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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Course 3: Smoked egg/celeriac/truffle soldiers

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

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

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

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

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

Course 5: Mackerel/seaweed cracker/miso/cockles

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was well matched with this minute cheesecake pudding.

Course 8: Baked apple/rolos/hazelnut

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Gist of It

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Course 4: Roast mutton, pickled salsify & mint …

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

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

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

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

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

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

Course 6: Pistachio cake, caramelised apples, calvados cream

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Gist of It

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Amuse Bouche Ham hock terrine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WHITE CHOCOLATE CRÈME, black pepper, pepper caramel

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

Petit fours …grande.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Gist of It

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Smoked Eel & Horseradish Sandwich, £7.

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

Middlewhite & beans £18.50.

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

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

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

St Emilion Au Chocolat, £7.00

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

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

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

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

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

The Gist of It

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fish Soup, £3.70.

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

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

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

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

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

Prune & Armagnac Ice Cream, £2.50.

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

Blueberry cheesecake ice cream sundae, £6.00

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

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

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

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

The Gist of It

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

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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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Banana skin. I was suggested to try the ‘Ocre Rouge’, a Pinot Noir from Dions (as opposed to Burgundy) and I had come to the conclusion that this was a quirky little devil of a wine. The finish and its tannin structure was akin to banana skin, a first and a rather interesting peculiarity. The same could be said of the terribly cramped environs of the new Soho opening which has captivated Twitter’s appetite. Not only are they the latest restaurant to operate a no reservation service, they have gone the extra mile to install a record player on premises, inviting returning patrons to share their vinyl collection with everybody in the room. Ducksoup is either a genuinely hip place to dine or at the very least a good pretender. It is in keeping with the presumption that Londoners are still very much in love with the idea of less is more when eating out. Think Brawn, Spuntino and Rochelle Canteen throw in a Kitchenaid, then splashed across Fernandez & Wells. Et voilà.

The brains behind this genius are ex-Hix, chef Julian Biggs ( I think he is the beardy one) , Clare Lattin and Rory McCoy, collectively have managed to make the genre of uber-cool and understated, easily egalitarian yet decidedly British restaurant, feel refreshed once again. I really like the name, obviously it is not named after soup, but it gives the entirely random but accidentally on purpose impression, yes? (Yes Kang, keep up the bullshit). Might it have been a homage to a Marx Brothers film, I wonder.

Like many of today’s savvy restauranteurs, the key to conquering market share is online presence. Ducksoup are well equipped of course, already making all the right connections on twitter, (very usefully) posting their daily changing menu on their tumblr. That saves me the trouble of having to snap a photo of their menu. People are tweeting about them, forums are intrigued by the idea of this restaurant, half the battle with restaurants – in my opinion – is appealing to the masses. Once you get it in the prospective diners’ mind that your restaurant is ‘the place to be’ , you are half way there to enticing free wheelin’ hungry gluttons to your restaurant. Whoever Ducksoup have paid to brand their restaurant, I think they have done a bang up job with the subtle campaign.

So lets rewind to my first visit, a late 3pm lunch (high tea?) on the 14th October 2011, to some of you, it may be significant, because that’s also the day we queued up for the iPhone 4S. Yes, heckle as you do, what can I say? I’m a victim of the times, I queued up and paid my dues to the Cupertino empire, and then promptly trotted off to Soho for a late lunch to fondle my new gizmo. Since then, I’ve discovered what anaddictive app Instagram is. Take it from me that the camera on the new iPhone is so good, it alone is worth forking out £500 to replace any ageing point and shoots.

Tomato bread, olive oil, £3.50.

Snap. snap. I was expecting baked foccacia with bits of dried tomato, but instead, this was more like a stew, or perhaps a panzanella made with fresh instead of stale bread. The keyword here is fresh : This bread salad was really wholesome, juicy stuff. I don’t know what tomatoes they used, but I could tell you now, that they were plump.

Lamb cutlets, lemon, salt, £14.00.

Bony. Really bony, is this all the food £14 buys these days? I could pardon the low value for money because these were some of the best lamb cutlets I’d had in a long time. Again, I don’t know where the sheep were from, but they were fragrant, juicy, interestingly a little gamebird like, well seasoned and well fried.

Creme Caramel, £5.00.

What? A fiver for baked milk and eggs? Somebody’s having a laugh. Overpriced and not that well made, could do with more caramel sauce.

My first visit was intriguing enough, that I felt compelled to go back to try it again. I enjoyed the cosy atmosphere well enough, and whoever served me that day, she made me fall dangerously in love… with the restaurant. After meal one, it was pretty obvious this place was not another Russell Norman copycat, because it was rather expensive. I paid £35 for three plates of food plus a glass of white wine. I did admire the sheer quality of produce, while cooking was minimal, I felt it was the work of deft hands.

And so, I went back a week later. As you can peer into the ktichen, and if I am not mistaken, I believe I spotted an (ex?) Zucca chef in there. Can someone confirm? A she.

Chopped raw bavette, toasts, £7.

Fucking great tartare. The meat was beaten to a mince, which meant slithery, soft and smooth going down. Again, I thought ‘wow what great produce’ managing to taste visceral and lively, who knew a bashed bavette could be so tender? Most of all however, it was expertly well seasoned, I’m supposing garlic, salt, onion and capers (and obvious the egg yolk) , that if they were to turn it into a burger, it would turn out to be a pretty sterling patty. Fancy that. Bavette Burger, with Brioche and Ovinsardo. And ducksoup chips. They could sell that for £14.

Fritto Misto, £14.

A langoustine, artichokes, sliced orange, seabass and two slices of scallop, all fried. At first I thought “bloody hell is this it?” (Yes, I talk to myself a lot). The equivalent makele samak at Yalla Yalla gets you a mountain of seafood at half the price, but then I cut into the seabass and all memories of shitty seafood fried to a crisp were banished. The fish…amazing. The langoustine …fresh , but it were the queenies which took my breath away. I cut them down the middle and found a reassuring translucent centre, clap, clap, I applaud a kitchen that understands the importance of never overcooking. The scallops were some of the juiciest mollusks I’d ever had. My mum would have loved it. In fact, the restaurant had so much confidence in its produce that the other mains were simply raw queenies and raw langoustines.

And so we are back to the Pinot from Dions. I was certain of it now, it was definitely the taste of banana skin. This time round I avoided the pudding, but still forked out £30 for the meal. I did not have the Fucking Hell during either visit.

I am overwhelmed by the quality of produce, the seasonal menu may not read well, but I think it is a mark of sure-footed focus and even in its beginning days, Ducksoup is already a rather refined product. Because the space is really just a bar attached to an overachieving kitchen, the ambiance can become quite a bit chaotic. For instance, I was solo dining at the far edge of the bar which was also used by staff to consolidate orders and take card payments, I couldn’t hang my coat, so it stayed on my lap through the meal and at times, it felt like eating on a moving bus. Then again, if you are willing to eat standing up at Jose, this will not be an issue. I think we may be witnessing the derivation of a certain genre of restaurant. What shall we call it ? The soho diner perhaps. It feels cool, it is obvious that people come because it makes them feel exactly that. It’s not a bad thing of course, there is nothing wrong with feeling cool when eating out. In some ways, it reminds me of when Polpo first opened.

So my verdict is that Ducksoup is a solid 3.5 titanium stars out of 5. I think cooking is precise and disciplined but honestly, the recipes are banal, so don’t come here expecting fancy antics. Ducksoup is a no bullshit establishment. I’d like to think it is serving food that its chefs would cook for themselves at the end of service, which is the source of its appeal. The produce is of exceptional quality, if they can keep up the standard of sourcing, I think they will win many fans.

But I feel that they could have eased off the pricing during year one. £5 for small plates and £12 for large ones would have made more sense. Perhaps the ingredients are already quite dear, I don’t know, but I can’t keep up £30 two plate lunches when I know I would only spend a third less at a Russell Norman. I recommend avoiding the creme caramel until they pump more effort into something that is actually worth five pounds.

So, Soho is becoming a great place to eat isn’t it? There are now so many unique options for nourishment nestled amongst our beloved tourist traps. Superb noodles? Koya. A slice of America? Spuntino. How about some trendy beans from down under? Flat White. Tart up for some vintage fayne dining ? Gauthier. Simple everyman burger? Darth Byron. The best roastduck in Europe? Four Seasons (debatable of course). And introducing fried oranges and your personal LPs : Ducksoup.

The Deets.

Ducksoup
Egalitarian. Italian, I suppose. £35pp.
41 Dean Street W1D 4PY
Tel: 0207 287 4599
Tube: Piccadilly Circus

Stir the soup: TimeOut , A lot on her plate , Richard Godwin , The Skinny Bib

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Perhaps this is the secret to the good cooking since this is also the view from Stephen Harris’ kitchen. I’m sure you must have heard about this place by now, quite literally every blog and hack with the vaguest interest in food, in this country has written and raved about this michelin starred restaurant. It is one amongst a very rare collection of restaurants which commands near unanimous appeal, and as such, it is often regarded as the very best this country has to offer.

The original gastropub began life when Stephen sat through a revelatory meal at Chez Nico way back in ’92, which then became his inspiration to bring the slickness of high cooking to a more accessible setting. In the subsequent years, Stephen set about unravelling the mysteries of macaroon winning ways by visiting the nation’s darling restauranteurs of the era including MPW and GR until one fine November day in 1999, he decided to buy an isolated pub nestled between the English coast on one side and rolling fields of grazing sheep on the other. He crafted a brand new kind of experience that sought to marry cutting edge decadence with a wedge of the English seaside. Boy, did he managed that and then some. Today, he holds a Michelin star, the restaurant is constantly full up, and it must be said that the local taxi operators owe a large chunk of their business to Stephen.

Venturing out of town exclusively to experience a mind blowing meal is very appealing to me these days. The anticipation and the physical act of travelling to an alien location. You feel your mind mature on the train (as you lock eyes with grazing sheep) and contemplate how life may change after the adventure. The Sportsman is located in Seasalter along the North coast of Kent, between Faversham and Whitstable. To get there, one must brave a 90 minute journey from Victoria (assuming you are travelling from London) , 70 of which on a train to Faversham, and the remainder is spent hurling on the narrow and winding roads toward the coast. The experience is pilgramatic (not a real word) altogether, when we finally reached the destination, I couldn’t help but admire how peaceful this part of the world was. The air was fresh, time moved at a more profound pace, the winds whispered sweet nothings as they brushed past my hair, how nourishing for the soul… is this what heaven looks like for us gluttons?

Decor is as unassuming as any loved-up family owned pub in the country. The all-wooden interior does feels a little shabby, musky but very down to earth leading me to speculate that this is all probably intentional. It was reminiscent of walking into a warmly welcoming B&B, the ambiance has more in common with a home than a portentous purveyor of gastronomy. Everything seems so blissful, I felt like I was on holiday. Total zen.

Taster menus were not available on weekends, so instead we were instructed to pick our 3 courses from the chalked up daily menu by the bar. I washed down with a pint of late red ale as I resisted the temptation of ordering everything on the menu. After we settled on our table, I headed to the restrooms to wash my hands, and contemplated putting a two pound coin into the condom machine, to take home a souvenir from this visit.

Home-made bread on the house.

“All baked in-house.” The restaurant’s pride in their food is immediately made known to us. It is widely understood that Harris places a lot of emphasis on his produce, leaving as little to 3rd parties as is possible, which (so I read) include churning their own butter and growing much of their own vegetables. Sourcing locally is in vogue these days, after all the ability to secure fresh ingredients of consistent quality is half the battle toward perfecting the art of sustenance. The soda bread, foccacia and sourdough were perfect.

The Starters

Crab risotto, £9.95.

I think the risotto was made with brown crab meat, and so came infused with a mud-like minerality. My attention was immediately arrested by the essence of shellfish within the risotto. The flavours were in perfect balance. The fishy brown crab allowed to clash with the brightness of the white crab meat in the ultimate battle for your tastebuds’ affections.

Many have praised how brilliantly simple the food is at The Sportsman, and based on this meal, I have to agree. It is brilliant. I’d add to that hyperbole and say that it isn’t just mere simplicity that has intrigued, rather I think they have achieved some higher form of elegance. I think it is mainly to do with the balancing of flavours – eerily harmonious. The dish was entirely easy to eat, there was such clarity in the execution, that one feels will appeal to any set of tastebuds, imparting a sense of total nourishment, and I believe that’s the beauty – you don’t need to acquire any tastes to eat here, it is simply just good grub.

Pork Terrine, £9.95.

Same story here, like the missus’ risotto, this cold terrine was another lesson that highlighted the importance of balanced flavours. I appreciated that it was not overly salty, and was made with dense chunks of pork. The cabbage wrapping was the stand out feature – imparting a crisp brightness to the flavours. Cabbage-infused pork, it was brilliant because it was such an easy dish to eat. Needless to say, the scratchings on the side were fine as well.

Mains

Roast Waterham farm chicken with bread sauce and roasting juices, £17.95.

Damn fine roast chicken in every respect. I can’t seem to remember a better version of chicken at a restaurant, maybe when I visited Harnett’s Y&A , but as chicken goes, this has become a cherished memory for me. Tender, smooth and soft textures, the bread sauce was lightly spiced, and the roasting juices enveloped the chicken with a wonderful vanilla-like fragrance. Perfumed chicken, I must also applaud the sheer quality of produce – great ingredients carefully cooked by someone who loves to eat. Most of all however, I thought the potatoes were ace. Like mashed potato croquettes as opposed to just potatoes cooked in fat.

Thornback ray, brown butter, cockles and sherry vinegar dressing, £19.95.

A sweet vinegar, feminine lemon butter flavours, smelling all lavender and tulips, the garden of flavours were as nourishing as the surroundings we were in. The fish was fresh, and so the textures were lively, the cockles were chock full of sand, and so were a little rough upon chewing. A nice fish dish, visually stunning, but if I am honest, just a shy overcooked and probably a tad under seasoned, but still it was a satisfying main dish.

Custard tart with plum ripple ice cream, £6.95.

I loved the pudding. This is better than the Marcus Wareing recipe. The textures were so cloud-like, more akin to a whippy mousse, or perhaps meringue from a baked alaska than humble baked custard – how did they manage this kind of texture? Easily the most unique custard tart I’ve yet had – the lightness was pure genius.

This is what you see when you leave The Sportsman.

Salt and fish recovered from the sea, lamb and poultry from within driving distance and vegetables grown in their back garden – This is our Noma, why travel to Copenhagen when we already have such a gem in our backyard? Amazingly, for 5 dishes of food, two coffees and two drinks, lunch was an extremely appealing £72.35. What fantastic value for money.

All in all, I think The Sportsman thoroughly deserves its reputation, this kitchen is a finely tuned instrument, Harris and his team can definitely make sweet music with pots and pans, the sheer clarity in the cooking is rarely experienced, and something that eager gluttons yearn for. But upon reflection on the ride back to London, I don’t think this meal was the revelation I’d hope it would be. It came very close to changing my life, but truthfully it didn’t. In a way, I don’t think it’s meant to, this isn’t the precise opera of Blumenthal, this is the jazz of Harris in a seriously laid back pub. I think that while the honesty and authenticity in the cooking is admirable, it is the pure romance in its setting that makes The Sportsman truly special. I can see myself coming out here again, The Sportsman is a charming restaurant and a class act. Together with Kerridge’s Hand & Flowers in Marlow, I believe they epitomise the concept of haute cuisine without table cloths. Not absolutely extravagant, but still more than worthy of a visit, if only to lock eyes with the sheep.

The Deets.

The Sportsman
British. £55pp.
Faversham Road, Kent CT5 4BP
Tel: 01227 273370
Travel: Train from Victoria to Faversham, then 15min taxi ride.

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There was a time in the last decade, where the concept of redressing Modern Brit cuisine around the starkly model which Fergus Henderson created, championed and subsequently turned into a culinary dynasty, was unique to the Hendersons. And those who cooked with Henderson. Eventually, these frontrunners adopted what is widely accepted as the St John way. Back in late 2007 (back when foodbloggers were a rarity, and the iPhone was 2G only… remember those days?), a little known restaurant named after the street it took residence, opened to rather pleasing reviews by the nation’s doyens of critics. The simplistic, slick and focused cooking was more than redolent of the Hand of Henderson, and it was only natural to expect it; afterall Chef Pemberton was previously the head chef at Bread & Wine.

In the four years or so since it opened, Hereford Road had grown to adopt the reputation of a dependable neighbourhood restaurant. It was always on my list, but which has eluded me for all of my blogging career, because well, I suppose I was probably preoccupied with discovering the original Henderson owned eateries (I say eateries, since my heart still yearns for Rochelle Canteen). Ironic, considering Hereford Road is actually in my neighbourhood.

But this isn’t just another gastropub of course, this is as much a restaurant, as St John is a restaurant. An off-shoot, spawned from the original purveyor of British cuisine.

Unlike Henderson’ shrine, Hereford Road’s menu is less challenging, more mellow and seems to cling to lowering profile, as opposed to an all guns blazing approach, but it is not without ammunition. Aside from the deep fried calf’s brain (a constant feature in the changing daily menu) , the rest of the menu won’t have you taking a deep breath before negotiating muscular flavours.

Braised cuttlefish and red wine, £6.80.

The better half started with some cool and saucy cuttlefish. A light seafood salad, a little boring, but flavoured correctly kicked off the evening in an appreciable manner.

Crispy Pork, Dandelion, mustard, £5.80.

Yours truly opted to tackle some gut bustingly crispy belly pork, very juicy meat and cracking skin. A greasy salad, pickled and garnished with capers, which I thought helped to make it a rather vibrant start to my own evening. We liked both starters and we appreciated the simplicity.

Sea trout, cucumber, chervil, samphire, £14.

When done right, there is little to complain about this combination of ingredients. A crisply fried piece of fish, fresh samphire and a squidge of 100% lemon juice – what more could you ask of your local neighbourhood restaurant? I felt this dish best epitomised the essence of Hereford Road, there is no pomp here, just honest cooking.

Roast veal, courgettes, saffron, £15.

I loved this. The flavour of saffron, something so difficult to describe, fragrant, perfumery, mettalic, coming in contact with the mushy, delicate flavour of courgettes was exhilarating. I have always admired dishes with saffron in it, such a mercurial spice both visually and in terms of flavour. Even the faintest addition of it shows up, because its red colour is so damn vibrant, but it is the unmistakable smell of it, that really transforms the dish into something just a tad more elegant.

Veering off-topic, I recently had vanilla gelato scented with strands of saffron at Gelupo that was simply the best vanilla ice cream flavour, man has ever created. In my opinion of course.

And swerving back on topic, the natural floral fragrance of veal, married with the fluttery bouquet of saffron, was one made in the clouds. Roasty, steamy, tender so earthy and honest, complete with an intense yet simple drizzle of gravy, made this one of the best experiences of roast veal, I’ve ever had. The only thing missing was perhaps some triple cooked chips. Fabulously elegant stuff.

Loganberry sherry trifle, £5.50

Puddings were old school, the trifle was drunk with alcohol and rich with egg, custard, cream, sugar and jam, all cramped into a small glass, producing sinful mouthful after mouthful of pure sweetness.

Buttermilk pudding, £5.50

This on the other hand, was a little too zesty for me and not wobbly enough. I wished we had ordered two trifles instead.

We paid £63.55 including a glass of Margot and a latte.

A quintessential neighbourhood restaurant, whilst it may be overshadowed by shinier and newer concepts such as Brawn or Spuntino or Harwood Arms, but I won’t knock it because it is nevertheless a great place to grab some grub. There isn’t anything magical about the cooking, I feel it is very honest, very neighbourly, inviting, laid back, friendly and in many respects, this is what you want your neighbourhood restaurant to be : safe, secure, a place to recharge and to savour every last bite in peace.

The Gist of It

Hereford Road
British, £35pp
3 Hereford Road W2 4AB
Tel : 020 7727 1144
Tube: Bayswater

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£46 may sound like a steep price, but I assure you, it is one of the best investments you will make, when you are looking for something to fill that gaping void when you are feeling utterly ravenous. The proposition in question is the £46 buffet at the 4th floor restaurant inside the guts of Harrods. Yes, it’s that sprawling space past the pet section, with the autopiano running off epic Chinese ballads, and the occasional Whitney Houston belter.

The all-you-can-eat includes unlimited return trips of roast rib of beef, leg of lamb or turkey, and occasionally fish (though I didn’t see any) , plus all the trimmings you can afford to pile on to your plate without the mountain of food collapsing before you get back to your table. Not to mention the myriad of salads, cold cured meats, cold seafood, cheese and fruit.

This is what I managed on the first trip:

Roast lamb, and roast beef and yorkshire puds, gravy and carrots … all on the same plate. Mmmm. But where we got our pennies worth were these superb king prawns…

…. some of the juiciest giant shellfish ever to grace a free for all buffet. Seriously, these things could easily pass for £3 a pop at a Caprice outfit or a Hart brothers restaurant. The missus and I kept going back for more and more of these until we got sick of deshelling and degutting prawns. Sweet and juicy. Yeah. The prawns alone were more than worth the entrance fee.

You know I’ve got a sweet tooth right?

The green blob on the right, is I believe is matcha flavoured Turkish delight. It was ridiculously good, so too was the bread pudding, and the rest of the icing and soft meringue topped sugary creations from the Harrods kitchens.

We paid about £100 for the buffet and a couple of glasses of wine, and I quite enjoyed the old school touristy thing to do in our city. Speaking of atmosphere, it was a nice getaway from reality, the banquet-like ambiance, the carvery and tall chef hats, the trolleys – I’ve always tended to think of Sunday lunch as the British version of dim sum. I wouldn’t necessarily call it the ‘epitome of elegant dining’ as the Harrods website indicates, maybe if we were all characters in an episode of Dallas goes to England. The food is as good looking as what’s in the ground floor food hall, the produce is fresh and the result is quite a high quality all you can eat buffet. Not the finest moment in gastronomy, but you shouldn’t expect to put your food snob hat on for this sort of thing, like the all you can eat meat feast at a Rodizio Rico, it’s all about value for money.

To sum up, I’d like to use a (probably the best) quote from Rocky Balbao :

“…It ain’t about how hard ya hit, it’s about how hard you can get it and keep moving forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward. That’s how winning is done. Now if you know what you’re worth then go out and get what you’re worth.”

Now go forth and get your money’s worth, champ.

The Deets.

All you can eat, £46.
The Georgian Restaurant
4th Floor Harrods
87–135 Brompton Road
SW1X 7XL

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