“..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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No doubt you’ve already heard about Ceviche, the first of a trio of Peruvian restaurants to open in London this year. Started by Martin Morales, Brit with half a Peruvian heritage, he gave up a notable music career (According to Xanthe, he signed KT Tursntall and launched iTunes in Europe!) to plug a gaping hole in the market. Which he reckons will be nicely filled with an introduction to raw seafood cold cooked in tiger’s milk.

Apart from the fusion dishes at Nobu, I’ve never eaten Peruvian food. This cuisine has always been written about as the next big thing (Monocle did a nice spread last year), partly given its unique history of diverse cultural influences, one can argue that Peruvian is a true expression of fusion food. Given the decades the Nobu restaurants have spent in the (international) limelight , Peru hasn’t really taken off as a must visit destination for gastro-tourist.

The cuisine’s foremost ambassador is Gastón Acurio. By wikipedia’s account, he is a bit of a legend in his native Peru. His name is attached to No.35 on the 2012 World Best 50 , but it diffuses down to a diverse portfolio of operations which include a hamburger bar, a Peruvian-Chinese restaurant, a hotel and even a ‘gastronomic’ university. I’m most intrigued by the mention of his roast chicken franchise, La Pollada. Might it come on British shores and threaten Nandos’ monopoly on the market? That’s for another blog post.

Where was I? Ah yes, The Morales tiger’s milk: an acidic marinade consisting of a closely guarded recipe centered around salt, lime and chilli. Poured over a variety of seafood, the concoction is the very soul of the ceviche. The ceviche in turn, according to Martin represents “Everything you need to know about Peruvian food is in it”.

Alianza Lima, £7.50

With one prawn, chopped squid, octopus, giant cholo corn, seabass (as the fish on that day), beansprouts, coriander.

So it’s like a sashimi salad. Personally, I felt like all the citrus killed the texture of the seabass. It just didn’t taste fresh. In fact it tasted like a soaked sponge. I was annoyed to have to share a single prawn with the missus. Does this imply that the plate is a single person portion?

The sensation of chewing on soggy raw fish wasn’t what I had hoped for. Could it have been doused with too much tiger’s milk? I had expected sharpness, freshness and vibrancy. Maybe like a freshly shucked oyster – seawater spewing all over my top – with lashings of freshly squeezed lemon and tabasco, but alas this wasn’t it. I thought the spice and zest of the tiger’s milk was interesting, but overall, the dish lacked excitement. It was muted. At £7.50, it’s not exactly cheap.

Granted it’s an unfair comparison given the Nobu’s high prices and use of premium ingredients, but really Nobu(s) is rather good with the Peruvian dishes. Ok, so my last visit to Berkeley was over 3 years ago, over 6 to Park Lane, but if you can afford it, Nobu is still a very dependable restaurant. I still hold the view that only Nobu restaurants can do justice to Black Cod Miso. Remember that dish? Oh man, nostalgia.

Anyway, I digress. I expected that Ceviche’s star billing to be at the very least addictive and fun. I really tried to like it, but I just didn’t.

Sakura Maru, £6.25

Salmon carpaccio, tiger’s milk with mirin, soyo, satsuma and what appears to be spring onion. AKA ‘new style’ salmon sashimi. The sauce tastes exactly like the Alianza Lima. It was ok.

I am reminded of the spicy sashimi salad at Sakura, Oxford Circus , usually a dinner-only item, which uses a variety of ‘discarded’ bits from sashimi / nigiri. Salmon, seabass, hamachi, thin prawn carpaccio, seaweed usually feature, and a spicy, zesty, fresh and vibrant sauce is poured over it. It’s very addictive (they’ve got a bit stingy with the spicy sauce over the years) but I had it a few weeks ago and it’s still very good as always. Not Peruvian obviously, but at £6 or thereabouts, it’s far superior as an experience of raw fish + spicy citrus sauce than this.

Given the generally positive reviews and Martin’s largely successful PR, I really, really tried to like it but I just couldn’t. Not to say there was anything particularly wrong with it, but I just felt like there are comparably better things to eat in London at similar price points.

Ensalda de Quinoa, £3.75

With white quinoa, tomatoes, avocado, butter beans, coriander and rocoto chilli vinaigrette. Ah! We really liked this dish. It was fresh, zesty, lively and everything I perceived Peruvian cuisine to be. And it was affordable.

Arroz con Pato, £11.50

Confit duck in coriander, dark beer rice with aji amarillo chilli.

For £11.50 …it’s more expensive that the tiny tapas plates at Copita. When this arrived, I thought ‘Opera Tavern! Salt Yard! Tapas!’ , and truthfully I didn’t expect it to shine.

We took our first forkful (no spoons provided) and we both lit up. The duck was moist and tender, really concentrated in flavour and had a nicely crisped skin. However, it was the green rice that had me salivating for more. It had amazing intensity of flavour, like it was made with a very concentrated stock, perhaps with the duck fat?? Herby, fluffy, creamy, very moist, almost like a dry risotto.

I couldn’t really tell what it was, maybe it was the reducing sauce the rice was cooked it (dark beer??), but whatever it was, it was fantastic. This was something I could keep topping up bowl after bowl after bowl with. This may seem left-field (maybe because of the colour) , but it brought up similar warm feelings after I tried Heston’s snail porridge. Or for 2012 era, the cod cheeks porridge at Dinner.

For me, this dish was a winner, I never knew confit duck could be interpreted like this, I can still smell all the spices, herbs and the rice as I write it.

Chicken Anticuchos, £6.75.

Chicken cubes on a skewer. For £6.75? Better off heading to Bincho Yakitori for chicken oysters or chicken skin for the same money.

We paid £45.62 for food plus two beers. No pudding. A full meal here will probably average £25-30pp. Not overly expensive, but a little dearer than expected.

I dislike the dining room in the back. Save for a small skylight, there are no windows, and it’s stuffy like a cellar – dead fish, lime and dust. I couldn’t wait to get out the minute I got in. I know decrepit Soho spaces are trendy, but personally I’m getting tired of trying to have a meal surrounded by barely adequate furniture. More to the point, I think the kind of food Ceviche sell, requires a room with plenty of light to emphasize freshness and fragrance. I cannot imagine how stuffy it would get on hot summer nights, candles only, all the while trying to negotiate raw fish cooked in lime juice. On my visit, the music was definitely too loud, or maybe it’s just that the room was so small. If you’re there, you should avoid the dead spots in the furthest corners of the room (that’s where the missus and I sat) , and the ideal seats appear to be at the bar.

In spite of my wayward criticism, I think it’s a (mostly) good effort, though I feel it is destined to become nothing more than a convenient meeting point for after work drinks or casual group dinners. Martin has certainly paved a largely smooth road for Peruvian to enter the market, but it does feel like this is merely a dress rehearsal for something more polished on the horizon. But hey what do I know right? After all, this is only the first time I’ve eaten Peruvian food.

Next up Tierra Peru.

The Gist of It

Ceviche
Peruvian £25pp.
17 Frith Street W1D 4RG
Tel : 020 72922040
Tube : Leicester Square

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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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Rob & David’s eponymous restaurant has only just toasted its ten year anniversary. A decade and a bit, largely recognised as one of a handful of institutions of Iberian cooking in the business. Not forgetting the Eyre Brother’s first effort, The Eagle, which has already entered the annals of culinary legend. It predates the rise of the Brindisas and – in certain respects – is seen to have nurtured its growth. After all, Jose Pizarro did spend his first years in London with this fine establishment. The restaurant celebrates cooking from the Iberian peninsula, with the roots established in Portuguese cooking. Perhaps due in no small part to David’s upbringing in Mozambique, a former Portuguese colony.

Today, there are many luminous representatives of Iberian cooking in the city, dare I say, that Spanish cooking has hit a high level of consistency. Whatever formula that may be applied to running successful Spanish restaurants which appeal to Londoners, has been perfected. Copita, Salt Yard, Jose/Pizarro and even the post-Pizarro Brindisas just to name a few of the current crop of small plate leaders all produce lovely food. Progress is inevitable, but I believe there’s always a sense of romance when visiting restaurants with a bit of history.

The Alpine cabin ambiance does remind me a little of Pizarro – Slick yet down to earth, with a long bar which entertains a more familiar menu of tapas. One which is adamantly self-proclaimed to be set apart from the ‘ersatz’ competition for its ‘gutsy flavours’. Croquetas, gambas, prego and tinned sardines. Here, tapas certainly do read more like bar snacks than full meals.

At the dinner table, the civilised ALC is laid out as three course meals. Starters include Spatchcocked quail cooked in sherry vinegar; Pressed Madeira and Porto-marinated foie gras. For mains Portuguese baked spiced rice with duck, chourico and smoked touchino; Globe artichoke with sauteed wild garlic, swiss chard and peas on a spinach pancake; Grilled Mozambique tiger prawns piri-piri, pilaf rice, cucumber, coriander and sherry vinegar.

Anchovies, pimientos, olives, capers toast and a soft boiled egg, £7.00.

I started with something easy, opting for what essentially is anchovies on a bit of toast. The anchovies were certainly gutsy. So salty I washed down each bite with half a glass of tap water. I have to confess, the dish is a little boring, one could say it feels home-made, but with so many preserved ingredients on the same plate, I was yearning for something warm and freshly cooked (like clams).

Grilled fillet of acorn-fed Iberico Pig, marinated with smoked paprika, thyme and garlic. Patatas probres – Oven potatoes with green peppers, onions, garlic and white wine, £21.00.

This sort of pink pork was novel and bold at one time, but now its nearly commonplace. A regular fixture at Parle’s Dock Kitchen, and unsurprisingly, there’s a cut down version of simply grilled ruby red dollops of iberico fillet at Jose’s sherry bar.

I could be wrong, but this particular dish – in essence a David Eyre signature – may have kicked it all off. The pork had a wonderful fragrance about it, it certainly is not innocent like the rest of its non-acorn fed brethren, and ultimately its accompanying flavour profile is much more intense.

After all, these are cut from the prized pigs with body fat that ooze like the most complex of olive oils. Sizzling, hearty and rustic. With a buttery tenderness that melts on the fork. I noted the lovely colours of the potatoes and the juices it were bathed in. A creamy beige akin to a flowing wedding dress. Like a blushing black pig wrapped in satin. The residual heat of the potatoes were fabulous. Heavily seasoned and I hazard a guess, that it is only made more complex by absorbing some of the lovely juices from the pork. A wonder to eat.

It’s terribly elegant, classic and a sterling example of meat and potatoes. There were so many flavours swirling around the plate, but perhaps just one too many. My palate was slowly overcome with spiciness, which eventually drowned out the natural flavour of the pork. Only just approaching the wrong of queasy as I finished the plate.

Perhaps I have grown accustomed with Jose’s version served simply with a few sprinkles of paprika, and much more daringly rare than this. Then there is Nuno Mendes’ addictive version served with a savoury Portuguese bread pudding. Both in my opinion do a better job of reigning in just enough to highlight the natural awesomeness of iberico pork. I think David’s signature dish is almost too rich, by comparison.

Burnt cooked cream, £6.00

To finish, a classic cooked cream fit for St Joseph’s day! Smooth cold vanilla custard encased in a caramelised sugary roof.

I paid £45 for food and a glass of Graciano. Eyre Brothers is a certainly a solid restaurant, food is mostly good, if a touch rich, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing, for those of you who still enjoy a kip after a big meal. There is an unshakable sense of nostalgia, or more accurately, a sense that I have visited a precursor to the current state of affairs. I feel that its younger counterparts have eclipsed its classic offerings with lighter and more playful interpretations of Iberian cooking. However, it doesn’t change the fact it is still a classic.

The Gist of It

Eyre Brothers
Iberian £50pp.
70 Leonard St. EC2A 4QX
Tel : 02076135346
Tube : Old Street

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I have resisted Roti Chai for several months now, it’s right opposite Selfridges, conveniently located, if you shop on Oxford Street often. I think the interior design does it no favours. The colourful theatre-land of over-sized repros of food brands (meant to evoke nostalgia I’m guessing) gives the impression that this a prototype for a upcoming franchise.

Then I had dinner with a few weeks earlier with the venerable former food blogger Helen WFG and her hubby the enigmatically blurry Garson Byer who both gushed about the fantastic happenings in the kitchens of Roti Chai. Fantastic and a little bombastic. Reviews and word of mouth suggest a thriving returning clientele because of its supposed authenticity and obvious quality cooking.

The restaurant is split into two discreet operations under the same roof: Upstairs aka The Street Kichen; a lighter, faster and presumably cheaper menu is available and open all day. Down in the basement dubbed The Dining Room, the interiors are somewhere in between a lounge bar and Bob Bob Ricard, with marble replaced by wooden floors. Less finger food, more elaborate sounding dishes from the regions and is only open for dinner. Two kitchens, two head chefs, two restaurants in one.

I visited for a Saturday lunch, and obviously ate upstairs. The missus opted for a virgin cocktail and I drank Mongoose lager for the very first time. Certainly extra smooth, but with more bite than a Cobra. For me, the setting is reminiscent of cafe-cum-eateries one would find in behemoth shopping malls across Asia. Looking up to the exposed gold painted ceilings reveals pipes, wooden panels, metal beams, air conditioning and industrial style aluminium encased lighting.

Interesting.

Every dish on the menu comes with subtitles – ain’t it nice?

Bhel Puri, £3.90

“Puffed rice with chopped onions and a tangy tamarind sauce”

Aka, Rice crispies with sweet chilli swauce! The crackle and pop was definitely a new experience for me, a fun way to start a meal. Delicious too.

Hakka Chilli Paneer, £5.20

“Fiery Indo-Chinese speciality from Kolkata”

I had no idea Chinese cuisine had seeped into Indian culture. According to Wikilegends, this association originates from the Chinese community (and by extension Chinese restaurants (and takeaways, presumably)) in Kolkata, most of whom are of Hakka descent. Dude. I’m half Hakka, but I guess my Granddad got on the boat which stopped at Borneo instead of India.

Paneer coated in corn starch and stir-flied with peppers, spring onion, coriander and hot hot chilli. It’s hot stuff, in fact almost too hot even for me. My dad would love the nasal clearing experience however. He still regularly indulges in this kind of torture once a month.

It could probably pass for nyonya, but it certainly is also very Chinese. Swap the paneer for egg tofu, and it’s exactly like my mum’s handywork. I liked.

Bun Kebab, £7.50

“Punjabi Tikki Wala Mini Burgers, spiced lamb kebab”

Aka – Indian lamb sliders, with pomegranate and green sauce.

…Mmm… a sharply seasoned minced lamb kebab serving as a patty, with a sweet and subtly tangy condiment, sandwiched in a toasty, soft and square bun with oiled insides. The patty was tremendously appetising, it fit in to my paws perfectly, increasingly greased as I finished it… this could be one of the top burger vintages of the year. Eating well now and for the next fifty years, requiring no cellaring. 95-99+ …

Hah. Crossing streams there. If you’ve been following my twitter feed, you’ll know that I’ve recently started my wine investment plans …and I’m surprised how one man’s opinion has such influence in wine prices. The million dollar nose now has a direct impact on the growth of my life savings. I’m speculating on Bordeauxs, in my cellar I have a 12-case of 2005 Lafites and a 6-case of 2009 Lynch Bages, a 1st growth and a 5th respectively, both from good years… Yup, that chinese stereotype flows in my veins after all. I suppose the name does make the difference.

Back in the real world – yes, fantastic Indian Lamb burger, the fairground fluffy toasted bun was brilliant, but the lamb kebab was better as a make-believe patty.

Macher Jhol, £8.50 with Aloo Gobi, £4.50 and a bread basket, £4.00.

“Road & Rail – Rustic dishes from the roadside “Dhabha’ cafes from bustling train stations of the sub-continent. Classic Bengali Fish curry with kasundi mustard and rice.”

Punjabi Dhabha (literally for restaurant owned by a person originating from Punjab) were initially roadside cafes for truckers to drop in for some warm grub. So… that’s like Punjabi style roadside diners yes? I don’t know, I’m no expert on Indian food here, so feel free to correct me.

For what it’s worth, I liked the curry, light, brothy (rather than creamy & rich) , it gave an impression of butter-free, yoghurt-free, lightly salted, lightly spiced home-cooked goodness. Delicious yes and rather subtle, but I felt it could do with just a few more cubes of fish.

The cauliflower & potatoes were also light in style. I thought the bread selection was fabulous valuea – naan, pratha and kulcha. No dosa or chapati however. Maybe it was because the breads went cold, but I thought they were a little dry & chewy. Could be moister and doughier.

Almond & Saffron Phirni, £5.50

“Ground rice & milk pudding.”

You know how I love a good rice pudding, the best recipes imho belong to the Norwegians.

The rice was so finely grounded, it was like a whippy mousse, smooth but with bits. Light, cool and the metallic flavour of saffron added an air of flair. Personally, I could do without the almond shavings, its inherent perfumed flavour does go hand in hand with the saffron, but I thought the rocky road got in the way of the smoothly blended rice. Still, it was a lovely pudding to finish the meal with.

In the end, I regret not ordering their dhal (as a bread dip) , the lollipop chicken and the house-made kulfi.

We paid £46.68 for two.

The meal was a refreshing change. It didn’t feel one dimensional (as opposed to multi dimensional..?? Hyperbole kicking in there) , the spices were obviously present, but everything tasted surprisingly lightweight.

Roti Chai is unique in the familiar world of Indian restaurants in the city. I don’t think it’s quite perfect, but the food is generally good, well priced and easy going. The missus went back with her mates a few days after this visit, but downstairs to the dining room instead. Her verdict : Not necessarily better than upstairs, but food generally came across as being prepared with more thought and effort.

Thumbs up from me.

The Gist of It

Roti Chai
Indian £30pp.
3 Portman Mews South W1H 6HS
Tel : 020 7408 0101
Tube : Bond Street

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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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Ohh.. that yellow, is that *gasp* american cheese? Hah. Yeah it looks great doesn’t it?

8oz Cheeseburger with Chips, £15.

It looks dangerously risky for a medium rare, which is to say, it satisfied expectations for those of us who like burgers to be bloody. I don’t really want to open up another debate on this issue, but personally I feel that a rarer patty has better texture, juicier (or less dry I should say) and has better flavour than something more cooked.

This is indeed a pretty good burger. Actually, it’s better than good, it’s probably one of the best burgers in town (yes I know, every other burger place seems to be somebody’s ‘the best’ these days).

Pople, Young, Burgerac and Bellaphon have roundly praised the burger, and after this visit, I can only echo their opinion. Those guys really do tell a more eloquent story about the technicalities of why this patty is so good, but for what its worth, I think the resultant product is quite special.

On Burgerac, Fred Smith explains that his patty is ‘blended’ from 50% rib cap, 25% chuck and 25% of trimmed fat plus some other little bits. The beef are supplied by Darragh O’Shea , cuts are dry-aged in house prior to mincing. The impression I get is that Fred continually finesses his blend over time, so if revisited next year, this burger could well be more delicious. Then again, I think most burger places tweak their patty recipes from time to time anyway.

I was reading up on AHT’s excellent recreation of Heston’s (laborious) recipe for his perfect burger. It is noted that Fred’s approach borrows its inspiration from this recipe, such as lining up the strands of mince so they are rolled together in the same direction before forming the patty to shredding the lettuce to form a sort of mattress for the patty lay comfortably over it.

I don’t know if the current iteration is still made this way, but I certainly noticed the uniformity of the mince. Each bite was very smooth as if each cube of beef had been individually tidied when the patty was formed. Its textures were more akin to tartare than grounded beef. I thought the patty’s exhibited lovely rounded natural flavours. All the beefy, fatty unctous flavour was redolent of Darragh’s (of O’Sheas) Big D patty (which hopefully should make its annual guest appearance in Byron sometime this year). On paper, Fred’s basic recipe does seem to resemble Darragh’s blend.

The smell of grilled beef-fat was simply fantastic. However, I found myself dipping this burger into mayo & ketchup after a couple of bites. Counterintuitively, it felt like all this rich beefiness required more seasoning to really bring them out. You know, it’s a little bit like a great steak eaten without salt and pepper.

Perhaps all it needed was for the cuts of beef to be rubbed with more salt prior to mincing. I don’t have anything against american cheese, but I think a sharper cheese such as (Byron’s option) of gruyere (or a blue cheese) can be a good compliment to this sort of rich steak-like patties.

I would say that the broiche bun may be just a little small to handle the 8oz patty. It’s supplied by Miller’s, whom I believe are the same folks who turn out buns for Byron as well as Hawksmoor. In fact, dare I say, this bun is strikingly similar to the one used in Byron’s Uncle Sam special last year. Given the size of this patty, the base bun was completely soaked through, after I chomped through half the burger. It seemed only just able to keep the juices in, tethering on the edge of breaking apart.

Of the London lot, I still think the Meatwagon buns are the best. They have a pleasant fluffy density but also a chewy plasticity about it. But as I said a few weeks ago in my Honest Burgers post, there is this elusive St John sourdough that’s made cameo appearances on BurgerMondays, which seem really great but aren’t often used. Although, I have only had it once, my lasting impressions of the bun was its ability to hold juices in quite well. I also remembered it being quite doughy. Almost like a good neopolitan pizza base…

Chips were so rough cut, they were more like wedges. Pretty damn good, crispy and fluffy, I liked it just fine.

At £15, it’s priced on the higher end. But I do think that you are paying for a quality product, and also a comfortable environment to enjoy it. We arrived at 6.30 on a tuesday night, cooking times were about 15 minutes, there was no need to queue, since you can book. Admiral Codrington itself is a rather decent pub with a dedicated restaurant area (that has a retractable glass skylight/roof) with walls painted beige and booths and chairs lined in red suede with rose patterns. So the feminine surroundings were actually a welcomed change to the rough and ready sweaty and loud guerrilla burger bar. It is South Ken after all.

My brother paid £65.64 which included two glasses of wine, a £2 cover charge, £3.60 to add melted raclette to two portions of chips and a sticky toffee pudding to finish. At nearly £33 for a burger, a drink and half a pud…. yeah actually that does seem quite expensive.

(It never ceases to amaze me how much bullshit I actually generate with each post. In this case, over 1000 words for a burger..!! Do you actually read it all or just take in photos + skip to last para?)

Kudos to Fred Smith. His burger is certainly a great product which deserves high praise and its high reputation. I think it’s just one more place to add to the list of burger nights, in case you’re tired of the Meatliquor or Lucky Chip queues. O’Shea steaks are on the menu, and I’ve read that Fred has access to in-house dry ageing facilities (dehumidified fridge?) to hang his cuts. With the attention to detail he has put into the burger, I’m certainly curious as to what he has done with the rest of the menu. It certainly warrants a revisit, no doubt you’ll read about Ad Cod again in the near future.

The Gist of It

Admiral Codrington
Pub, with a great burger £35pp.
17 Mossop Street, London SW3 2LY
Tel : 0207 581 0005
Tube : South Kensington

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Well, I finally made it to this Honest Burgers. There was a bit of a wait to get our table – 45 minutes – for a late lunch at 3pm on a Saturday. We were a table of five, we didn’t have to queue physically, as they took down my mobile and called up to let us know it was our table was ready.

As you have probably read elsewhere, they’ve received much publicity last year, and is generally held in high regard by the burger lovers. As high regard as the Meatwagon & Lucky Chip burgers. On the same token, there are those who have written about an inconsistent experience.

The Cheese, with house chips with rosemary salt, £7.50.

That’s a neat brioche. The patty looked wet & juicy, the cheddar only just melted over it. The red onion relish is the unique condiment which sets the honest burger apart from its competition. The smell of rosemary filled our table, so much so, I could hardly detect grilled beef – a change in the usual burger outing.

Like most democratic burger restaurants these days, food is served in wartime enamel crockery. I did some digging around, and found Falcon enamelware which has been trading since the 20s.

Our immediate reaction were that these burgers looked a little small. More like oversized sliders. In fact, they looked about the same size as the supersized slider at Mishkin’s.

I asked for mine to be medium rare.

Served with only a knife, which I suppose is their way of suggesting to the diner to slice it down the middle to check for doneness.

Would you say it’s more medium than medium rare?

There are various reports that the grilled patty is finished in a similar way to Meatwagon/Lucky Chip, by allowing its own vapourised juices to re-condense under a metal cloche. I think most burger places tend to do this now, so it’s no longer as novel as it used to be.

I liked the patty (even if it came a little overcooked) , it was juicy, and the aged Ginger Pig mince certainly exhibited sharp and strong beefy flavour. So concentrated in fact, that I felt it was verging on blue cheese. I don’t know if it were a combination of the sweet bun, the cheddar and onion, but this big-bang flavour was certainly pleasing. The patty did remind me of the equally big flavoured Hawksmoor burger, which is also minced from Ginger Pig Longhorns, with a few dollops of marrow for extra oomph.

I thought the onion relish was a nice touch, giving the patty a sweet contrast, but personally, I could have done without it. The airy brioche was adequate, but perhaps just a little on the dry side. It’s strange really, most people have written about wanting doughier buns, but it seems restaurants are still adamantly sticking by variations of – in my opinion – rather ordinary buns. I think the Meatwagon (steamed) buns are probably the best available in town. However, I did try some experimental St John sourdough (with an O’sheas patty) at a BurgerMonday event, which I thought was fabulously the right doughy consistency. But that was about a year ago, and I haven’t actually seen it come on to the market. Logistics and perhaps high costs probably prevent better buns from coming into the burger equation. The bun can either complete the burger or be its weakest link.

As for the rosemary scented chips – yeah they were pretty nice. Very crispy and it reminded me of Kettle chips…. but I thought they were horribly over salted.

Everybody else on my table went for the special (£10) of the day which was Beef, manchego, chimichurri, brindisa chorizo and braised chillies. It sounds over the top on paper, and indeed it was horrendously salty in practice. I split my burger with the missus, and really regretted parting with my much mellower cheese burger. My friends couldn’t stop reaching for wine to wash away all the heaviness.

Overall, everybody thought it was a pretty good burger, but we also thought they should reassess their salting philosophy. More flavour is nice, but with such a strong flavoured patty, I think it is more than capable of pulling off a solo act. I don’t have a preference for processed cheese, but yes, it would be nice to see it as an option on the menu, if they were interested in offering it up. Afterall, a classic cheeseburger can be an elegant creature.

We paid about £74. That includes a couple of homemade fizzy lemonades and a bottle of red. I can’t remember what it was, but it was cheap, £14.50. It would appear they have gained a license since opening.

With burgers being the ultimate universal meal, it is only natural to expect the best ones to draw crowds and attract opinion. I think everybody has their own expectations as to what a perfect burger should taste like, even if its just nostlasgia.

For a few years, I ate the McD’s 69p cheeseburger every thursday as a reward to munch on some junk food after basketball practice. I still do it occasionally. I’m not suggesting that McDonalds are the default champions of the humble hamburger, but it certainly is interesting to note how this fast food has slowed down while gaining a fervent following. I still haven’t tried Shake Shack or In and Out or a Pat LeFrieda patty. I’m curious how any of London’s burger developments compare with the ones which really started it all.

The biggest challenges (in my humble opinion) of dedicated burger restaurants are in maintaining consistency and managing wait times. Ironically however, these speciality burgers take time to cook to a certain level of perfection, and it isn’t strange to wait a couple of hours for a burger to arrive. I suppose good burgers do take time (and care) to cook.

Meat Liquor continues to entertain long queues, and I think they’ve largely cut down cooking times with their burgers (The last time I went was Nov 2011, I think). I never made it to the Lucky Chip residence at Sebright Arms, and I think their term has only just come to a close, so it’s back to the truck at Netil Market.

I don’t know about you, I like burgers but I really don’t see the point of long waits by a food truck or being crammed inside an overcrowded pub.

I suppose the advantage of Honest Burgers is that they are neither. It is a smallish restaurant inside the brilliantly vibrant Brixton Village. They manage table turning well enough, and they maintain reasonable cooking times. I think we only waited about 20 minutes for our burgers, all of which turned out with good consistency. For what it’s worth, I enjoyed the Honest Burger experience, but my favourite (recent) burger memory is still the Lucky Chip’s Bill Murray Life Aquatic Surf and Turf.

The Gist

Honest Burgers
Burgers, £10pp
12, Brixton Village
Tel : +44 (0)20 7733 7963
Underground : Brixton

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I was rather surprised when I arrived to an empty restaurant. This restaurant (barely 2 weeks old as of writing) has been trending on twitter thanks in part to the double whammy four star reviews courtesy of Fay and Guy. Two of the doyens of London restaurant writing. The peace and quiet didn’t last long, as soon as the clock hit 1pm, droves of people came flooding in. As it was a Friday afternoon, I assumed mostly it were you folks who work close enough to have swift work lunches in Soho.

The chef/co-owner is one Cameron Emirali, ex-Wapping Project, an old power station converted into art gallery – its messhall which I have yet to visit, consider the quality of museum/gallery cafes these days. (More on this toward the end).

Wine is suppose to be a highlight, as the other co-owner is Luke Wilson who manages front of house is a bit of a wine-head. I drank a glass of the Hinrich, An Austrian red made using Blaufränkisch grapes for £4. Unbeatable value considering the pedigree, but I found it to be a little flat and bitter for my tastes. You know I’m really a Beaujoulais/Spätburgunder kind of guy these days, acid & jam is the flavour of the moment for me. That’s a self-deprecating joke, which is to say that my taste in wine is currently piss poor. So maybe you should take Guy‘s word for it.

The restaurant is tiny, and it does look like it was done up on a shoe-string budget. Perhaps as a cost saving measure to cramp more tables under the same roof (or maybe they just ran out of money to finish the kitchen wall) , the kitchen at the back of the room is visible to diners. It is also able to entertain a couple of solo diners who wish to sit at the bar/service desk to watch the chefs do the shimmy hot sauce.

The rest of the dining room is barely adequate, and almost like a caffe. Tables are wooden, barely a meter wide and you rest your arms on laminated tops. Along the sides, a couple of mirror panels are hung, probably to make the room appear larger than it is. This isn’t deliberately aged like Russell Norman’s devilishly detailed restaurants, but it is modest, honest and it feels like it should belong to say Highgate than Soho. However, the decor does remind me of a cult Soho restaurant – Giaconda Dining Room. Over there, their menus don’t quite change daily, but there are specials, and it is a little quirky and a little ‘Modern European’.

The menu is scribbled on chalk boards on either sides of the room and feature dishes like Lamb sweetbreads, lentils, romanesco & Marsala; Pancetta wrapped guinea fowl, Jerusalem artichokes & kale ; Polenta & Marsala cake, poached pear. All of which sounded wholesome and well-travelled in chalk.

In practice, they look pretty damn gorgeous.

Grilled Sardines, salsa verde – £6

Didn’t I tell you – Pretty damn gorgeous fish yes? It tastes exactly like one of those Rick Stein’s clips of him pan-frying terribly fresh fish caught off some random coastline in Europe. Then with Rick’s signature baritone voice-overs as the camera swoops into his hands making a garnish of his home-made recipe of salsa verde, with a squidge of lemon to finish the fish. Gooorgeous.

A little rock salt, a little charcoal. Juicy, oily, sweet, just slightly translucent under the skin, so fresh, like it was still alive barely hours early. If I had this for lunch every day, I would easily live to a hundred years old.

Rick Stein would be proud.

Char-grilled Welsh Black rib eye, truffle mash & braised kale – £20

The missus dropped in just in time to join me for dins, but she only had time to stay for one plate. She scanned the menu, but didn’t fancy sheep lymphoid glands or sea bream, so she opted for the safe choice.

Ahh yes, Welsh Black beef… memories. A breed that is often overlooked in England, but proudly grilled to some kind of perfection in Welsh restaurants. The cattle gets its name from its luxurious black coats. Beautiful animals. Apparently, some of them are herded in the shadow of Black Mountain near Carmathen. I had Welsh black fillets (with cockles, bacon and laverbread no less) nearly every day where I used to work in Pembrokeshire, and they can be as tender as the best well-hung English Longhorns or Scotch Angus, whilst exhibiting wonderfully concentrated beefy flavours.

So to see Welsh beef being used in a London restaurant is, for me, nostalgic. I liked that this was of a substantial thickness and weight. It was at least 10oz, and probably a little more. The beef carried good natural flavour, and was grilled well enough, if a little unspectacular.

Unfortunately, the braised curly kale which were hiding beneath the meat were terribly over seasoned. So much so, the missus nearly jumped off her seat as she ate them. The mash was more butter than truffle, yes it did have truffle-ness, but unfortunately for me, it was quite ordinary. Don’t get me wrong, for £20, it’s still a great one-plate meal (and I’m trying really hard not to come across as a snob) but it wasn’t exactly ground breaking, Modern European. It’s better than the average pub lunch, but it’s not the next Zucca veal chop.

Confit duck leg, red cabbage, Jerusalem artichokes & pancetta – £16

A good confit du canard is as elusive as a Fernando Torres goal in this town, and thankfully I can report that this a better experience than most. The golden crispy skin suggests that the duck has been correctly finished on a hot pan, after simmering in duck fat. Whilst it had good duck fat flavour and slithery juicy flesh, I would have liked it to carry just a tad more flavour, perhaps spend a little more time in its own fat. But that’s just me being picky, it was delish either way.

The red cabbage was on the bland side, with raisins, and I liked that it wasn’t overly sweet like most red cabbage that is served in restaurants in this country. Something which could easily ruin the duck and become too sickly sweet, but this wasn’t, this was rather good.

Again, I don’t see anything on this plate to suggest that it is anything but Anglo-French, throwback classic cooking, as opposed to the Modern Euro which has been purported. I searched their site, I can’t see where it is suggested as such. It certainly is no St John, nor is it River Cafe. In fact, the food reminded me of the surprisingly good work being carried out at the cafes at Tate Modern (and to some extent at The Wallace Collection). 10 Greek St’s style seems redolent of Museum food. That’s a compliment believe me, don’t underestimate the capital’s best gallery/museum cooks. I hear good things about the Saatchi gallery mess. The Tate Modern’s restaurant has a panaromic view of the Thames and they are capable of churning out deliciously pan-fried pork chops.

Rum pannacotta & prunes – £5

What is that line running down the middle? Why would anyone pierce a virginal pannacotta meant to be unbroken and innocent? I did not like this. It did not wobble, it was so thick, it spread out on my spoon like cream cheese. It was so creamy that it was a little sickly. I’m not sure if it were just prunes soaked in rum, but there was little alcohol in this pudding. It did have lots of vanilla, like rich vanilla, but you know, there’s just no balance. All over the shop. I wish I had just ordered cheese instead. A queasy and misleading end, and something which should really be called vanilla pannacotta with rum and prunes.

They do take bookings for lunch but not (yet) for dinner. Considering space, setting and size of plates, it should consider taking bookings. It really is more of a restaurant than a tapas bar, and people who come in here will definitely sit through three courses or at least take time to eat their food. Not taking reservations isn’t suppose to be a route to the cool club, it really should be practical for both restauranteur and diner. For instance, with burger bars you can swiftly be in and out in 45 minutes, Polpo-esque dishes are glorified (or one-fork-food) finger food, therefore meals are also very swift, same difference with tapas bars.

Take the example of the fantastic off-shoot Nuno Mendes restaurant, The Corner Room. During quiet times, it’s a revelation, but the waiting times during busy Saturday nights have generated huge numbers of complaints, be it the consistency of the food and the simply terrible wait times. I actually experienced it myself, and drunk myself silly waiting for a table at the downstairs Viajante bar, which slipped from a half hour wait for a table at 8 to actual sit-down time at 9.

The type of food here is a little slower, plates are larger and diners will work have to work with cutlery in both hands in tight space. Even for lunch, we took an hour and a bit to finish. So it doesn’t make sense (to me) to have people wait around in the cold of night, for others to finish their long meals. Giaconda Dining Room is the precursor to 10GS. Whether they can spot the similarity or not, there are parallels, and GDR do take bookings.

On the topic of space (or lack of), I think they could probably do with one less table. See, each table is quite small, but food come in large plates, which will nearly take up the entire width of the already tiny tables. You see, bigger plates means a bigger radius of moving elbows. Given that there are barely five inches between tables, and less for walkway behind us; It means that waitresses are pressing against diners on either side when she is bending over to take orders or to serve dishes. It also means I need to work on my side of meat like a surgeon performing open heart surgery, and actively avoid being hit on the elbows. Hugely haphazard. See – there’s a reason why these tiny Soho haunts serve small plates – bigger plates are simply impractical. Logical no?

It’s ok you can say no, and throw a toy at me. Maybe say, an angry bird.

I do not know why this cooking is considered Modern Euro, if anything, it’s revitalised throwback meat and potatoes.

We only paid £51. The missus left early citing suffocation. With the front door closed, it was like a house on fire. At the height of full service, the kitchen was just covered in smoke. I’ve already put my beloved ferragano scarf into dry cleaning… it smells of chargrill steak, so I can’t wrap that around my neck in fear that I may eat it on the way to work. I’m a little relieved to read that Euwen had a similar experience. I did ask the front of house guy (whom I assume was Luke Wilson) and he told me that they were aware of the situation and were trying to grappled with their extractor fan issues. But apparently they needed to make the money first before making upgrades. You know, it just doesn’t seem like they have everything all planned quite yet.

Yes I hear you, it’s early days and yes, it is completely forgivable given that it is only two weeks into service. I think it’s clear there are some operational (and identity) issues to sort out, but I think the owners have their hearts in the right place with this labour of love.

Look, I don’t want to shit on a small restaurant like this. It clearly has potential to be a real gem, and I think we are better off with egalitarian and competitively priced places such as these in Soho, and we need many more of them. It’s not exactly bistronomy, but it is a humble little restaurant which serves quality classic hearty dishes and it is a place which you could easily go back to everyday for a work lunch or a relaxing Friday night dinner.

A swift google search reveals a number of glowing user reviews, so clearly you guys already like it. The fact that their menu changes daily is a double-edged sword, sometimes Cameron may churn out genius dishes, but other times, he may simply miss the spot, but respecting seasonality is an important aspect of successful restaurants with loyal followings. The kitchen is clearly capable but I think it just needs more focus.

In my experience, most of these places tend to figure out a rhythm pretty soon. With the eventual customer feedback, I think they will find out what Cameron’s strongest dishes are, and build a core menu plus daily specials around that experience. Yes, perhaps that’s it then, 10 Greek Street is just finding its feet.

The Gist

10 Greek Street
Modern Euro, £35pp
10 Greek Street, W1D 4DH
Tel : 020 7734 4677
Underground : Leicester Square

Links : Fay , Guy, Euwen, Sb

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