroken milk protein texture, somewhere wobbly between tofu and pannacotta was superb. Two huge spoonfuls of birds nest was also a rush of blood. What I didn’t like was how flavourless it was. It was served piping hot when I thought it really needed to be rested before service. Because of the blandness, I kept imagining phantom ginger flavours, or maybe there were faint ginger flavours. I don’t know I couldn’t tell. As far as I was concerned, this was wet tofu with sparrow phlegm. I didn’t like that. It needed at least two rock sugars dissolved into it. It needed to be soaking in a rock sugar broth. God, it was so frustrating to end on such imbalance. £12? Alright, for the amount of bird’s nest in the dessert, the pricing was justifiable.

Petit Fours : Tonic medlar and petal cake.

The medlar jelly cakes were a pleasant finish. It’s also a signature of Tim Ho Wan – the 1 starred dim sum place in Mong Kok, which coincidentally is started up by an ex-LKH dim sum chef. (I’ll write about that following this post)

I made the old man (thanks dad) pay HKD2159.30 (£197) for the meal for three. Two bottles of Perrier and a tea. No wine. That works out to roughly £70 per person. Considering we didn’t have live fish, lobster, abalone or sharks’ fin (hush hush, no I don’t eat that stuff) – it’s very dear.

It didn’t exceed expectations, but it didn’t disappoint either. The cooking was definitely on point, precise even and food was mostly delicious. But it was no better than most Chinese restaurants in Hong Kong. Three stars? An exceptional detour into the very pinnacle of Chinese cooking? That it is not.

It is the world’s first three starred Chinese restaurant, but it is also the world’s emptiest three starred restaurant on a saturday night. Looking around us, I counted maybe ten tables at 1st sitting. The restaurant may as well be empty for 2nd sitting. So much so, chefs were seen wandering around the dining room, perhaps knocking off home for an early night. Considering the strong eating-out culture in Hong Kong, I think an empty dining room is a sign that the michelin love is not shared by the everyman in HK.

I was startled really, and a little saddened. After all, I am Chinese, and I would like to be proud of the ultimate representative of Chinese cuisine. It’s nice that the bib has enhanced Chinese cooking’s international credibility, but I doubt Lung King Heen is the right establishment to carry the torch.

Not to say that it’s terrible, it’s pretty good, just not that much better than most of the restaurants in Hong Kong. The night before, my uncle took me to some Chinese restaurant (whose name I forgot to take down) at Telford Plaza in Kowloon Bay, and it was absolutely rammed, with queues. Where was the bon vivant spirit? It was the quietest Chinese restaurant I’d ever been to, it was so boring I was falling asleep.

How about service I hear you ask ? Well, we were (gently) coerced into ordering bottled water, so we asked for a Perrier. At the end of the bottle, I specifically asked the waiter NOT bring us a second bottle. So we ate, and unsuspectingly, my half empty glass of water was mysteriously topped up a quater of an hour after I said no to the 2nd bottle. Stupidly, I assumed this was the restaurant offering it on the house. When we got the bill, they charged us for 2 bottles of Perrier, at HKD95 each. Of course, how idiotic of me to assume the good samaritan 3 starred restaurants are suppose to be. That’s nearly £9 per 500ml bottle. What a bloody rip-off. Plus service, it works out to £20 for two bottles of water. To me, that’s super fail, irrespective of stars. And here I thought restaurants had gotten over trying to con diners by sneaking in all the ++’s to inflate the bill. It’s a cheap shot if anything.

I did look at the wine list, in case you wondered. It was mostly French, a little Italian, a couple of Rieslings thrown in. For me, I didn’t fly 10,000 miles to swig wine which has travelled the same distance to get here. This could have been an opportunity to feature some Asian brew – how about some of that Chinese grape wine (Ningxia?) or some baijiu (Chinese white wine made from rice or sorghum, but perhaps not for the faint of heart). Maybe some Taiwanese Huatiaw wine? There is a long history of alcohol in Chinese culture going back millennia, and we drink to celebrate. It may not be as tightly classified as the cru system in France, and so procuring good examples may be a little harder than the obvious Châteauneuf-du-Pape, but I would have liked to have seen at least a small selection on the wine list. To have nought at the ultimate Chinese restaurant is a little disappointing.

Of course, it’s difficult not to get caught up in criticising the Michelin selection system. I could dig into the bib like this dude has done in his 2000+ word literal onslaught on how aghast his meal at the recently crowned two starred Hand & Flowers in Marlow was. He does have a point, Kerridge’s pub is lovely, but it’s exactly the kind of place which would invite negative attention because of the expectation that comes with two stars.

The issue here is expectation. If Lung King Heen didn’t carry stars and charged half the money for the food (with the view) – then yes, I’d say it’s pretty good food. Not quite the best Chinese food I’d ever eaten though, but as I said, it was precision work. Just good. 7/10 kind of thing.

To paraphrase my buddy Jackie, the bib anoints tourist attractions. That little red guide is a convenient guide book for people who are either retired, have build up their cake and spending the icing or have access to expense accounts. I definitely felt a little ripped off…for my dad.

Stars effectively grants a restaurant the license to charge high prices. Unless money is not a concern (let’s face it, people who don’t have money problems, don’t need to read food blogs, they’ll just go and try it) , the rest of us are still looking for some hint of value for money. One could argue it is just economics to price out the majority, and to do the business of those who are serious about food or those who can simply afford to do so.

Either way, perceived value is linked to expectation. Making things expensive doesn’t make it taste better, but it certainly increases the pomp factor and this only serves to increase diner scrutiny, and this mutual diner-restaurant pressure makes the meal unbearable torturous to sit through.

This is the intriguing aspect of michelin surfing, and how easily fine dining is becoming a parody of self-important arrogant idiots (such as myself) who think I’ve scaled some sort of mountain simply by paying for the privilege to eat in a place which is highly recommended in a guide book. The joke is ultimately on me (or my dad in this case, as he paid for it.)

Perhaps it is a sign of changing attitudes what with the fall of Wall Street worship. Maybe I’ve lost touch with the romance of eating-out but there seems to be little redeeming about discovering high end dining. Especially in a city like Hong Kong, where the richest eating experiences can be found on the streets. Like a take-away egg tart vendor that’s been doing it for two generations, and still charging 1980 prices for their egg tarts (that’s 20p (HKD2.5) each) or having fried ho fun with swiss sauce at Tsui Wah.

In a way this restaurant is unnatural in its local habitat. This tourist attraction is as alien as I am foreign to this country. It seems like it is designed for foreigners like me to come and gawk at the emperors new clothes, in doing so it has stripped it the local charm that makes Cantonese cuisine so endearing.

Lung King Heen has the view of a dragon yes, but the dragon has his eyes closed. On the surface, this is a luxury restaurant, it’s just a shame the food is so devoid of the rich culture it is suppose to represent.

But the 3 stars still intrigues you doesn’t it? You are still curious because as much as you think you lament the red guide, you still respect the macaroons. You respect what it means for the chef to be blessed with those things. To have three of them, you want to collect the experience of having been there. Look at me, 3000 words in and I still refuse to stop the verbal diarrhoea.

Unfortunately for me, Lung King Heen falls in the stereotypical tragedy of one-shot special occasion dining. I’m glad I’ve been there and done it, but never again. I’d rather stand in the rain and queue for a piping hot egg tart than come here. I wonder if this is the kind of success the chef wants to be known for?

So my apologies oh great Chef Chan, I think you and your team can definitely cook, but I think the holistic experience of Lung King Heen is a burden of its own burgeoning design and a victim of its own success.

To my beloved reader thinking about what to eat during your next HK visit: I would recommend that you go out there and discover Kowloon by visiting all the cha chan tengs you come across and not waste two hours being isolated in the ivory tower eating abalone snarling at HK harbour. But you already know that.

The Gist of It

Lung King Heen
Cantonese, £80pp
Four Seasons Hotel,
8 Finance Street, Hong Kong.
Tel : (852) 3196-8880

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What better way to break the 2012 bubble than to recount a November 2011 visit at a true London institution and a destination restaurant. Yup after nearly four years of hot air, I finally made it to Chez Bruce in Wandsworth.

In my often narrow and simplistic view of the shadowy powers which have molded our idea of the template for london posh dining, I see two power players whose influence reaches across an association of restaurants. Glorious chefs have passed through these kitchens at some point in their career, and in a way, these breeding grounds are the bedrock for the progression of high cooking.

On one end of the stick, we have zen master Phil Howard with his double-macarooned lair – The Square. This is of course a story that is written to death about, since Brett Graham trained with Phil in the beginning days before they spun out the Ledbury, Harwood Arms, and Phil’s other diffusion restaurant, Kitchen W8.

The other is of course the highly respected (Chez) Bruce Poole whose 16 year old outpost in Wandsworth is still going and going but perhaps just beginning to look a tad long in the tooth. It still charms the pants off of most, but certainly not all of you. Bruce’s diffusion restaurants include La Trompette and The Glasshouse, both michelin starred and highly regarded in their own right.

If ever there was a formula for special occasion restaurants, then these guys have discovered it. Both men share a common connection, the silent partner who has helped shaped many a chefs career – Nigel Platts-Martin.

NPM’s ownership of starred restaurants stretches back to the old glory days when the site of Chez Bruce was formerly Marco Pierre White’s Harvey’s. I am bittersweet that I’m too young and so have missed MPW’s most dominant days. To me, he is mere urban legend. I only have youtube videos of him cooking for Albert Roux (whom he describes his proteges as his little bunny) to go on. In those days, Philip Howard was only just a precocious up and coming chef de partie in White’s flaming kitchen.

Moan all you like about NPM’s classic French fare, the bottomline is that these guys know what paying punters (that’s you) really look for in restaurants. And consequently, NPM’s restaurants turn profits. Solid cooking at 2003 prices, a shushed ambiance and a strategic neighbourhood location. Mid-level fine dining at its finest yes?

As Chez Bruce is the kind of special occasion restuarant, We thought it was apt selection for me and the missus’ anniversary. A Saturday lunch, I put a tie on to pay homage to a culinary giant. The prix fixe menu is impressively affordable : at £27.50 for three courses (£45 for dinner) , it’s simply unbeatable value for money in 2012 (Nov 2011). It reads like any classic French menu – divine, classy and a little lost in time. Which is good, the fantasy spirit of eating out is well and alive in Chez Bruce.

The starters.

Potato, chicken and thyme soup with poached egg.

The better half started things off with a starchy, gluey, rich potage, finished with poached egg. Cooked to a T, it was as potato soup should be. The missus approved.

Buckwheat pappardelle with braised hare, bacon and parmesan.

I chose the house made buckwheat pasta, which was expectedly al dente, with a nutty sting and a rather pleasant coarse texture, like sand in cockles. The rest of the dish was the forest of flavours it looked. Woody, familiar, rich and a cracking sauce. This was classic cooking at its best. One could say this recipe was boring, but then again, you can’t fault good cooking. Mastery of conventional food is as important (if not more so) than pioneering modern trends.

The mains

Shoulder, loin and hache of venison with spatzle, chestnuts, bacon and red cabbage (£5 extra)

Venison, three ways. Very rich, very sweet. After a hefty starter, this seemed a bit of a meat overload. The shoulder melted like candy floss, the loin was tender yet firm, flavours of onion and sage, and the chopped meatball was so sharp, it was nearing pungent. A good kind of pungent. I think that perhaps it could have done with less spatzle, which to me, tastes like wetted rice crispies, began to disturb the meat textures.

I can’t say I absolutely loved it, since it was a big plate of meat, veg and sauce. However, I did think that everything on the plate was well cooked. It was clearly the mark of a kitchen which has perfected their skills over the decades.

Roast rump of beef with shallot purée, cocotte potatoes and bourguignonne sauce.

The better half was impressed with her textbook roast beef, and so was I. It had the nostalgic effect, hearty, roasty and cooked to a perfect pink. Personally, I would have preferred to see just a little more blood, but preference aside, this came out just right. I thought the beef selected was top notch. The butter-flavoured fat on the beef was a sign that this was a good breed whose hide was well hung. My notes indicate that this was some kind of Devon Angus crossbreed which comes from the Westcountry. This isn’t something I’m familiar with per say, but given that it was a rump, it was rather tender, with fantastic natural concentration of flavour, and it made for an enjoyable plate of roast beef.

Benchmark roast beef, perhaps even a version of perfect roast beef. I’m a big believer in restaurants which can get the classics spot on. And I think this effort speaks volume about the skill of Bruce Poole’s team.

Dessert.

Pineapple cannelloni with lime and ginger syrup, mint granita and coconut.

I suppose this shaved ice dessert is Chef Poole bowing to the Nordic food trends, or perhaps it’s just a reworking of a regal ingredient in French puddings. Deconstructed pina colada? How about reverse pineapple tarte tatin? Nah, that’s taking the p.

It looked nice, a departure from the rest of the dishes. While we both liked it, shaved ice is not necessarily my favourite gimmick on a plate, be it a savoury or a dessert.

In fact, I’m curious when shaved ice transitioned in to ‘haute cuisine’. For me, shaved ice belongs in Asian (street food) desserts like Ais Kacang (literally for Ice Beans). Blocks of ice are milled in its shaven form using hand wound ice shaving machines , and then scooped into large bowls and served with syrup, sweetcorn, sago and red bean and other starchy things. It’s hugely satisfying if you’ve never tried one. And it’s been around for at least 50 years. It’s a mountain of colour and ice.

Prune and Armagnac ice cream.

Wicked. Classic. I love this. Let the nostalgia wash over. Ahh.

The ice cream was creamy, velvety and generously alcoholic. A prune on the side was absolutely seeping with brandy flavours, that one can only assume that Bruce had done it to demonstrate that he had allowed plenty of time for osmosis to take place when he soaked the prunes in brandy. I cannot fault this, I loved every bit of this ice cream. This was a bona-fide dessert.

On the topic of armagnac, I’ve taken an interest in this kind of brandy. Did you know that armagnac precedes cognac, but since they are less popular, it makes Armagnac the cheaper alternative. Quite conveniently, Berry Bros & Rudd – yes that venerable wine bod in mayfair – stock a particular family of armagnacs which go back two centuries. This is an area where I’ll invest some time in this year I guess.

But darn it, ain’t it such a Chinese thing to drink brandy. My dad drinks cognac. Louis XIII to be exact. What a cliche yes?

As much as the next generation of progressive cooking has taken over, these evergreen classic French recipes – butter, lardons and red wine – are still top notch. It’s a reminder and a relief to find that when you dine out, portions are still adult sized and fill the entire plate, and not served on a Chinese soup spoon.

We paid £ 85.78 for food and 2 glasses of wine , and we fell into a satisfactory snooze as we took the bus back toward the North of the river. Well, that just leaves The Glasshouse, and then I would have visited all of Nigel’s current portfolio of restaurants.

So as Gordon Ramsay is changing the direction of his business with the cheaper, less dressy bread street kitchen, Plats-Martin’s restaurants, in my view, stand the test of time with their prix fixe, no-nonsense French food. While New Nordic has undoubtedly influenced newer restaurant menus with lighter (and perhaps healthier and better looking) recipes, heavy meals like this still has a place for the lovers of old-fashioned eating out. While the table cloths were perfectly pressed at Chez Bruce, it really buzzed more like a bistro than a prolific stuffy affair.

If I can be quite frank, the meal was ordinary, but this is probably by design. That’s not to say that it was bad, far from it, it was a delicious meal, everything was well cooked. But the recipes feel mature, and definitely doesn’t come with the flash of younger (hungrier and triendier) restaurants.

I noted the similarities between Medlar’s food, and it was obvious that Joe Mercer Nairne’s cooking has its roots in Chez Bruce. But I think Medlar’s food is just bolder and more exciting.

Nevertheless, I enjoyed the meal, the classic feel and it didn’t escape me that this is the epitome of the neighbourhood restaurant. Is it a destination restaurant? Yes, because of its history. No, if you’re seeking meat-fruit, nitro-blasted cucumber, vintage potato dust or yeast baked champagne lemon sole. But you already know that.

It’s straight up, finger-licking, double portioned French cooking, at reasonable prices, decent service and a charming room. Chez Bruce has aged gracefully into an icon fully deserving its place in the annals of history, but the old guard’s definitely still got it.

The Gist of It

Chez Bruce
French, £50pp
2 Bellevue Road
Tel : 0208 672 0114
Rail : Wandsworth Common

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This is the only time you’ll see the food menu, because these three items are quite literally all they serve. After Hawksmoor successfully ported the America’s favourite summer roll to the El Smoky last year, it was only a matter of time before the Russians would follow. Well it took them a while, but the good people from Goodman (who are imho still the capital’s best steakhouse(s)) bring you the first lobster bar in London. With burgers. And cocktails, designed by The Soul Shakers.

If Goodman attracts the mid-week fat banker stereotype (actually, I think they entertain more Chinese tourists rocking bling Vertus than city workers) , then Burger & Lobster is where the fat banker would take his family for a weekend meal. If I was 10, I could totally see myself bibbing up every Sunday with my family at this restaurant.

No really, I love this place, it’s basically premium fast food. So, you choose either a Beef burger, a lobster roll or a steamed/grilled whole Canadian lobster for £20. Every plate comes with chips, salad, clarified butter (with or without lemon) with the seafood and in-house pickles for the beef.

Grilled Lobster, chips, salad, £20.

When you visit, ask Dave Strauss (if he’s about) to show you the lobster tanks which they have specially put together in the basement to hold … tonnes of live, swimming critters. It smells really clean, like the great lobster prison, and it’s made out of.. er, some sort of polymer I think. It is quite breathtaking seeing so many lobsters in one place like this.

They kill the lobster (as humanely as possible) with a stunning machine called a Crustastun. Thus avoiding having to boil the poor crustacean alive or the mess in slicing it down the middle of his head with a cleaver. (Every time I slice a lobster in half, and the claws and legs let go of life as the knife goes in his head, believe me, a little bit of me dies inside).

Sigh. Ok, morality aside…

… just fucking wow man. You can’t beat fresh whole lobsters finished on a grill. Aside from mild smokiness, the distinctive, purely addictive natural richness of lobster is simply brilliant. The dense, chunky muscular texture of lobster meat is unmistakably delicious of course.

Lobster is the king of seafood (erm, maybe abalone, ok no, red garoupa) , it just has such fantastic natural flavour, you can almost eat it raw (and indeed some of you do) and it’ll still be the greatest, sweetest meat you could ever savour.

Oh right, and these are Canadian, I suppose they swim in the Atlantic, which would classify them as American Lobsters, I believe. I’m not sure if these are the same species as Maine lobsters. Who knows. B&L DO have Scottish Native Blues swimming in the tanks downstairs, but I don’t think they sell them for £20 a pop. Those probably go for more, and I think you’d have to ask Dave if you want to spend a bit more moolah on something a little more exotic.

However. The highlight of the restaurant is not the lobster. It’s the roll.

Lobster roll, with chips and salad. Also £20.

She is beautiful yes? You have to see this from the other side. It’s immense.

Look at that, haven’t they just stuffed this roll silly. Kapow. It isn’t an entire lobster, it’s about 2/3s and a claw. But my god, it’s an experience. Love it to bits.

The toasted roll is very light, crispy but still soft inside. Now I don’t know how it compares to America’s darlings, like say Luke’s for example, but for what it’s worth I do like this version. The mayo and butter moistens but does not overpower the meat, so you taste natural flavours rather than butter. But that’s why they’ve provided the clarified butter (with lemon) on the side, so you can dip to your preference.

It’s just a really great lobster roll, I could eat four of these in one go easily. And in fact, that’s probably my only gripe, that it’s so easy to eat this in four or five bites, that it ends prematurely, just when you start salivating. So I recommend you try to stretch it out by breaking the roll into smaller bits and savouring each bite slowly instead… or if your pockets go deep, just order two more rolls and give the burger a pass. I guarantee it will be one of the most exciting binge moments in your life. We did that on the first visit, it was great, just great.

This would be me and Mark‘s second visit, and it tasted even better then 2nd time around. As I said earlier, its so good, that if I look back years from now, I’m sure it’ll evoke memories etc.

The chocolate and lime mousse are both very good, especially the chocolate which has a bit of coffee in it. This is what the burger looks like , also £20, it is a good burger, but quite frankly, you are probably better off queueing for more superior ones at Meatliqour or Lucky Chip for half the money.

The cocktails are fantabulous of course, they are around £8-£9 which is competitive pricing, and I would recommend the Riesling Smash, which is German white wine smashed with apricots, pink grapefruit and Kammerling’s.

Ironic how easy it is for restauranteurs to take our money these days no? Plain lobsters, a bit of butter and chips are enough to get the job done. No that’s not true, some of us still like that fancy shit, besides I like wearing ties to restaurants, sometimes.

No seriously, you won’t find cheaper lobsters of this quality in a London restaurant. Probably. But really it’s just a great place to grab a delicious and easy meal while tanking up on equally delicious booze. Who knows if this operation is actually going to turn a profit or if it’s just a generous restauranteur fulfilling his social responsibilities in giving punters what they really want. If you grew up on lobsters like me (curiously, lobsters in Asia do not have claws and they make clickity noises) GO HERE. If you’re sick of having lobster noodles at MK/PL, then this will be a welcomed change. If you’ve never been curious, now is the time to try lobsters. When 2012 opens, go here before the queues start forming (no reservation policy strikes again).

Mark and I paid £65 for this meal: One lobster, one roll and two cocktails.

Happy Christmas folks, I’ll be eating sushi on a mountain somewhere in Taipei next week, tweet you then.

The Gist of It

Burger & Lobster
Lobsters & Burgers only, £20 for each.
29 Clarges street, Mayfair London W1J 7EF
Tel : 0207 409 1699
Tube: Green Park

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The restaurant took a while to finish – it’s at least a month late, and the private rooms are still awaiting the finishing details – but it finally opened, and my my, is it going to be a smashing success in 2012.

It seems to be fashionable these days for Spanish restaurant owners to pair larger scale restaurants for the full experience with a more modest – or shall we say more fun – sherry bar for the easy tapas and alhambras. If you cast your mind back to the boozy summer of sherry and half cooked pork, you’ll remember that José really was just the prologue to something much bigger to come.

And it is much, much bigger. If José was a cute baby taking his first steps into the dangerous world of hospitality, then Pizarro is all grown up 28 year old voluptuous Paz Vega all lips, puppy dog eyes and husky voice (Oh Paz Vega, wouldn’t that be a christmas to remember). Alright to be fair then, how about a 35 year old Antonio Banderas with his piercing stare, a Spanish guitar with brand new nylon strings and cat whiskers.

For background noise, the front of house chose Nina Simone tracks from (I’d like to think it was) her 1958 album titled ‘Little Girl Blue’. The ambiance is ever as elegant and smoky as Miss Simone was.

The decor is wood panel, brick and marble tops like José, except it goes deeper. A long communal table out front, and large round family tables at the back. It has low ceilings, and it feels a little like an Alpine cottage held up by Turkish stone pillars. The kitchen is open, and like José, diners can sit at the bar and watch Chef Pizarro work his magic. Pizarro’s design is more like a kitchen in a large villa than a London restaurant.

We visited at 3pm on a Saturday, and luckily for us, many of you were jammed into the teeny José sherry bar (my guess is to try it for the first time) and there were a few free spaces available. We rushed to the restaurant hoping to catch the kitchen’s last service, but then we realised that they open all day from 12pm to 11pm on Saturdays. José was behind the counter for service, I felt thankful – at last for Christmas, I will have a special meal cooked for me by a special chef.

Like José, this menu is seasonal and straightforward. There are two price ranges, the first 8 or 10 dishes are £6 to £7 and are classic tapas like Croquetas; Artichoke, cauliflower, soft cheese, walnut; Duck liver, capers, fino; Quail, romesco (Yes, I remember the awesome romesco from my visit to José ). Larger dishes are £12 to £15 such as Salted cod, potatoes, vizcaina; Lamb, lentils, radicchio. Naturally, jamon iberico is served here as well. They are supplied by Manuel Maldonado and if my guesses are correct, the legs of black pigs that once roamed the fields of Extramadura, incidentally, Chef Pizarro’s birthplace. Maldonado’s jamon are also sold in Selfridges, and so if you’re like me, you’ll know they are red gold basting in naturally secreted and fragrantly acorn scented pig-body oil. The only gripe when I walked past the kitchen, is that I saw that these expensive exposed half-shaven meat on the leg were not covered with the layer of fat and skin to keep it moist. I surmise that when they serve it, they cut away the dried bits from the top before serving the rest.

Let’s cut to the chase, small dishes..

Jerusalem artichoke soup, truffle oil, crispy ham or manchego, £5.5.

I chose crispy ham. Look at that, isn’t that just the most innocent dish you’ve ever seen. The soup smelled absolutely fantastic, obviously due to the fragrant truffle oil. Texture-wise, it was thick and gloppy, a little like congee, but with bags of natural umami flavours. Got to say, the crispy ham is a stroke of genius giving bite and seasoning to the rounded rooty flavours. It was a great wintry dish, so rich, so hearty, so warming.

Prawns, serrano ham, chilli, garlic, £7.5.

Oh my goodness, these were the sweetest little critters I’d ever tasted in London. It was so sweet, it may as well have just jumped off the boat. As I twisted the head off, red juices came rushing out – as carnivorous as it sounds – I sucked the prawn head dry, and I savoured every moment of it. Prawns this fresh would make any Chinese person want to either drown it in brandy or steam it (or both) because you really need not do much save to not overcook it to preserve all of its natural sweetness. Yummy.

Half-way through our meal, Chef JP came over to greet us, I had to ask where he got his wonderful seafood from. He said “In my 20 odd years of cooking, I’ve only trusted one fishmonger, and he is based in New Covent Garden. If he brings me hake, I’ll cook it, if he brings me red mullet I’ll cook it.”. I believe this mystical fishmonger is Murray’s.

Beetroot cured salmon, capers, egg yolk, £7.5.

I suppose this is home-cured salmon, and the fluorescent orange yolk is not that of duck or an irradiated chicken, but that of corn-fed chicken. It had to be superfresh to be eaten raw, and 24 hours after the meal, my tummy is not bubbly, which suggest it is indeed very fresh eggs.

In essence, this is salmon tartare. The addition of capers made sure of that. What can I say? It was brilliant, it was more than brilliant, the salmon tasted so bouncy, so fresh and so alive. It was so sweet, so juicy and so mellow. It was like the best sashimi I’d ever had, paired with the richest egg yolks I’d ever had. We asked for more bread to mop up the yolk. This dish embodied the entire simplicity philosophy Chef Pizarro was working toward. When you buy the absolute best ingredients you can get your hands on, and cook it well (or prep it well in this case), the result is returning customers and restaurant patrons. This is the kind of dish which will keep them permanently hooked.

The large plates.

Manchego canelones, silver chard, pine nuts, £12.

Canelones as in Cannelloni, rolled and stuffed pasta. I suppose this would be the Iberian version, and while my photograph may not show it above, it is served in a large cazuelas, probably 6in in diameter. Again, beautiful homely cooking here, great roasted flavours, fantastically rich melted manchego and great chopped silver chard. Can’t remember if there was bechamel inside. I think there was, but no tomatoes, it was all green inside. For £12, nice.

Hake, black cabbage, clams, £15.

The hake at José was basically fried and loaded with aioli, nice but too simple. This one on the other hand, was rustic and nostalgic. Clams and potatoes made for a broth that was soothing, therapeutic, gosh I could just imagine as this rolled out of the oven – it smelled gorgeous. The fish was top class obviously, simply pan-fried and still flaky inside. We asked for yet more bread to ensure we wiped all the juices off the terracotta. Marvellous cooking.

Chocolate, toast, caramel ice cream, £6.

We ended the meal with a whipped and sticky dollop of chocolate (richer than a mousse) served on a thin toast and a fabulous caramel ice cream, and washed it all down with a smooth and sweet oloroso. I guess there was a little salt sprinkled over it and it summed up the natural wholesome goodiness that is José Pizarro’s cooking.

We paid £59.50 for the food and this time, I put down 10% service charge, £6. Well – it was a faultless meal. We loved everything which was put in front of us. It was also fab value for money, and the restaurant had a magical ambiance.

As you know, I love Cambio de Tercio, and earlier last month I visited Capote y Toros and asked Abel (Lusa who owns CdT) if he had visited José’s new place yet. This time around, I asked José if he knew Abel, and obviously he did, and he said many, many years ago when he first came to Britain, he had asked for a job with Abel – someone who he still respects he says. Abel is still going with CdT and eventually expanded with 3 more tapas bars to CdT. José went on to oversee the genesis of perhaps the greatest tapas restaurants to grace London – the Brindisas. But it is only now that José has reached what I believe is the height of his career with José and Pizarro.

The missus loves José, I think Cambio de Tercio still holds much sentimental value for me (given the amount of money I’ve spent there over the years). Of course, Alberto Criado’s modern style couldn’t be more of a contrast to José’s more rustic cooking. Both are ace chefs obviously and I think it’s great that London have both men choosing to cook in our beloved city. At the end of the day, I do think Pizarro will become a future classic. I’m sure there are millions of Brindisa lovers out there, I believe they will appreciate Pizarro’s latest work.

Bermondsey Street is blessed to have such fabulous restaurants in the neighbourhood. Along with Zucca, the sleuth of good looking coffee shops, it’s possibly the best area to hang out on weekends. I wonder what house prices are like in the area, these days.

The greatest strength of Pizarro is the quality of ingredients. Google the blogs, and take a look at the food which comes out – everything looks so vibrant and fresh that it can only be delicious. The seasonal simplicity is like being invited to a close friend’s house with her mother doing all the cooking. The nostalgia makes Pizarro the perfect weekend restaurant.

One might argue that top quality produce needn’t much cooking, but I think you still need a deft hand to bring out the natural shades of flavour correctly. Of course, we already know that Pizarro is an accomplished chef, everything comes out perfectly seasoned, piping hot and just excellent. This is only the second week of service, and if I can level some criticism, is that the communication between staff isn’t that smooth as yet. We had to keep reminding the waiters to bring the bread, which they frequently forgot, and timings are a little erratic between plates. These are probably just growing pains which they will work out the system once they oil all the cogs. Otherwise, the waiters had the right attitude, they were friendly and accommodating.

It’s easy ambiance, it’s just so comfortable being in here. It is evident José wants his customers to feel at home here. They’ve got a rack of magazines and daily papers and a copy of his book Seasonal Spanish Food. I love Prufrock, but I might have to spend a couple of boozy Friday afternoons reading a signed copy of his book (which I should return to buy) and tucking away his rice pudding. The bar is open all day, everyday I believe.

I shook his hand and thanked José after the meal. I told him Pizarro is going to be a hit. His grandfather would certainly have been so proud of this restaurant named in his memory. It was nearly 4.30pm, the kitchen was still cooking, there was no letting up really, people continued to stream into the restaurant. The man was visibly tired after a long day (not to mention the long night ahead) , but you could see that he was proud of his little labour of love. After all, it was beginning to take on the same enthusiastic soul as its creator.

Well done to the man from Extremadura.

The Gist of It

Pizarro
Spanish. £40pp
194 Bermondsey Street, London, SE1 3TQ
Tel : 020 7378 9455
Tube: London Bridge

Sharing : The Picky Glutton ; Butter is Better ; Rocket and Squash ; London Tastin’ ; Chopstix 2 Steaknives ; London Unattached ; Kavey Eats ; Tehbus

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The time has come to reflect on what’s been yet another crazy year of restaurant collecting. Just when I thought the burgeoning number of openings in 2010 were overwhelming, 2011 came and smashed 2010 out of the park. There was literally something new to try every week.

There’s more diversity than ever from this year’s round of openings and non-openings with ‘street food’ coming of age and the no booking policy becoming the norm. I think eating out is still expected to be a special occasion, but now it’s done more regularly, more spontaneously with less formality and with costs spread out across more meals.

With that, I think it’s fair to say that 2011 is the year that ‘fine dining’ died and came back to life as a caricature of itself. This was epitomised with the baffling 2nd update to the Bib in the fall (or I should say, releasing 2012′s revision six months ahead of schedule). It has only done damage to the credibility of their vaunted macaroons.

Looking at what’s coming in the pipeline, 2012 looks to only build on the momentum of 2011. At this rate, one wonders if there will be a point where we will hit critical mass. Maybe shitty restaurants will become extinct, someday, who knows. I think its safe to say that the general quality of the mid-level restaurant in London has upped in standard tremendously this year. Just look at what the high street holds these days: Byron, Jamie’s Italian and soon Union Jacks. Nandos still holding its own however.

We start the 2011 list with the biggest restaurant opening of 2011.

11. Heston Blummenthal’s Dinner.

I left 2010 clasping onto a reservation at Heston Blummenthal’s much anticipated debut London restaurant, aptly named Dinner. It opened to much fan fare, has garnered glowing critiques and of course scooped up its first michelin star. Ten months on, I still struggle with the return visit. Just like Fat Duck, it is nearly impossible to book a table, there’s at least a months lead time and even if you do manage one, you’d be lucky to get one at a sensible time slot.

My meal was nothing short of amazing. It’s the best restaurant in London. Potentially. It’s grand without being pretentious. It’s posh without table cloths. It’s three michelin starred cooking applied to century-old recipes. It’s wacky, but down to earth hearty, it borrows the best of The Fat Duck and the Hind’s Head to create the perfect modern restaurant.

Some have bemoaned the fact that it’s not the food theatre of The Fat Duck, but its half the money, and for almost twice the food. I admire Ash and Heston’s restaurants for their obsession with getting it right 100% of the time. These guys are not artists, they’re mad scientists. It may seem like a rather cold assessment, but the real secret to their success is that their food is always superbly cooked, using techniques that have been thoroughly well researched and experimented upon. I’m sure they could compile whole theses on specific genres of cooking. Rightly so, Heston’s books make for intriguing reads. His chapter in searching for the perfect steak and chips taking him across America to NY strip joints is an inspiring account to say the least. His triple cooked chips are still the best fried potatoes in this country. It’s Kaizen, it’s the strive toward perfection and it is scarily delicious. In 2013, it will carry three stars. If the bib still exists in 2013 that is.

Dinner review here

10. The Corner Room.

I met Nuno Mendes when Viajante was just a pipedream and he was still cooking at The Loft, before it became a platform for emerging chef-artists. I wish I’m half as cool as he is. “It’s Vi-a-JAN-tey, with a J. I’m Portuguese.”. Strokes the Jesus beard and a flick of his fringe. He is the antithesis to Heston’s nerdy mad scientist, he is the vision of a manic artist revelling in his most creative period of his nomadic career. I am so glad for his michelin star with Viajante, but I am more glad that he has decided to breathe life into The Corner Room. This is a significant restaurant. It was once the breakfast room for the Townhall hotel’s guests, but now it is London’s worst kept culinary secret.

Sure its no booking policy mean that on weekends food comes out tardy, inconsistent, which can be an absolutely let down after a pain in the arse of a long queue (but not before getting tanked up on martini sours at the downstairs bar). During quieter times however, the corner room really comes into its own. With a bit of breathing space, the young chefs from downstairs Viajante are given the chance to rise to the occasion to turn out stripped-down cooking that is reticent and thoughtful. It really is like a solid B-side which may not be as popular, but that you love it for its uniqueness.

The results are heart warming dishes which are breathtaking, marvellous, simple and freed from the pomposity of Viajante’s prerequisite threatrics. The Iberico pork loin with Portuguese bread pudding is a genius dish that you must try – it works equally for brunch or for dinner. This is an unplugged acoustic set of smoother sensations, like Bread & Wine or Rochelle canteen, its the explicitly bare act of nourishment that makes this restaurant such a romantic proposition.

The Corner Room review here

9. Meateasy, Meatliqour and Lucky Chip.

I failed to make it to Honest Burgers in 2011. So we’ll reserve that for 2012. If you’re still a burger skeptic, come out of your hole – it’s time your world felt a step change. But before we talk patty, let me just say this : Meateasy was the best pop-up restaurant in 2011. It set up shop in a still-refurbishing pub in New Cross Gate, it was dusty, shabby and barely standing but this pop-up had the genuine bon vivant spirit which restaurateurs could only dream of imbuing their restaurants with. Just take a look at this:

Truly atmospheric, truly wondrous and incredibly beautiful. This is why we pay to eat out. This pop-up encapsulated all the feel-good elements of the business of modern hospitality – this one had everything punters wanted, it was just so dastardly cool. Their connectivity with social media, their democratic burgers, fries and wings, their cocktails served in jam jars, their youthful exuberance, everything about it was compelling, eating here made me forget the world was falling from the sky outside. Truly, a historic moment in London gastronomy no?

And yet, it is so fleeting, it has gone as quickly as it came. I went to Meatliqour which does well enough to recapture much of the darkly shabby crack house ambiance, but unfortunately it feels terribly like nothing more than a good museum reconstruction. The burgers are still classic Meat Wagon, but the rest of it is just too loud, too dark and a bit of a painful mess. Don’t take it the wrong way, obviously if you’re new to Meatwagon, Meatliqour will still blow you to smithereens. Personally, Meateasy was never meant to be replicated, it was a landmark moment in time. Besides, the back of Debenhams was never ever going to replace New Cross Gate for true atmosphere.

London burger cooking techniques have become so intricate, that if you pool all the blogs together, you would be amazed as to how much goes into making the ‘perfect burger’. From the choice of bun, meat to fat ratio, choice of cuts, length of ageing time, fixings, type of cheese, steaming, grilling … I couldn’t keep going because I’m no expert. But I can show you what burgers in London look like today:

The Meatwagon

The Meat Wagon Cheese burger: Best fucking cheeseburger in London.

The Lucky Chip

The Lucky Chip Bill Murray’s Aquatic Life Surf n Turf Burger: Best fucking burger in London, period.

But you already know that. If you don’t, then its time you paid a visit to Meatliqour, The Lucky Chip in Netil Market, or if you want a blow by blow introduction – then you need to speak with Daniel Young on BurgerMondays.

Reviews here: Meateasy , Lucky Chip.

8. Roganic.

The London arm of Simon Rogan’s Northern gastronomic empire is home to a precocious talent, namely Chef Ben Spalding. A brilliant young chef whose CV is as glittering as they come – stints at Per Se, Royal Hospital Road and The Fat Duck. His cooking is creative and exciting. There’s a marathon ten course taster, a la L’Enclume. Their signature potato dish is one of the best things I ate all year – a perspective bender considering I never knew potatoes could ever be a main course – and one of the more dazzling long menus I’ve sat through all year. There’s an emphasis on quality of produce here, much of which are sourced directly from Rogan’s own farm. This is one restaurant which I would heartily recommend you try the full ten course experience. It will be £80 well spent, believe me.

Ben is probably the best young chef working in the city right now, he is already displaying acute skillz at Roganic, but I think he’s still got bags of untapped potential yet. The best thing about these kind of restaurants are that chefs continue to tweak their taster menus to grow and evolve them into fuller experiences over time. Remember when Brett Graham was an up and coming talent? Which reminds me, I am due for a return visit very soon.

He sometimes still hosts supper clubs at The Loft Project, but I think once Roganic runs its two-year pop-up course, you might want to keep an eye out for where Spalding will land next.

Roganic review here

7. Copita.

Just when you thought small plates were dead…

.. this one really took me by surprise. I love this place. Opened by the guys who own Barrica, this little tapas bar is more bar than tapas. Portions are tiny, there aren’t even any proper tables to sit down in, aside from stools and bar length table tops, and it doesn’t take reservations either. But the cooking is a bold departure from the norm, there is lightness, creativity, nuts, citrus fruits and a whole lotta truffle in their dishes. The slow cooked, custard-like duck egg with a touch of orange (i think) is a dish you only dream about in restaurants, the cod throat and clams were simply euphoric, and their Tom Jones beef tartare hand-chopped with sprinkles of truffle was mince beef heaven. There is a twist in every single recipe, a surprise with every mouthful. This is fantasy cooking, and one of (if not actually) the most exciting (of) openings in 2011.

Copita review here

6. Mishkin’s and Spuntino.

I have spent more money in Russell Norman restaurants this year than anywhere else. We already know that Norman and Beatty had managed to peer into the minds of punters and deliver what they really want with Polpo, but they’ve taken all the lessons learnt with their Italian bacaro and morphed it into a non-prohibition speakeasy in Spuntino. The combination of universally accessible (greasy) diner grub (grits, egg, cheese and truffle toast, sliders, mac & cheese, filter coffee) and a stonkingly electric vintage ambiance (artificial aging with the decor and vintage depression era folk music) makes it the perfect anti-restaurant to dine in. It’s just a really trendy place to eat in, it’s a stroke of atmospheric genius which is almost as good as Meateasy.

So then they took all the lessons learnt with Spuntino, took the time machine back into fifties America and brought back a tarted up version of a sort of American diner that served diner food, with a Jewish accent. Again more of the same accessible everyman grub which you can pick up with both hands, like their take on the Reubens sandwich (let the debates rage) and their enhanced steamed beef and onion sliders. But therein lies the beauty of Russell Norman restaurants, where he reminds us that ordinary food (like sandwiches, mince meat, soup and fried fish) is still ordinary but it doesn’t mean it can’t still be delicious. For me, 2011 belongs to Beatty and Norman. I just can’t stop spending money at their restaurants. I suspect there is more to come from this duo in 2012. Well at least I want them to re-invent another eatery, I’m hoping they will do a bistro.

Reviews here: Spuntino , Mishkin’s

5. Jose / Capote Y Toros

Ah..the sherry bars. Isn’t it ironic how things come in and out of fashion?

Jose Pizzaro aka Mr Ex-Tapas Brindisa is back with not one but two establishments both in Bermondsey Street and both do not take bookings. Earlier in the year, he opened the tiny alcohol focused sherry bar ‘Jose’ – which I love – and last week, he opened the more food focused Pizzaro – which I haven’t got to yet.

On the other side of town, the other Spaniard with a culinary empire – Abel Lusa – who already owns the fantastic (and my all time fav) Cambio de Tercio, opened his sherry bar, Capote y Toros. Both are classical and rustic, the former has lighter recipes and lets the ingredients speak for themselves, and the latter has most of its food cooked with sherry it serves, which includes a value driven sherry flight for £12.50. Both are great places to unwind.

Reviews here: Capote y Toros , Jose

4. Seoul.

I have to celebrate a local, and this year the local I want everyone to try is Seoul in Finchley Road. It’s a Korean BBQ restaurant, but all their meats are available at an indefinite 50% discount. This place is unrelentingly affordable given the quality of their food. I’m happy to see that it is packed during the weekends, which it should be. Take the bibimbap for example – absolutely massive with heavy shavings of raw beef. The quality of food is just about on par with Koba, but it’s half the money. If you find yourself stuck in my part of town, don’t think twice, just go eat here.

Seoul review here.

3. The Sportsman.

It was the most memorable staycation I had this year. The original gastropub turned destination restaurant located on the fringes of Kent is one of the best loved – and most highly rated – restaurants in this country. The cooking is absolutely first class, vibrant and as wholesome as the sea and greenery that surrounds it. I’m told that everything Chef Harris puts on a plate is either caught from nearby or grown in his garden behind the restaurant. The best egg custard tart I’ve yet tried, more like egg-mousse than cream. This is a real pilgrimage for food tourists. There’s about a 2 to 3 week lead time to book a table, try and grab one on a weekday to catch their taster menus and if you’re thinking of a B&B in Whistable, I recommend The Pearl Fisher.

The Sporstman review here

2. Prufrock Coffee, Leather Lane.

We know about the Prufrock flatwhites, and we know that there is an entire undiscovered universe when you force hot water through grounded coffee beans. And we know Gwilym Davies makes great cofee with milk but more importantly without it. Having a great product, boundless knowledge and skill is one thing. Transferring that talent (and employing people with similar gifts) into a cavernous warehouse-like cafe seems like a great lifestyle commitment to one’s craft. For that, I am a total fan of Prufrock.

I cannot tell you how much I love this place. This is my favourite coffee shop in town. I visit nearly every Friday afternoon and I make sure I have at least one brew, one flat white and that I tip at least a flat white’s worth. I’ve seen it go from being virtually empty to virtually full-up every Friday. It’s a great place to read, to work on blogs and I’ve seen creatives conduct successful meetings in here.

The space is just brilliant. There’s nothing as expansive as this in the city. It’s like a temple for worshiping coffee. Actually scratch that, the baristas here know their beans so well, it is more like a university for coffee. Kinda like a modern day Penny University, yes? Yes, you remember Square Mile’s brief but fantastic pop-up with the brew bar too don’t you. Prufrock have a brew bar, and fancy water dispensers that can deliver hot water temperatures to the 2nd decimal point.

While they can do ‘fast’ coffee if you need to run with your trendy flat whites, I recommend you clear out an hour of your busy afternoon schedule to sit, relax and appreciate a slow session with brewed coffee. It is fact that coffee needs to be cooled to allow the flavours to manifest properly. Believe me, watching a barista prep a cup of brew is mesmerising stuff. They will weight and then ground fresh coffee, measure the water temperature, time the filtering with a stopwatch, and if you ask for a siphon, you’ll witness water appear to defy gravity and magically turn itself into coffee. There are more discernible flavours in coffee than there are in wine, and the buzz you get after a few cups of coffee is …quite a high. They are also one of the few coffee-men experimenting with cold brew coffee, a la stumptown in NYC.

Obviously there are other places to get the brew bar experience, like Tapped & Packed which I included in my round up last year, but while I love T&P, I love Prufrock more. A coffee shop by coffee lovers for coffee lovers, and for others who like hanging out in coffee shops too.

Prufrock Coffee review here

1. Medlar

Every year I take great pleasure putting together these lists, but I can never really pick one as my absolute favourite of the lot. This year is different, I love Medlar. This is my restaurant of the year.

Maybe I like abit of old fashion decadence, but just look at these dishes:

Duck egg tart with red wine sauce, turnip purée, lardons, young sorrel and sautéed duck heart

This dish was a revelation! It better still be on the menu, it should be Joe Mercer Nairne’s signature dish.

Crab raviolo with samphire, brown shrimp, fondue of leeks and bisque sauce.

And both are just the starters! Chef Joe is formerly the sous at the venerable Chez Bruce, and the other co-owner, front of house David O’Connors is formerly of The Ledbury. Their restaurant feels distinctly like a Platts-Martin production – Value driven (£25/£40 prix fixe menu) , stunning but classical (and rich) French cooking in a low-profile and comfortable ambiance. I went to Chez Bruce – but the review won’t be ready till after this is written – and I think Bruce Poole would be extremely proud of his protege’s work. The food is brilliant and the front of house are visibly hardworking and genuinely impassioned about their labour of love. I think they know they’re onto something special with Medlar. Dare I say, it may have surpassed Chez Bruce in nearly every department.

Medlar review here

…famous last words.

And there you have it – 11 of the most memorable experiences of 2011.

Other places deserving a mention : Brawn, Opera Tavern, Chabrot, Odette’s, Galoupet , GELATORINO (great gelato! They do zabione as an ice cream!) and I really need to revisit The Bull & Last.

Things I wanted to, but won’t do till next year : The Cut, Delauney, Young Turks, Le Gav and maybe Hedone just so I can prove myself wrong.

I love putting these lists together – its so easy to be gushing and effusive. Don’t you just love it when a man uses every adjective in his limited vocabulary to explain how much he loves to eat? I hope you haven’t yet seen through the thick of my hot-air & bullshit, and that you see the funny side to our shared past time.

I sincerely think that London (and Great Britain) is becoming a true culinary destination. The identity of the London restaurant may be a curated mish mash of cuisines from around the Europe (and America) , but there is a movement, a spirit, a soul and a serious addiction in spending money to eat better.

As ever, I am always indebted to you folks who continue to read my stuff. I passed 1.5 million hits this month, and I long lost track of how ever many of you subscribe directly to my RSS feed. But really, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. After 3.5 years, I’ve grown a little weary but it hasn’t dented the love for visiting restaurants. I may have slowed down a little this year, but I only keep going knowing that you folks still take my opinion with some weight and a heavy pinch of salt.

To the many restaurant owners and chefs who have had the displeasure of putting up with my candor, my ego and my sometimes misplaced knowledge of cooking – I firstly apologise and then applaud you. You are the entrepreneurs driving the industry forward and at the end of the day, I am merely one of many a salivating fan waiting to take a bite out of your next creation. So please keep up all the great work, and lets all spend our way out of this fucking depression. Onward we march toward the new year, with an ever expanding waistline and merry abandon. Bon appetite folks, and don’t hold back on the eggnog.

K.

ps, before I forget..

Number 0, an extra special mention – Made in Camden

I cannot believe I left out Made in Camden from my initial round-up of 11. I completely forgot about it! A real injustice I have to say, because this is a restaurant that thoroughly deserves London’s attention. Essentially, this is a cafe with a mightily over-achieving kitchen.

I have visited at least 7 times since I first wrote about it in February. It’s small plate food, but because of its low-key atmosphere (and reasonable pricing) , it is easy to keep going back for solid meals. Josh Katz is the man in charge, he previously trained with Yotam Ottolenghi, so his cooking is a little mediterranean, like NOPI, but it is also Pan-Asian, Japanese, almost Nobu-like (tempuras, miso sauces, chilli). Ultimately his dishes are a dazzling array of world flavours which sound ambitious on paper, but in practice its fusion cooking that work surprisingly well. Good fusion food is a rarity, great fusion is virtually non-existent, Josh manages to tame all these flavours which should’t come together on the same menu and it is the kind of talent, I am certain would intrigue Peter Gordon and perhaps make him feel a little jealous. The food at MIC is the level which Kopapa and Nopi ought to be at.

I asked Josh to bring back his version of the Momofoku pork buns, with any luck, we might see it back on the menu again in 2012, just in time for your visit.

It is a little surprising such fabulous cooking is found at the modest cafe/bar/waiting area/departure lounge? at The Roundhouse in Camden, but if you can get past the nonchalant environment (and the wait for some dishes) you will be rewarded with some of the most intriguing cooking in London. Let me put it this way: A kitchen that can churn out perfectly risen, light-as-whiffs-of-cloud souffles (On par with Kerridge’s mango souffles in the 2* Hand & Flowers) injected with an intense guava syrup centre is an indication that these guys know how to cook serious food. GO.

Made in Camden Review

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Who comes up with all this fiction just for a restaurant? This is the persuasive language Oliver’s people have generated for his latest project:

“Ours is a union of ideas, traditions, and of people.”

“Where wood-fired flatbreads meet great British flavours.”

Lookintomyeyeslookintomyeyes.

What’s with the wonky name – why not just call it Union or Union Jack. Is this meant to be ironic? I don’t get it. The ambiguity with the plural form (or misplaced punctuation) is the restaurant equivalent of the 2012 Olympics logo.

In spite of the spin, this really is just a pizzeria. It’s billed as some kind of ground breaking bastardisation of the humble Italian pie, by the hand of Jamie’s very Bri’ish style and nicknamed as Flatbreads. As if one could reinvent something simply by calling it something else. I do like the ‘Gary Baldy’ biscuit, however. I’d like to think these concepts were the result of a complicated brain storming session by a think tank of consultants locked in a meeting room and eating nothing but pizza to precipitate ideas.

Back in the real world, this union is a partnership between Jamie Oliver and Pizza Maestro Chris Bianco. This Central St Giles location being the pilot for a upcoming franchise, which (presumably) pending the success of this branch, will spread throughout London and the rest of the country in the next couple of years.

Bad naming aside, I think the rest of this restaurant however is brilliantly conceived. The decor is spot-on. Few restaurants come in pink, this one is so colourfully retro, it feels like a fifities diner which has been lifted out from Archie comics. I especially like the cinema billboard style overhead menus above the open plan kitchen. Speaking of which, you can sit by the bar and watch the chefs stuff the wood-fire ovens with bubbling pizza dough. Picture this : solo dining, malted milkshake, by the bar, reading 1Q84 Part III. And then Betty Draper walks in wearing a neat black and blue pokka dot, body hugging, knee high dress with a big blue bow as a belt. She decides to locks eyes with you, as she undoes her elbow length white gloves. (Huh?)

It’s clear that Jamie’s people have astutely noted the current trend of un-ceremony and retro flair. This place is so back to the future, so infectiously a happy place, that you can’t help but smile when you come in. Service was so terribly friendly and forward that I just wanted to give my waitress a big hug every time she brought me some food. She was blonde, was very nice to me without crossing waiter-customer lines and she may have fooled me into believing it was.. love.

By-Catch Fish Fingers & Tartare Sauce, £5 with Roobarb & Custard, £5.50.

The Captain would’ve been proud of these fish fingers, flaky, crumbly, can’t say they were best but they were nostalgic with gooey batter coating the undersides of the crust.

The real eye-whopper was the roobarb and custard – great drink! I can hardly believe it contains alcohol, but apparently it is made with Chase’s Rhubarb Liqueur. That’s a distillery in Hereford which makes vodka from potatoes which they grow themselves. An interesting story, they sold their first bottles in 2008. For this liqueur, they laced their vodka with rhubarb from the area. The rest of the drink was finished like a spritzer with Union Jack’s in-house apple and cinnamon drink. It’s like an apple strudle flavoured cream soda! Addictive.

Flatbread, Oxtail & brisket, slow braised in Worcestershire sauce, Sparkenhoe Red Leicester, watercress & fresh horseradish £12

Ah, here we go, the flatbread. Well, well, isn’t she a sight for sore eyes. The Betty Draper of pizzas, look at those beautiful burnt spots and the perfect oval shapeliness, the tussled watercress with flaming red stems. Is your blood racing yet? The flatbread was still sizzling when it came. Freshly grated horseradish produced stinging eye-watering fumes and breathing in all the flavours nearly knocked me out. The dough is somewhere between the juicy Franco Manco dough and the powdery Pizza East semolina base, I liked it fine. Generous flosses of tender oxtail and brisket with full bodied winter stew flavour was extremely pleasing. I have to say, the sharpness of the melted red leicester did give the impression that this was not just a pizza, but that it had beenlocalised as an ‘English’ pizza. I gobbled it up very quickly, and I really wanted to have another one.

Retro Arctic Roll, £4 and Home made Earl Grey Tea Ice Cream, £1.50 per scoop.

Oh man, pure nostalgia. This was a treat for me when I was growing up. I think my mum bought the Bird Eyes ones which came with this cream flavoured ice cream centre and thin swirls of jam. This version is just as frozen, but has additional swirls of chocolate ice cream. The blackberry jam it came smothered in, with was very good, but the frozen pudding was no where close to replicating my favourite memories.

The home-made earl grey tea and biscuit ice cream, on the other hand, was bloody fantastic. It’s frozen cream tea and biscuits! Served in a frosted copper ice cream cup! Also retro! The best £1.50 I’ve spent all year, this is the dessert of the year for me.

But here’s an idea, an alternate version of the artic roll with the excellent earl grey tea ice cream. I recommend they call it “Kang’s flamin’ tea flavour arctic roll”.

I paid exactly £30, plus an espresso. Service was at my discretion so I put in an extra £2.

Ok I admit. The think tank wins. The British theme is a charmer, I’m totally into the Union thing now. The flatbreads are of excellent quality, and the British toppings do work. Oxtail, horseradish work just as well as egg and potatoes on pizza. I think that stronger English hard cheeses when melted produce some game changing flavours, as compared with relatively mild mozzarella. I am intrigued with the potential of the other choices. The Old spot with pork shoulder, quince and stilton sounds like it could be immense. So too the seafood option of cornish sardines with fennel.

His other partnership, Barbecoa was shambles, but this one is going to be a winning franchise. It’s very likeable and upbeat, I predict Union Jacks invading the high street, and eventually superseding Pizza Express.

The Gist of It

Union Jacks
The Flatbread formerly known as Pizza. £25pp
4 Central St. Giles Piazza
LONDON
WC2H 8AB
Tel : 0203 597 7888
Tube: Tottenham Court Road

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Given the circumstances, I sincerely believe this is the best thing between buns I’d yet come across.

But first let us be properly acquainted. Reader meet Lucky Chip’s weekly burger special “The Bill Murray Life Aquatic Surf and Turf”. She is an aged beef patty with a (new) sesame bun, partnered with a fried soft-shell crab, guac, spring onion, spicy mayo, sweet chilli ginger sauce and processed cheese. She’s worth £9.

Yes, I thought so too, how could purists ever love such a criminally tainted patty which has laid with a creature from the deep blue sea? After one bite, any lingering doubt was erased. I was completely convince: this wasn’t just a great burger, this was a sexual experience.

As you know, Lucky Chip, like Meatwagon, utilise the steam-the-patty-and-fixing under a metal cloche technique, which allows all the flavour-concentrated steam to re-condense within the patty, leading to the satisfying and sloppy mouthful. However, I was most impressed with how the guac, the syrupy sweet chilli drizzle and soft shell crab complimented the already potent beefiness of the patty. The burger had this great textural quality that held together real well, a little like the way it feels when you sink your fingers into kneading bread dough. An incredible experience with much razzle and pop – proof that sometimes more really is merrier.

We also ordered their chips with cheese, and it was exactly as we remembered them – some of the best chips in London, if not the planet. Let’s go with the planet. Shame they ran out of truffle oil however, they offer it as a free of charge option.

Well, its been almost six months since I was last here, I thought they were already great then, but they are on fire now. Whatever it is they’ve done to tinker with their patty and cooking methods, they’ve done it. They’ve reached that rarified airspace reserved for high flying captains of their respective industries. Dare I say, they’ve surpassed the trail blazer whose shadow has loomed over them ever since they opened shop in Kensal Rise earlier this year.

I really wish they’d come back to KR, it’s only ten minutes on the bus for me, but there’s probably no chance now that they’re more or less permanently hooked into the grid at Netil Market. Making the way there is still a hellish experience. The last time, we huddled under a plastic tent as the crazy summer rain poured down. This time, the perils of al fresco dining in winter came in the form of blast-chiller winds on a deceptively sunny Sunday afternoon. Killer winds. Besides, London Fields is not exactly the easiest place to get to.

Was it worth it? Oh yes, it’s worth freezing your nuts and nipples for, because once you take the first bite out of that gorgeous patty, whatever nagging life issues you are trying to push to the back of your brain will fall away. Time will slow down, butterflies will flutter from your arse, a rainbow will crack in the sky, the perfect sakuras will spring from the earth, wind chimes will play in the background.

There is social proof that Lucky Chip are on the way to stardom, like Burgerac’s five star review for example. It also reveals that the improvements to the patty and buns are real, as they’ve opted to switch their supplies from Ginger Pig to Walter Rose. The improved flavours probably due to longer hung beef, cut from cattle with inherently better genes, ie from GP’s longhorns to WR’s half-angus breed. Or maybe the mince-to-fat ratio has been tweaked, choice (or mixture) of cuts altered, seasoning, ratio of bread crumbs, etc. But lets not speculate and just be in awe of the superiority of the product. Whatever tweaks Lucky Chip have made under the hood, is yielded fine results.

I’m told this Bill Murray burger is one of their ten weekly specials, and so the next time this comes around will be either the week starting on the 9th or 16th of Jan 2012. Mark your calendar (better yet call them to double check), because you really don’t want to miss this.

At the time of writing, this week they are doing the DARYL HANNAH FILLET-O-FISH. Take a look, it’s a monster.

I think it’s time we dethrone Meatwagon. Don’t get me wrong, I thought Meateasy was the best pop-up in 2011, and I think they’ve done a good enough job in trying to recapture the essence of it with Meatliquor (it is too dark and too loud in there, however), but I firmly believe that their burgers are now second to Lucky Chip’s.

So I hope Ben and Comar go on to achieve great things in 2012, I hear he’s trying to solve the hellish al fresco experience with some sheltered space near by.

The Deets

Lucky Chip
£6 a burger
Netil Market,
Westgate Street
London Fields,
E8 3RL
Ben – 07795816355

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Damn it, he’s done it again.

(He being the elusive blurryman with the fire red scarf, and thick brown rim specs, aka Mr Cool.)

And here I thought that Da Polpo was the last cherry atop this tiny empire. They are back, this time around, Norman, Beatty and Oldroyd give us a glimpse of something a little Jewish. It’s deja vu because Mishkin’s is like that other off-shoot hobbyist lightbulb moment which Russell Norman had brought to life. Remember that ..the truffle egg toast, the ground beef sliders, the speak-easy-esque ambiance?

You know how much I love Spuntino, I was so excited with this project, I decided to book a table on the first official day of service. 50% off for the previews.

As usual, Russell is on scene for day one service (yeah… I’m pretty sure I was there for first day service at DaP and Spun as well) to greet us. So new, the paint is still drying, but this time around, things sure look much tidier.

The decor possess the now classic Norman touches : there’s the rectangular bar, the Victorian ceilings, dangling lamps, the brick walls. It’s like an American diner but all grown up, bringing some Madmen slickness to the indie feel. Its Spuntino in a red blazer with beige docker trousers and polished brogues. Floors are decked out with black and white tiles, the naked brick walls are paired with cream lime green panels and there are now diner booths kitted out in flame red leather. Toward the back, there’s a small crack of a skylight a la Da Polpo (but sans view of a church) , and there’s a reconstructed vintage BBC sound booth, complete with a rewired ‘on-air’ switch which makes a very intimate private room for two. Seriously cool.

The quirky little details in his restaurants are an integral part of Russell’s restaurants. This is his smartest restaurant yet, this one has the shiniest steel bar table top. It’s the Russell Norman show in full technicolor, and I think I may like the ambiance here the best.

The food here is the most varied yet. Styled like a vintage diner menu (typewriter fonts and laminated to protect against greasy fingers) it includes some classics from the sister restaurants like meatballs, mac & cheese, baby gem salad, but its the sleuth of Jewish-esque dishes which pique interest. Brick Lane Salt Beef, chopped liver with schamltzed radish, pickled herring beets tartar, whitefish & spinach knish …and meatloaf!

Obviously, I couldn’t try everything, so you might read about this again. I skipped breakfast and took Mark – a like-minded voracious eater – and started out with half sours; Pickled cucumber but in half the time, so mellower and sweeter.

Cod Cheek Popcorn, 7.

Wow. What is that fragrance? Lime I think, and something spicy, was it jalopeno perhaps? There’s some unidentified green zest on the cheeks. The crispy light batter was uplifting stuff, cheeky tender soft balls of cod flavoured..popcorn. Say bye-bye to deep fried calamari rings – Cod cheek popcorn is the future.

Chicken Matzo Ball Soup, 5.

Aka Matzah balls which are eaten during Passover, but more significantly, it’s Jewish chicken soup. Obviously, Jewish cuisine is undiscovered territory to me, and unfortunately I’ve not been lucky enough to be invited to try a Jewish home cooked recipe either. but for what it’s worth, I liked this cloudy chicken broth. Hearty, rich flavours of chicken stock, bits of celery and carrot. As for the giant matzo ball the size of a child’s fist: fluffy rather than leaden, and not unlike a sponge that’s soaked up all the liquid, making it juicy to bite into.

So first impressions for the matzo ball virgin : Soul charging chicken soup apt for lunch or a light supper for the wintry days ahead.

Reuben on Rye with Pastrami, Sauerkraut, Russian Dressing & Swiss Cheese, 9.

Ladies and gents. Introducing your next favourite sandwich. Before you skip my rambles below, I’ll summarise : it’s a fucking great sandwich. No gimmicks here, just a fucking great sandwich.

Yes, the asking price seems a little dear at £9, but you get your money’s worth – the sandwich is so wide, you have to hold it with both hands. That’s right babe, two handfuls.

So the Rueben’s sandwich. There are supposed to be a few variations to this classic sandwich invented either in Omaha in the 20′s by Reuben Kulakofsky, a Lithuania-born grocer, or by Arnold Reuben at his New York deli, Reuben’s, around 1914. Here in London, the only time I’ve come across mention of this sandwich is at Reuben’s in Baker Street. Unsurprisingly, that place also does Jewish food.

Now this is all very new to me, I’ve never had a Reubens sandwich before, so I can’t really hold a meaningful debate about authenticity or variation.

For this particular version, it’s stuffed to the brim with gently pickled sauerkraut and thinly feathered pastrami, glued together with melted swiss cheese and sandwiched between rye that’s crispy on the outside, and doughy on the inside.

I loved the egg truffle toast, but I took a one bite out of this, and it turned the memory of the truffle toast into a distant and queasy haze. The pastrami was akin to a boiled ham, like parma ham which had be through a bamboo steamer. I liked that nothing was too sharp, too sour or too salty, and that bread …fucking hell, it was fucking good. I don’t know if I’ve written this in a review or if it was a tweet, but I’ve always loved the Polpo grilled ciabattas. Doughy centre and crispy exterior (when toasted). This rye was along the same lines.

An enormously hearty and enormous sandwich. It’s really a great sandwich, it’s simple pleasures, anyone can appreciate a great sandwich, this is a great sandwich and I could easily have this for lunch everyday.

Oxtail Cholent with Barley, Beer & Beans, 9.

The Cholent is a Jewish stew, eaten on Sabbath and usually slowly cooked overnight. If you like oxtail, you’ll love this, the gelatinous bits were tenderly slipping off that tailbone.. and down my throat with minimum chewing. Mmm. This one had Tom O written all over it. Slow-cooked and stewed labour of love, not unlike his squid ink and ossobuco efforts.

So stewed beans (feel free to slap me for saying this, you purist) …this is like Jewish cassoulet right?!

All Pork Big Apple Dog… dragged through the garden, 8.

This is the first time I’m eating a big apple hot dog. I don’t know if Mishkin’s are the first restaurant they are supplying, but you lot love this stuff and so I’m going to have to agree, it’s a great sausage. I double checked, it did say all pork. Served in a baguette, and dragged through a garden of sauerkraut.

Also a pretty massive portion.

‘Supersized’ double 3oz Steamed Beef Pattie with Onions & Swiss Cheese, 8 (5 for the single 3oz).

Looks familiar right? It’s like the ground beef slider in Spuntino on the outside…

…but they’ve tinkered with the pattie on the inside. Quite a lot of tinkering.

They grill the pattie over a bed of onions (with the bun) and this allows the onion-infused steam to bubble upwards and seep into the meat. That is of course my idiot’s interpretation of pattie cooking. There’s a photo which the Mishkin’s kitchen tweeted a few weeks ago which show how they do it.

To the end customer, this translates to a sloppier and juicier experience. There’s less grease and more water content, dare I say it feels healthier, purer, concentrated and boy was it beefy. Boiled beef flavours. I think onions and melted swiss cheese contribute to the soft flavours, like the dishes before it, it’s not too sharp or sour.

Have I said it yet ? Fucking great pattie, especially with the soft, damp bun. It’s the evolution of the greasy Spuntino slider into a juice monster.

The meatwagon burger is great, so is the lucky chip burger and they are all steamed in some way – and I’m no burger expert of course – but my forecast is that this will join the burggerati top list. Let’s wait for Daniel Young and Ibzo to weight in their opinions first.

What’s next hey? Sloppy Joe’s perhaps? Too easy?

Bananas Foster, 5.

We ended the meal by sharing a caramelised bananas and vanilla ice cream. We also had two cocktails, I think I had a cucumber martini. The bill came to £75.44, but as there was a 50% discount for the preview (thanksgiving?) weekend, we only ended up paying £39.94. Don’t roll your eyeballs yet, I practice what I preach, you’ll hear about my subsequent visits to Mishkin’s again and I will pay full whack for it.

Between myself, Mark and our better halves, we’ve probably been to Spuntino two dozen times, a dozen times to Da Polpo, maybe another dozen to Polpo, but only once to Polpetto. We both love Spuntino to bits, we just think it’s a greatly executed idea. The ambiance is just great. I didn’t really think Norman could top that effort, but this one is so wildly evolved – food & ambiance – and such a well thought through that I actually believe Mishkin’s is their best iteration yet. So after five round, they are getting really good at this.

If Spuntino is leather jackets, beaten up and greasy John Travolta, then Mishkin’s is the slicked hair, pressed suits, top hats and kodak safety film vibrance of Donald Draper’s moddish Sixties American dream. This is fine tuning of the hobbyist projects they had with Spuntino. What was a genius idea is now a template for a new genre. Mishkin’s is an extrapolation of that template to bigger production values.

The way Norman’s team are launching restaurants are a little like the way Apple update generations of their products. They don’t actually generate new ideas, but they have the ability to spot something potential amazing and then tweak it, and mould it into something unashamedly appealing.

On the surface Russell’s restaurants adhere to the same overall vision, but there are little details, little ideas, minor tweaks which are ever so slightly improved from one diner to the next. It would appear their idea of what constitutes the perfect uber-cool haunt is well defined. New developments just go into massaging a better shape of its reality.

The recipes are almost always democratic reworkings of classics, prices are always competitive. There’s the ever-present dimmed soho ambiance, a vital sprinkle of cool powder and all these little details which make the holistic experience of eating out a lot of fun. We need these type of accesible restaurants which are easy going, trendy, sociable and welcoming. I can’t say I’m not a little inspired to be like him when I grow – he’s made a reality of an intelligent, fantasy restaurant.

Undoubtedly, Russell’s sensibilities have affected new openings – Ducksoup comes to mind – restaurants are embracing walk-ins, putting away the table cloths and making sure that their restaurants are buzzy places to eat in.

I went to Le Chateaubriand recently – arguably Paris’s coolest bistro – and I think Russell Norman is our Iñaki Aizpitarte. These octopus restaurants are timeless and nostalgic, complex yet indifferent, delicious genius but also bafflingly basic. They are living and breathing entities which many love for atmosphere as much as for nourishment, but those of you expecting some kind of religious experience will definitely be disappointed. These restaurants are not about worshipping provenance as you run your fingers across starched table cloths, they are about celebrating the everyman dinner. There’s nothing wrong with that of course, there’s a time and place for everything after all.

As a restaurant observer, I love this shit so much, I’m still foaming at the mouth after 2000 words. We are living in the age of a trend-setter, so hat tip to Russell the creative tornado and Chef Tom O – This one is the coolest yet. So now that they’ve conquered cocktails, small plates and the American diner, I wonder what they will reinvent next. The French bistro perhaps?

PS: More photos on my flickr page.

The Gist of It

Mishkin’s
Jewish. Kinda. £25pp
25 Catherine Street, Soho, WC2.
Tel: 020 7240 2078 < THEY TAKE BOOKINGS!
Tube: Covent Garden

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