The man is almost too beautiful to be a chef. As we ended the meal, I told our waiter to give our compliments to him. “Oh you know Ollie?” he said. I said “No, but I read about him last night, five star game changer to paraphrase Fay, and we are tempted to agree.”. Shortly after, the chef came over to greet us. He seemed a little nervous meeting paying customers but he was clearly enthusiastic with his new restaurant. He had a blue pinstriped butcher’s apron around him, but wore a thin white loosely hanging tee underneath, giving us a glimpse of his his well-endowned (and furry) man-chest. No heavily threaded chef robes here. I noted his well manicured beard. “I heard somebody knows my first name, so I thought I’d come over to say hello.” he said. His name is Ollie Dabbous (phonetically Dabboo). Remember that. You’ll be hearing a lot more of him from now on. He is but one of the talents which represent the future of British cooking. Ollie started as a protege at Raymond Blanc’s Le Manoir before travelling around the world to stint in the kitchens of some of the most written about chefs in Europe. Like Andoni Luis Aduriz, Claude Bosi, Pierre Gagnaire, Heston B, Rene R, Wylie Dufresne, before moving to lead Agnar Sverisson’s under-appreciated Texture. (I hear what you’re saying
Newsflash. If you local to Finchley Road, you need to find this Korean restaurant. As far as I can tell, the 50% discount for their BBQ menu looks permanent. I’ve already been twice, and I think it’s a great value for money. So this discount may be some sort of shrewd marketing to undercut glitzier counterparts in central London, and in those terms, it doesn’t quite have the setting to match more expensive haunts. This place is modest budget stuff. Having said that, the 50% discount is incredibly generous. One shouldn’t expect to be see dry aged beef or lobster, but for the money, the quality of the meats is adequate. Certainly not worse that Koba. As a way of introduction, the Korean BBQ experience involves cooking sizzling meat over a hot pan dug out from a hole in the middle of the table, and if you’ve yet to try it, you should, it is one of life’s greatest pleasures. The rest of the menu is brief, in relation to Central London counterparts that is, but all the essentials are present. Like the kimchee, the seafood pancake, the soup, the glass noodles and amazingly, there are only three variants of the bibimbap : cooked beef, raw beef or vegetarian. They spent little time worrying about , the décor is numbingly plain, like a shabby café, its lean, mean, it’ll get
All together now : Medlar is the best new restaurant of 2011. I said it, and I’d love for you guys to agree with me because I love this place to bits. The cooking is eye-wateringly sensational, the pricing is mind boggling slender, service is shy yet charming and the ambiance is that of the perfect neighbourhood restaurant. I’ve not been this excited about a neighbourhood restaurant for a long time coming and I could only thing of one place to visit for my birthday, last weekend. This time, I took with me, a couple of serial restaurant goers in Mark and Carina, who are such, out of necessity because of work, and obviously because they enjoy the lifestyle, and my better and more skeptical half. 12 courses (that’s 3 x 4 palates) later and we were all largely in agreement : Medlar is brilliant. I am a firm believer that great dishes rely upon the individual aspects being cooked correctly. The basics have got to be right, since each element acts like a building block, so that when it’s all assembled, it has the best chance of becoming more than the sum of its parts. Everywhere we sniffed and licked, we were greeted with slick cooking. Take the most basic dish we were served for example, the triple cooked chips, and the in-house whipped béarnaise. Dipping the crusty chips
When everyone including dear Ol’ Uncle B has visited this restaurant, that’s when you know the interwebs has taken to showering yet another crowd pleaser with its ever expanding vocabulary of praise words. “Wondrous”. “Decadent”. “Moorish”. “Decadent”. “Sinful”. “Ultimate comfort food”. Adjectives, which I too, am guilty of overusing. Cynicism aside, a restaurant that has collected as many reviews as it has since it’s April debut, must be doing something right. Somehow, I had managed to avoid the 50% discount circus, though the full asking price wasn’t too bad. To grease the wheels, we started with not one, but two plates (£1.50 each) of their excellent warm, crusty and soft sourdough (ironically, warm bread is abit of a rarity in London restaurants) served with some excellent artichoke puree, which i gather is, must be made in house. I ordered one of their fresh juices, the ‘invigorate’ of pineapple, apple, lime and strawberries. Sadly it was anything but invigorating… and note to self, never drink pineapple and strawberry juice from the same glass. Service was a little jumpy, but well intentioned, they had a tendency to take things away before we were done with them, like the wedge of pineapple, which I had initially wanted to savour when I finished my juice, for instance. Believe the hype, the decor is absolutely top class. Like the Tardis, it’s unimpressive on the outside,
Remarkable. The standard of cooking is dastardly high, the artistry kept well in check, the flavours were – in my opinion – calibrated to run riot on your palate, that it made for a breathtaking dining experience. Service took an equally disciplined yet playful approach as the cooking, and so too was the decor; lime green and quite so basic, but refreshing and pressure-free. The only question I kept asking myself throughout the meal was “What’s the catch?”. Why is it so damn affordable. As I understand it, this modern restaurant offers their three course ala carte menu at a princely sum of £25 during lunch, and the same menu for £38 during dinner. Not that I’m complaining of course, but after a string of new openings (NOPI and Pollen St Social and even St John Hotel) that seem to indicate the return of the swinging binge-times, Medlar’s prices come as a welcomed surprise. You and I should pay attention to Medlar partly because of the pedigree behind the team. In the hotseat is one Joe Mercer Nairne, previous sous-chef at Chez Bruce and before that, The Savoy Grill. Managing front of house affairs, is the very charming David O’Connor whose CV involved running the teams at The Ledbury, The Square and also Chez Bruce (all of which are Nigel Platts-Martin restaurants) , where he and Joe first forged their
Ever since the Great British Pound took its glorious tumble following the economic rodeo of ’08, travelling the world with HM in your pocket doesn’t go as far as it used to no more, all my assets doing an extended shrinking violet number. Ta-da. Picture the shock and horror whilst researching prices at top end restaurants in Singapore; Waku Ghin – Tetsuya’s Singaporean operation – a whopper of a SGD$400 (£200) per pop; FiftyThree, the well-regarded Euro-comfortica for a mere SGD$250 (£125), yikes..! Shinji – the Raffles Hotel pre-eminent shrine of haute sushi starts at SGD$220 (£110) and flattens out at SGD$450 (£225). Gosh, fine dining sure is pricy in Singapore. All rather paradoxical considering this is a country better known for its amazing standard of hawker centres, food courts, char kuey tiaw, chilli crab, pratha, kaya jam, hainanese chicken rice, nasi padang just to name a few commonly accessible, easily affordable, delicious one platers. Perhaps it is to do with the fascination, mystique and romance of the sycophantic fantasy propagated by high-rolling guides – the Michelin, the Miele and the World Top 50, all of which appear to back the idea that the quality of indulgence be measured not only by how well the food is cooked; but also by the expense spared in investing the restaurant’s cabinet of Laguiole knives and the completeness of their Le Creuset collection
It was probably the most intriguing restaurant opening last year. It generated a polarising reception, ranging from those who hailed Nuno Mendes’ travelling fusion food as groundbreaking to others who thought it a purely self indulgent public experiment, injected with an unhealthy dose of pretense. When I visited last summer,
The sheer volume of blogposts on Bob Bob Ricard throughout 2010 made the interwebs quite a homogeneous place to read about new things. For a moment in time, BBR was perhaps the trendiest all day, all-booth, Anglo diner in London, complete with
I write this shuffling in my seat, on a flight bound for Norwegian airspace, and it isn’t often that I dream about London and its murky skies, but here I am, fantasizing about the startlingly magnificent lunch I experienced last weekend at Yashin, the latest addition
Hawksmoor has great PR, one of the early champions of blogs, it has since gone on to utilise and charm the medium with great success. Generally speaking, you guys – ie, people who read online food ramblings – love Hawksmoor. And I suppose, as a viable business
Well, you can’t knock the restaurants around Whitechapel which serve excellent Punjabi food. Of course, I haven’t been to every single one – and who hasn’t tried Tayyabs and Needoo right? – but I think it is safe to say that most deliver food of a certain quality at pleasingly
I’m dreaming. This is a radical fantasy, the food is beyond excellent, the filtered water is free, a rainbow assortment of bread flows (freely too) all night long, with the startling choice of salted and unsalted Normandy butter on the table. All hail the new chieftain of Soho,
Somewhere along the way, I’d lost track of what it means to be a food blogger. I rode the chu-chu express along with the rest of the zeitgeist, squeezed my way to the front of the queue for a place at London’s trending restaurants, and had somehow forgotten about unearthing local gems
By now you’ll have tried and failed to book a table at Trullo, the latest budget conscious, laid-back, Italian inspired restaurant to open and to become over-subscribed, in London. Owned by Jordan Frieda, once the front of house at River Café, and chef Tim Siadatan,
I must confess, I feel pressure writing up my visit to L’Anima, because as you know, Francesco Mazzei’s Soul in the city is the gastronomic darling which has had critics, blogs and people who are generally interested in food, cooing in unison. As the consummate restaurant collector living
Ahh… smell the shit and seaweed in the air. That’s the smell of the fresh summer seaside breeze, the stench of highly oxygenic and smog-free air, something which I was assured time and again is duly absent in the vestiges of London. I hope you will forgive my brief absence from this blog, as I am still only just recovering from the holiday season gone by. I spent much of it being holed up in a caravan park in little known Kinghorn in Scottishland. I took in a wedding, took some photographs and had literally gone to The Dogs for a swift chew in Edinburgh, which coincidentally coincided with the Fringe fest. I feel compelled to share the view with you… So after haggis, nips, tatties and stovies at the wedding reception, I was duly informed by my lovely tweepers on twitter that there was resplendency to be had near the centrepoint in Edinburgh. It’s been four years since I was last in this town, and was glad to be received by the similar enchantingly cloudy skies that ruled over the street bagpipers. We had little time in Edinburgh, so we decided against the might of The Grain Store and opted for the stripped down, canteen splendour at the dogs. Yes, the name itself speaks of the eccentric nature that surrounds this venue – I will keep the dog jokes
A firm, yet genteel voice answered the phone. The line was horribly muffled as I struggled to pick out the vowels through the low, low bass. Fum.Fum.Sa.Sa. I think she said, in a deceptively Japanese accent. An awkward silence befell
Adam Byatt, the thinking man’s version of a celebrity chef, and owner of the much lauded Trinity restaurant, situated in leafy Clapham. Critics adore his work, for the invention, progression and enthusiasm he has brought to British cooking, and one expects no less
I have been itching to supersede my first Goodman post which I wrote last year with something that better reflects my feelings about the restaurant. I love my meat sweats obviously, and in the twelve months following the first visit, I’ve returned to many a fabulous meal at Goodman in Maddox Street. With the launch of their City branch, I thought this was the perfect opportunity to formally update position with Goodman
No doubt you will have read the multitude of pieces extolling the virtues of this greatest of London pubs. The pub’s shiny Michelin win, was both a surprise and a seal of approval that solidified its status as the epitome of pub grub in London. For the months that followed,
Happy Chinese New Year folks, it is the year of the majestic fire breathing dragon. If you’re...
Yay, I visited the world’s very first 3 Michelin starred Chinese restaurant. First things...
… I write to you as I lie on the blackened brown beach in Brunei. It overlooks the oil rigs...
This is the only time you’ll see the food menu, because these three items are quite literally...
AKA …where Kang spent most of his moolah this year. The time has come to reflect on...
Who comes up with all this fiction just for a restaurant? This is the persuasive language...
My food writing invariably boils down to a caricature of self-indulgent cliched hyperbole or...
Damn it, he’s done it again. (He being the elusive blurryman with the fire red scarf, and...
