Texture is the brainchild of Icelandic born Chef Agnar Sverrisson and French born sommolier Xavier Rousset. Butter and cream, I’m told, are not involved in the Icelandic-inspired recipes. Winner of a michelin star in 2010, Texture is one part of the ascendency of Nordic cuisine

Eight (baat) is phonetically similar to fortune (faat) or “about to hit the motherload” more like and is significant if you’re Chinese1. Chinese being a culture which has an insurmountable archive of superstitions and a belief system that links fortune to being fortunate. Lady luck is not a bad thing to have on your side, Rob Green could do with some. People will go to great lengths to associate themselves with the number 8. Like bidding for a mobile phone number, car license plate detail, the house number, the more 8′s and multiple 8′s – my brother’s mobile number ends with triple 8s – in one’s life, the more prosperous one’s life might turn out to be. So it is believed. Imagine my delight when I saw the number 88 stamped across one of the giant red pillars outside My Old Place. It’s like winning the lottery, yes… just a number indeed, but if superstition was anything to go by, it would appear to be working. The modest restaurant has garnered gleeful reviews2 online, the Guardian critics especially love it, but more than that, the layman raves about this place too. The word amongst the various social circles (Facebook mostly) is that My Old Place is one of London’s finest Szechuan restaurants, Taiwanese people in London especially love this place. Situated in the shadow of Liverpool Street station, it is

Atari-Ya are primarily fishmongers who specialise in importing sashimi-grade fish and are said to supply some of the highest profile Japanese restaurants in London, including Umu and Nobu. They also own sushi-bars. Do they keep the best for themselves? Let’s find out

I have been a runaway train wreck with my commentary lately, neglecting to edit myself. Jay Rayner called it ‘a bad case of blogorreah’ and I can’t say I disagree. Chop, chop, 574 words. Starting with Sedap, Malaysian in East London

Daniel Boulud. Three Michelin Stars. Twelve restaurants. French. Celebrated. Now in London. We were all witnesses when the internet welcomed the meritable chef’s European debut with open arms. Time for us to consider Bar Boulud

When I grow up, I want to roam the twenty regions of Italy to discover all the local specialities, so intertwined with the nation’s culture and history. Pesto made with Ligurian basil, a hearty Milanese ossobucco from Lombardy, sip wine in a Venetian baccaro, visit the factories which produce Parmigiano Reggiano in Parma and if I am fortunate, be taken on a hunt for white truffles in Tuscany. For all my fantasies, I have never been to Italy and I concede that I actually know very little about the intricacies of this most well-documented of European cuisines. Italian is one that enchants and mystifies, one that is entirely romantic, familiar and wholesome

This will be my third visit to Eastside Inn, which is hands down my favourite restaurant in London. There is much fire in Bjorn van der Horst’s sauces. Though the restaurant’s history is short, it has undergone significant changes of late changing from a Restaurant-with-a-Bistro to a Bistro-with-a-lounge-bar. My love affair with ESI continues. Here we go again

Oh the sun, the sun. I spent most of last week in Norway, and happily returned to a gloriously sticky London on Friday, feeling utterly like a tourist in my very own city. There could be no better than now to loaf around in a restaurant designed for oysters slurping and scoffing seared slabs of beef. My first visit to a Mark Hix restaurant

It wasn’t long ago when pizza was simply a decision of who to call to coincide with prime-time TV. I am referring to the myriad of takeaway menus regularly shoved through the front door of course. I’d always pick the one which sold Haagen Daz ice creams. Pizza being about as far away from pretension and debate as can be, pizza being the ultimate comfort food. These days, it’s a phenomenon unto itself, our critics and bloggers are making startling discoveries, holding aloft neighborhood gems that have somehow managed to stay hidden for decades. Ahem, just to add fuel to the fire, my local hidden gem would be Da Mario’s, my favourite are their house special the ‘Pizza Diana’, once rumoured to be Princess D’s favourite haunt (hence Pizza D) and an atrocity it had not been more widely ‘discovered’ as yet. Being such a common food, it isn’t surprising to see so much commentary and especially such heated opinion regarding the humble pizza, after all, it’s quite rare to find someone not ever experiencing this dish in one form or another. At least not in London

We already know that Pearl Liang’s dim sum menu is more than formidable, however for a Chinese restaurant to have an equally capable dinner menu, that is a definite rarity in London. The word on the street is that Pearl Liang is one such rarity. I already consider this establishment to be serving benchmark dim sum in London, and I wanted to find out if they were a true jack of all trades. For this, we descent to the depths of the Paddington Basin to discover just how alluring it really is

Sam Harris must be the merriest restaurateur in town right now. Zucca is enjoying near universal adulation; Critics and blogs are raving about his fresh take on Italian food and it has even been compared to River Cafe, The Quintessential Institution that launched a billion Italian restaurants. Aside from being named after a wrinkly skinned fruit, I went to Zucca last week to find out what exactly makes this restaurant so enticing

It must be the name. It does something to the wiring of my brain causing me to associate it with many adjectives such as magnificence, opulence, ecstasy, paradise, exorbitance, Sophie Dahl. It must also be the attractive old-world quality it exudes, a quality which has ensure commercial and critical success, over its seven year history

One of the major themes of my restaurant collecting this year involves expanding the catchment area. It occured to me last year when I felt like a tourist in Liverpool street station; circling it many times until I eventually found out that Andaz was just next door. Yes, the East is still a mystery to me. There are supposedly very good, and very hidden Turkish restaurants beyond Limehouse. I have yet to find out. So a few weeks ago, I was in Southfields to run an errand, I hadn’t been back since Wimbledon ’04, and thought it was the perfect opportunity to give a local restaurant a try

I associate fish and chips with the impending arrival of the weekend. Back in the day when I was a spring chicken exploring the dark arts of jellied petrol, I also tended to the student bar. Ah the days of minimum wages – £4.80 an hour, I think. We didn’t even have fancy touch screen tills to work with, and we did all the sums in our head, old school. “A pint of snakebite, nine lagers, five gin and tonics, a shandy, four packets of cheese and onion, my chilli peanuts… and yourself?” . £19.50.The student bar was near the Albert Hall and did I make a lot of money serving BBC Proms participants. Happy days. Ravenous and reeking of alcohol at the end of my shift, I would make my way to the common room for haddock and extra mushy peas – reward for the strenuous work I suppose

There was a time when Gordon Ramsay was the darling of the nation, the once protege who displaced his mentor, then the king of British gastronomy, Marco Pierre White. Like his mentor, he has achieved three stars and so much more. I remember my first brush with Gordon Ramsay food, albeit indirectly. It was on a Singapore Airlines flight to London, Gordon as a consultant for the airline’s menu. I remember being impressed then with his credentials, late thirties and already a qualified genius of his craft. And I still respect Gordon Ramsay for what he has achieved

Only the most romantic of cities could have given birth to the L’Entrecote restaurants. It has remained firmly a family business for the better half of the 20th century. The legacy belongs to the family of Paul Gineste de Saurs, the founder, who was then searching for an outlet to sell wine from his family château. He had bought out an Italian restaurant known as the Le Relais de Venise in Porte Maillot, Paris. The Venice Inn. Instead of offering pasta and pizza, Paul’s grand idea was based on an entirely menu-less concept of serving the bistro classic of steak-frites. The entrecote cut was used, sometimes known in France as the contre-fillet, which in this case refers to the sirloin. All diners start their meal with a lettuce and walnut salad, bathed in a mustard vinaigrette. And then, the two servings of steak-frites would follow, the second half kept warm while you ate the first. The formula would be completed with their special butter based sauce smothered all over the steak – a secret recipe

It has been at least a year since I last visited Great Queen Street, a restaurant which I frequented in 2008. Still signage-free and firmly offline, the low profile hasn’t kept No.32 from becoming the establishment it is today. Owned by chef/writer Tom Norrington-Davies, he has made 32 a name for its nameless self by serving slick food with a decidedly British feel, revered all around and critically acclaimed, and I love it too. Afterall, I thought their crabs on toast was the very best thing I ate in

Getting a table at this rather cosy restaurant is a bona fide challenge, even in light of its rather low-profile existence. I don’t think it has a web page. It does however have a fervent following spreading the good word on the intertubes. Twitter was equally in love with Andrew Edmunds (same people perhaps?). I pieced together a coherent picture of this hidden gem of a restaurant through the online dining community channels, which I am unofficially apart of. Enthusiast restaurant collectors abound. I failed to secure a table on three separate occasions, but I persisted anyway till I managed one in earlier this year. I needed to try Edmunds because it intrigued me so much. The last time I felt this way was discovering the equally elusive Dinings