Viajante has been on every foodie’s lips lately. Critics and bloggers collectively crashed the new restaurant during its soft launch and consequently rushed elaborate reviews of their experience to the intertubes. I waited. So far, the innovative brainchild of Nuno Mendes has split opinion. Some herald it as a revelation, while others simply found it superfluous. Whatever the case, Viajante has captivated and it has intrigued, it has been compared to the Fat Duck and elBulli, arguably the best restaurants in the world and there is no opening with more hype than this. We travel to Nuno Mendes’ latest shrine to discover its offerings.

I first met Nuno Mendes well over a year ago when I was photographing a Rachel Khoo event which had utilised Nuno’s private kitchen and home, “The Loft” as a venue. I remembered his jet-black beard and his Jesus-like mane. The Loft Project was his experimental kitchen,a space for his highly bespoke and highly successful supper club. It wowed. Nuno gained a kind of cult status for his Loft dinners, partly because we were obsessed with supper clubs in 2009 but also because his experimental food was so unique to the average Londoner’s palate. I guess you could say his cooking belonged to the molecular gastronomy discipline, after all, he did train in the elBulli kitchens briefly before he took up the reigns at Bacchus, both of which preceded his Loft project. His track record gave us a glimpse into the highly meticulous, highly artistic world of his personal approach to food. The seeds of anticipation had long been sowed, it was only natural that in the days and weeks leading up to Viajante’s opening, coinciding with the World Top 50 awards in April, that London and indeed the world would gladly receive this new chapter in the gastro-arena.

Nuno had used much of his ‘time-off’ at the Loft to go foraging around the world in search of inspiration, in the last two or so years, to create the concept of his new restaurant. Viajante translates to ‘Traveller’ and it refers to both Nuno and his cuisine. I say his cuisine, because there isn’t a way to pigeon hole his cooking, it’s not quite Portuguese (where Nuno hails), nor is it fusion, rather it is like a deeply refined recipe book strung together with its ideas inspired and curated from the various cuisines he had sampled on his worldly journey.

A dapperly dressed man sits at the reception of the glass encased entrance to the Grade-II listed old Town Hall in Bethnal Green. I had arrived for Friday lunch. I noted the calming silence, before being taken on through to the slick if understated restaurant. I spotted Nuno straight away, perched on the kitchen counter applying the finer details to one of his creations. He was visibly older now, his jet black beard beginning to grey, he looked every bit the well-travelled man. I likened the open-ended design to a theatre, the kitchen being the stage where Nuno and his team performed for the audience. There was a zen-like ambiance, I felt at ease in Nuno’s shrine, intricately patterned blue walls and light-brown tables that reminded me of an organic marriage of something both humanly and natural. It is almost too bare, too exposed, it was antithesis to pretension, like a modern art exhibit, stripped, its style was its function.

You can tell I have been hotly anticipating Nuno’s latest project, his is a highly orchestrated PR success story afterall, the idea of Viajante is sexy, but potential and execution are of course two very separate things.

As we sat down, our waiter surreptitious queried our dietary concerns, my dining companion, Marcus (this time with turquoise eyes and washboard abs) and I had none. Our meal begins before we knew it, the amuse-bouches land before we were shown a menu. Freebies I suppose.

Anyway, because of the nature of this meal, I am augmenting my style to make this part of the picture essay flow better. This is obviously inspired by the original first-person-shooter that is effulgent foodsnob.

Flurry of Amuse Bouches.

Amuse One: Crostini de romesco and gordal olives, almonds and Jerez.

The first of the amuses was a wafer thin toast with a black olive paste and an orange-coloured romesco sauce, a Catalonian recipe of almonds, pine nuts, hazelnuts, garlic and peppers. A salty, nutty and olive-like paste to whet the palate, I noted the micro styling on the fragile toast.

Amuse Two: Smokey Aubergine with soy milk.

This was really interesting, the smokey aubergine was set in a cold jelly that tasted of smoked oysters, smoked scallops, abalone, and perhaps even shark’s fin. The taste was reminiscent of abalone sauce, a delicacy of sorts in Chinese cooking. Caviar is involved somehow, a sweet and salty baklava-like pastry accompanied the jelly.

Amuse Three: Thai Explosion.

The last of the trio of mouth-amusers was a chicken confit sandwiched between a powdery, biscuit-like bread. This was fun, cold, viscous, with fragrant aromas of coriander and a filling not unlike a green Thai curry with lithe bursts of spice punctuating my palate …Dare I say, this was a very posh coronation chicken sandwich…

Bread, with brown butter, chicken skin, purple potato powder.

This bread was masterful, it was crusty, yet it was so brittle, it broke away with the slightest of touches. The purple potato powder was probably for effect, though the chopped dehydrated chicken skin gave the whippy brown butter an extra texture of savouriness.

It was only now that they landed a menu in front of us, what must have been a good half hour into the sitting, and we managed to forget we hadn’t ordered yet. It’s a largely redundant menu which literally only lists the prices of the two lunch options – £25 for three courses or £60 for six. I would imagine the amuse bouches are all complimentary regardless of the length of the menu. Like the amuses, we didn’t know what was headed our way.

The six courses start here.

Plate One: Squid tartare and pickled radishes, samphire and frozen squid ink jus.

The dish is largely elemental and the individual ingredients are clearly distinguishable. I admired the respledent styling, the micro-sized placement of mini samphires, mushrooms and nano-sliced radishes. Too pretty to eat? The flat piece of squid – raw I gather – was cut into small cubed bits, not dissimilar to the way squid sashimi is served in sushi restaurants. There are lovely nutty and oily flavours, a pinch of citrus tickling the palate and flavours of the cold, cold sea. Temperature is often a neglected, if effective element of cooking, here it is persuasively applied, the ice numbing the natural pungency of the squid.

Plate Two: Textures of beetroot and crab, whipped goats curd

Another cold starter, this immediately struck me as a deconstructed dish, which reforms on your palate. Visually striking, the vividness of the beetroot drew me in like a moth to a flame. The ‘textures’ of blanched root vegetables acted as a platform for the rest of the flavours to congeal. A soured creaminess from the goats cheese, a concentrated jamminess from what I assume was raspberry jam and a thumping of salty chopped crab. My notes suggested a tumultuous spring in a dish, with subtly balanced flavours that flirt with the palate rather than attack it head on. I’m smitten.

Plate Three: Roasted Celeriac, tapioca and S. Jorge Cheese

This is where things get interesting, we had already noticed Nuno serving some of the dishes personally at the neighbouring tables, the hands-on approach is something I really admire, Bjorn van der Horst at Eastside Inn does it too, and I think it illustrates the chef’s passion and dedication to his work. As he arrived to present his celeraic dish, cooked several ways, I could see Nuno was brimming with pride and enthusiasm, his love for cooking is only a good thing surely. There is raw, pickled and (I believe) roasted celeraic on the plate. A brief exposition ensued before he laid on a wonderfully aromatic tapioca jus from his saucepan in hand – warmly of onions, wow. I dipped my nose into the mixture, taking in as much of the aromas as I could, it reminded me of a French onion soup and tasted just as accurately so. The Sao Jorge cheese thickly sliced, emulated a cheese cruton. The smooth pebbles of onion flavoured tapioca gave this dish much needed texture, not dissimilar to the addictive sensation of chewing on ‘Pearls’ in Taiwanese bubble tea.

Plate Four: Lemon Sole, Gnocchi, Yeast.

Up to this point, the meal felt largely like a protracted prologue, the build-up excellent as it was, was beginning to bore me. The first three dishes felt like merely extended amuse-bouches, no dish had grabbed me by the scruff of the neck, while flavours were matched and well-balance, it was dozy, it didn’t imprint itself upon my memory.

Until now.

Nuno asked if we had ordered the wine pairing with our six courses, we didn’t, but he strongly recommended we have a glass of the champagne – La Chapelle, but I’m not sure which bottle – which he said this dish was designed with this apple-flavoured bubbly in mind. Yeah why not right?

As the dish lands, the aromas were overwhelming, I’m not sure if it was the yeast or the fish itself, but the roastiness was majestic. The fish was beautifully cooked, the texture silken, soft and melted as one cut into it. It had robust flavour, grainy crustiness, a sort of malty starchiness covered the fish, oh but the smell, it was simply fantastic. A sip of the champagne amplified the sweet starchiness of the yeast. The crispness and the fruitiness of the champagne cutting straight through the dish. The fish took away the bitterness of the champagne, and the champagne – seemingly – took away the fishiness of the lemon sole. There was apple, there was cream, there was starch. Lovely silken gnocchi, perfumed somehow, and a sauce that was equally so… I find it hard to describe how good this dish was, I also didn’t spend much time analysing it because I had sat back to marvel at the immensity of this dish. This was utterly fantastic, it was the epitome of the elegant style Nuno had created, and based on this dish alone, I believed it was bound for Michelin stardom.

Plate Five: Iberian Pork Snack. Pigs Neck, Savoy cabbage and anchovies, fried capers and grated egg

Sadly, the momentum could not be sustained, the superb fish course was nullified with a confusingly lacklustre meat course. The pork was cooked well enough, only ever so slightly pink in the centre, juicy and soft, though the over-fried capers were so salty and burnt that they had tasted of bitter sardines. Dipping the pork into the watercress soup didn’t effect any noticeable change, while it looked great, there just wasn’t any pizazz, pedestrian and devoid of aroma. We had reverted to the baffling minimalist mode, when I was bracing for a bombastic finish.

Palate Cleanser: Lemon and Thai basil

Like an iced yoghurt, sticky, tannic, medicinal, there is little to add to this really.

Dessert: Chocolate moire.

This was a little like a frozen hot chocolate, broken down into elemental bits… if that makes any sense. While the chocolate ice cream was good, the frozen salt water was tepid. I didn’t enjoy this if I’m being honest, it was boring.

Petit Fours: Cream Catalan, set mushroom truffle.

This was much better, a classic vanilla-infused catalan creme with chocolate truffles that actually tasted of mushrooms. However, it failed to raise my eyebrows, the desserts could have been a risky high-wire experiment, but instead they felt too safe, lacking flair and ceremony, anti-climatic as it were.

The bill came to just over £130 for two, plus glasses of Austrian white. Nuno Mendes is the artist to Heston Blumenthal’s scientist. Where Big Blu’s cooking is QC-ed via rigorous experimentation, Nuno’s food feels more organic, poetic rather than exacting. To some, this style of food is bafflingly beautiful while others might find that it is simply baffling. I likened Viajante to the opening of the Tate Modern (which turned 10 recently), the cutting edge and the redefinition of eating out divides opinion. I don’t think this is an over-elaborate experiment, rather I thought this was a measured, well-thought out body of art, in which you will need to step back to appreciate the oeuvre in its totality. Nuno applies the gentlest of brush-strokes to continually perfect his masterpiece.

I don’t think this masterpiece is complete yet. I am at two minds about his cuisine. There is little doubt that Nuno has a great palate, he knows how to compliment and balance flavours, and where food is cooked, it is delicately so. But the refinement at times comes at the price of heartiness, wholesomeness and tradition. Having said that, there is absolute genius in his cooking, for instance, the yeast lemon sole matched with the apple-flavoured champagne, that seared itself into my memory banks. I likened Nuno’s creation to Andreas Gursky’s expansively epic (if a tad clinical) works of wall-sized photography. Perhaps in culinary terms, Nuno’s cooking is comparable to the layered, textured style of Pierre Gagnaire’s cooking. Some dishes just had me stumped. This was definitely not just a meal, it was a journey.

Upon reflection and viewing his cuisine as a whole, I can safely say that it is unique. This style is his and his alone, breaking new ground is so very difficult to do these days. It is clear that he has been inspired by certain world cuisines (both East and West), what he has done is to absorb part and parcel of his travels to create a signature style which has a fingerprint that is immeasurably his own. I guess you could say that Nuno has invented “Viajante” cuisine.

“He is definitely on to something” to quote Mark, and I totally agree. I can understand the sentiment about it being misunderstood, but this is the alternative, this is the one restaurant doing something different, against the grain, and this pure passion surely has to be commended. As a Londoner, I welcome Nuno with open arms because I think Viajante will continue to elevate its game. At the moment, Viajante feels like a preview, an opening act. The next couple of years ahead should be exciting times for Nuno, as the stars roll in, so he should continue to challenge himself, and I do feel that he has the potential to go on to create something truly world-beating.

Nuno is softly spoken, charming, humble as he ushered us out of his beloved restaurant. We shook hands, I thanked him for cooking for me and I had to ask him if it was ‘Jante’ or ‘Hante’ (such was my ignorance). With a coy smile, he answered “Via-Jan-te, it is Portuguese.”. However well-travelled his tired eyes may seem, he maintains his identity, and that is what makes his food special.

The Gist of It

Viajante
Well Travelled Portuguese, £25 for 3, £60 for 6, £85 for 12.
Patriot Square E2 9NF
Tel: 020 7871 0461
Tube: Bethnal Green

In case you skipped the wordy essay, here is the short version:
I don’t think Viajante is the finished article as yet, some dishes are baffling, but at the same time some are utterly genius. As Nuno Mendes continues to develop and evolve his food, I feel that Viajante can only become more distinctive than it already is. A meal at Viajante does not come cheap, though there is a £25 set lunch menu which might be a good fit for first-timers. A strong 8 out of 10.

(PS: hahaha… oh dear, I’m full of hot air innit? 2688 words)

The Yin and the Yang of the Zeitgeist – Douglas for The Glass Magazine ; Fay Maschler for Evening Standard ; Tom for TomEatsJenCooks ; Luiz for The London Foodie ; Charmaine for Time Out London

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

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

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

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

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

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

More photographs on my flickr account here.

The Gist of It

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

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I finally pulled the trigger. I downgraded my travel card to exclude free roaming in zone 1. I’ll have to pay as I go into central London (I work in zone 4) or use more bus routes, but that’s only a mild inconvenience compared to the annual £600 savings, not to mention the ‘health benefits’ associated with a longer walk home. So my new home station is now Earls Court (again) – probably just about the noisiest street in London. There are plenty of restaurants in the area (I’ve tried most multiple times, including the new-ish Mangosteen), but lately have been frequenting this Chinese restaurant for quick after work bites.

Unsurprisingly, the restaurant is named after the address (no.10 hogarth place). There are also Filipino grocery stores on this very street. Unassuming and somehow seemingly blending into the locale (explains why I’ve missed it for the past four years), or maybe I was staring abit too much at the hairdressers next door at No.8, I blame the well polished glass panels. My first visit to the restaurant was to escape the rain. While I waited, I thought I may as well sample a plate of soya chicken rice (about a fiver… give or take, one of my favourite things in the world). I usually ask for a drumstick, and the waitress informed me that they only do the most tender parts of the chicken. Hmm, I took that as a yes. Anyway, I was quite amazed at how good the chicken was – very tender (that sort of tender..), fragrant, and a good balance of saltiness and sweetness. It tasted like what soya chicken was supposed to taste like. For the record, it’s not Uncle Lims, but is close enough.

Reconnaissance successful, I thought it best to take the big guns for subsequent visits: the One with the knife skills in the house. So the menu is expansive, on the first page, the chef specials signal their specialty in Szechuan cuisine. There’s a lot of recognisable Chinese dishes on the menu as well (which I wont go through) but I’ll point out what I thought was a cracker: the braised pork ribs with rice. It came in a ceramic pot on a bed of rice, with ‘winter’ mushrooms (shitake). As the waitress lifted the lid, the gushing homely aromas were incredibly mouth watering, I kept thinking about my mum’s cooking. Ohhhhh, warming flavours, it bubbled in my mouth as my palate began filling with mushroom and white pepper. The balance of flavour is sound and as the juices soaked into the rice beneath the excellent spare ribs, it made for an incredibly hearty mouthful. The portion was large, I looked around and saw other lone diners savouring the gentle pot as well. £6.50 a steal.

We were glad to find a dependable Chinese in the vicinity, but we were curious about their specialties. So the following visit, we were back to go ala carte, but first, a slight digression from food. The tables at No.10 are so closely arranged that neighbouring personal spaces are on the fringes of encroachment. I saw ‘The ugly truth’ (you’ll see where this is going in a sec) and I didn’t quite believe the situation of the woman trying all kinds of tricks to get her man existed in real life. But funnily enough, a couple (I say ‘couple’) sat next to us, and the woman was so clearly flaunting it, trying to impress her male friend with her vast experience with Chinese food, and was she impressive and then some. She ordered in Cantonese, but with a distinct Glaswegian accent, and her intimate knowledge of good restaurants in Hong Kong even had me tuning in. I know what you’re thinking: “Kang, you are a such gossip whore” . Hey what did you expect, I write a blog.

Hopefully pecking was involved at the end of that meal. Anyway: monk fish in white wine sauce, £7.60. Another warming sensation, steam rising from every exposed area of this dish. First of all, it’s like there is some sort of heat emanating from the core of each parcel of fish. Encased in a batter, just thick enough to absorb the slimey, jelly-like sauce, and which created a unique texture, soggy but still kinda crunchy. Flavour wise, it was a big surprise – there was a lot of sizzly heatiness in the sauce (see wok hei), like a bouncy castle for the tastebuds. Yeah I enjoyed it.

Next we decided on the ‘ma la’ spicy pot, with mixed offals. £12.50

The waitress told us that this was the bona fide Szechuan speciality, ‘mala’ I think means spice your tastebuds to death. The offals included tripe and intestines but there were also slices of beef, pork and spam thrown in for good measure. The broth was incredibly sharp and spicy, to the point where all my my major orifices were watering. Nasal clearing stuff, it’s a tad potent, considering we’re in London.

And the award for eye catching dish names goes to …. Saliva Chicken £6.50.

Not a reflection of the recipe of course, but rather, a suggestion of what it would do someone when eaten. Anyway, this was the aforementioned soya chicken, but bathing in a hot and spicy soya based sauce, with crushed peanuts. I prefer the plain version, less distractions.

All in all, No.10 is a sneaky little gem which really surprised me with its quality. Not everything succeeds, like the dim sum for example, I’m convinced the custard buns are off the shelf. The Szechuan specialities on the other hand are masterful, and you know you’ve chanced upon a good Chinese restaurant when the rice are like fragrant drops plucked from the steaming heavens.

The Gist of It

No 10. £15pp
10 Hogarth Pl
London, SW5 0QT
Tel: 020 7373 7000
Tube: Earls Court

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I discovered Turkish food in Belgium, where a mutual friend introduced me to this diverse cuisine. I recall quite vividly having parsley and cheese filled pastry – ‘Su Boregi’ – for breakfast and then washing it down it with strong Turkish coffee (or was it tea?). In the evening, we were whisked to what looked like Little Turkey in Brussels. Turkish restaurants lined both sides of this street, and for the curious gastronome in me, my eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.

The restaurant we stopped in was neon-lit, had a singing fiddler and pianist to entertain as we ate. After the meal, I was intrigued with Turkish food, and consequently made it priority on my to-eat list when I got back to London. I know next to nothing about Turkish restaurants in London (or in general), out of my depth I turned to the wisdom of my trusted source, Timeout. Having relied on TO’s succinct reviews since about 2004 and having also once tried to hit all the red stars in their annual guidebooks; I believe most of what Guy recommends. I think with critics, it’s about following someone’s palate who is similar to your own, even when no two sets of tastebuds are really the same. In spite of the rise of many a brilliant foodblogs, I still respect the word of proper food critics, and besides, Guy does have twenty years of restaurant reviewing experience.

Enter 19 Numara Bos Cirrik I in Dalston Kingsland. The ‘I’ denotes the original branch, there are three in total, and I suppose a testament to its popularity. It’s a green star. In addition to being home to the ‘Pho Mile’, it appears that Dalston is also home to a vast array of Turkish restaurants. Numara is small, the counter displays the uncooked kebabs and next to it is a charcoal grill. There isn’t much to shout about with regards to the rest of the decor – shaky tables and shaky chairs. The menu is filled with abundant choices and I spotted a selection of Pide – the Turkish ‘equivalent’ of Pizza – which I’ve been itching to try since Belgium. Unfortunately, I was informed that the special oven that they use to make the pide wasn’t switched on during my friday lunch visit, my first Pide experience would have to wait. We settled for a couple of kebabs instead. A spicy chicken one, and the ‘Adana’ kebab – a spicy lamb recipe.

Each kebab is about £10, and I was surprised when they brought out all the dishes to accompany the kebabs. Sides included two types of onions; One in pomegranate sauce, the other in chilli. A large plate of raw salad and a large bowl of turkish flat bread with rice and a thin pita complimenting two huge sticks of kebab. I was expecting a quick lunch, but this was a right feast!

Woah – the kebabs were really delish. Toasty, spicy and chocolatey. A buttery texture and ginormous portions which left us bursting at the seams. I thought the spicy lamb was better than the chicken one, it had more muscular flavours in comparison, though I suspect that those who like more subtle flavours might be better off with the latter. I didn’t really enjoy the salad, the citrusy pomegranate onions were mildly interesting, the flat bread was great with the kebab.

I spotted Turkish peperoni and egg as one of the toppings and am still a little torn that I didn’t get to try a Pide. Plus a can of Perrier and a bottle of wheaty Efes (Turkish beer), our bill came to just under £23. Would I go back? Oh heck yeah, the kebabs exuded a distinct smokey quality, the portions were large for the price we paid, so much so we hardly had room for dinner on the same day. And so my introduction to London based Turkish cuisine was a positive – if subdued – affair. The next Turkish conquest on the cards is the highly rated Kazan in Victoria, and if you have a few suggestions for yours truly, do let me know and I will add it to the list.

The Gist of It

19 Numara Bos Cirrik £15pp
34 Stoke Newington Road N16 7XJ
Tel: 020 7249 0400
Nearest Rail: Dalston Kingsland

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Last weekend I was a tourist all over again. Parading around Soho with bleary eyes, brandishing my camera at whatever piqued my interest… don’t you just love the August bank holiday? One of these years, I swear I will make it to Blackpool.

Situated on Old Compton Street, or what I like to refer to as the Mouth of Soho, Café Espana and I go way, way back; Its one of the first restaurants I’ve eaten at in London, and its been donkey years since my last meal there. Trying hard to entertaining friends who’ve come to London for a holiday, I opted we try Yalla Yalla in a seedy alleyway next to strip joints, but they were closed for the long weekend (so was the seedy strip joint). And then, I reckoned we try Giaconda, but that was also closed for a summer break. A last minute emergency might have pushed me toward Wong Kei, but then I remembered the giant paellas at Café Espana.

So this place is proper vintage right, it’s stuffy and tightly spaced, the head waiter greets guests in their own mother tongue and he selects his greetins from his vast mental library of how to say hello in a million and one languages. On this visit, he guessed correctly with ‘Nei Ho’. He doesn’t remember me though (it must have been at least four years since I last ate here) , but he had opened proceedings before with konichiwa and selamat datang. Oh this is ‘new’ – they have tables upstairs. We sat by the window, and I couldn’t help but feel like I’ve actually wandered into a restaurant in Chinatown.

Thanks to the likes of whoosh tapas joints such as Barrafina and Boca di Lupo, Londoners are well acquainted with overpriced, microscopic portions. So this throwback tapas restaurant was a welcomed change. The menu is split into many sections, starters, fish, meat, tapas etc but really, its food that can be shared by the whole table.

Starting with the starters, baked eggs with asparagus, red peppers and ham, £3.50.

1956 prices and 1956 portions. It really was £3.50 and its huge. There are two eggs buried in the tomato slushy, and while I would like to say it tasted like the bomb, it didn’t. Underseasoned and much too watery, for the price, it was passable.

Much better was the grilled monkfish and we were also surprised with the size of this dish. The fish is juicy, I think its more pan-fried than grilled, with homely toasted flavours and with just a dash of lemon, there’s no rocket science behind this, just honestly good pan-fried fish.

One of my old favourites from this restaurant is the chicken in garlic. Also cooked with shallots, and probably some wine, this classic dish was well executed, the chicken was juicy and fragrant and for only £3.75, it was unbeatable. We ordered three large grilled sardines – at £2.95 – also very basic but with deep charcoal flavours it got the job done, and also a plate of simply blanched spinach, also at £2.95, to digest all that protein.

I really enjoyed the smoking baby squids (£4.50) , bouncing and bursting with flavours from the deep, and I was slowly but surely filling up as the meal was starting to feel overwhelming, the portions were way too large for three hungry appetites, and we knew we had to doggie bag the rest.

Yes, more grilled meat or I should say, pan fried pork chops. Overcooked and seemingly un-seasoned, it failed to catch my attention at £9.95.

You can just about spot the fish soup at the far right of the picture – £3.50 – its not going to rival the superior Le Cafe Anglais version, but it does come so very close. Saffron fragrant, and chock full of mussels and prawns, like a paella without the rice.

Eight dishes plus two glasses of house red came to £48.60, or £16 for three, and one of the few occasions where I couldn’t sweep up the remnants. All in all, I was pleased with this cheap tapas thrill and I was glad that this place hasn’t lost its sheen. It looks abit like a tourist trap from the outside, but it does offer sheer value for money. I’m also quite happy to be savouring basic flavours once again, and in the dying days of summer, it feels fitting. Café Espana is abit like a Spanish version of Wong Kei sans the crude service; most things taste ok, and it’s affordable. A rare place where ordering less is more. I remember the days when it used to be packed out every weekend, but with the arrival of sleeker tapas restaurants in the area, the popularity of Cafe Espana has dwindled (heck, I haven’t been back in years myself), but at least it is still there, chugging along.

The Gist of It

Cafe Espana
63 Old Compton St W1D 6HT
Tel: 020 74941271
Closest Tube: Leicester Square

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I will never be able to afford the Martin 0M-28. The solid mahogany, the musky rosewood and that resonant, clear and crisp ring, I was John Mayer possessed strumming along to ‘No such thing’, now eternally burned into my memory from years of fandom. Achingly, I have to put down the guitar in the shop on Denmark Street and head out to lunch across the road at Giaconda instead, and sit there to dream about legendary guitars seemingly tempting me to empty my wallets. But in recessionary times, I’ve only got enough for a Blueridge, not quite a Martin or a Taylor and definitely not a Cherry Sunburst Les Paul.

Gravity.

The street in question is a detour from charing cross road, a limboland which is quite literally at the crossroad of the surrounding clichés of oxford street and Leicester square against the contrast of the urban circus that is Soho. Aside from some great independent bookstores, and atmospheric (dusty) guitar shops; Denmark street is also home to an unassuming dining room which has such a black exterior that one could easily mistake Giaconda for another crazy cool guitar shop. Something about low profile joints attracts me. Maybe it’s because the ambiance is firmly rooted in reality; perhaps its could be the romantic underdog status what with it being a million miles away from the grandeur of multi stakeholder Michelin joints employing far too many hands who may perfect the broth, but spoil the mood. Apollo was a beast, but Balboa had heart, and you can pound and pound and pound and its heartbreaking to watch, but god it’s beautiful. By their own proclaimation “We aren’t flashy or grand – and that suits us just fine! “ and yes, it suits me perfectly as well.

Give me Dinings. Give me Baracco. Give me Mandalay. I would gladly choose them over the harsh lights shining on pristine cream walls. Giaconda is one that beats with soul, the room is so small, your neighbours are practically breathing down your neck, and the simple wooden tables are only just adequate, but that’s why I love it.

I don’t need no doctor.

A fantasy. I’ve been wanting to fire off the champagne supernova riff on a custom Les Paul with a delay postbox hoping to emulate those great vintage shots of Noel in a oversized raincoat and his union jack Epiphone. Special people never change dude.

Dish Uno is Boneless (almost!) & Crisped Pigs Trotters; Eggs Mayonnaise (£7.00). The starters menu largely feature pretention free titles such as Roast Mushrooms with Garlic Puree; Herbs & Butter or Baked Eggs with Spinach, Cream & Cheese and the prices are equally laidback.

How many of you are wine junkies who watch the Daily Thunder show? If you know the show (you vayniac you) and if you’re like me, you watch Gary Vaynerchuck’s (who is a god) first reactions when he is reviewing wine; when he comes across something that might potentially be amazing, as soon as the wine hits his tongue, he goes silent. And Gary V is like full of energy you know like a motor that never stops and his charisma carries the show, but when a wine hits his sweetspot, he goes silent, says nothing for about half a minute and all he does is crack this smile, no in fact, he’s not even trying to because the man is holding back, sometimes even making a fist and putting it over his mouth as if to figuratively contain and collect all his essence before releasing his emotions. And that calm before the storm, is kinda what I felt when I ate this: (fist over mouth) it was amazing. The crispy crust is like a thin roof barely sheltering what is the creamiest and (almost!) boneless blobs of buttery meat & fat, with full marbling flavours, the subtle complexity is a rustic dish executed in style. Layered on top of a simple egg, green and new potato medley with just the a tinge of zing in the dressing, it was elegantly simple, and a joy to eat.

Signe.

I ordered a glass of red: the Abruzzo to be exact. £3.75 for a short glass, it carried bittersweet chocolate flavours, and a purity akin to say brown sugar; the easy drinking wine was surprisingly smooth and it fitted in with the Giaconda theme. The mains are an equally breezy read, in addition to grilled meat/fish of the day (served with chips & salad), they also feature exotic cuts and offal offerings such as poached ox tongue, braised tripe with smoked paprika and sautéed veal kidneys. I initially opted for the eye catching Vitello Tonnato; Radicchio, Potato & Egg Salad (Cold Poached Veal with Tuna Sauce) but the waitress urged me to try the £10.75 Crumbed Ham Hock Hash; Fried Egg & Green Salad, and so I happily obliged.

This thing was sizzling and the fried egg looked ethereal. I split the fried cake down the middle and I was smiling with the yolk oozing down with the aromas gushing out from the middle – wholesome.

I kept getting the feeling like I was eating a really good breakfast, the rocky breadcrumbs blending nicely with the salty ham floss which was mixed in with pieces of potates. Smokey lingering flavours and because it was quite ham-ey, I asked for more bread to dilute the flavours a little. For £10.75, it’s a great dish, again very elegant and I think the potato pieces made this dish.

Remembering Les Paul.

My meal culminated with a forgettable peach ice cream (£4) but quite a smooth frothy flat white (£2.50) ; the jug of water – sparkling – was free, so were the bread & olives but I suppose it’s inclusive in the cover charge (£1) and I was amazed that the bill came sans service. This meal came to exactly to £29.00, I paid by card but had no notes on me. I felt obliged to scramble all the coins I had in an effort to show my gratitude for the warm service. Did I mention that on my visit, the dining room was overseen by only one very friendly waitress. This lunch was merely a slither of a preview that is Giaconda, having only sampled three different dishes as opposed to the usual five or six when I am out with my very special partner in crime, we’ll need to return for more, and I am sure that we will in the near future.

It’s been a while since I last chose to dine alone; the privateness of this tiny room really harked back to the very first days of LondonEater, the days when people would laugh off my romantic idea of writing up essays regarding the nuances of lonely dinner adventures of savouring the moment, soaking in ambiance and rediscovering what it meant to love food.

Lester William Polsfuss 15th June 15th 1915 – 13th August 2009

The Gist of It

Giaconda Dining Room official site
9 Denmark Street WC2 H8LS 0207 240 3334.
£6 Starters £13 Mains £5 desserts
Verdict: Affordable, classique, chic and great tasting food… surrounded by great guitar shops too. Twang.

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We start with the long bus journey from Waterloo station (bus 77, 35 minutes) past Battersea and into Lavender Hill in search of the supposedly hidden gem of an Italian restaurant. And I’ll take this opportunity to address a topic that’s been brewing among the twitterati of late.

When I got my first invites I was ecstatic, I thought of it as a kind of recognition that restaurants would invite me to do reviews. When it came time to write them, yeah there’s tremendous guilt and its difficult trying to come across as objectively as possible.

Bloggers are talking about it and its no secret that foodbloggers do get invitations from PR people to review their restaurants, with the restaurant covering the costs of the meal. I’ve covered this before in my past restaurant invites, and I make it known to everybody that I get invitations to write reviews. Is it awkward to write them? Yes of course it is. I do put down money for tips with every free invite, I know it won’t replace the cost of the meal, but I do try.

I chose to fully disclose the background to everything I write. Hence the segregation between ‘invites to review’ (comped by the restaurant) and a ‘review’ (which I paid for myself). I haven’t been afraid to pan invites which didn’t fly (Nahm and High Timber) and I have gone to try places, and indeed paid for the meal myself (belgo lobsterfest) after reading up on other blogger’s invited reviews.

I’m not a professional writer or critic and I have never claimed to be. I have never claimed to know everything about food, and I am simply someone who loves to eat and I am merely documenting my dinners. When I get invited to something, I go along to it and then I write about it. At the end of the day, its up to the reader to decide whether my stuff is useful or not.

As for the blogging bit itself, I try my utmost to review restaurants as objectively as I can; I spend about four hours on each write-up, and a further four hours on the pictures. As a result from this foodblog, I’ve taken an interest in photography and have since invested in camera gear. I do spend abit of time taking pictures of the food with every meal just to get a really good shot, all just for a blog post. I jot down notes of everything I eat, just so it’s all properly recorded as it happened, and finally maintaining an attractive, up to date blog design. And yes, I still have to tend to my day job which actually pays the rent. Alot of work goes into one review, and every single review takes alot out of me. Yeah, it’s become a little obsessive, I do put in alot of time and effort into this blog, and I spend alot of time with the blogposts because I want to write/photograph as best I can, partly because I want to create something entertaining for readers and partly because I am hoping that it will become useful to whoever picks it up.

The PR people behind Donna invited me to do a review, and I accepted it. Following the first visit, I returned to the same restaurant a week later for a meal I paid for personally, hence the wonky title. And so this will be abit of a combo review with dishes from two visits.

Actually, that’s two return visits in two weeks, Donna as well as Sketch. With Sketch, they offered me a £50 gift voucher and that was something that was publicly available (and still is). And both times, I went back because I liked the restaurant, and gladly returned as a paying customer.

That’s my position with these ‘invites’. I know I can’t please everybody and I can only do the best I can, so I will let my reviews speak for themselves. If you want to pass judgement over me, I welcome you to do so. Afterall, my reviews criticise the hardwork of restaurants, and I should be able to take criticism accordingly.

If my reputation is to be tested, then so be it.

I have always spoken plainly and openly. I don’t hide behind my blog and I don’t claim to be an expert. I am someone who enjoys eating. Inspired by, I look to emulate the illustrious foodbloggers who have come before me and I’m sharing my passion with anyone who cares to listen.

Donna in two

Phew, ok so that’s the political bit, back to eating. And just when I was beginning to think that the restaurant was imaginary, I noticed a string of restaurants and spotted Donna. Standing by the entrance was the head waiter. A bearded Italian Stallion – stern looking fella’ – whose frown quickly melted into a warm smile as he ushered us to our table. We arrived early at 6.30 on a friday, but the restaurant quickly filled up by 8pm.

The restaurant is richly adorned with all sorts of nostalgia-ware, football jerseys and B&W photographs; so much so, I regretted not taking more pictures of the décor. It screams local eatery and even has that musky smell of a restaurant that’s been there for too long. The restaurant prides itself in serving Neapolitan food, which by their own account is a result of a criss-crossing of several cultures which has affected the cuisine and resulted in a style that’s a halfway house between being refined and folk. Sounds good to me, I was just completely intrigued with their claim about the pizzas… but first, some appetisers.

Swimming

My family loves fresh seafood, especially the old man, he loves anything that’s still ‘Yau Siu’ (swimming).

Hmm.

Swordfish Carpaccio, rocket salad. The fish was quite a tough texture, almost like a robust tuna, it was chewy as opposed to being a puffy marsmallow. I assumed it was raw (Salted? Raw? Unsure, help?), but it tasted as if it was medium rare. It did carry a silky juiciness with it. It was zestified from the lemon juice but overall, the bold flavours of the fish dominated, which was a good thing. I love raw fish, and can only appreciate a good Carpaccio. A rustic start, if rather uneventful.

Next up: Deep fried calamari and sicilian prawns served on a bed of mix leaf salad.

The crusty exterior of the squid rings were extraordinary. I wasn’t expecting much of anything, but these were great as they reminded me of my mum’s recipe (she really knows best). Instead of a crunchy batter; this one was light, and almost powdery, interestingly enough, what made it tremendously delicious was an inherent eggyness that went really, really well with the squid. There was an openness about it, and the fresh approach made the deep fried calamaries a breeze to wolf down.

Similarly, the prawns were fried crisply and the natural seafood flavour was intensified with a sort of eggyness in the mix. The recipe somehow reminded me of Chinese prawn crackers, you know, a certain umaminess to the dish.

Best pizza in London?

Ok, I know what everybody is thinking: Franco Manca. That cannot be ignored, the benchmark for pizzas in the capital surely has to be measured against the Brixton Institution. So it won’t come as a surprise that I would be comparing DM with FM.

I was served the margherita (tomato & mozzarella & fresh basil ) on first visit (£5.90) and on my 2nd visit, I tried the Marinara (tomato, garlic and oregano £5.50) and the San daniele (parma ham, tomato, parmesan £7.95). Let’s start with the all important dough.

Ok, FM has competition. The pizza base is thin, thinner than FM and it is softer and rather more delicate. I also noted that it was served warm, as opposed to piping hot at FM (not sure if it was rested first or if the FM ovens were warmer). The base is very appetising and there was a silky bounce and subtle consistency to it, as opposed to a sizzling bang and a terrific pillow like chew which the FM pizza exhibits. Its very difficult to call, both pizza bases are very good indeed, but I may just give it to FM for better flavour and more chewiness and bounce as well as an overall wow factor. Having said that, I actually appreciated DM’s mellowness. As I said, a tough call.

Next: The tomato paste. I immediately noticed the freshness of the tomato paste, it was so fragrant that you could smell all the aromas. Eating it was a real pleasure, as I was tempted to just slurp the sweet juices off the pizza, it was fresh, bright and the highlight of the pizza. Very open flavour and the intensity was just right. Not too sweet, not too tangy, subtle and just the right balance of acidity. Coupled with the creamy mozzarella produced a fantastic body, with the rich tomatoes blending oh so well with the creamy cheese. I give this one to DM.

Thirdly: Toppings. Alright, I didnt sample everything on the DM menu. All three pizzas at DM were subtly flavoured and I thoroughly enjoyed them. The margherita was an instant classic but my favourite was the marinara as the garlic brought an understated punch to the juicy tomato base. I tried four of the FM pizzas and I have to give this one to Franco. The toppings are rich flavoured and one can really taste the intensity, I refer to the ricotta and artichokes; the anchovies and olives, as well as the brindisa chorizo which FM uses. Bursting flavours and sheer wow factor, I give this one to FM.

So is it the best in London? Erm, its pretty darn close. I think it’s comparable to FM pizzas although it is of a different style. I’ve been scratching my head over how to describe them, and the difference is abit like comparing an able Australian Shiraz against a subtle Burgundy. FM’s wow factor and big flavours, as well as the sizzling heat it is served with makes it akin to a classic Penfolds vintage, everybody will be in agreement that it’s a great pizza. With DM, its silkier, its more subtle, its juicier, its more fragrant, its mellow, its abit more complex and like a great bottle of Nuits St Georges (erm, Im leaning toward David Duband), I could stick a straw in and drink in any day and any night.

I think it comes down to a matter of choice, which do you prefer? Big robust flavours, or something abit more subtle? Both are very good.

Am I by the Sea?

Right, 1400 words and we’re only about half way through. Time for some pasta: O’paccher e`pusillipo, Paccheri pasta with prawns, mussels, porcini mushrooms, rocket, aubergine,Cherry tomatoes, basil and a touch of chilli.(£10)

The juices from the seafood has saturated the pasta, giving it a full flavoured fragrance, its very appetising, and its as if the entire ocean has been distilled into the dish, that is has become a sumptuous gravy. The dish is further coloured with the sweet cherry tomatoes and there is just a very faint hint of spice. Above all, the paccheri pasta was amazing. It was a dense noodle, very thick and rich in eggyness. The heaviness of the pasta soaked up a lot of the juices and every bite brought out bursting seafood flavours. I’m impressed with this one – it is very good indeed.

On my second visit, I had to try more seafood and I plonked for the A’grigliat ro’ Fusaro , (Plate for two) which is a char grilled selection of fresh fish served on a bed of mix salad (£35)

Normally its served with fresh whole seabass, squid, king prawns, mussels, clams and octopus, but they ran out of seabass on our visit. Everything is chargrilled to absolute perfection. The scallops and prawns were so sweet, my tummy was positively rumbling. The smoky grilled flavours were very evident, and there wasn’t a single thing that wasn’t delicious on this plate – I love every bit of it. At £35, the most expensive thing on the menu, and since we were there as a table of six, they spread the portions out over two plates.

Pudding? what?

The lemon brulee was rather good, it was made with a lemon sorbet underneath the custard, but overall I thought the desserts were merely so so. The tiramisu was utterly forgettable, and the torte carprese – almond and chocolate – was merely ordinary.

This could well be one of the most comprehensive reviews I’ve written, and I can safely say that Donna Margherita is good. Its not going to win any big awards, and in a way, that’s a good thing. The classical style is rustic and its just straightforward good Italian food. In particular, the pizzas are wonderful, almost as good as Franco Manca and the pastas as well as the seafood stand out. Its unbeatable when it comes to price, primis at £6 ; pastas at £11; pizza £8 ; meat/fish £13-£15 ; Dolce £4.

My only problem is that 35 minute bus ride. Otherwise, it’s Napoli in London.

The Gist of it

Donna Margherita official site
183 Lavender Hill SW11 5
(020) 7228 2660
£20pp
Verdict:Great Pizzas, lovely seafood and heartwarming pastas. An excellent Italian restaurant in the City.

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Pompous pretension or serious contender of applied arts and gastronomy? Based in the 18th century townhouse which once bore the Dior label; we take a trip to the institution where haute cuisine and haute couture meet.

Neo

I must admit, I approached Sketch rather skeptically. I had already been for tea at one of their many tea rooms – the Glade, I believe it was – but I’d yet to dine at their Michelin starred ‘The Lecture room and Library’ on the first floor. Amazingly, I was offered a £50 voucher to sample the food there (thanks Kate). The twitterati seem quite positive toward Sketch, and armed with some positive feedback, I was rather anticipating a good meal. I just couldn’t get my head around the flash heavy website. Is this supposed to be a serious restaurant, or is it an art gallery that serves food on the side, and so many different rooms. Dammit, which room am I at again?

Conduit Street, just round the corner from the Apple Store on Regent Street. I felt the cool arty vibe the moment I stepped through the doors, neon blue and red. The entrance is furnished with a couch that looks unseatable, and a swing that seeminglly fits adults.

I’m a little lost to be honest, just what am I doing here? Downstairs and in the front of the townhouse, is ‘The Parlour’, a tearoom. Nope, not dining here. I look inward, and there is a lanky gentlemen in a superswish grey suit, with a shimmering blue tie, incredibly well groomed, he extended his hand as I stumbled – like lost sheep – toward him and shook the man’s hand.

“Mr Leong, we’ve been expecting you” How the hell did he know…?

“Your bag and your coat?” Clap, clap. “Margaret, take Mr Leong’s belongings please, and now sir, will you follow me up the stairs?”

A Mr Anderson moment. The Matrix reloaded to be exact. As we meander up the stairs, he gives me a breakdown of Sketch’s numbers: 5 rossettes, 1 Michelin star, Head Chef Pierre Gagnaire, restaurants all over the glamour cities around the world and one opening in Las Vegas, formerly house of Dior…

And just as he finishes his well rehearsed monologue, we reach the top of the stairs and have stopped in a dark hallway. Staring at us, is an imposing frontdoor, it looks solid and probably about 7 feet high. Gently, he unlocks it.

“Mr Leong, welcome to Sketch.” …..Woooosh!

The big black doors swing open to a room filled with majesty. The vivid colours were overwhelming and so much to absorb, I was in absolute exquisiteness, and for the first time, in a long time, I was completely awestruck with the showy entrance. For just a moment, my imagination was completely suspended and I actually thought I was there to meet with the Merovingian…. and maybe give Monica Belluci a quick peck in the posh loos.

Woah. Again. Woah.

Time to eat

I sat very comfortably, and the ambiance was surrealistic. As opposed to the much too drab faux chillout music in most michelin spots, this one pumped out neo-jazz/acoustic which sounded rather like Ray La Montague, or Jason Mraz. Crazy. sexy. cool. Its like discovering what michelin restaurants were trying to emulate in terms of ambiance all the while – Sketch has seemingly made every other restaurant I’ve been to seem artificial. You’ve got to hand it to the French, they really know how to put on a show, and the atmosphere at Sketch was slick.

And the slickness continued into the canapes. Before I had even looked at the menu, they layed out three plates of canapes on my table. One was a baby mug, of a chilled tomato gazpacho – a great viscious mouthfeel and a lingering rawness that hung on to my palette. A selection of biscuits and jelly, some sweet, some savoury, some cheesy, all served to grease the appetiser wheels. Finally, what I think are biscuit sticks served with a hummus like dip and in what I think, is cassava powder.

French laverbread

The menu is a thin stip of paper (measuring 2×10 to be exact) and it listed the gourmet rapide lunch. We have three choices here. For £30, two courses with coffee and petit fours; for £35, three courses with coffee and petit fours; And a monster £48 for all of the above plus a glass of sherry (which I swapped for bubbles), half a bottle of wine (went for a slightly chilled red, 06′ Touraine) and a bottle of water (sparkling for yours truly).

I don’t usually dwell on bread and nibbles, but Sketch was utterly amazing in this department. The selection included milkbread, chestnut and of course baguette. What was interesting about it were the butter it came with. An unsalted variety and then a fresh seaweed infused butter. It was like having a French remixed Laverbread (and I have had a proper welsh breakfast in Pembroke), it was so different, the oilyness and chewiness of the seaweed blended well with the butter, giving way to this fishy spread, that was a perfect compliment to bread. Flavours of the sea – could the crackles be grains of sand?

The Four Starters

The menu is a quirky one, it lists four starters, and yet, the waiter only asks for one selection from the mains. I was like, eh? What are you going to do, serve me four starters? That would be just unreal. Yup, it was indeed unreal as they served up four starters. Tapas style, I’m told.

And so we start in the middle, with a Watermelon Soup, Brunoise of Melon, Coriander, Mint and Ginger. My taster notes describe a watermelon foam, puffy and full of bubbles, there was an interesting hit of what tasted like tannic fattiness in texture, like an oil slick in the mouth, I had the same mouthfeel with the gazpacho and I believe its down to the olive oil they were using. The fruity and freshness of the watermelon were sweeten with the presence of honeydew and all was swimming in a sparkling juice of what tasted almost like ginger beer. Was it a soup or was it a veloute, or was it a fruit infused milkshake, or perhaps it was all of it, rolled into one.

Next, we go left to sample Herve this Egg, Rocket Jus and Boutargue Foam. A comfortable and what appears to be a superiorly slow cooked poach. The yolk became almost like a custard, while the egg whites was like a silken quilt gently held together with a slightly running exterior. The foamy rocket just had a sharp and salty intensity, almost like a soya sauce, but damn, this is one amazing poached egg, one that was unlike anything I’ve had before.

Moving clockwise, we get to the asparagus cream, strawberry coulis and goat’s cheese. It’s the same viscous olive oil mouthfeel again, and I’d never have thought that a dense melting goat’s cheese would go with the intense red fruits of the strawberries, but it did. It was much like having a deconstructed fruitshake, or even a yogurt, it was fresh, clinical and it wiped my palette clean from the smooth eggs, just before it.

So far, I am quite impressed. Each of the three dishes could stand on its own, each a different theme, and to each a kind of build up in flavour intensity, as varied as the changing seasons.
And now the final starter of mackerel tartare, sesame seed and a summer mesclun salad. This must be the golden summer of the four dishes. Subtle flavours of the sea, warming and tantalizing sea saltiness, with a texture so soft, the raw tartare melted in my mouth. It was roughly chopped but came out like chewable pillows. There was hardly any fishiness, as it seemed to be balanced against a balsamic and sesame dressing. Lots of subtle flavours and well executed.

I love raw food and more so, I love tartare. This was the pinnacle of the form; simple, easy to eat and delicious.

I must say, I was thoroughly impressed with my quadruplet of starters, a rapid medley, but a medley that was as colourfully vivid as the ceremony of the restaurant itself.

No Meat here

On this visit, the restaurant was doing a meatless menu. It was a choice between pan-fried salmon, risotto or sea-bream. I chose the latter of the three: Sea Bream, roasted and poached in olive oil, green pea veloute, cuttlefish, red pepper and artichoke.

My compliments to the chef for serving up a warm plate as this really helped to amplify the roasting aromas. The plate was quite abit hot, perhaps close to 60 oC (Chemistry is one of my many traits, believe me.). To taste: a sour acidity on the palette, perhaps due to the roast red peppers, the heat is hearty. The pea veloute was what prompted me to order this dish; The green soup was very delicate, having a sticky mouthfeel and a warming bang with more umaminess offered by the presence of soft cuttlefish cubes, as well as the artichoke.

The fish, by itself, was quite abit fishy, while the creamy pea veloute was dominated by abit of sourness; however, both elements met harmoniously to counter each of their dominating flavours and it gave way to a subtly rich intensity that was well balanced. My only gripe was with the texture of the fish; maybe it’s the heat, or perhaps because of the wetness, but it was a tad on the mushy side, where I expected robust flakiness.

The food just wouldn’t stop coming. I opted for the trio of desserts, and first to land on the table was a double act. One consisted of a simple red berries sorbet, smartly paired with a powdery biscuit; another was a red berry fruit salad, expertly paired with aloe vera cubes, but it was until the chocolate tart landed was I impressed with the puds. A crunchy base and an airy mousse, it was the anti-chocolate torte one usually expects. In the place of too much rich butterness, was a light crunch best described like a kit kat as opposed to a mars bar. While not as grand as the starters, the trio of desserts was a polite gentlemanly (and lady like) way to end a gourmet express, jazzed up with just a touch of cool.

Ordinary Extraordinaire

Amidst all the pompous showiness, the largely French speaking staff managed to remain calm and friendly. They oozed cool and served with zeal and understated enthusiasm, almost as if they were an extension of the restaurant’s choreography.

Needless to say, I was impressed with this visit. My oh my, do the people behind Sketch know how to put on a show, and for once I actually felt comfortable in a slick Michelin restaurant, instead of having to clench my arse and stiffen the upper lip, they took care of things in true fashion. Of course, the restaurant is nothing, if not for good food and Sketch did not disappoint in this department; flavour balancing was spot on, and I was enamoured with their creative use of olive oil and berries. Dishes tasted as they should, and in particular, the mackerel tartare worked like clock work. If I was being critical, I would say that the sea bream – for a mains – was a no-show, in comparison to the other courses; but with this 3 course meal priced at £35, it was adequate nonetheless. The £15 premium for the extra booze is worth shelling out for.

Of course, like all set lunches at Michelin restaurants, one gets the feeling that one is missing out on the big show in the taster menu, so again, this amounts to half of a review, as much (or little) as it compares to the dinner menu. Having said that, it is one of the more memorable set lunches I’ve had recently. The lecture room and library is a stunning dining space, one which you could just sit there and take in the ambiance and the rays of light penetrating the three storey high skydome from above. Ahh…. Take an afternoon off, turn of the mobile phone and plug into a realm where high fashion and high cooking meet, harmoniously.

The Gist of It

Sketch, The Lecture Room and Library official site
9 Conduit Street W1s 2XG 020 7659 4500
£35 three courses

Verdict: Crazy. Sexy. Cool. The venue alone is a rousing spectacle and the high cuisine matches the high style at Sketch. It ain’t cheap, but its worth it.

Your turn: Have you visited Sketch yet? Were your pockets deep enough for the dinner menu, how did it compare to the Lunch menu?

UPDATE: I am indebted to Gourmet Chick for this one, the £50 Sketch Voucher is actually an offer available to everyone if you sign up on their Facebook fanpage, the offer is good until the end of August 2009….. go check it out folks!

Many many moons ago, people used to refer to me as ‘Leong’. And several moons after, I became a legend, and I galloped into the sunset with my silver stallion and lived happily ever after. No, I’m kidding, but I did (and still do) go by Kang L(eong), Leong being my surname for anybody who is wondering. I think it translates to ‘Gentle’, so you can all refer to me as Mr Gentle from now on (perhaps a reflection of my skills in the boudoir….?). This (of course) has nothing to do with the Taiwanese restaurant we’re going to talk about, which is now so successful, it has open its second legendary outpost. Let’s find out if indeed, the legend does continue.

Where is the love?

I was a little confused to find that after eating at Leong’s Legends, I walked past another Leong’s Legends. Surely, Chinatown ain’t that small; puzzled, I felt a black cat moment there. Free your mind, Neo. Either it was a really big restaurant with multiple entrances, or they have opened a new branch (what fantastic logic, mr gentle). Anyway, Continues – like many Chinatown restaurants – is spread over multiple floors, and we had to scale very cramped staircases until we finally hit the 3rd floor that could accommodate us. I love all the faux rose wood they have used for the furnishings and the low hanging lights are just great. Bit like a mass produced version of Hakkasan. (wait, isn’t that called cha cha moon?)

Chilli chills

The menu reads well, a lot of faithful Taiwanese classics, a statement backed up with a recent trip to Taiwan. I spotted ‘Thousand Year’ egg with tofu, mmmm… and the oyster pancakes, mmm… and stuffed breads, mmm….

I was on the bench for this one, and I left it to my Taiwanese bred compagno to make the decisions on what to eat.

Dish number one is boiled pork belly slices with a very intense garlic paste on the side. The blandish meat didn’t taste like much, but it did have quite an intense chilli hit in the after taste, my throat was positively flaming. I chose the douse those flames by dipping the meat into the garlic paste, but man oh man – it was probably strong enough to fend off Dracula… ok in keeping with times, Edward, no no, Bella.

Gluten

Next, I sampled the bamboo rice with scallops.

Yeah it wasn’t bad, full flavoured and the choice of going with scallops definitely a prime contributor to the umaminess. However, the glutinous rice was verging on being too dry. Not enough stickiness or density. It was forgettable…. next?

Mono sodium glutamate

I was lusting after an oyster dish since I had amazing oyster dishes in Taiwan. And so, Tofu with Oysters and what was supposed to be a black bean sauce, although what came out looked more like a spicy chiili bean paste; a ma-po sauce I believe.

This dish is seriously spicy, with just a tad too much chilli in my humble opinion. I don’t mind the chilli so much, but the heaviness of the sauce weighed down the dish as the tofu tasted very dead, instead of being lively. Similarly, the oysters were a total failure, it was utterly mushy, like its been in a freezer for far too long; bursting flavours of the sea, were positively absent.

The Legends end.

Overall, I think Leong’s Legends is merely ok. There were flavour balancing issues, far too much chilli to go with stale ingredients, not a good combination I can assure you. Still, it was a rather affordable meal which just sneaked in at £20 plus a couple of glasses of soya milk. I probably won’t be indulging in my namesake restaurant again in the near future; I’m afraid the legend ends with this meal.

The Gist of It

Leong’s Legends
26-27 Lisle Street WC2H 7
(020) 7734 3380
£12pp

Verdict: Not Taiwan in London as I originally imagined. Flavours are all over the place, and excessive use of MSG is alittle worrying. Merely ordinary in my opinion.

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St John is currently the 14th best restaurant in the world (2009). Yes, ‘Worlds’. And I can confirm, they don’t use San Pellegrino. Apparently, the British can indeed cook. As usual, I am late to the party as it seems like the entire food writers guild has eaten here, wrote about it and then some. A darling of the food world, I wanted to know what exactly makes St John so special.

Legend has it…

Opened by Fergus Henderson in 1994; St John restaurant at St John Road has since been awarded a Michelin star and is well-known for utilising offal and neglected cuts, in what he calls the ‘nose to tail’ concept. Mr Henderson no longer cooks at the St John due to health reasons, but his restaurant continues to win the adulation of fans from around the world, including a certain Anthony Bourdain.

Accompanying me for lunch was Stefan Lubomirski de Vaux.

Through the doors

The restaurant is painted white, almost gritty over what appears to be brick walls. It feels like stepping into a refurbished warehouse and I was certain I saw sunshine penetrating a skylight roof. Perhaps it was all the stories which I had read about St John, but the space felt so ethereal, like it was of another time, or even another world. I spotted Stefan at the far end of the bar as he raised his glass toward me. I’m a little late – handshake – up the stairs and into the dining room.

Shrouded in shade, the dining room continued the ethereal theme with pristinely white table cloths and rigid white uniforms for the staff; We sat in robustly solid wooden chairs – a deep brown. Lit with hanging lamps, diffused light, it was a silhouette to the naturally lit bar and entrance, just outside the dining room. The ceilings were high, and the space was large, perhaps sitting one hundred guests or so. The atmosphere was incredibly lively as the market buzz filled my ears and created a kind of sonic landscape, we are now – supposedly – seated in the 14th best restaurant in the world….and to my surprise, not fully booked on a Friday afternoon.

I’ve heard enough, food… FOOD.

For a michelin starred restaurant which has garnered more glowing reviews than Barack Obama, the menu was surprisingly straightforward and even more surprisingly affordable. Starters priced between £4-£8, the most expensive main course was £20 and pudding could be had for six squid, and everything was written in Anglais.

A truly, great British restaurant, could it be?

Mutton Broth £6.50

Our waitress had on ruby red lipstick, with bright blonde hair, she looked every bit a proper rock star and wouldn’t be out of place next to Agnes. So I quizzed her about what to have, and she pretty much just said that everything was delicious.

Oh yummy. My mutton soup starters was intense and full flavoured, like an entire beast distilled and filtered through coffee cones and made into a juice, it was simply divine. Not too strong mutton flavours, just a slight slick of oil and a few dices of carrots, ever so simple, yet ever so good. I would have preferred if they had spruced it up with just a bit more meat (there were hardly any), but that’s just because I love delicate meat in soup.

Roast Bone Marrow & Parsley Salad £6.90

The one thing she did tell us when we sat down, was that they only had two marrows left – Stefan immediately snapped one up! Oh he was lucky to have done so because the marrow was creamy, dreamy and so gamey. Spreading the buttery texture over the bread was incredibly satisfying. Stefan offered me one, but I was left wanting so much more, I regretted not ordering one for myself.

Keep bringing the food, please.

Stage one was a major success, very able starters and I appreciated just the simplicity in the execution, well done.

Braised Veal, Carrots, Aioli £17.60

I longed for meaty chunks in the broth, and I was glad to have landed a bowl of simply braised veal in what looks to be a light broth as well. First of all, it doesn’t look like much, in fact, it looks very much like home cooked food, which is of course, a good thing. And I was so glad that this was exactly that, no poncy molecular gastronocrap on show here, it was delicious, hearty and beautifully tender chunks of meat. Mildly seasoned, the natural flavours were allowed to shine through but the real highlight was the puffy and airy aioli mix on the side. It was superlatively eggy, buttery and well seasoned. It went down smoothly with the juicy meat. I felt like I was eating in someone’s home, as if Fergus had invited me to his home and he had lovingly whipped up some lunch for us. The dish was entirely valid, it wasn’t trying to be anything other than what the menu said it was. Well done again.

We had to wait abit for our mains. Initially Stefan ordered the Rabbit, but they brought over turbot instead, hmm, we sent it back to the kitchen, they came out with Pigeon. They ran out of rabbit apparently.

Pigeon & Courgettes £15.00

Served very red in the middle and so bloody, it juiced all over the plate. Now, I’ve never really had poultry (is pigeon considered poultry?) this red before, but it was gamey, smelly and just amazing. The texture had an interesting chunkiness to it – abit like a Tempur pillow with the kind of slow moulding to your teeth as you sink in. The flavour was liver-like, mushy and soily… not adjectives which sound appealing, but if you’re into neglected meats – this was different, in a good way.

I cannot do without pudding

Apricot crumble with ginger ice cream £6.70

We didn’t order any Madeleines, but I suspect I will be back again to try them. Instead we went with the daily special of apricot crumble. Rich sweetness balancing the sour, the apricot flavours shone through and the almond infused crumble was delightful. Though I was completely taken with the ginger ice cream, it was well rounded and just absolutely stunning.

We also ordered Raspberries, Malted Meringue & Cream (£6.70). Airy, puffy and chewy malts which stuck to the gums. This one was honey sweet, balanced with the fruitiness of the raspberries – did Fergus invent some machine to source clouds from the heavens and convert them into plate-able format? If cloud nine was edible, it would be a St John’s malted meringue.

Where in the world Top 50 indeed.

I had an enjoyable meal at St John. I was so glad that it wasn’t one that featured the world’s next bacon lettuce ice cream canapé or the world’s next nitrogen infused seashell that sang Britney Spears songs; Instead, St John churned out mind numbingly simple food.

Yeah, there were a couple of things on the menu which I’d never heard of like, chitterlings for example, but otherwise, it was completely down to earth. The utter simplicity was its main selling point, and yes I can see why St John is so very special. The food has an innocent charm about it and the restaurant beats with soul and character, somehow I wished this place didn’t come with all the attention that surrounds it, because it feels so much like a hidden gem of a local restaurant. Indeed, that would have only added to the mystique…

Is it deserved of its place among the glitzy glamour of the world top 50? Well, who knows, its there, and so it shall be remain for the time being I suppose. For London at least, its an institution whose kitchen is still churning out magic; let’s hope it stays this way, simple, rustic and completely nose to tail.

The Gist of It

St John Official Site
26 St John Street EC1M 4AY 020 7251 0848
£40pp

Verdict: A loving restaurant, completely devoid of pretension and serving honestly superlative British cuisine, at affordable prices. A true London institution.

What are your thoughts about St John? Did you have a great experience, or abit of a dud?

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