There were an incredible number of suits who sat through Friday lunch service with me, to which I presume most (if not all) of these folks occupy cubicles in the offices nearby. If this was the share of the market which Jamie Oliver and Adam Perry Lang were hoping to capture, then by the looks of things, they’ve succeeded. But boy are the reviews terrible. As this restaurant approaches its one year anniversary, I wonder if the two chefs have sat together to reflect on the feedback. With Saint Oliver’s name plastered across the project, it was always going to attract attention, but it just seems so uncharacteristic of Oliver, it’s in total opposite to his everyman image. Barbecoa has such a premium level feel to it, that it would probably unsettle Jamie himself, if ever he was caught dining here. Now wouldn’t that be a sight for Jamierites out there. I rocked up in jeans and trainers, and I felt a little underdressed. The tricked out designer furniture store look wrapped in red velvet, rivets, shiny brass and double high ceilings is ace, the views overlooking St Paul’s is nice, but it is also intimidating. Since I arrived sans booking, I was shown a high table by the bar, solo diner, even though I spotted a few unoccupied tables in the dining room. After the bartender sat me down
Pizzaro. One of a select group of individuals who masterminded the transformation of the Spanish perishable importer into a synonym for the British definition of a Tapas restaurant. He is a huge reason why we are so comfortable with the idea of sharing small plates of food, and thanks to the sheer dependability of the Brindisa restaurants he helped create over the last few years, his efforts has shaped this category of London restaurants. Yes, it is about the right time for José Pizzaro to his name on the signage and he has decided to do so by splitting it into two discreet projects. The latter is slated for a late October debut, a more civil sit-down affair that will formally bear his last name, Pizzaro. Until the real party arrives however, we have to make do with a sneak preview of his cooking with this teeny tapas bar situated in the heart of Bermondsey street, casually known as ‘José’. The space is seriously tiny, it’s like a food truck, except you eat with the chef inside the claustrophobic environs. It’s got bags of ambiance, and it is hugely popular at the moment. The lack of floor space (and chairs) is perhaps accidentally on purpose, it fills up by 6pm (on Friday nights, and every other balmy night, I imagine) and perhaps also accidentally on purpose, the casual exclusivity of
Newsflash. If you local to Finchley Road, you need to find this Korean restaurant. As far as I can tell, the 50% discount for their BBQ menu looks permanent. I’ve already been twice, and I think it’s a great value for money. So this discount may be some sort of shrewd marketing to undercut glitzier counterparts in central London, and in those terms, it doesn’t quite have the setting to match more expensive haunts. This place is modest budget stuff. Having said that, the 50% discount is incredibly generous. One shouldn’t expect to be see dry aged beef or lobster, but for the money, the quality of the meats is adequate. Certainly not worse that Koba. As a way of introduction, the Korean BBQ experience involves cooking sizzling meat over a hot pan dug out from a hole in the middle of the table, and if you’ve yet to try it, you should, it is one of life’s greatest pleasures. The rest of the menu is brief, in relation to Central London counterparts that is, but all the essentials are present. Like the kimchee, the seafood pancake, the soup, the glass noodles and amazingly, there are only three variants of the bibimbap : cooked beef, raw beef or vegetarian. They spent little time worrying about , the décor is numbingly plain, like a shabby café, its lean, mean, it’ll get
As you, I came upon Hedone filled with expectation. Fay likes it, Guy loved it, Andy – whose standards are as high as Taipei 101 – gave it a rare 8. So it must be fucking magic right? You’ll read alot of kerfaffle online about the birth of Hedone and its progenitor Swedish chef Mikael Jonsson, a trained chef, but who became a lawyer, before rediscovering his gastronome side with this restaurant. Curiously, I feel an aura of respect, which redoubtable comes across through the work of those food writers who visited Hedone. This is a rare occurrence. You’ll find similar glowing reports across egullet and chowhound too, and at time of writing, I believe this is what has contributed to its rocketing profile up the hypemeter. I visited for lunch and had to drag Mark along for I promised him that Hedone could very well change his life. Unexpectedly, he was late, blaming the fact that he took the wrong bus. I was obviously flipping about uncomfortably by myself when the eagle eyed waitress saw this, she brought me the daily papers to keep me distracted. Top marks for service then, granted choice was a little wanting in the Telegraph or the Times, I chose the latter. Proceedings kicked off as expected. A couple of amuse bouches that fit the conceptual, high cooking mould. I think the first was
About a year ago, a new kind of Italian restaurant swept into the smoke. It moved the goal posts, threatened the old guard and breathed new life into this country’s image of Italian cuisine. And it was mightily affordable. The decor bare, yet efficient, the service regimental yet friendly, the food simple but quite majestic. In its relatively short existence, it had won many fans, I count myself amongst that group, but the better half is the truly fervent follower. She has been back at least once every two months and has witnessed the cooking inch ever so slowly toward perfection. Like a finely tuned orchestra, each cog is a marvel to the senses, working together to pump out masterpiece after masterpiece. I was with a table of four and a half, and I was glad to see the energy and the smell of roasted coffee beans still filled the atmosphere inside this restaurant. The menu was still as brief as the A4 it was printed on. A smatter of antipasti dishes, fish, cheese, Italian ham; a couple of pasta dishes, a meat ragu and one with mushrooms; grilled fish fillets and meat chops. The memory of my first couple of meals at Zucca last year, lingered like a good summer fling, fuelling my appetite as I sat down to order. However, as this meal progressed, it was obvious that
Despite the narrative the web has spun around Galoupet, you should know that this is not a restaurant. Don’t come here expecting to be fed, because you will be a little confused. Even the decor strays far from the norm, like the faintly perfumery, sterile ivory walls and beech floors, mirrors on either side and (if memory serves) a skylight. There was so much light coming from all corners of the room, that we could only be here for a spa treatment. Such words are not usually applied to restaurant copy: ‘light, fresh, clean’ , ‘deep understanding’ , ‘adapted’. Let’s throw sensory in there too. This was as close an experience to having a detox treatment for the tastebuds… not that I’ve ever been to a detox session for any other bodily part. In practical terms, most of the dishes could pass as salads. There’s fruit in nearly every dish, I felt an eerie sense of being cleansed after the meal. Yes, fella, this is not the usual restaurant, let alone wine bar, there is something of an unorthodox approach going on here. The emphasis on the grapes are a refreshing change, there aren’t many wine-led restaurants in town, even though most restaurants will try their bestest to flog matching wines with the food, it often feels second best to the food; and for the case of the wine bar,
Ah, Chinatown. One can only love it and loathe it, at the very same time. I despise Chinatown like the way I despise the way Justin Bieber’s bobcut falls over his forehead. I may well be the last person in London who will write nice things about the state of Chinese food in London but at the same time, I love it for the very same reasons. Firstly, for the rude service, what was once a spectacle at Wong Kei, has now become a culture spreading rapidly across restaurants in Soho, perhaps even an act worthy of its own Westend matinee; Secondly and more pressingly for the transient standard of cooking – It could be great on Monday nights, but total piss by Friday noon. On the otherhand, whenever I exit Leicester Square station, the smell of roast duck, bbq pork (and piss) takes away any and all anxieties, hope is immediately restored in this culinary wasteland. The Sichuan fad was something I never fully understood, and am still scratching my head over. To me, it’s oil, sichuan pepper, luncheon meat, more oil, more bud numbing pepper and yet more oil. But you lot love this stuff, no doubt with a helping article or two from the revered queen of Sichuanese writing – Fuchsia Dunlop. Which leads me to the Empress of Lisle Street, the Queen of Sichuan food in
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
£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
All together now : Medlar is the best new restaurant of 2011. I said it, and I’d love for you guys to agree with me because I love this place to bits. The cooking is eye-wateringly sensational, the pricing is mind boggling slender, service is shy yet charming and the ambiance is that of the perfect neighbourhood restaurant. I’ve not been this excited about a neighbourhood restaurant for a long time coming and I could only thing of one place to visit for my birthday, last weekend. This time, I took with me, a couple of serial restaurant goers in Mark and Carina, who are such, out of necessity because of work, and obviously because they enjoy the lifestyle, and my better and more skeptical half. 12 courses (that’s 3 x 4 palates) later and we were all largely in agreement : Medlar is brilliant. I am a firm believer that great dishes rely upon the individual aspects being cooked correctly. The basics have got to be right, since each element acts like a building block, so that when it’s all assembled, it has the best chance of becoming more than the sum of its parts. Everywhere we sniffed and licked, we were greeted with slick cooking. Take the most basic dish we were served for example, the triple cooked chips, and the in-house whipped béarnaise. Dipping the crusty chips
I discovered a fact about you lot (which seems intuitive but something you never really think about) when I first sat down for this meal at Roganic, and that is nobody eats lunch at 12 pm on Saturdays. In fact, you don’t show up till about 1.30. Talk about being unfashionably early. I booked myself in for the high noon sitting, but was actually a quarter of an hour early anyway. I skipped breakfast you see, because Roganic is one of those restaurant premised upon a idyllic gastronomic journey as opposed to a bog standard meat and two veg. So for half of the meal, I had the entire front of house to myself, it felt the complete opposite of being lonely (as I was dining solo), the staff gave their sole (and first) patron (of the day) their undivided attention. Anyway, you should care about the opening of Roganic, because Roganic’s chef patron is none other than Simon Rogan. Michelin star holder and co-owner of the unashamedly high concept L’Enclume in the Lake District. The restaurant named after Rogan and which is also a play on ‘organic’ is to my best guessimations, a reflection of Rogan’s philosophy to grow and cook (most of) his own produce, alluding to a certain level of unrivalled excellence in the ingredients. Rogan himself does not run this kitchen, that honour belongs to one
The things people do to track down a good meal, this one in particular involves my first encounter with the Lucky Chip burger. As you know, summers are pretty up and down every year, we remember the odd day when the thermometer crosses the psychological 100F mark, but we tend to forget that mostly, it’s just very wet. So there we were, Mark with his gentlemenly brolly, and me with my … FT Weekend Magazine… (ironically, this weekend’s was the Food issue including a feature on the slow death of the Bib, and a short Heston interview) and soaked Marni blazer (sniffers) , we were traipsing up and down London fields to find this rather elusive, and well hidden Netil Market, and mindful that the mild drizzle – like a balloon slowly filling with water – was about to burst into a proper rainstorm. After a little tinkering with google maps, we circled onto Westgate Street as the entry point to Netil Market. So we found it eventually, quite modest, in a rather small car park, but as it had been raining all afternoon, it wasn’t a surprise to find the vendors packing up their stock to shield from it. The sight of the Lucky Chip van was modestly uneventful, and given the street food craze, it’s quite a change coming across an empty food truck with good internet gossip
Earlier this year I wrote about the largely underrated Nizuni in Charlotte Street. A Japanese restaurant, with a Korean accent in its cooking, it is owned by the same people who operate the crowd pleasing Koba, which is incidentally close by. So I returned for a quiet Friday night dinner to celebrate the coming weekend, and was largely impressed with the sushi, fairly priced, well portioned, not particularly groundbreaking, but the fish they use are of a reasonably high quality and the maki (sushi rolls) are fairly large. Salmon Skin Roll (£4.50) and Negi-Toro Roll (£5.50). Crispy salmon skin centre and juicy fatticilious chopped tuna belly. Rock and roll. Chu-Toro, (£3.50 each) and Chicken Gyozas (£4.70). Superb medium fat tuna belly, firm, yet fleshy, yet fatty, tender, fragrant and melt-in-the-mouth fantastic. One immediately wonders where they get their fish from. At times, I feel that a good chu-toro beats otoro for the balance of flavour, with the latter being too oily, too rich and generally too fatty for certain palates. I suppose it’s like choosing between a sirloin (better balance of texture + flavour) versus a ribeye (more fat, more sinews). On a rather serious note, I probably shouldn’t be supporting the over indulgence of tuna belly – in particular bluefin tuna – since this very act contributes to the overall decline of the humble species. On that topic,
When everyone including dear Ol’ Uncle B has visited this restaurant, that’s when you know the interwebs has taken to showering yet another crowd pleaser with its ever expanding vocabulary of praise words. “Wondrous”. “Decadent”. “Moorish”. “Decadent”. “Sinful”. “Ultimate comfort food”. Adjectives, which I too, am guilty of overusing. Cynicism aside, a restaurant that has collected as many reviews as it has since it’s April debut, must be doing something right. Somehow, I had managed to avoid the 50% discount circus, though the full asking price wasn’t too bad. To grease the wheels, we started with not one, but two plates (£1.50 each) of their excellent warm, crusty and soft sourdough (ironically, warm bread is abit of a rarity in London restaurants) served with some excellent artichoke puree, which i gather is, must be made in house. I ordered one of their fresh juices, the ‘invigorate’ of pineapple, apple, lime and strawberries. Sadly it was anything but invigorating… and note to self, never drink pineapple and strawberry juice from the same glass. Service was a little jumpy, but well intentioned, they had a tendency to take things away before we were done with them, like the wedge of pineapple, which I had initially wanted to savour when I finished my juice, for instance. Believe the hype, the decor is absolutely top class. Like the Tardis, it’s unimpressive on the outside,
I waited until the opportune moment presented itself, before making the visit to Marcus Wareing’s The Gilbert Scott. Or should I say The Renaissance Hotel’s flagship restaurant, seeing as to how Mr Wareing has rather desperately been detaching his name to the restaurant, at least so it seems. But today, I am in the right frame of mind, because I happen to be travelling from the Gateway to Europe to attend a wedding. Actually, I tell a lie, the wedding’s in Yorkshire, and the Grand Central trains leave from King’s Cross next door to St Pancras station. But let’s not take away from the romance of the rail travel. Ah yes, Macbook Pro fully charged, the latest issue of Monocle in hand, passing grazing sheep as the train zips into the countryside. The sheer cinema of travelling to truly appreciate the homage to the heritage of British life and style, to which The Gilbert Scott aspires to. As you already know, the newly restored Renaissance hotel took years of painstaking work to bring it back to life, the restaurant is named after its original architect, Sir Gilbert Scott. Problem is, rather than evoke a sense of past, the decor actually feels aged and musky. Not quite newly minted vintage. The brass seem a little muffled and requiring a new lick of polish. In fact, the dining room felt rather like
Remarkable. The standard of cooking is dastardly high, the artistry kept well in check, the flavours were – in my opinion – calibrated to run riot on your palate, that it made for a breathtaking dining experience. Service took an equally disciplined yet playful approach as the cooking, and so too was the decor; lime green and quite so basic, but refreshing and pressure-free. The only question I kept asking myself throughout the meal was “What’s the catch?”. Why is it so damn affordable. As I understand it, this modern restaurant offers their three course ala carte menu at a princely sum of £25 during lunch, and the same menu for £38 during dinner. Not that I’m complaining of course, but after a string of new openings (NOPI and Pollen St Social and even St John Hotel) that seem to indicate the return of the swinging binge-times, Medlar’s prices come as a welcomed surprise. You and I should pay attention to Medlar partly because of the pedigree behind the team. In the hotseat is one Joe Mercer Nairne, previous sous-chef at Chez Bruce and before that, The Savoy Grill. Managing front of house affairs, is the very charming David O’Connor whose CV involved running the teams at The Ledbury, The Square and also Chez Bruce (all of which are Nigel Platts-Martin restaurants) , where he and Joe first forged their
I don’t know the first thing about Iranian cuisine, but after my first visit to Kateh, I’ve become hooked on saffron rice. Oh man, it was so fluffy, so puffy, so billowy, so indescribably easy to eat, eating it was akin to a smooth glide like a magtrain levitating over nothing but thin air and supported by the pure magic of electromagnetism. And so the story begins, of how I fell in love with the fluff… …but first, let’s talk about the decor, and nestled deep within mews-like Warwick Place, I found the ground level dining space redolent of eating in somebody’s living room, converted into a theatre to show-off the owner’s passion in the kitchen. Yes, if you are at all familiar with pop-up, home restaurants and (not so) underground supper clubs, then Kateh certainly gives off the secure, homely, neighbourly vibe. “Prego, prego” He says. He being only the suavest man to wait on a table. I will try my best to describe his outfit. White, perfected pressed cotton trousers, taped together with an orange belt, blue and white pin striped oxford shirt, and thick black rectangular framed specs. Finally, gelled back, slick hair, all very colour coordinated and very GQ. Bon appetite, and when I grow up, I want to own a restaurant and serve my guests in exactly the same fashion. Chargrilled calamari, broadbeans £6.50.
UPDATE: Well now, this is news to me. 101 Pimlico Road is closing on the 28th of May, man that’s a loss to the trade, but here’s hoping Keith G’s next project will be more sustainable. The trick in choosing your next greatest meal is to find a restaurant which borrows its name from its address. For instance, 32 Great Queen Street at 32 Great Queen Street is brilliant, and by that estimation, so is 101 Pimlico Road. I’ve heard nice things about 101, though it’s one of those restaurants which I keep pushing down my list, but I am glad I finally made some time for this maiden visit. The restaurant decor is both woefully boring, and a successful exercise of restraint elegance. I like the blue theme, but the long and narrow room is a bit of a mind bender. Leading the hob is young Keith Goddard, and as I understand it (from Dino), Keith’s alma mater is The French Culinary Institute in NYC and formerly apprenticed with O’Sheas, Peyton’s restaurant at the Wallace Collection (which is a brilliant private collection of art) and with Mr Aikens. The theme of his restaurant is English, with a French accent, sashaying on to your plates, to the smokey tunes of Nina Simone grooving over the PA. Oh, so this is what Spring looks like in Belgravia. The ala carte is
Released to the wild in May 2011. Read version2 and version1. I love food blogs for the personality behind them, and for its ever-evolving nature. However keeping up with the frequent updates can be overwhelming for new readers who simply want a summary of the best recommendations. So I wrote this page down for their benefit, mainly places I love and would revisit. Think of this as a condensed version of all the critical moments in my discovery. No guide is ever definitive, and this one is far from it. It is alive and it will change as the landscape of food. I hope that you will find this a pleasant introduction to the world of London dining. The Scene. May 2011 Boy it’s been a while since my last update. That last time was in August 2010, and by gosh, so much has happened since. Which is probably the entire point of any guide, in that it is and should be as dynamic whatever flavour of the seasons are. I for one, am currently going through a routine weekend craving for steak burritos. This year, we’ve had a number of great openings, and many (if not all) of which are worth a pop. Some are on this list obviously. Lately, I’ve gone off the idea of collecting experiences that are in the Michelin guide, not to say that it’s
I have never know Queen’s Park in its old days of notoriety, and since uprooting from West London to this part of town; I’ve always felt the safely suburban leafy surroundings was an entirely nice neighborhood to live in. Kilburn is another story altogether however. I’d already written about the lovely Salusbury pub before, and if you follow my twitter feed, you’ll note the weekly oyster popping at the Sunday farmers market, but I have always been itching to put something together regarding the two Italian cafes in Queen’s Park, which are both highly recommended, if you happen to be in the area. Giorgio’s The first candidate is situated on the corner of Salusbury Road. It used to be the grocery bit of Salusbury, and about this time last year, it was rechristened as Giorgios, and redecorated into a lazy corner cafe which served food throughout the day. The pizzas, bolognese arancinis and cannolis are all pretty good, though on this trip, we had arrived for brunch. Swirly hot chocolate to get the day going.. … and a vegetarian fry up. Hmm, wasn’t quite so sure about those vegetarian sausages. However, these bad boys – French toast with streaky bacon and maple syrup – were the stuff. Finally this was a little concoction of mine. Ham, egg and melting cheese ‘breakfast sandwich’. I call it Le GBK. A truly awesome
Kang L. says: LifeDonk - Indeed, the freefall of 1st growths is exactly the reason why I think now is a good time ...
LifeDonk says: I didn't mind it, but I do read most of your stuff. I would be interested to read more about why you...
Kang L. says: Bunface - damn, that bad huh? Haha, whats wrong with the nose?? Gotta smell that stuff man! You're p...
bunface says: it feels a little like you're trying to be one of those guys who knows abou wine without the experti...
bunface says: maybe rethink this segment Kang. It's not the most interesting read mate...
“..surrounded by the greatest wines of the world..” The dining room is relatively small...
A Prologue The first of a new series of posts I intend to write on a weekly basis. Not reviews per...
This is my 3rd visit to the fabulous Admiral Codrington in as many months. By now, you’ll have...
No doubt you’ve already heard about Ceviche, the first of a trio of Peruvian restaurants to...
Ah Norway. Good times. I spent some time in Haugesund a couple of years ago, for work, and I will...
I have asserted in the past that Bryn Williams is the most underrated chef in Britain, and that...
Rob & David’s eponymous restaurant has only just toasted its ten year anniversary. A...
Ah …Easter weekend. We drove all the way to the Sidmouth coast, to marvel at the bronze...
aka Kang’s Living Restaurant Guide version 4. Released to the wild in April 2012. Read V3, V2...
I have resisted Roti Chai for several months now, it’s right opposite Selfridges,...
