I would like to begin by publicly apologising to Russell Norman and his team, because on reflection, I think I was man-pmsing when I wrote the Polpetto review. I was out of line, and rude, and I hope I can be forgiven. Handslap.

Most of you are already familiar with the famous bacaro in Soho that is Polpo, and many of you would have heard of the owners, Norman and Beatty’s exciting plans of growing the brand they have created. And while Polpetto was more of the same, except smaller (great ossobuco), the third outfit, Spuntino, is a step in a totally different direction. The Italian influence, is now heavily laced with references to the American diner, the menu is still presented as a personal paper table cloth; except this time round, you can almost hear Robert Frank’s shutter going off in the background to a recital of the bebop beat poetry of Jack Kerouac.

Spuntino inherits the winning ambiance from its predecessors and then some. There’s just something very special about this squarish room, in the heart of striptease central. I didn’t like the crammed Polpo and hated the rammed Polpetto, but Spuntino is very close to perfect.

Spuntino is tiny, about twenty can sit around the bar, there’s a table for six right at the back, and at the very end of the bar, there is a oversized stool, affectionately termed the kissing stool, where the better half and I were lucky enough to nab during this visit. Incidentally, this was their very first Saturday service, so it was little surprise to see Russell on the floor making sure things were running as smoothly as possible. Folksy tunes in the background, I recognised the Bob Dylans, beyond that, I was just so absorbed with the first rate waitering, the high ceilings, the cream walls, the bricks, the funky hanging filament bulbs, to pick up much else.

If you thought Polpo was simple, there is even less fuss about Spuntino. Essentially this is a caffe, with a bar, serves snacks (hence Spuntino) and so it’s logical for them to be open all day from elevenses till late, take no bookings, doesn’t even list an on-site phone number but welcomes everybody with very modern and very laid-back embrace.

Egg & Soldiers, £3.50.

Soft boiled, and encrusted in a deep-fried sesame armour with greased soldiers, was a sign of the fun times to come. Was it American, Italian, British or something entirely new? Who cares, it’s food, it’s good and we want more.

Truffle Egg Toast, £5.50.

And more we got. Melting fontina cheese, a custard cream yolk centre, very thick, very crusty white bread, truffle oil, such simple pleasures combined to produce an utterly sinful, sinful (sinful) attack on the palate. It didn’t look like much, but this was so bloody damn good, that I think it should be hailed as the open sandwich that toppled the croque monsieur as the gentlemen’s sandwich (of choice) for the 21st century. Heavy truffle flavours fighting against a sharp cheese on a sturdy bed of toasted white bread. Did I say this was bloody damn brilliant ?

Calamari, chickpeas, ink, £7.00.

As soon as this landed, I shouted “Polpo!” and was glad to enjoy this hearty, well seasoned comfort dish with the better half, who has (amazingly) never been to Polpo or Polpetto, but who was (extremely) impressed with this dish.

Baby gem, soft egg, creamed cod dressing, £6.00.

More soft boiled egg, on a bed of a gem of a lettuce salad with oversized croutons, simple, homely and lovely.

Slider with ground beef and bone marrow, £4.50 and shoestring fries, £3.00.

Shaved potatoes for shoestring fries were greasy and addictive. Up till now, greasy, creamy, deep-fried, sinful and eggy appeared to be the theme running throughout the recipes. I really liked the interpretation of the original 5 cent burger (You might recall I hated Byron’s early sliders years ago) mainly because the patty was very good. Ironically the patty was rather large considering it was a mini burger, almost like deliberately oversized meatball in fact. Onion and pickles over toasted brioche, with a juicy pink centre, and melted cheese dripping all over it. Eating this in one go, reminded me of a diner scene in Archie comics. I could feel myself morphing into Jughead, savouring these sliders with approving nods and wishing my stomach were as bottomless as his, just so I could have two more.

Spicy sausage, lentil & radicchio, £7.00.

This is the only dish I didn’t like. It was fine, sausage with lentils, and a mild spiciness to it, with lovely Italian chicory in the mix, but it paled in comparison to the rest of the food.

Peanut butter and Jelly Sandwich, £6.50.

To finish, the classic PB&J, rejigged into a kind of peanut butter flavoured iced nougat sandwiching rich, red fruit jam with sprinklings of peanuts and demerara sugar (I think).

It was a stroke of pure genius, undulated fun and I think Spuntino represents the moment in which this series of restaurants achieved a rarified air of pellucid magic. Perhaps this is the reason why we, Londoners have been so infatuated with Russell Norman’s restaurants in the last couple of years.

We paid £54.34, including service, a glass of white and half a pint of Meantime. As expected, the restaurant is fabulous value for money. I stupidly asked for a latte, but they only serve filtered coffee, poured into enamel tin soldier mugs, like those seen in war movies, from bulb shaped glass jugs, complete with rising steam. Ahhh. ‘Twas a great ending to a fabulous Saturday lunch.

I think Spuntino is awesome, a very welcomed cafe/diner/bar/restaurant/watering hole to Soho. I think there is something quite special about this particular branch, I will definitely be back, and I think you would enjoy it as well, when you eventually visit. The place smells great, of popcorn, coffee, honey, dust, oil and hot burgers; it is impossible for patrons not to enjoy it, with all this flavour swirling around in the air.

On my way out, I told Russell how much we enjoyed the meal, and I told him I liked Spuntino the best, that he was onto something special with this one. Unsurprisingly he told me many had already indicated it to him. He also said that this was a labour of love for him.

The food is pure fantasy, not in the it’s going to win a star way, but (thankfully) in the fuck it’s just so darn delicious, I could eat this over and over again, kind of way. I don’t know whether to think that it leans toward being American or Italian or British or otherwise, but I think it is very London, very Soho, and perhaps that’s what makes it so special, in that it belongs and was born right here in London. I believe Norman’s eateries are helping to redefine the contemporary idea of eating out. If the Ivys, Sheekeys and the Scotts were 20th century, Nina Simone chic, then perhaps Spuntino is the 21st century, Corinne Bailey Rae reboot. Sleeker, sexier, leaner, but still ever elegant, soaking in sacks of culture and ever so delicious.

The Gist of It

Spuntino
American, £25pp
61 Rupert Street W1D 7PW
No phones, no reservations.
Tube: Piccadilly Circus

More photos on my flickr page.

Spunky: TimeOut London ; Food Stories ; Cheese and Biscuits ; Eat like a girl ; The Arbuturian; Campari and Soda

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The tweatup team comprises of six bottomless appetites and it took fate (and twitter) to bring together this hungry pack, whose ultimate goal is to eat our way to economic growth. The pack is led by the enigmatic Tehbus and his second in command Mr FbM, a shadowy secret agent who splits his gastro assignments between America and London. The team’s uber-assasins are three women, namely supercharz, foodieguide and Cattylicious. And I’d like to think of myself as…the waterboy.

The latest conquest is Bodeans, and this is the paper movie*.

(*The events depicted are based on a true story.)

After seeing District 9, I’m feeling a little obsessed with the ultra-realistic mockumentary film making style which was so successfully employed. I also managed a weekend sitting of Speilberg’s Schindler’s List which also employed another form of documentary narrative. Of course war and aliens have nothing to do with Bodeans, which is purportedly London’s original smoke house. Call me naive, I love good PR pitches, especially the ones with a human face attached to it. The Bodeans story starts with Andre Blais’s dream to bring Kansas City smoke & soul to London’s drench & grim. Since their launch in 2002, they have expanded to five locations around town, ensuring their barbeque racks and frosty beers are as authentic as watching Dwyane Wade lead Marquette into the final four. This bbq joint does have an American b-movie feel; darkly lit wooden décor, highlight reels playing on the flatscreens dotted around the basement space, oh and there’s those flickering neon signs too. All that was missing, was me rocking up in my trucker cap. Dang it, why didn’t I photograph the ambiance?

This tweatup coincided with Catty’s birthday – who’s electrifying energy will quickly grow on you (try her blog, you’ll love it). We brought our other halves as well as our imaginary concubines (Cheryl Cole was sitting on my lap, he says) to dinner. I sat across the table from Catty’s beau (whose name I will not say) who is a great bloke and it was quite hilarious trying to convince this twitter sceptic that we food bloggers were not made up virtual people. He bought Catty Jimmy Whoos for her special day. What a dude.

Dang it where’s the BBQ burnt ends? Only on Mondays and Wednesdays we were told so instead we plonked for the other signature dish on the menu, pulled pork and baby ribs £14.95.

The baby back ribs were quite nice, honeyed, smokey and juicy. Not the best ribs to grace London, but pretty good. On the other hand, the pulled pork was abit of a downer, it was mostly dry and chewy.

The other half of the table including myself went for the Bodean special – Jacob Ladder beef ribs.

And so the meatfest begins! I was a little surprised at how big the portions were, I had the half, and I was struggling to finish it. The hopelessly burnt exterior does not tell the story of these short ribs, as the insides were gloriously meaty with wadges of melting fat threatening to fall off the bone, alot of proper carnivorously sturdy flavour going on. I eyeballed about an inch thick of meat, while abit of chewiness was to be expected, it was mostly tender.

I really enjoyed the Jack Ladder ribs, it was everything you’d expect from the meatfest. Also very good was the clam chowder (£3.95) , a creamy potato soup base with bits of bacon to season, served with a couple of slices of buttered garlic bread.

We also naively ordered half a dozen greasy buffalo wings (£4.95) which we embarassingly failed to devour. So much for them bottomless appetites.

Pudding came in the form of aluminium foiled brownies, which Catty made for us. Its delish, I was going to save it for breakfast the next day, but I wolfed it down after trying a few crumbs. Thanks Catty. I must be one of the last Londoners to try Bodeans, so this non-review is just a formality really, if you’ve not been yet (or are a vegetarian wondering what the fuss with meat is about) then give Bodeans a try. Just make sure you don’t over order.

As for the tweatup team, well the search for more feasts continue. Our next conquests include a Lobster feasting (which has already taken place at the time of writing) , a Burger/Sarsaparilla extravaganza will follow in sometime October and then – tentatively – we’re all going to have an epic puff-off before the year ends.

What exactly a puff-off is, well you’ll just have to watch this space, curryhead.

The Gist of It

Bodeans Soho official site
£20pp
10 Poland Street W1F 8PZ
Tel: 020 7287 7575
Closest Tube: Picadilly Circus

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Soho could not be a merrier place. The colours of the rainbow adorn shop fronts and in this most celebrated of city underbellies – home to a myriad of eclectic restaurants – it is the default option to hang out with the cool kids, albeit being a little cliché. Randall & Aubin is such a place for them cool kids; There is an air of relaxed openness from the outset as if, like the rest of Soho, the party never stops. The thumping music so loud it is matched by the eye catching seafood counter. We might still be knee deep in a recession, but man do I need to indulge in abit of weekend gluttony.

Inside the restaurant, it could not be more pumping and gay, as we had to shout to be heard. The aged interiors, a giant glitter ball hanging off the ceiling and seemingly roughly done paintjob added to this location’s spontaneity, like a pop up oyster bar making a permanent home. The Randall & Aubin folklore begins in 1911 as a champion of the finest cuts of meat and cheese. The family business continued until 1996, when it was then converted by James Poulton and Edward Baines from a butchery to its current incarnation as a purveyor of oyster & bubbles, as well a cracking good time.

The party was decidedly happening, even at 4pm in the afternoon. I stopped by for a late lunch, as R&A always looked packed to the brim at night, tempted particularly by the seafood. Inside, this Sunday afternoon crowd had similar intentions; champagne corks popping frequently enough for me to notice it, caviar available at celebratory prices, £90 for 30g. We chose to sit facing the aged tiled walls for privacy, occasionally turning around to absorb abit of the energetic ambiance.

Sliced baguette with marinated olives came first, each basket available with a cover charge of £1.50 per diner. As you would expect, there is plenty of fish on the menu, but it doesn’t stop there. R&A also feature a rotisserie – visible to diners – and you could watch the chicken roast itself on the rotating spit (as I was doing). The grazing menu is snack friendly and I just want to highlight their baguette section, because the bread they served us, was well worth the cover charge, crusty on the outside and a softly sweet dough on the inside. Fillings include salt beef with sauerkraut and hot chicken salad, served with pomme frites at £7.95 each.

A portion of thinly cut frites got the gears churning as we largely ignored the cooked menu in favour of the magnum opus to match the occasion. Fruits de mer, £29.50 per person.

“Is it big? Enough for two?” In hindsight I asked the waitress a naive question. Puzzled, she simply replied “Yes.”

All the gems from the sea were present on this platter of ice, except for a granddaddy lobster. Six rock oysters accompanied two giant langoustines, an oversized crab, six green lip mussels, a pot of diver picked scallops, a handfuls of whelks, a couple of cherry clams and huge altantic shrimps. The embarrassment of riches was a visual treat, as I stood (yes I got up from my high stool) to rotate the platter around, the waitress smiled and said “Big enough for you?” to which I nodded and gleefully returned the smile.

Oh gosh, this was really a treat. I started at the top with the sliced scallops, which I think were only briefly browned, the texture inside was as tender as a lullaby and a natural flavour that can only be seasoned by a lifetime spent in the deep sea. A dollop of the horseradish and a few spoonfuls of the citrusy pink shallots vinaigrette gave the razor fresh rock oysters a much needed bang as I greedily slurped the invigorating juices. The shellfish were the highlight for me, especially the oversized prawns. As I broke the head from the body, savoury juices came spewing out at me, the chunky flesh was so full of natural sweetness, that it needed no seasoning whatsoever. Similarly, the langoustines were all about natural bounce & flavour – akin to the shimmer & bounce shampoo commercials so regularly allude to. I felt like Poseidon with a miniature pitchfork digging for diamonds among the jewels presented in front of me.

I’m not the biggest fan of sea snails, but the nautical gastropods were just so juicy. I wished for a couple more crab claws, but overall I was entirely satisfied with this feast. £59 is a lot of money for two, thankfully the portions were epic and quality wise, the shellfish were so fresh off the boat that the melting ice in the platter smelled of the sand and the sea. We are still living through the greatest recession in history thus far, so I avoided the bubbly and opted for two glasses of palette cleansing Pinot Grigio’s instead, our bill came to £85. I think Randall & Aubin is an instant classic in a storied location, the understated ambiance encourages you go let your hair down, and tempts you to really let go of that tweed jacket, in case you spill the caviar all over it. Seafood is excellent and I’m looking forward to a return visit to try the more modestly priced cooked food.

The Gist of It

Randall & Aubin official site
£30 per person
16 Brewer Street W1F 0SG
Tel: 020 7287 4447
Closest Tube: Picadilly Circus

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Trend is a funny thing. It is exhilarating riding the hype waves and it had driven me to try Yalla Yalla, especially after reading about it on World Foodie Guide and on Metro. It was a toss up between Tayyabs and this, for a five person feasting on a Saturday night and I chose to go with the new kid on the block.

Right now, I’m going through growing pains with my blabbering, I’m taking cues from a new book – Dianne Jacob’s Will Write for Food – and this wonderful resource is changing the way I articulate myself. The old benchmark was Lindsay Camp’s Can I Change Your Mind – which is a smashing book – but man do I need some inspiration for new ways of expression. This is review #111, its no wonder I no longer fit into my jeans I bought last year. Urgh…. must…not…touch…krispy..kreme…

Meanwhile….

….so there we were on a windy September evening – Saturday – and the shadows of Soho have released themselves from the darkness which they dwell, a sign that the sinful jive of the weekend rhythm has begun moving. Yalla Yalla is smack in the middle of the colourful red light district. Residing in a seedy looking side street, you only need to look next door – an open one – with a hallway lit by red lights, and a sign that reads ‘models upstairs’ to confirm this. Ah yes, the human condition, but of course, I was more tempted by the equally sinful pleasures that Yalla Yalla offers. The restaurant was surprisingly small; It fit no more than five or six tables, and this seemed more like a takeaway caffe than a fully fledged restaurant. We crammed into a corner table – cosy – and naturally, I sat closest to the food counter. I saw pizza-like sfinas, shwarmas and in my direct line of sight…. a platter of baklava. An invisible veil of willpower shielded me from diving headfirst into the table top filled with food. This was my one chance to enact the recurring dream of me swimming in food, ala Mena Suvari, American Beauty… but in hindsight, it was probably best that it remained a dream.

We arrived quarter to seven to an empty restaurant that quickly filled up. Two waitresses tended to customers, and it was immediately obvious that food was a little slow to arrive.

The first starters to arrive, hummus, lamb sfina, some olives and pickled peppers. The hummus was grainy yet smooth, inoffensive but heavily seasoned, while I quite enjoyed the spicy minced meat sfina that was doused with a citrusy pomegranate sauce, like fire and acid.

Next to land on the table was the makalé samak: a medley of powdery and crispily fried seafood. At £5.50, this was a steal. Prawns, squid, white bait (very nice) and all of it resting on a bed of crispy aubergine. A relatively large dish, it was however a little on the salty side, so much so that I was reaching for water as my mouth dried out. And then, I tried some of the pomegranate seeds with the seafood, and discovered how the sweetness of the juice evened out that dehydrating saltiness. I would have appreciated more of the sweet juices, perhaps they could consider making a pomegranate puree of some sort?

Then again, I’m no chef, so I’ll keep my opinions to just the tastings, this one received rave reviews from around the table: Batata harra £3.50, like a Lebanese version of the classic Spanish Tapas Patatas Bravas.

With crackling chilli spiciness, the potatoes gave me a kick on the tongue, yummy.

The last of the starters to arrive: kibbé nayyé, or lamb tartare £4.00. This will be a first, I love steak tartare and have tried a variety of seafood ones, but never one that was made with lamb, we had to order it, being exotic to us.

As it was raw, some were apprehensive, but we slowly succumbed to trying it out. It was heavily seasoned, full of flavour and was much like the meat version of hummus. Seasoned and spiced, the mince was an excellent pitta spread, served with chopped radishes, spring onions and I even tasted mint, I could eat this all day long. This was my personal favourite from the meal.

And so, that were the starters, we were told that the table was to be returned at 8 o’clock, we only had one and a half hours with it, the time was then already approaching 7:45. Our conversation led us to chippys in London, Mickeys in Paddington to be exact, they are supposedly endorsed by Blummental. And then, a flood of dishes landed on the table, colourful, aromatic, the true feast was about to begin! I had to work quickly with the photographs – a little overwhelming – as I did not want to keep the table waiting.

The first dish is Lahem Casserole, which is slow cooked lamb shoulder with carrots, red pepper, swede, bay leaves & tomato, served with seven spiced rice. (£8)

The meat was tremendously tender, heart warming, the spicy tomato based sauce it was served with was delightfully comforting and the mix of ingredients complimented the natural flavour of the lamb well. I noted that there weren’t any beef dishes on the menu.

The next order was the mandatory mixed grill (£9.50). Portions were a little small, just a few pieces of meat, while well-grilled and delicious it wasn’t anything particularly special. On the otherhand, I really enjoyed the heavily seasoned rice, with vermicelli bits.

Dish number three was their special on the day: Grilled Baby Chicken (£10.95)

Portions were again rather measly. Grilled with the taste of burnt chocolate, it was oily and juicy on the outside but a tad dry on the inside. I’m not entire sure what the difference between a normal chicken and a baby one (apart from the obvious) is suppose to be, but for me, this was just premium Nandos.

Half the table were full by the time I came to try the Lokoz meshoué: charcoal grilled sea bass fillet with citrus scented rice and spicy tomato & corriander sauce (£9.75).

The seabass was nicely grilled, very smoky and all, and the tomato based sauce was similar to the one served with the lamb shoulder. Yeah, it’s quite a simple dish really, delicious and free from frills.

Toward the end of the meal, salt bombs were going off on my tongue, the heavy seasoning was only too apparent. Downing glasses of water seemed to help. Aside from the intensity, the meal was decidedly a feast and the food plus five fruit juices came to just under £70, or £15 each. I wasn’t entirely blown away by this venue for dinner, I think Yalla Yalla is much more suited for lunch, or when one feels like a variation on the one plate meal. The starters were enormous for their price, yet the mains were minuscule in comparison. For the most part, it was satisfactory. Now if only I worked closer to the reaches of Soho, as opposed to slave trading for Jabba the Hut in the Outer Rims of Aldershot, I would lunch at Yalla Yalla everyday.

The Gist of It

Yalla Yalla, £15pp Official Site
1 Green Court Soho W1F 0HA
Tel: 0207 287 7663
Nearest Tube Station: Picadilly Circus

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