Roka is part of an ever expanding chain of zenith-class restaurants owned by German restaurateur, Rainer Becker. He also happens to own the Zuma line of luxury restaurants. Since he opened Zuma in 2002, and then Roka two years later, his highly acclaimed brand of refined Japanese cuisine has gone strength to strength, now Zuma and Rokas have expanded to Hong Kong, and in 2009, a new Roka in Canary Wharf, right in the heart of fatcatland. I was a little sceptical at first, especially since I had only heard nice things being said about Becker’s restaurants, I do love Japanese food (Sushi Hiro is still the best this side of West London, yo), it’s just that I had to experience it for myself, before I started swooning with the rest of town. And so I did.

I was told that making a reservation at Roka was not an easily accomplished feat – it is one of the few top-end restaurants in town that is constantly packed night in, night out. Sure enough, we arrived to a chatter filled restaurant for the first dinner service, company was in the form of the enigmatic tweatup crew – five of the strangest creatures known to mankind. We were at the Charlotte Street branch and there are reports that the Canary Wharf branch is equal in output to it’s original, so dining at either one is just an arbitrary choice of location. Once inside, I noted how yellow everything was – the hardwood walls, a collab between Japanese interior designers Noriyoshi Muramatsu and Super Potato of Tokyo. Muramatsu himself is a Super Potato alumni and both parties have long track records in crafting high concept restaurant spaces, including an involvement in Blumenthal’s Little Chef project. The interiors of the glass encrusted outfit is lit by a melee of low-level spotlights which bounce golden light against the very same wooden walls. I’m sure some panels are backlit as well, giving rise to this feeling that I was dining in a gold mine, or perhaps a copper mine. The atmosphere is quite abit stripped of elegance, more polished chaos but with a clientele that is no less dressy. People speak about the dining room’s wow factor, but honestly, I’ve been in cosier settings, Roka no more comfortable than Wagamama. Much of the intimidation from an open plan space is largely dispelled with the centre piece (and prime gimmick) of Roka : the Robata. The robata is nothing more than a glorified barbie. The ‘open flame’ allows the chefs to deliver superbly grilled meats with a touch of charcoal.

Speaking of which, the menu is largely organised by the style of cooking (though does not follow strictly) : Sushi & Sashimi harbours it’s selection of traditional raw fish fare; Snacks, soups & salads, for all the side dishes; Roka dishes are a selection of their signature stuff and finally the Robata are where you will find the charcoaled infused grilled food. Personally, I think the menu is best experienced with a semi-large table (of five or six) and then by simply ordering a selection from the different sections of the menu, to share. A restaurant such as this will be at it’s best when the customer is able to spread himself across the range of dishes, rather than to limit oneself to the tried and test three course meal – yep, ground breaking stuff. Basically, that was the crux of the tweatup dinner.

Starters: Butterfish Carpaccio

I’ve had whole grilled butterfish fillets before, but this was the first time I tried it in a more raw format. As the name implies, butterfish is meant to be buttery soft, though I found it to be more chewy soft than otherwise – fatty but not slithery. It is a white fish, did not impart any obvious fishiness and it was different to the melting intensity of otoro, which I would describe as buttery. The sauce laden on top was of a citrus variety, the dish is finished to a very high degree and tastes razor fresh. I’ve decided I’m not the biggest butterfish fan, I find it has flat flavour, and its texture is a little too papery. This rendition almost changed my mind, almost.

Next up, we give the sushi a go. Tuna with pickled daikon and avocado maki with a spicy breadcrumb crust.

The sushi is neat and tidy, top marks for presentation, and clinically sliced. Let’s start with the tuna. The roll is wrapped in what appears to be crispy battered seaweed, and well stuffed with tuna, it tasted of extreme refined elegance. The rice an epitome of balanced umami; crunchy and warm, not too sweet, not too sour, not too mushy and not too glutinous, it was at the crossroads of harmony. Similarly, the avocado maki crusted with a spicy breadcrumb, oozed the same style of slick clinicality. I came to Roka expecting the sushi to be a high standard, as with most of the capital’s steeply priced Japanese restaurants, and honestly from Nobu to Zuma, to even Sake no Hana (though standards have slipped), sushi is usually very accomplished. Roka is no different.

Moving on to the last of the raw stuff : Maguro to caviar no tartar, uzara no tamago zoe (or) Tuna tartar, sevruga caviar and quails’ egg yolk.

Finely chopped raw tuna, to the point where it is minced fish. I was a little surprised with the colour, instead of a deep ruby red, this was pinkish with speckles of white, leading to speculate that perhaps a chu-toro (half fat tuna belly) had been used. Whatever the case, I loved it. Served in its own shot glass on a bed of ice, a half cracked open quail egg shell joined the glass of tuna. Five wooden baby spoons accompanied the dish, presumably for each of the five creatures of the deep (me inclusive) to ferry a small sample of the prized tartar to our plates. A paltry portion of sevruga caviar, those black pearls, nearly countable completed the dish. So abit of everything mixed together, produced a very consistent flavour indeed. A cold, creamy, slimy melange of yolky fishiness filled the mouth, I was detecting fishy oiliness as well, which leads me to wonder if it was lashings of olive oil, or if this was indeed oil from the belly of a tuna. I loved this, I wish we could have had individual glasses.

We are now surfing in the Roka dishes section, just in case you were wondering. Next is a rice hotpot with mushrooms.

Always nice to see the waiting staff get in on a cameo. Here, the tiny hotpot sizzles and steams, as he gives the rice a theatrical stir before serving the mushy risotto-like rice. Yeah it was ok, rich in mushroom flavours, nothing to complain about as this was hearty and cooked well, but nothing particularly exciting either. Mushroom flavoured, creamed rice. Moving on.

Here’s the photogenic one of the bunch : Grilled scallops with ponzu.

I was expecting to be blown away by yet another exercise of refined elegance, but was a little disappointed with the tepid scallops. They weren’t quite a mouthful as I thought, nor did they have a superb undercooked melt in your mouth texture, nor did it gyrate with a heated, charcoaled centre. It was just fairly standard medium sized scallops, seared well enough, but it looked much better than it tasted. Still very good, just not excellent, like the rest of the meal.

We delve further into Roka’s Robata menu with a grilled asparagus and a baby back ribs glazed with their ‘master’ stock.

I was beginning to wonder two things : if their robata had been overworked with it’s popularity and needs maintenance, or that the cook on service, was a novice with the machine. As open-flame specialists, their openly flamed dishes lacked fire in taste. Charred, smoky flavours were on the subtle side, the grilled asparagus in particular was laughable. Served with pitchforks and laid out like vegetable scaffolding, pretty to look at, but that’s about it. Similarly the baby back ribs, while good, was probably no better than say Bodeans, the latter is no fine dining establishment, but the monster portions and slender price package might be the better call than the photogenic, but mostly bland Roka ribs. Style horribly glazed over substance in my opinion.

Finally, the last of the robatas : Smoked duck with candied mandarin, and spiced lamb cutlets.

Up to this point, Roka is about a 3.5 out of 5, if I rated restaurants that is. Good, some dishes verging on excellent, but overall falls short a little as I find the robata horribly gimmicky. But then these two dishes landed and it blew me away. Starting with smoked duck with an interesting sharp and sweet mandarin sauce. A fruity contrast with the salty soya sauce. The meat had a dense livery texture, I was also detecting hints of peanut, and this seemingly asian twist on the classic orange and duck combo was startlingly good. It’s the texture of the meat, chunky soft, intense. I can only think of one other place where I was positively blown away by grilled lamb chops and that’s at Tayyabs. Here, the cook made no errors in delivering the promise of the robata. The lamb cutlets were a godsend. It was juicy, mainting a warm and largely pink centre. The texture was dense, but tore away from the bone very easily. Oh, I felt like such an animal. The spicy hit was spot on, alternating with the smokiness to continually pound your tastebuds to umami heaven. And the heaty, smokey charred centre I was looking for – it was hidden away in these cutlets. This dish alone warrants at least a 4.5 out of 5… but that’s in a parallel universe where I give ratings to restaurants. We are still on Earth 616 last I check, no ratings, but I will say that when you eventually make your way out to Roka, do yourself a favour and order this.

We finished with a raft of desserts, all are good, as one would expect from these establishments, they are inventive, stylish, very sweet and provides a theatrical send off. Myself, I opted for tea flavoured creme brulee which for want of a better expression had smoked flavours mixed with a delicate custard which had a texture close to slow cooked egg. Masterful.

As you can appreciate, Roka comes with a steep price tag. To buy into the Becker’s brand of stripped down elegance in the heart of ‘media town’, you are looking at between £50 to £100 per person, depending on what you order and how much you are willing to share your food. Our meal, including a short carafe of sake came to around £250 for the table – or just about 50 quid each. We were sober enough to avoid any of the wagyu dishes. I was a little cheesed off with the service toward the end, when the waiter chose a grand hissy gesture of wiping our table down to signal that our time was up, when a gentle a verbal reminder would have been more appropriate. If I had not paid my bill yet, I would have most definitely requested my 12.5% reimbursed. It puts a large chip on the largely accomplished service. I am not going to let the lasting impression of highly snobified central London service go so easily – stuffy, regimental service should be abolished outright, we are living in 2010 afterall : Restaurateurs, make note. As we are also living in web 2.0, and possibly web 3.0 soon, I do wonder when people will understand that flash-heavy websites are slow, clunky and dizzy graphics, are just that dizzying. The Roka website is just inoperable and hugely outdated. Again, 2010, not 1999 – do away with the slow moving lava lamp inspired flash animations, you’ll get more covers that way. Examples you say? Take a look at Nuno Mendes’ recently reconstructed website for his supperclub ‘The Loft project‘. That’s refined elegance right there, powerful, bold and effective. Utterly modern no?

Yes, yes, I’m overly critical and overly wordy with Roka because I actually really love this place. I love the concept of it and I think the food is lip smackingly brilliant. Aside from a few duds on the menu, I think Roka is a prime example of an exceptional highly evolved, highly produced and eerily pretentious restaurant that so epitomises modern metropolitan classiness. It is a tad cheaper than the other stripped down elegant Japanese inspired brand with a gimmicky roasting machine – a wood-fire oven at Nobu Berkeley in place of a robata. If I had to choose, I would choose Roka over and over again. I highly recommend it if you have money to throw around.

Goodbye Nobu.

Other considered accounts of Roka : TimeOut London ; The Catty Life ; A girl has to eat ; Cheese and Biscuits ; Gourmet Chick

The Gist of It

Roka official site £50pp
37 Charlotte Street
W1T 1RR
Tel: 020 7580 6464
Tube : Goodge Street

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Technorati Tags: Japanese, london, restaurant, review, roka, totenham court road

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Technorati Tags: london, restaurants, standard, Type of Cuisines, world

I perform too much of a ritual when I am about to travel to pay valuable attention to the eating at all, let alone eating well. Flying elicits all kinds of emotional responses, my brain becomes strangely reflective of the past x number of months since I was last bumping in the clouds. Time slows to a halt, especially in the last couple of days running up to actual act of flying when it becomes an all encompassing sensory event, as if I was being me for the very last time. Insomnia ensues. Mostly because I had spent the last few days caught up in the indissoluble cinema of my life but otherwise, probably because I had spend the final night so urgently packing away comfort items I think I need. The toothbrush, hairgel, the latest monocle, the moleskine, red pants, iPod cable, my faber castells. Then there is the list of would-like-tos scribbled on a note which is next to indecipherable, something which I had hastily prepared during breakfast, coffee stains still very fresh. I fail to see the point of airport fine dining.

Could it be that the restaurant building wizards of this country have spotted a gap in the market? A sound business case as well as an attempt at fixing our insipid international reputation with the opportunity to create the world’s greatest airport quality food at the world’s busiest airport. It would be the last meal on British soil a traveller would have before leaving for good, and perhaps even a contributing factor to whether if said traveller would return to said British concrete – Talk about imprinting a lasting impression. Modish gastro-houses are springing up at the international terminals inside Heathrow. These super chic outlets with their high octane branded emblems are comparable to the cartel of self aware, self important, highly produced (if highly mass produced) fashion labels which occupy the opposing spaces in the same departure lounge. Woe is the jet-setting socialite of the new millennium – how would she decide to spend her duty-free pounds, will it be a new scarf from Hermes, maybe it is time to invest in a little blue box, oh mull over it over brunch why not. While Gordon Ramsay holds court in T5 with plane food, Terminal 3 belongs to new boys “rhubarb”. The quotation marks are not an invention of mine, but merely an observation of company branding, in which it seems to play a major role in “rhubarb”’s services. “rhubarb” is one of two highly stylised restaurant concepts spinning out of Rhubarb food design; primarily a catering company armed with a magic canon to sprinkle star dust on classy finger food projects aimed at the equally bespoke corporate party organiser – style is something “rhubarb” just ‘understands’, so they say. Take a trip to their website and you should instantly notice the frenetic copywriting, the sort of self appreciating stuff plastered across their webpages, sending not so subliminial messages of their greatness. Oh so pink as well, and you can watch videos too.

I had already queued up at WH Smith to pick up a copy of the Economist when I asked to sit at the shimmering black lacquer bar at “rhubarb”. The current issue coincided with the release of what industry experts hail as the Jesus Tablet. The economist’s cover story was aptly titled ‘the book of jobs’ with a photoshopped Steve clutching his latest invention as in the image of Moses. “rhubarb” sticks out like a sore thumb stung by a large bee, their staff are dapper in pressed white shirts and tidy black aprons. I never get to the airport on time, it is always too early or too late, it’s a hassle I haven’t rehearsed well enough, even if I have been flying out from this terminal for a decade now. In this case, I was a little too early for a noon flight. My empty stomach suggested that I ask for a cappuccino, a cappuccino which seemed to take forever to arrive, a cappuccino which set me back three quid. When it eventually appeared, it was surreptitious watered down and tasted much like the regurgitated spit from decade old un-upgraded instant coffee machines that some establishments claim to be ‘coffee’. I didn’t like it or perhaps I was just grumpy. The menu is an effective selection of representatively British fare: Wiltshire ham croissant, breakfast, shepherd’s pie, steak sandwich, sticky toff pud. My yo-yo expectations of “rhubarb” had suddenly swung from MTV generation crap to mildly interesting greatest hits of Great Britain. Plus, the place is painted pink. I chose nothing decidedly British though, just didn’t feel a fry up you know, instead it was either the steak sandwich, the burger with the handcut chips or the NY Brunch. I chose door number three.

The brunch consists of four mini square plates, placed on a larger square plate. Wait a minute – did I already step on the plane, I thought miniaturised versions of real food was only meant to be so, so that they could save space in the tight compartmentalisation of modern air travel. On the ground, this concept is a ghastly thing, it even smells mechanical. In the foreground, duck confit hashbrown with egg and banana muffins. In the background, a chicken and foie gras parfait and micro version of what appears to be a smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel. At least they got the partfait right – moist, smooth, buttery and glammy, and equally pleasing were the near weightless banana muffins that carried a sugary aftertaste. The duck confit was more mash than hash sharing, more similarities with Waitrose tuna mayo than it’s brasserie cousins in Paris. A radioactive looking hollandaise sauce poured all over the hash looked disturbing, even though it didn’t stop me from eating it. The bagel was standard, edible, but forgettable.

For a fast food bar, cooking takes the slow lane, nearly 20 minutes for the kitchen to produce this miniature version of what would be equivalent to a meagre selection from a Holiday Inn’s complimentary breakfast buffet. Priced at £13.50, it is not the cheapest option if you were looking for a quick bite. Compared to the rest of the Terminal 3, well, ain’t much of a choice. There is that smoke salmon and caviar bar inside the same terminal – half a dozen rock oysters for £13. In the end – mixed feelings, “rhubarb” was merely ‘ok’. It wasn’t a lasting impression and the next time I fly, I’ll make sure I add “an apple” to my coffee stained list.

The Gist of It

Rhubarb Official Site £15pp
Heathrow Airport Terminal 3

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Technorati Tags: airport, Heathrow, london, restaurant, review, Rhubarb, Terminal 3

There is money behind J Sheekey. The ultimate owner, Richard Caring bought the Caprice galaxy of restaurants, amongst other things for a cool £30m in 2005 with a view to transform it into a superbrand of luxury eateries. This very group also includes some old time establishments such as Le Caprice and the Ivy which at some point in history represented the pinnacle of fine dining and celeb watching in London. Observers (Camilla Long for the Times) had already noted his master plan to turn this group of highly polished establishments into a synchronised design for the discerning taste master and occasional Londoner. Whatever the case, the high production values behind J Sheekey and it’s sister restaurants (both in London and elsewhere) must be working. A swift google search will bring up at least a handful of glowing remarks on this historic restaurant which has been serving fish to the public from the same site since the late 1800s. As recently as late 2008, Sheekey had expanded their premises to include an all wood, all shiny brass Oyster bar next to it’s dining room, though it is interesting to read up on reports which claim that Josef Sheekey, a local fishmonger and the original owner, had started his eponymous brand as an oyster bar anyway.

J Sheekey had been high on my to-eat list not because I bought into Caring’s idea of the ideal social life; instead I was intrigued with a colleague of mine who had incessantly recommended this restaurant to me on my birthday, for each of the three years I’ve worked with him. He celebrates all his special occasions at J Sheekey. What amazing customer loyalty, surely Caring must either be practising voodoo or that management are realising his money with shocking consistency. I tend to believe it is the former. As one can appreciate, this fish restaurant caters to immeasurable flavours from the deep, including your oysters and lobsters as well as eggs topped with sevruga – oh so modestly priced at £75 a go. Carnivores are not forgetten of course, a princely choice of chicken, rump of lamb and rib eye steak round out the fish heavy menu.

Alright, alright I admit. I turned up on a Sunday with no intention of splashing on the eggs benedict royale. Rather it was meant to be a swift meal with a fellow taste champion after a hard slog at the mass photographers’ gathering in January. I was saving up for my eventual trip to Taiwan and so the weekend lunch menu priced at £25.50 made all too much sense.

Starters, Pan fried duck eggs, mushrooms, toasted brioche.

So starters were breakfast on a warm plate. Served with toasted mushrooms and toasted brioche, which was a thick bread airy and full of holes, and which carried a mild charness to its crunchy bite. Ah then my tastebuds failed me: either the eggs were garnished with some sort of zest flavoured ketchup; or it was probably the juices from the hedgehog mushrooms seeping into the vinegar and olive oil. Either way, it tasted good. Simplicity that married up nicely – the charred toast with the milky yolk and the toasty mushrooms. yummy.

Mains – Cornish Pollock.

I usually prefer fish to be cooked just ever so slightly under. It means that the fish is still flaky and yet manage a consistent spring in its texture. And I judged this Pollock to be cooked to those parameters, just the way I like it. It was well salted, which brought out all the fleshy flavour, and the fish flaked off with the slightest prick of the fork. The cream sauce, dense, carried a mild flavour, with a mellow fragrance of leek and saffron. Accompanied by juicy river exe mussels and a coarsely tussled mash, the dish was another exemplary example of refined simplicity.

Finally, dessert : Orange treacle tart.

Up to this point, I had been singing the praises, when the pudding appeared before us, I was positively on my feet. It filled our side of the room with regal aromas. The waiter left us with a jug of custard and pouring the golden juice onto the orange sponge was strangely satisfying. The tart was very warm, distinctly light and dizzyingly sweet. Successful execution once again.

You know what, I thought my meal at J Sheekey was consistent. Every dish was clinical, every dish was beautifully cooked and everything about the place highly produced but here’s the beauty – in and amongst all that world beating elegance, it felt gregarious, almost as if I was dining in Josef Sheekey’s original and very humble (if ever it was) oyster bar. In the end, I cannot say that I would celebrate every special occasion at J Sheekey, but on evidence, this is a place I would pay serious attention to, and quite possibly visit again and give their seafood a closer look. I realise I hadn’t spoken about the decor yet, well like the food, it is refined, it glistens with a noble and largely old world charm – wood, cream curtains and flawless white tablecloths. If this is the way Richard Caring decides I should eat, then I’m signing up to the Club at Ivy.

More photographs on my flickr account here.

Links to other reviews : Gourmet Chick, Boo in London, Londonelicious

The Gist of It

J Sheekey Official Site £25.50 weekend lunch menu
28-31 Saint Martin’s Court
London WC2N 4AL
020 7240 2565

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Technorati Tags: british, J Sheekey, leicester square, london, restaurant, review

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Details

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ginger tripe with bamboo shoots.

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

Scallop and Oyster Pancake was up next.

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

Finally, deep fried spare ribs.

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

Details

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

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

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Technorati Tags: cuisine, Taipei, Taiwan, taiwanese

I left Berlin thinking how everything was physically larger. Perhaps the city architects mistook their metric scales for imperial ones. The repeated pattern which cover the major central train stations went on forever and they make St Pancras feel more like Covent Garden. The behemoth of trains which pass through were like one of those in an Elliot Erwitt photograph. Throbbing engines, brushed metal armoured hulls complete, smelly leather seats so large it made me feel like a midget. And that is after negotiated a gap large enough for me to fall through. As I made my way around the city, I couldn’t help but remind myself of Berlin’s history. It was a strange feeling, as if the city had absorbed the decades past into it’s character, especially at Checkpoint Charlie. Once the border security which moderated human traffic in and out of East and West Berlin. Yet at the same time, the city felt young, in that the glass encrusted urban jungle of new Berlin was visibly building itself on top of the auld one.

We had left for Berlin on the weekend of the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. Unfortunately, we just missed all the fireworks. I’m terrible with planning trips but luckily the better half had done most (if not all) of the hardwork and managed a nifty setup in Leonardo Hotel which was only into it’s third month of operations at that time. Yes that’s right, even the hotel rooms in Berlin were bigger than usual. It’s a hotel I would recommend since there is a currywurst seller just opposite the restaurant and which seems apt to kick off my little report on Berlin food.

Currywurst – probably Germany’s most popular ’streetfood’.There were currywursts vendors on most street corners and usually could be had for a euro or two. It is common practice to serve sausages diced and bun-free in Germany. With currywurst, the speciality is the sweet curry ketchup sauce smothered on the sausage with generous lashing of curry powder.

It’s an efficient recipe, one that I really enjoy and just about as good as I remembered it when I was in Hamburg. The sweetness of the ketchup, the aroma of the curry powder and then the seasoned saltiness of the bouncy sausages. I think German sausages are great for their consistent texture and usually rich but pure flavour – of course I am generalising here, but I’ve never had a bad German Wurst, it is their national dish afterall. We ordered some bread rolls and chips as well – the latter of which was crunchy and nutty. Maybe it’s got something to do with German potatoes, but I think German chips taste better than they do over here. We would return to Eckherts’ Currywurst shop several times again throughout this trip to top-up, and that’s not counting the sausages we devoured at the farmer’s market near our hotel as well. Mmmm….. currywurst…

A bellyful of wurst later, what we really need then is a cup of coffee. Walking around the city, we noticed the distinct absence of that American franchise with the green logo. Instead we noted a boxy brown logo virtually at all the major U-bahn stations. It bore the name of one of the more famous Germans in history : Einstein Coffee

So we decided to give it a whirl, twice actually, and it certainly felt like a franchise. I wouldn’t say it was the best coffee I had this side of Europe, but the much more euro-centric setting was alot more appealing than a tired Starbucks.

This photograph is a bit redundant because I’m not entirely sure what to say about it. Except that it’s something which caught my eye while I was in the cafe, especially the red from the coffee machine, it’s just so vibrant. It is a blog post at the end of the day I suppose, yes welcome to my brain.

As the day turned to night, the girls came out to play.

We hit town hoping to soak in abit of that famed German party animal spirit, only to find a relatively sober entertainment district. This is abit of an after fact, apparently we ‘hit town’ a tad too early, as the party doesn’t really start till 3am in the morning. Anyway, I couldn’t wait that long for dinner in any case.

One of the first culinary destinations was Cafe Noe.

It was a cosy little wine bar – there was a wide variety of single glasses including personal favourites Spat Burgunder. Their bite-size only menu seemed more Alsatian than German, baguettes with sliced cheese and fig mustard, duck terrine and French snails. We opted for the most substantial items on the menu including a ‘flammekueche’ as well as ‘blutwurstcanapes’.

This would be my first experience of the tarte flambée which is basically a razor thin pizza base – a recipe from Alsace. A swift trip to Wiki explains that the tarte flambee was created as a way to test wood-fired ovens as the peak temperature of the oven would bake the perfect tarte flambee – A crusty border just burnt by the flames of the fired oven. We ordered toppings of coppa di Parma, sour cream and rocket (9.50 euros). Now, I’m not really the pizza connoisseur as I’ve not actually been to Italy to try an ‘authentic’ pizza (or Alsace in this case), though I enjoyed the squidgy thin base as well as the very smokey charcoaled edges. Even better I thought, were the blutwurstcanape – German black pudding chopped and then made into a sort of bruschetta. It’s more pleasant than a fry up I have to say, it’s more fragrant and alot lighter in flavour.

We are back in Bismarckstraße again, and next door from the currywurst place is a sort of foodhall and supermarket called Rogacki.

Initially I was hesistant to eat here because I wanted to sit down for a meal. The only chairs I saw were for the tables outside the establishment. Inside, it was a green-tiled mess hall with standing tables, no chairs.

Needless to say, the place was packed out. Lots of Germans who didnt speak English. We chose a seafood bar which was seemingly the centrepiece of the hall. Initially we struggled with ordering and in the end resorted to pointing at random menu items when we became ravenous. How could one not feel one’s stomach rumble with the fresh fish sizzling in front of us right?

Here we go, a selection of shellfish, pickled vegetables and parsley for decoration. Sweet, succulent and fulfilling.

The missus opted for a warming fish soup – large chunks of seafood and a glass of zingy german house white.

Touring the foodhall, I feel a little regretful that I didnt attempt to load my suitcase with a small sampling of the smoked fish on offer at Rogacki, ah well, guess I’ll have to visit Berlin again in the near future.

Finally then, one of the last restaurants we hit was Restaurant Oderquelle. You’ll forgive my shallow knowledge of Berlin’s best, so we turned to the interwebs which led us to discover Oderquelle and its good reputation among it’s online patrons.

They specialised in German-Euro Fusion, though honestly I wouldn’t be able to tell. The menu was brief and I chose to order the most exotic items I saw. First up was a hand wash cheese.

Very interesting stuff, the cheese was translucent in appearance and it looked more like a piece of fish than cheese. It didn’t taste much like a dairy product either; It was smoked and seasoned, with a scallop-like flavour. Spring onion garnishings and doused with an weird watery and oily sauce that mixed, very fishy.

For my main, Rump steak with roasted pumpkins, rocket leaves and a cauliflower creamed potato salad. The steak was beautifully rare and needed to be since this was a chunky rump. Good beefy flavours though the real star of the dish was the garnishings – toasty pumpkin sweetness, peppery as it went down. Rustic.

Well, that’s my brief account of my excursions to Europe to expand my culinary palate. I think I barely scratched the surface of gastronomy in Berlin, and Germany for that matter what with this weekend being more of a snapshot more than anything. It’s an interesting destination which doesn’t get the attention it deserves, and for the most part, the people in Berlin treat tourists with respect and we walked away with an impression that people are generally friendly. Wunderbar.

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Technorati Tags: berlin, cafe noe, currywurst, einstein coffee, food, german cuisine, nordsee, photography, restaurant oderque, rogacki, travel

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

Contestant Number One : Lao Chang Niu Rou Mian

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

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

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

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

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

Details

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

Contestant Number Two : Lin Dong Fang Niu Rou Mian

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

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

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

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

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

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

Details

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

Contestant Number Three : Tao Yuan Street Niu Rou Mian

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

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

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

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

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

Details

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

And the winner is…

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

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

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Technorati Tags: beef, niu rou mien, noodles, restaurant, reviews, Taipei, Taiwan

Hello guys! I am reporting to you live from Taipei, where the rain doesn’t stop and the beef noodles are bouncy. I think my weight has gone up to 80 kgs, I’ve been eating out alot lately, hah, as if I don’t eat out in London. At least my jeans still fit. I wasn’t kidding about the rain – it went on for three days straight before breaking for sunshine. I’ve been totting around three cameras switching between the film and digital Leicas for action street shots, and going to my trusty Nikon for the food ones. As this is my second time in Taipei, I already have a hitlist to..well hit, and what I’ve found so far looks promising.

One thing I noticed about Taiwan (or any place other than London) is the sheer lack of pretension. People seem alot more blase, though they also do not hesitate to shove you aside if you are in their path. The quirkiest culture shock I’ve had thus far, is that men don’t give way to women. I actually found myself in such a situation when I stood in front of an escalator in Sogo to give way to an old lady, when she did exactly the same for me. So we stared at each other till I said “after you”, and she was puzzled, almost shocked and reluctantly rushed up the escalator. Hmm. Taipei has shades of Japanese culture ingrained into it’s consumerist society, most probably since the Japanese have been jostling for control of the Republic of Formosa since the 19th century. As such, today’s Taipei shares much of Japan’s more accessible exports such as karaoke, sushi, love motels and Japan’s department stores. One such super Japanese department store is Sogo – akin to say Harrords or Selfridges in Blighty, the attraction of these superstores are the imported Japanese goods they stock. One of the worst side effects of globlalisation – I feel – is the homogenisation of mass production. I mean come on, I don’t want to buy Burberry in Taiwan, I want to spend my money on something unique which I can’t get on High Street Ken. Thanks to these Japanese department stores and their imports, I could throw my money on Made in Japan Trinkets and expensive sake. Obviously, the first department I headed to was the food hall to scope out the local produce.

Much to my disappointment – Taiwan is not allowed to import Japanese beef, so no Kobe, no Matsusaka on display. However, I still saw marbled red gold wrapped in cling film at the meat counter, albeit Australian Wagyu. I’m not entirely sure what grade it was, but the marbling in this piece of ribeye was exceptional. I mean just look at it. Price is 300NT per 100 g , or about £60/kg. Not cheap, but not expensive either. Harrords does this for about £100/kg, I think.

I ruffled through the stock to find the fattiest piece of meat and came up with this one : All American Black Angus.

This one is much cheaper at 170NT per 100g which translate to about £34/kg. Now that’s a price I can swallow. I’m not sure what this cut is, but it’s sliced and I am guessing this is for Teppanyaki style beef? Look at the marbling on that beast though – I sure would like to sink my teeth into that. Someone, please tell me we have something equivalent in the UK? OK my steak expedition begins on Tuesday… so I will report back when I have some news.

Speaking of beef, I have been sampling Taiwan’s national treasure : Niu Rou Mien.

….Or Beef Noodle Soup. This particular bowl was slurped at Lao Chang, I’m not going to give too much away, since I’m still in the middle of ‘researching’ my super Taiwanese Niu Rou Mein battle of the century blogpost. We’ve been to three so far – all word of mouth recommendations, and the standard is way, way high – even the lousiest bowl of Niu Rou Mein is way better than the best in London.

As far as I know, sushi is Asia is like confit du canard in France – it’s just better. I have already made reservations for Mitsui – high end sushi supposedly and write-up to follow. Before that happened, I wanted to get my hands on some benchmark sushi. I accompanied my extended family to KTV and picked up some takeway from Hi Sushi before belting out a couple of Jay Chou tracks.

Hi sushi is a sort of high end sushi franchise, there are five locations (i think) in Taipei and are thought to be just about above average. Ok, first of all, the sushi rice does not beat my beloved Sushi Hiro, but it definitely comes very close. Warm, consistently pasty, vinegary and that unique umami warmth that only sushi has – this has it. I ordered toro and salmon – both deftly cut and just melted away as I chewed into it. Good, but I’ve had better. We did pull out an unchewable fatty bit from one of the toro nigiri – something which if we showed it to the Itamae on location, we would get another one for free, since nigiri sushi is suppose to disintegrate when you eat it. I also had short rib steak nigiri, seared scallop and unagi. Ah, interestingly enough, I spotted matsusaka beef nigiri on the menu… my eyeballs popped out, had to order it. I say interestingly because Japanese beef is supposed to be unimportable in Taiwan. Anyway – the beef was thinly sliced, I think it was gently flamed as it carried a faint smokiness, but it had a deeply beefy flavour. Yummy, I inspected the beef, it wasn’t marbled like the ones I saw in Sogo, though I noted the consistent and fragile texture, more like butter than meat. I’m heading back to Hi Sushi again in the next few days for a proper sit down meal (this was takeaway after all) and will make sure I quiz the chef regarding the whereabouts of the beef. Eating it blind – the best beef nigiri I’ve had yet, I now believe the oft paraded melt-on-your-tongue gimmick.

Ok guys, the real reason I came back to Taiwan : Meet Qio Qio.

He is wearing a three button dinosaur hoodie – green – and he has made his bed on top of our suitcases in the closet. He’s ten this year, which when converted from cat years is 56. Middle aged.

I’m not quite o-fay with the geography in Taipei as yet. It’s hilly and there are mountains in the background, and the old buildings makes for great photo opportunities.

Abit about my photographic endeavor thus far – in this post, the photographs are made with a mixture of kit and I am shooting about 50/50 film/digital. I’m shooting alot more film simply because it’s dirt cheap to develop here. It’s only £2 plus a CD of scans. Also, I’ve split-toned (fancy way of saying change the colour of light) my images to give it a greenish vintage sheen. It should be subtle, but I’m still experimenting with it – I’m aiming for a Hong Kong cinema look. Think ‘In the Mood for Love’.

Hokkaido Cupcake – split toned, low contrast, neutral colors – what do you think? I’m taking my cues from Japanese photo magazines – Nippon Camera – which I have bought a ton of so far. I’m not sure if I can get them in the UK, I don’t speak Japanese, can’t read the words, but I understand the pretty pictures. Japanese photography is so different from Eurocentric photography. It’s alot more liberal, natural and the photographs are still ‘real’, so to speak. Flipping through the magazine, most shots are still made with film cameras – something which is rapidly disappearing in the West. I think film still has a unique quality simply because the photographer has less room in post to work with, which makes the photograph more realistic. I’m nostalgic in that way I suppose.

Speaking of media, I spent half a day at Eslite bookstore. Four stories of paper heaven.

Basically, this is the Taiwanese rendition of Waterstones. All the books are in Chinese, the author names are all foreign to me, but I find it all so fascinating. It’s literally like tapping into the brain of another civilization, completely different to ours. This is cool. I headed up to the Japanese section, and yet another type of brain altogether. I actually think Japanese media is miles ahead of everybody else – especially their magazines. Each issue is a work of art. From the sleek cover designs, the page setups, to the flow of photo essays and the typography. I think they just make prettier books. Oh how I wish I could read Japanese.

Time to settle down – the tea room in Eslite.

Nothing particularly exciting, comfortable, and has a nice view of Taipei 101 – the tallest building in the city. They serve Lavazza coffee, which was average.

And I flew 10,000 miles to have …

… German and French pastry. The blackforest cake was actually pretty good – very light and spongy, though the macaron recipe could do with abit of fine tuning – not quite up to it’s Parisian counterparts. Relatively cheap though, macarons are £1 each. I’m showing this photograph, because I love the styling – it’s so efficient in the way they have decorated the plate. Look at the strawberries, the chocolate sauce and the way the macarons are arranged around the square cut cake – it came pre-styled, all I had to do was position my Leica to make a background. Result.

Ok guys, I’ll check back with you again in a few days with my super niu rou mien battle of the century and some more food photography hopefully of secretly smuggled matsusaka beef. For now, I leave you with a rain soaked view of the Taipei 101, Kodak Portra 400NC.

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Technorati Tags: books, Eslite, Hokkaido Cake, Taipei, Taiwan, Wagyu Beef

A little while ago, I met with Laissez fare, a fellow foodblogger for dinner and I walked away quite amazed with his wealth of knowledge regarding restaurants in London and otherwise. A kindred spirit and a gentlemen, my impression of this guy was that he just loved to eat out. So our conversations started with the obvious heavily promoted big guns around town and from there, it led him to speak about his favourite bars in town – especially the hidden ones which aren’t talked about as much. It turns out there is a plush bar on the 3rd floor of Le Atelier de Joël Robuchon, yes that international sensation situation in Soho and which is proudly one of only seven institutions in London to hold two coveted michelin stars. So here’s what I know, Joel Robuchon’s team sent out a newsletter to their clientele on the 20th Jan 2010 informing the public that starting from the 21st, the Le Salon Bar would effectively turn into a setting for a spot of ‘low tea’, every week from Thursday through Saturday, 3 to 5 pm. I suppose this would make for a good meeting place to discuss business toward the end of the working week and so on. My partner in crime was smitten with the concept and instantly booked our first available friday afternoon off to sample their afternoon tea selection. But first, a few words regarding their lavish circumstances.

Slick. Very much so. The black and red theme consistent with the Robuchon brand is written across the entire setup. There are lots of soft furnishings to sink my overweight body into, ahh… We chose a corner table by the blinded off windows, and also for it’s oversized single person sofas. It would appear the boys at Sketch have serious competition.

I’m no expert on interior design, but while the concept of La Salon is similar in spirit to the laid back elegance of the two star restaurant downstairs; the bar just feels a tad more opulent. While it appears like it could be a pretty stuffy place, the waiters are down to earth and made us feel right at home.

Right then, let’s talk about the food, there isn’t much on offer as it’s just high tea. £14 per person gets you their tea selection.

We were given a choice with regards to teas which included a myriad of exotic choices. My half chose the jasmine pearls, I was explore my feminine side with rosebuds infused tea…. yeah, turns out I don’t like rosebud infused tea. As we went before the 14th of Feb (er… my apologies for not posting this earlier), we were given a complimentary shot of raspberry cheesecake – Vanilla fragrance followed by a rich red fruit bomb, refreshing. The main event is a two tier stand; it’s dinkier than I had expected, and I went on an empty stomach – foolish I know. On the top tier are the La gougères au persil with red pepper and parsley – a sort of cheese stuffed pastry balls. These were delicious, served warm, the appenzeller cheese sauce stuffing was much like a creamy bechamel and with just a hint of dairy stink. Went down really well, I could easily have ten more. Onto the bottom tier, an assortment of sweet pastry. I started with the frangible mandelines. A sophisticated golden centre made from peaches, gave it a regal taste. The mandeline was then masterfully wrapped with an ultra skinny mandarin marmalade layer, so consistent it glistened in the light. Nice. Other pretentiously dinky pastries included a wafer thin chocolate and coconut biscuit made in size of penny coins. There were also stick to your teeth caramel candy each individually wrapped. I will however note that the macarons were only average, crusty and a little dry – not Pierre Herme, heck not even a patch on the average Parisian pastry shops.

Overall, I liked Le Salon, I think it’s the nice alternative to indulge if you are looking for a place to burn your time and money. It costs less than a trip to the restaurant downstairs, though two tiers are hardly adequate, so don’t expect to be fed well when you go. You know what this feels like, abit like a primer to get acquainted with the Robuchon brand before taking the plunge on their ala carte, and I think I just might have been seduced, again.

More photographs on my flickr account here.

The Gist of It

Le Salon Bar official site
L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon,
13-15 West Street WC2H 9NE
Tel : 020 7010 8600
Tube: Leicester Square

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Technorati Tags: afternoon tea, french, high tea, le atelier joel robuchon, le salon, leicester square, london, michelin star, restaurant review, soho