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.

Who doesn’t love sushi. It’s the perfect food isn’t it? Low in fat, high in protein, delicious, dare I say it is the pinnacle of umami. The quintessential refined way of eating. Those who have been following my musings since the beginning days will know my pure and unadulterated love for Sushi Hiro – a modest sushi bar in Ealing Common whose fans include Heston Blumenthal – it is afterall my most visited sushi place in all of London. So much so that I’ve actually subconsciously stopped searching for ‘better’ alternatives in town (ok there’s Dinings, but more for fanciness rather than traditional fare, not a patch on Hiro). Until now. There are reports¹ which suggests Sushi Hiro has changed hands for the worst (as of writing), and the quality of the end product has dwindled. I say end product since the same source praised the quality of fish, citing its ‘freshness’. I’ll be visiting Hiro soon to confirm this. It’s only a fifteen minute journey after all, I am secretly hoping that the same Itamae will still be behind the bar to greet me….

It had jolted me into realising that maybe it’s time to find alternatives, and it certainly helps to stumble across other sushi loving Londoners doing the same such as GT’s Chirashi quest² and Charmaine’s sushi recommendations³.

With sushi so dependent on produce, it seemed logical to start with one of the premier fish importers in town. We already know that Atari-ya supply some of the capital’s priciest restaurants, they are self-professed ‘tuna specialists’. It is also said that Sushi Hiro get their supplies from Atari-Ya. The company is seemingly expanding their London operations, there are already four retail shops dotted around town, and now three restaurants, one in Hendon, one behind Selfridges and this one located on Fairfax road in Swiss Cottage.

We arrived as they opened at 6pm on a Sunday night, the restaurant looking brand spanking new. I think it opened in late March⁴, staff perky, young and hardly able to speak English, which always lends an air of authenticity to the outfit.

As expected, the menu is about as utilitarian as they come, run-of-the-mill sushi and sashimi choices form one page, the next are a selection of grilled/pan-fried meat, vegetables and fish (including fried and breaded pork (tonkatsu) as well as oysters). There are no bento or meat-based donburi, although noodles are served with soba and udon as choices. I was with a table of four, the better half and her parents.

Black cod miso, £10

A good slither of the fish made famous (and probably inching closer to the endangered list..) by Chef Matsuhisa (Read Nobu), half the portion at a Nobu restaurant, but at third of the price…which makes it…cheaper. A recipe that has been rampantly adopted by many a Japanese-Peruvian imitator in London, but often fail to emulate the slimy, buttery, oily and just ever-so-undercooked texture the sablefish is best known for. I thought it was well-executed, the flesh was flaky, the skin was oily, well-seasoned, aromatic though it was not as fragrant nor as potent as the original Nobu recipe, a good imitation nonetheless. I almost always try the black cod miso whenever I visit Japanese restaurants, most never match the exactness of Nobu, and I still stand by that view, it is worth every bit the £29 asking price. But for £10, this is pretty good.

Sea Eel (Anago) Tempura, £6

There were a flurry of enticing daily specials on this visit, this being one of them. Sea eel tempura is a first for me, the crunchy, crispy and powder batter was light. Anago is more mellow, less oily and silkier compared to its fresh water cousin, meaning that went deep-fried, it is as crispy as they come. Though I enjoyed it, I much prefer it if it were served as a nigiri, but that’s just a personal choice. I’ve yet to try anago sashimi which is what the light texture is said to be best for.

Sashimi Platter, £17.40

This should be a dish where Atari-Ya should shine. Boy was it blinding. Tuna, arctic surf clams (Hokkigai), salmon, sea bream and yellowtail. Simply exceptional. The quality of the fish was lively, oily, silky, melt-in-your-mouth, fragrant, everything you expect great sashimi to be. I couldn’t confirm the whereabouts of the fish however, seeing as to how there is a global demand for sashimi grade fish, it could be sourced from anywhere really. I wonder if any of it had passed through Tsukiji fish market at all⁵. I had my niggling issues with it – though this will come across as being superfluous to many – as I thought the sashimi could have done with a bit more flair and deftness, the fish was cut a tad too thick for me. But I suppose this is down to the Itamae’s training and technique, and I am convinced that technique makes up for the difference in premium (at say Umu) when visiting higher end restaurants, given that the quality of fish is equal.

These days, I refrain from using the word ‘fresh’ to define well-prepared and well-selected sashimi grade fish because most sashimi grade fish (except for Tuna) implies that it is pre-frozen (mainly to kill nasties) to -20C⁶ either at source or in-house by the restaurant. Though freezing is merely a small step in a long chain of activities from boat to plate, to ensure ‘the highest grade’ of sashimi for the end customer. To make purely uneducated guesses, I would suppose location, method (eg: long-lining) and the experience of a successful fisherman all count toward ensuring the best catch.

Let’s take tuna as an example being that toro or tuna belly is most prized in the sushi world. There are a plethora of strategies to consider. For example, there is the issue of preserving the carcass once fish is caught and killed, such as bleeding it rapidly to storing just above freezing (to slow the decaying process)⁷. And then there is also the skill of the middlemen, be it a sushi chef or a fish monger to meet with the fishermen and select quality cuts.

Not to labour a topic which deserves a separate discussion altogether, but for now, a NY Times piece on freezing fish inside sushi restaurants⁸.

Chirashi (Sushi Donburi), £10

I think you’ll agree that glancing at the prices versus the portions that Atari-ya is excellent value for money. Chirashi is basically a bowl of sushi rice with a selection of raw (and not so raw) seafood laid on top, it’s a cheaper way to sample a sushi restaurant’s offerings. I liken this dish to a sashimi salad, where the usually discarded bits are turned into a more than edible offering. Of course, this isn’t the case with the chirashi. Anyway, for a tenner this was superb value. Two types of roe (Tobiko and Ikura), a sliced scallop, omelette (tamago), salmon, sweet prawns, tuna, sea bream (I believe) and boiled white crab meat (alot of it). Oh yeah baby. Need I say more?

A selection of Nigiri and Temaki.

Finally then, the nigiri and maki, the acid test. There is no doubt that Atari-Ya are tuna specialist. Look at the ‘marbling’ of the o-toro. The off-pink porcelain-like appearance, it has flavours of fish oil, fatty, buttery, almost beefy and it is ever so fragrant. It melted slowly in the mouth, as it disintegrated I savoured all the flavours. Truly a great piece of fish indeed, and worthy of any Michelin-starred Japanese restaurant in London. £3 each. Affordable. The rest of the nigiri told the same story, turbot (£2.50), tamago (£1.50), Unagi (£1.60 ONLY!), salmon (£1.50) and squid (£1.50), all lively and all exhibited the melt-in-your-mouth sensations. Me being ever so picky, I had my doubts about the rice. It was just a tad too soft, too runny, it was verging on breaking though. It was above average but it wasn’t fragrant enough and it certainly wasn’t the best I’d ever had. The sting of vinegar and an a salty kick was missing from the sushi rice, too subtle, it also felt a little too cold to my tongue, there wasn’t the warmth of a well-rehearsed ‘nirigi te’ of a seasoned Itamae, and the overall experience just did not flatter with starchiness. In my humble opinion, nigiri is one dish where ‘melt-in-your-mouth’ however cliché, best describes the measure of it.

We ordered the spider maki, the prawn tempura maki (with asparagus), the salmon skin maki and the negi toro (tuna belly) maki, they were all fine, only let down ever so slightly by the rice.

I could not confirm the where abouts of the rice used. The gold standard is of course Uonuma Koshihikari⁹ (meaning ‘The Light of Koshi’ and certified preferably) from Niigata Japan, though I’m not sure if Atari-Ya actually sells them. Myself, I use pretty standard stuff, American-grown Nishiki rice¹⁰, when I make sushi at home, though I know that Japan Centre does sell American-grown Koshihikari rice¹¹. I’m not actually sure if any restaurants in London use Japanese Koshihikari, I suspect the higher end restaurants do, Umu or Zuma perhaps, since rice is such an integral part of great sushi.

Seared Turbot £6

This was uncharacteristically tough, our chopsticks were on the verge of cracking trying to break into the fish. Inside, I noted that it was nicely cooked, only ever so slightly under and flaky as ever. We really didn’t enjoy the tough hide though.

Abalone, £6

Yeah, I’m Chinese, and we love abalone, it is a delicacy after all, or what my mum would say is a ‘big occasion’ ingredient. Basically these deep sea creatures are a type of sea snail, they taste it too, what with the rubbery texture. Here, they have used what we call ‘baby abalone’ (I think the black-lip is the official name), being much more abundant and thus significantly more affordable than full-size white abalone, which can be as large as a fist and can command a sterling premium, up to a hundred quid each perhaps.

Yes it was ok. We were a little disappointed with the soup, it wasn’t as aromatic or as intense as we’d like it to be, but it was good. The abalone was nicely cooked.

More abalone..

And this one basted with (what I believe) was teriyaki sauce. The texture of abalone is it’s greatest trait, it needs to be carefully cooked to maintain a rubbery bounciness, yet still be chewable. If one overcooks this, then it becomes edible latex. Fortunately, it was not overcooked in this case.

Seared Razor Clam, Yuzu, £7

The good news never stopped coming. The last dish were gently seared razor clams with a dash of yuzu. It tasted of orange zest drizzled all across the elastic razor clams, apt for summer.

Nearly there….

Hey guys, thanks for the emails and comments regarding the decision¹² to change formats last week. As you can tell, I’ve reverted. A word-limit is limiting at times, I write for the readership in any case, here is an excerpt that changed my mind:

“…stick to your “new media” guns – the whole point of a blog is to be rid of the the shackles of a sub editor who is driven by word count, and for the writer to deliver whatever they feel best expresses their point of view…… as Elvis said to President Nixon: “Sir, your’ve got your show to run and I’ve got mine”.

Thanks Ian.

I ordered one last o-toro nigiri just to be sure. Indeed the fish was excellent. It rivalled my experiences both in London and elsewhere, including Singapore, Sydney and Taipei. Three cities which are sushi mad. The rice just wouldn’t melt in the mouth. It stayed flabby and starchy, I could be spewing rubbish here because while I think it is good, it just wasn’t clinically great. I’ll better articulate it in future posts. In the end, our bill came to £95 or £25 for four, service was at our discretion. It was excellent value, the fish was brilliant, and I am convinced that Atari-Ya are quite possibly the bona-fide tuna specialists in London. There is life after Sushi Hiro afterall¹³. I recommend it whole-heartedly.

The Gist of It

Atari-Ya
£25pp, Japanese.
75 Fairfax Road NW6 4EE
Tube: Swiss Cottage
Tel: 020 7328 5338

More thoughts on Atari-ya: Food Raker ; A girl has to eat ; Charmaine Mok

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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.

No doubt you are currently sick to the teeth with the media saturation that has followed Bar Boulud’s opening in Knightsbridge. So far, it has amassed nearly as many reviews (scroll to the end to see a list) for each of the days it has been open. We are so full of hot air, no? I wonder if Chef Daniel is the sort of guy who collects clippings of what people say. Perhaps not. Given his apparent popularity Stateside, Daniel Boulud is a superstar, or so I’ve read. With this being his first British and European venture (and with me being the last man to never have visited New York, or American for that matter) his name isn’t one that is impressionable to me at all, save for his picture perfect smiles seen from his PR headshots and his video interviews. He seems a mirthful character, somebody I could have a drink with.

Initially, I was going to spare you the agony of having to read about Daniel’s history all over again, but I’d already written it, I’ll be brief. Reputation is partly the reason so many food lovers have been seduced. Critics and Bloggers included. Born in Lyon, Boulud trained under the old masters of another time such as Roger Vergé amd Michel Guérard. Since, he had spent the last 25 years crafting his now vast restaurant empire across America, though mostly in New York where it is also home to his three-michelin-starred fortress simply called Daniel. His range of derivative restaurants that bear his name are all well-regarded in their own right.

I called it first. 2010 is going to be the Year of the Bistro. The stripped-down splendour, fine dining with the illusion of a more rustic setting, is a little like the world adjusting to this ‘age of austerity’, bombastic splurging replaced with sensible splurging, and everybody loves that idea right now. Remember tapas bars? So 2008. Bar Boulud is riding the fad train at the moment, hitting London squarely between the eyes, and at just the right time. A fanciful fusion of the urgent bustle of New York with the sensibilities of Burgundian and Lyonnais traditions. Speciality sausages, a Gilles Verot charcutier operated in-house and his famed gourmet burgers too.

I had opted for Friday lunch with Marcus yet again (on this occasion, he’s in a patriotic England shirt, exposing his ripping sixteen inch hammers and loafers appropriate for the weather) arriving to a briskly chatty darkly space. It does kind of look like a cellar in here, low ceilings, the rose coloured wood and overall Adam Tihany design make it so eighties. Could it be the perfect venue for a reception to launch Wall Street 2 in the UK? We should seek the wisdom of Gordon Gekko.

Boudin blanc, truffled white sausage and mashed potato £11

I chose to start with one of Daniel’s signature takes on a classic Lyon recipe. The Boudin Blanc, a white sausage recipe which uses pork, eggs and milk…. and I’d imagine no breadcrumbs for tradition. Smell the truffles as the dish arrives, gently browned and fabulously cloud-like in texture. Regal truffle flavours balanced well against the fragrant pork meat, as if the Chef had picked cotton balls, soaked in a meaty jus. I had assumed mushrooms and chopped black truffle was used in the smooth mash, finished with sautéed onions, caramelised pear (or apple) and citrusy salad. Warming and wholesome. Elegant stuff.

Saffron Bouillabaisse, £7.

I couldn’t resist indulging in a fish soup, after all, the all-day dining nature of BB seemingly a direct competitor to the Grand-cafe inspired Wolseley, where they had poached their general manager Stephen Macintosh from. This version of an ancient recipe seemed authentic enough, what with its use of saffron as well as its glowing orange colour. Distincly different to the Anglo-style fish soups that are much more raw, more pungent and fishy.

A quote from a protracted article on Bouillabaisse from CliffordAWright for you to consider:

The most distinguishing characteristic of a bouillabaisse is not the fish, because all fish stews and soups have fish, but the unique flavoring derived from saffron, fennel seeds, and orange zest. A famous Provençal food writer, Jean-Noël Escudier, called bouillabaisse the “magical synthesis.” Another famous French epicure, Curnonsky, called it soupe d’or, soup of gold. The origin of the word bouillabaisse has been attributed to the abbess of a Marseilles convent (a pun on bouille-abbesse, the abbess’ boil?) and, most credibly, to bouillon abaissé “to reduce by evaporation.”

I couldn’t confirm the orange zest, but the soup was beautifully mellow, redolent of a pumpkin soup (nearly). Greatly balanced flavours of the creamy versus the fishy. Leek, swede, juicy jumbo prawn, slices of razor clam, red mullet and rouille basted croutons. Stupendously hearty. I loved this.

And then time stood still for oh a good half hour, bearing in mind Bar Boulud’s obsession with kicking diners out when their two hour slot is up, the wait was torturous, especially since we were merely waiting for sandwiches.

Croque Madame £11

It was rubbish. Overpriced, dry, tepid, bechamel sauce missing, I don’t know why I ordered this, I suppose I had Paris on my mind. I tell you what, in hindsight, I rather regret not having swapped this out for a small charcuterie board (£14) which would have enabled me to sample the Gilles Verot terrines such as Provençal pulled rabbit carrot, courgette and herbs; Coarse country pate with foie gras, truffle juice and port; Shredded slow-braised beef cheek onion confit and pistachio. So when you eventually visit (and you will), do go for the charcuterie.

Finally and ceremoniously then: The Frenchie. £13.50 Grilled beef patty, confit pork belly rocket, tomato-onion compote, morbier cheese, peppered brioche bun and pommes frites.

Everybody has an opinion on what the perfect burger is meant to be, critics, blogs and chefs included. Daniel Boulud was one of the leading chefs to re-invent the American hamburger as an upmarket dish, as opposed to simply being fast food. Actually if our waiting times were anything to go by, a hamburger at BB is anything but fast. Some were disappointed that Daniel did not import his original gourmet burger “The DB Burger” from the Bistro Moderne branch in Manhattan that he introduced nearly eight years ago. Featuring chopped Sirloin Burger Filled with Red Wine Braised Short Ribs, Black Truffle, served on a Parmesan Bun with Pommes Frites or Pommes Soufflées (that’s lifted from his website). I wonder how the humble Germans who migrated to America (along with their Hamburg-style burgers) would feel about the evolution of their dish over the ages. What’s next in the quest for the ultimate burger I wonder – burger mousse?

As an aside, I’ve actually been to Hamburg to try the ‘original’ hamburger, the frikadelle (some with say a cousin rather than direct predecessor to the American hamburger), schnitzels sandwiches, as as well as Labskaus, and so it appears there is life outside of Anglicised American burgers…

On to the pseudo reviewing then. Using Marcus as my handmodel, this gives you an idea of the size of the burger, it will fit perfectly into your hand – the ability to be able to cup a burger in your hand comfortably is an important consideration… so the burger experts tell me, which I am far from.

Regretfully, this did not meet either Mark’s or my own expectations. Personally, I’m a simpleton when it comes to burgers, so long as it is beefy, oily and juicy, has a sharp cheese to accompany, bit of mayonnaise, everything holds together, I’m a happy camper. KISS no? I prefer Byrons for exactly this reason, and I also think Byron patties tend to come infused with this wonderful charcoal, intensely bovine, fatty, starchy flavour that is just – for want of a better term – perfect. Explains why they are popping up all over London.

The BB version had a great bun in the slightly sweet brioche. Frites were excellent, a fluffy centre, crispy exterior, but that’s about it. The patty itself lacked flavour, and if we were comparing steaks, it was as if it were too lean, a fillet as opposed to a ribeye. Bland and dull was the assessment. Cooked to a perfect medium rare, mildly juicy, but for £13.50 ? Bring back the Big D.

The Byron Big D that is, although, we swiftly popped into O’Sheas which was a ten minute walk from BB after our meal to check out the patties there, that Gastro1 – the hugely respected restaurant collector – tells me is indeed the Big D patty supplied to Byron earlier this year.

Actually speaking of the burger craze gripping the capital , I wonder if now is the perfect time to relaunch Burger King’s 2008 £95 ‘Bling Burger’ (still stands as the World’s most expensive in the Guinness record books) that features Wagyu beef, with white truffles, onion tempura prepared in Cristal champagne and Italy’s finest Pata Negra prosciutto. Hey I remember popping over to my local BK at Gloucester Road and asked for a flyer (which I have misplaced) and it required a 24 hour notice to prepare it. I don’t remember any burger fanatics writing about it though.

Hawkmoor? Byron? Goodman? Anybody want to bring this back? You know there is a market for it, you’ve read the reviews.

In the end, I was nearly fuming when the surly waiter requested the table back five minutes before our allocated two hours were up. Ironically, he came just as another waiter handed us the dessert menu. I had only started browsing as he told me “Time is up.”. Keeping in mind, we waited half an hour after the starters to get our main course as well. Sadly then, I decided not to give any more money away, what sorrid service indeed.

I agree with Marina. I’d much rather be wishing for takeaway as the room was simply too chaotic as it got busy. But it’s not all bad, there is a lounge-bar area (separated from the dining room and away from the kitchen and closer to the windows) which is quite a refreshing space. BB is ideal for power lunches, maybe even a small gathering, basically something a little less formal. I’d ask for a double slot for four hours for a grazing lunch, if possible. It might not be the ideal dinner venue, but maybe it was never meant to be, being a sort of half-way house of fine fast food dining. Food-wise there is alot to love, I would come here again, the next time it will have to be a charcuterie board, more sausages and more soup. Until Daniel brings over the genuine article, the truffle-stuffed sirloin “The DB Burger”, we will never really know what Boulud’s best burgers are really like.

Finally I think there must be some sort of case study to be drawn from the amount of media (both old and new) around BB’s opening. That’s not including twitter chatter, forums, comments, the general reach of social media. I can see the positives. This new world of food media (or not-so-secret policing as some call it) has always been the future of restaurant critiquing. At least from the point of view of the reader. In this regard, the synchronized nature of a wider network, a loosely affiliated ‘restaurant-going club’ encompassing critics and bloggers who routinely prepare targeted, well-informed, entertaining and most of all critical commentary about the latest restaurants can only be a plus for the reader such as yourself. A treasure trove of information available to you to make an informed decision when choosing to eat out. With food being subjective as it is, all opinion, positive and negative, count. A democratic view. So it appears, critics and bloggers can co-exist afterall.

The Gist of It

Bar Boulud
French, £45pp
66 Knightsbridge SW1X 7
Tel:020 7201 3899
Tube: Knightsbridge

And these are just the ones I know about..
Jay Rayner ; Greedy Diva ; Gastro1 ; Fay Maschler ; Hot-Dinners ; Guy Dimond ; Tehbus ; The Grumbling Gourmet ; TwelvePointFivePercent ; Chris Pople ; Gourmet Traveller ; The Independent ; Matt Norman ; AA Gill ; No Expert ; Essex Eating ; The Hardens ; Food and Drink in London ; The Travel Editor ; Will Eat For Money ; City AM ; Dos Hermanos ; Nick Harman ; View London ; Parla Food ; GlazeonFood ; Urban Junkies ; A Luxury Travel Blog ; Andy Hayler ; Fiona Beckett ; Richard Vines ; Good for Lunch ; DeplacementPros …. and of course the elusive Marina.

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Enter Blackheath. A’village’ in South London that – legend has it – got its name from blades of grass which grew to a noticeably darker shade of green. It was my second visit to this part of town, feeling utterly like a tourist, rolling around the hilly roads, the winding streets and appreciating the neighbourly restaurants which populate the village. I have no history of what Bella Vista was like before it was re-imagined earlier this year, though I jumped at the opportunity to join Charz on a trip down to South East London to sample this restaurant’s offering. I am particularly interested since the mastermind behind the menu reboot is one Piero Marenghi, a key figure in the kitchens of L’anima. L’anima being Francesco Mazzei’s upmarket and supremo Italian Cucina in the City, very well regarded by so many, and whom some feel, was robbed of a michelin-macaron this year. Alex Tyndall formerly of Chapters, a sister restaurant to McLeish’s michelin-starred Chapter One, is head chef. On paper at least, this restaurant has a pretty vista.

The menu (just like at L’anima) features an informative legend sheet which explains the various Italian monikers attached to the dishes. For example, ‘Carbonara’ in this case accurately refers to its Roman roots and the key ingredients of the recipe which includes egg, pancenta, black pepper, red onion as well as the all important use of pecorino cheese.

It would appear that Bella Vista’s food errs toward Central-Northern Italian cooking, as I noted the regional specialities such as Breasaola (from Bulls of Valtellina in the Northern Alps), Maltagliati from Bologna and the use of Monk’s Beard, a unorthodox green that shares a resemblance to samphire. It has an unusually short seasoning period of about 5 weeks in April/May, and was originally grown by Capuchin Monks in Tuscany.

Of course, there are also other recognisable classics such as follows: Fried calamari, crab & avocado salad for starters, Pappardelle al ragú di pecora and classic spaghetti carbonara in the pasta offerings. Roasted sea bass, rosemary, potatoes & tomatoes; Veal cutlet ‘Saltimbocca’ from the mains. I should probably mention their set menu deal, the ‘Menu Speciale’ , which costs only £11.95 for two-courses and £13.95 for three, add £3 for dinner, Monday through Thursdays.

I opted to kick off proceedings with a glass of Delle Venezie Pinot Grigio (£6.25) that was a crispy, easy-drinking and characteristically fruity, which typifies this grape.

Starters: Traditional Lasagna Bolognese (£5.25)

I noticed certain dishes carried the ‘BVC’ tag, glancing back at the definitions tables revealed these to be ‘Bella Vista Classics’ which are described simply as firm favourites. I did not choose any BVCs, instead I started with an interpretation of the age-old Roman ‘cooking pot’ casserole. Lasagna. Mmm…. the aromas! The dish was served very warm, the pasta was puffy, squidgy and juicy, which I assumed were freshly made, the sauce was gooey with a rich tomato zing with really robust meaty flavour. A hearty ragù to say the least, very rich and entirely wholesome. Exceptionally appetising as this dish really opened up my appetite.

Veal cutlet ‘Saltimbocca’, Parma ham, sage & roast potato (£18.50)

Saltimbocca literally translate to ‘jump in your mouth’, a dish which is also popular in other parts of Europe, though this is a firmly Roman recipe which for which key ingredients include the use of prosciutto and sage, in addition to the wine and butter.

It was ok, juicy, yes, and very salty, ‘jumping in my mouth’ as it were. The cutlet sat atop a slice of Parma ham, crusted and glazed in oily juices. The saltiness was not unlike bacon. It was missing the charred caramelised exterior I was used to, yet the dish was not wet enough to coat the cutlet. The use of rocket was distracting, the peppery and papery character of the leaves felt lazy. It was able, but frankly a week on, I struggle to remember the experience, it lacked wow factor. As an aside, the grilled veal chop at Zucca (though not strictly a Roman Saltimbocca) is the best I’ve yet had experienced in London. I really do highly recommend you try it there, and it is a lot cheaper too, under £13 compared to the £18.50 for this.

Date & Mascarpone tart, frangelico & hazelnut sauce (£5.50)

The finish was much, much better. The pudding was simply beautiful. An ethereal honey-like nectar smothered the dense and cool mascarpone tart. There was a fragrantly nutty flavour of hazelnuts seemingly infused within the tart itself, the texture of whipped clotted cream, if clotted cream could be whipped that is.

Affordable, neighbourly and able Italian restaurants are hard to come by, ironic considering the nation’s general love for Italian food, or Jamie Oliver more precisely. I definitely felt relaxed, seemingly far, far away from the bullet-train effect of a more central location. However, if I am being brutally honest, I find little compelling reason to not get off at London Bridge for Zucca, instead of staying on and struggle to find the right train to Blackheath. Or even to take the bus all the way to Lavander Hill to visit Donna Margherita. Then again, I now have a third choice, which surely can only be a good thing. Service was affable and personable, it was a pleasant meal and the restaurant lent itself to a cosy setting. The quintessential neighbourhood Italian, which I suppose if you live nearby, you will easily come to love it.

The Gist of It

Bella Vista
Italian, £30 per person.
3/5 Montpelier Vale Blackheath SE3 0TA
Tel: 020 8318 1143
Rail: Blackheath

Recondensed from the virtual ether Intoxicated Douglas ; Sabrina Ghayour for Foodpedia ; Charmaine says.. ; Fluid eats ; The dude on the bus says ; Lizzie Eats!

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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.

What a difference a year makes. Pop-up was the fad, the Big D was a mere rumour, @GotchyaLondon yet to terrorize Twitter, Hawksmoor was still known for steaks rather than burgers. Then, we were bemoaning the opening of a wallet-busting French restaurant seemingly fit for Expatriots of the Universe with an adjoining Bistro attached to it where the chefs and recession-hit Londoners cook and dine. That’s all changed now. My first visit to the premium Eastside Inn restaurant produced one of my most memorable meals in 2009, but at a steep £90 premium. The second visit to the breathtaking open-kitchen Bistro was a much friendly £45 three courser, which I also rated highly. I praised the verisimilitude of the food, citing the astonishing balance on the palate, the exciting combination of competing ingredients… and general gushiness about the genius in the pan.

The restaurant has now undergone a minor facelift, the premium Restaurant is being converted into a lounge, while the Bistro has become the main dining room, and it is now open daily Mon-Sun, right through the lazy afternoons. Gone is the £75 premium (and surprise) menu (officially anyway) , which in retrospect, I feel a little melancholic about, since it was so very good. They have expanded their bistro menu however, and introduced changing daily specials, in which some of the past highlights (like the poprock-showered flaming whisky meringue…oh yeah baby) make cameo appearances. Eastside Inn is Bjorn and Justine van der Horst’s baby – Bjorn once headed up La Noisette and the Greenhouse – and you will see either of them in the restaurant on most days. Bjorn inspecting proceedings in the see-through kitchen, and Justine running front of house. There is a sense of family unity about Eastside Inn which I really love. There is a group photograph of the team in the walkway to the restrooms in the basement which conveys this team spirit. All smiles. On the third visit, I appreciated the same warm greeting from the same recognisable faces, enough for me to consider uprooting from barren West London (what have we got? Harwood, River Cafe and Sushi Hiro?) to the foodie mile of St John Street.

Thierry, the sommelier greeted us with a couple of glasses of complimentary prosecco, it doesn’t suggest this on the menu, but I saw him lay on the free bubbly on other tables as well. My brother was visiting from Reading, and he asked me to take him to my favourite.

The revised bistro menu is now spread over four courses featuring what are mostly French-inspired classics. Hors D’ouevres include in-house prepared duck rillettes (£3.50) and salmon gravalax (£4.95). Starters feature Justine’s favourite French Onion soup (£6.95) and one of my favourites, the chargrilled baby squid (£9.95). For mains: steamed mussels “a la Normande” (£12.95) and the cassoulet “like in Toulouse” (£14.95) when available is as described, just like Toulouse. Naturally, me and my brother decided to have four dishes each.

Hors D’ouevres to begin, duck rillettes (£3.50)

Oh yes. Big, intense flavours, the buttery fat (is it fat?), like a ooze-like gravy, was beautifully fragrant. Immersed with the crusty toasts was incredibly satisfying, and digging into the chunky yet smooth, oily and silken flossed duck meat was fantastic. Rustic, simple pleasure really, a hugely sinful start to the meal.

Little clams, white wine, garlic and parsley (£4.95)

Like a green-eyed monster filled with envy, I gobble up my brother’s little clams… As I was tucking into the rillettes, my nose sniffed out aromas of garlic and shellfish. I shoved my rillettes into his corner of the table and grabbed the clams away from him. A lumpy garlic and white wine sauce was smothered all over the clams…. beautiful, again simple pleasures, a wonderful start to the meal.

For starters, I opted for the crab mayonnaise, sorrel and melba toast (£9.95)

The razor thin melba toasts were great, baked to a crusty crisp, the crab exhibiting exquisite shellfish richness, deep flavours of the sea with a lightly peppery salad on the side. The intensity was perhaps just a tad too much and too salty to be quite honest.

Roasted bone marrow, bacon bechamel, toast and watercress (£8.95)

This was really well executed. The bechamel sauce was again very rich and deeply salty, carrying with it a sweet edge to it, and clearly the flavour of bacon. The bone marrow was very warm to touch, the oozing fatty marrow bits married beautifully with the sweet-ish sauce-on-toast. What else am I going to say right? Oh yes that’s it. Looks like there is another star marrow dish on St John Street, in the place of parsley salad, we have a bechamel sauce. Maybe they should nickname St John St, Marrow Mile, Hawksmoor uses it in their burgers afterall.

Time to move on to the mains, the younger Leong chose braised leg of Lincolnshire rabbit, tagliatelle and mustard sauce (£14.95)

Oh yes, I remember this from my previous meal with LF, and I am glad to report that the superb mustard sauce and the wonderfully spongy pasta is as good as ever. Creamy, savoury and it just pinches your palate, tickling on the nose, very rustic. Yes, I’m going to use the word. Umami. Kapow.

Steak frites, onglet with shallots (£17.95)

The definitive homage to the Parisian bistro, I have been eyeing this ever since Aaron the Grubworm reported on Bjorn’s virtuoso handling of this meritorious cut of beef. Yup, believe the hype. It looks as if it has been further trimmed in-house which could explain the reduction in size, but more so, it could explain the distinct lack of sinewy grain which plagues the onglet steak if ill-prepared. This one however, was just perfectly rare, perfectly spongy, perfectly juicy. This is how you serve L’Onglet. I have written about the onglet being better suited to pan-frying as opposed to searing over charcoal as it carries a natural bitterness to its flavour, and I think this is a good example of it. It’s much better than the Hix version too. Served with caramalised shallots (or onions..) and crispy crunchy triple-cooked-like seasoned frites (perhaps with parsley), give the essential bistro dish a breath of fresh air. Exemplary production values. Can steak be gourmarised? If so, this is it.

Pudding is one of Eastside Inn’s real strengths. I really wanted to give their flaming whisky pop-rocks meringue another go, but it wasn’t on the menu this time around. There is a daily changing ‘classic dessert’ and for this service, it was a classic French pud, the Opera cake with praline ice cream (£7.95).

The layered sponge was light, I think it was layered with a hazelnut icing … just gorgeous… and the foamy praline ice cream was divine. Not a flaming whisky meringue poprock ball of fire, but good enough.

Finally, the Eastside Inn souffle, lemon and lime, earl grey ice cream (£6.95)

Look at that perfectly risen souffle – the mark of a technically superior kitchen? My brother who is a Raymond Blanc nut (he praises Blanc’s sabayon in particular) was amazed at the brilliance of this souffle, light, airy, puffy, warm. Kudos for choosing a effervescent flavour – lime – the sizzling acidity took away much of the stodge factor of the rich French meal. The last iteration was an Orange Marnier which I felt was a little too much, this one was perfect. The heady fumes of lime were refreshing, and the earl grey ice cream gave this souffle an interesting, almost herb-like flavour, unique.

Eight dishes plus two glasses of wine and service came to £104.45. Pretty good value isn’t it?

I seldom return to restaurants with the feeling of being captivated by the now expected if fanciful surprises the kitchen throws at me. I am happy to report that on the third visit, I remain doubtlessly mesmerised by Bjorn’s food. The bistro style cuisine is classique, rich French sauces, intense seasoning, one’s mouth will run a little dry, and the saltiness is my only criticism from this meal. Bjorn was not present in the kitchen during this visit, which is rare as he is usually on site. This was the same day Bjorn made an appearance on Saturday Kitchen. When you eventually try this restaurant, be sure to look out for Bjorn running his kitchen, and do say hello. I love this restaurant, this is my favourite for the moment. I feel like I’ve been saying it for years now, food is exceptional and Eastside Inn comes with my highest recommendations.

The Gist of It

Eastside Inn Bistro official site
French £45 per person
40 St John Street EC1M 4AY
Tel: 020 7490 9230
Tube: Farringdon

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What could be more attractive than the idea of a no-frills chophouse. There are lots of similar oyster bars around London now, each featuring their very own centre-piece of a cool-to-touch marble topped long bar table with its variety of brassed high stools, and a snoozy, utopian, languorous ambiance. It is the original idea of eating out, an enjoyable, holiday-factor that is at times misunderstood and lost altogether in this city. I blame the weather, as we are tightly wrapped up most of the year, the numbing cold contributing to the habitual tighter-arse in an exercise of upright eating and upright seating, but not anymore, not in May at least, ray-bans and flip-flops. Why so serious right.

As a fellow restaurant collector, you must have read about Mark’s great surname in copy online or otherwise. His name is now attached to four restaurants, three in London and one in Dorset. His namesake haunt in Soho is said to be the crowing gem in the growing Hix empire, his latest addition to Selfridges not so well received, and I’ve heard little aside from the stunning views at the Dorset one. Hix is the ultimo heavyweight London sleb chef who has been partly credited with spearheading the revitalisation of British gastronomy. He had spent most of his career (17 years) with the Caprice constellation of luxury restaurants, stewarding then Corbin-King productions such at the Ivy, Le Caprice, Scotts and J.Sheekey to pre eminence. He doesn’t need his own TV show to be famous, he writes a food column instead. With a name like ‘Hix’, I would imagine is instantly marketable, ultra modernist, monosyllabic, faddish, at Hix, one could be eating fazzling pop-rocks with powdered samphire crystals. As oppose to say ‘Kang’s’ where you might accidentally choke on minty lambchops. I’m digressing.

The Oyster and Chop House was Hix’s début restaurant after going solo in 2008, situated very close to the Smithfield meat mart, and actually on the site of a once famous fish restaurant. Informal, Anglo-Bistro, ceiling fans, unpolished wooden floors and echoing chatter with sound waves bounced off from the high ceilings. Redolent of an old-world ambiance which at my tender age, I have really only read about in iBooks and on Wikipedia.

The decor is suppose to evoke a sense of the ol’ chophouses of London perhaps to bring back a time when porter beer was served with large slabs of beef in porterhouses, which some argue gave birth to the naming of a particular cut of steak. Is it a British invention or was it a pub in Manhattan? Hotly debated, you tell me, as a reference point, I managed to find a New York Times article written in 1909 that considers the Porterhouse in more fleshy detail, aptly titled “Porterhouse Steak”.

In keeping with the old world design, the menu decidedly harks back to the days when oysters and poverty were synonymous. Starters such as Steak and oyster pie; Lamb sweetbreads with braised gem heart and bacon and pork crackling with apple sauce stand out from this most British of menus. Mutton curry, whole roasted black bream and of course Porterhouse steaks feature as mains.

I decided on a quick lunch at HO&CH on Friday to refuel before a laborious afternoon meeting, Charz joined me for lunch on her day off. Naturally being the poor people we were, we decided to kick off this swift one with a selection of Loch Ryan (Scotch) Natives and rock oysters from Carlingford Lough (Irish) and (of course) Maldon (English) respectively. There were only two other rock oyster choices available, which we didn’t try.

It is hard to place myself in a time when oysters were not luxury. They were once in abundance, but that was way back in Victorian times (some history here). Oysters are of course known for their aphrodisiac qualities mainly due to it’s high zinc content for male virility and legend has it that Casanova consumed sixty a day to keep himself, in shape.

More trivia, natives are usually pricier than rock oysters for its more limited availability. Natives take about five years reach maturity and they are only available during the months where there is an “R”, ie, not May through August. The age of Natives are said to give way to a more complex, subtler and metallic palate, where as Rock oysters, which are available all year round, are sweeter, punchier taste.

We were into the tail end of May at time of visit, though HO&CH do not seem to be affected by an arcane Act of Parliament which prohibits Natives from being fished in the summer days from May to August, or indeed if it still applies. There is another more practical reason for not eating Natives during this period as it is said the flesh is milkier and generally less exciting as this is spawning time… but perhaps farming methods have changed?

Speaking of farming methods, I googled this and most farmed oysters are not only regularly tested for harmful microbes, but are usually placed in a UV filtered system to kill bacteria before it goes out to restaurants. Oysters can go through as much as 10 litres of water per hour, so imagine the amount of baddies that go through your internal filtration system if it weren’t ‘cleaned’ artificially before consumption. So don’t go shucking stray oyster at the beach, however tempting.

Shucked but served, covers on. I started with the round-edged Lock Fyne Natives which exhibited the soily, minerality usually associated with Natives. Mmm… close but no cigar. These Natives tasted a little flaccid in comparison with my previous experiences, and it was a little on the small side. Also, I would have preferred it to be just a tad icier, but it could have been the weather that were melting the oysters, though honestly, oyster criticism is surely redundant literature. One can hardly go wrong with live ones. The Maldon Rocks exhibited intensely salty and fishy sensations, but rather surprisingly, I preferred the Carlingford Rocks the most, it carried a cleaner taste, just a bit livelier for some reason. I am hardly the shellfish connoisseur, though you would be proud to know that I avoided seasoning my oysters with the vinaigrette, opting for just a squidge of lemon and natural flavour. Gosh this is the weather for oysters isnt it? I still prefer Bentley’s for oysters.

Hanger Steak with baked bone marrow and bearnaise (£17.50)

I’ve been obsessed with steak all throughout May, and if you have been following my reviews recently, you’ll know that I have a strange fascination with the this cut of meat. Flavour of the month. The hanger, otherwise, the onglet is also at times referred to the ‘butcher’s steak’ as it was originally the cut of beef the butcher kept for himself. Technically speaking it is not a conventional steak cut, it ‘hangs’ from the steer’s diaphragm, and it is situated very close to the animal’s kidneys, which is what gives the meat its wonderfully pungent offal-like flavour and a sinewy tender texture akin to kidney.

OK on to the pseudo judging. Full marks for serving it pre-sliced (and across the grain), it was also perfectly rare. However, the steak itself was a little dry, perhaps too much charring, the exterior was a crusty armor, and the little drips of blood had solidify on the plate. Unfortunately, I forgot to query the waitress regarding the whereabouts of their stock and as Mr Hix is such a well connected individual, I wondered if it was sourced in a bespoke manner , directly from a butcher, rather than from simply tapping up Smithfields next door. My notes suggested a mild flavour, one could hardly detect the pungency of kidney. I also detected a very noticeable burnt bitterness on the palate, I’m not entirely sure if this was because of the grill or if it was inherent to the meat. The steak did not exhibit much barbecue-like flavour, plus I’m quite certain it was served unsalted. A raw output, in the sense that it was so basic. I would have preferred this just a tad less crust on the outside, and perhaps a little more juiciness, the meat itself was good, but I’ve had better hanger steaks in London. A particularly great one at Eastside Inn (which I wrote about here). Fortunately, a deliciously milky béarnaise accompanied the steak, masking the otherwise tepid dryness. I really enjoyed the cross-sectioned bone marrow, baked with what appears to be garlic, parsley and breadcrumbs, not unlike garlic bread with blobby bits of marrow giving way to a big-bodied flavour. Wholesome. There is little doubt then, steak and marrow make an excellent combo. I also ordered the skinny frites (£4) which were ok.

Mark Hix was present at his restaurant when we visited, sipping coffee whilst being surrounded by an army of very attractive PR girls (I assume) pitching ideas to him as I tune in via the grapevine. “Mark, we could this” , “Mark, or we could that”, “Mark, all hail Caesar”. I didn’t recognise him at first (such is my ignorance) though he looks exactly like his photographs plastered across his website and most newspaper reviews. Tousled silver hair and all.

I skipped dessert, and I enjoyed the overall experience. I wanted oysters and steak and it was delivered as suggested. A most pleasant Anglo affair. The atmosphere is the real winner, I hadn’t a clue what a ‘real’ chophouse is suppose to feel like, but this one is certainly cosy. I think there are several London gourmet pubs which will compare well against HO&CH, especially in 2010, but having said that this is a restaurant I would return to, especially to try the steak & oyster pies. Simple pleasures eh.

(PS: Haha, sorry Marina, I rambled past 1500 words to describe two dishes.)

The Gist of It

Hix Oyster & Chop House Official Site
Oysters, Grill & Pudding £40 per person, Britpop.
36-37 Greenhill Rents, Cowcross Street, EC1M 6BN
Tel: 020 7017 193
Tube: Farringdon

Glitter, Glitter : Time Out London ; Londonelicious ; World Foodie Guide ; Intoxicating Prose
; Fay Maschler

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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.

Our eating habits are indubitably influenced by what our critics and bloggers are fascinated with at their dinner tables. As if we are all merely sheep, engaged in a cyclic, synchronized culture of refuelling our bodies. Period eating no? You know like period corsets, period bellbottoms, period sideburns, period loincloths. Food trends are intriguing to say the least. A not so nice side effect of popularity is that restauranteurs – whilst in pursuit of capitalising on trend – tend to gourmarise trends, or more accurately, PR bods putting a spin on things to up the USP ante. Take our wacky obsession with burgers for instance and observe how it has been elevated to posh-grub status with discerning connoisseurs claiming authenticity, technique and justification to cramp even more between the bun.

Fortunately, unlike the gentrification of burgers, pizza has taken a more traditional route to prominence, particularly with the adherence to its Naples heritage. Or Roman, I should say. There are pretty good pizza outposts in London of course such as Rossopomodoro, Donna Magherita and Franco Manca (now doubly branched), though to be quite honest, I can’t say I’ve had stonkingly memorable pizza, but then I’m not allowed into Italy, but then again, it’s just pizza.

Pizza East doesn’t seek to uphold the Neapolitan heritage, instead the role model is American. Nick Jones, aka Mr Soho House, sought to emulate an L.A. favourite Pizzeria Mozza (which I’ve never been to personally), going as far as to flying some of Mozza’s pizza experts, like Bryant Ng, to consult on the development of Pizza East. So far, it has been a rousing success in terms of public relations. There are a glut of hugely positive reviews floating about, just about every Joe Blogger has waxed lyrical and even Fay Maschler gave Nick Jones a pat on the behind. The venue looks great of course, a massive, brick-laden, rustic environment which is stripped down enough for trendy people to feel utterly likewise while scoffing. Atmosphere is of course crucial if you want to draw in the crowds, especially when you have a nice PR story to explain all that wonderfully restored industrial throw-back detail in what was once a warehouse that stored tea. Exposed pipes, crumbly pillars and metal-topped tables.

I was dining with Garson Byer, the man who would marry the World Foodie Guide, a quick pit-stop before an afternoon’s worth of street photography in the near-by industrially photogenic Hackney area. G (who spent a few years in Italy) informs me that the toppings are meant to be quite authentic such as potato and garlic, as well as the usual compliment of Italian cured meat and leaves. Gnocchi, steak, fishstew and baked bone marrow round out a pretty comprehensive menu, and as it turns out, PE is not just a pizzeria.

We shared two halves of a magherita (£7) and another with courgettes, tomato, mozzarella, taleggio, marjoram (£8).

A purist would argue that the acid-test is in the wood-fire oven, being a matter of how hot it can actually heat the dough up to to achieve the spongy yet crusty base such that one experiences a robust, tear-resistant chew which I generally prefer. Pizza East is antithesis, but in a good way. The puffed-up dough (measuring ten inches in diameter, roughly) was crispy, crackling and dry, stoney rather than juicy, with the semolina grains jumping off the base as I worked my way into the pizza. It was satisfying in the same way that crisps are satisfying. The tomato paste was a little on the thin side though, and mozzarella was only laid on half the pizza, though it tasted good enough.

I avoided the heavier toppings particularly the £12 with veal meatballs since we wanted to be light-footed for the photography exercise to follow, but based on this one visit, I’d return.

I’m hardly the pizza expert, for that, you need to tap the collective wisdom of Tom and Jen at TomEatsJenCooks as well as Daniel at Young and Foodish. Though for what it is worth, Garson enjoyed the crunchy semolina base, and I found it to be generally pleasing as well. However, I don’t think Pizza East is an intense pizza shrine, it’s good, but somehow I can already picture it becoming the new Belgo ten years from today, once it has lost the chic factor. Nevertheless, the foodie republic seem to approve of PE, there are cheaper pizzas in town, but the prices are very competitive in any case. For the money, you can’t go wrong. As with all hype-laden restaurants, don’t expect the roof to be brought down, especially when it’s only baked dough. Do fold your slice before you eat.

The Gist of It

Pizza East Official Site
Pizza, £10 per person.
Tea Building 56 Shoreditch High Street E1 6JJ
Tel: 0207 729 1888
Tube: Liverpool Street Station

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My first visit to Pearl Liang was a little over a year ago, going on a recommendation from Helen, the retired but still ever so amazing World Foodie Guide and whom I still look up to as the Queen of London food bloggers. Since that time, I have visited other reputable dim sum restaurants though it hasnt kept me away from Pearl Liang – it is my most frequented dim sum restaurant in 2009. I am usually averse to set menus in general though the nine piece set for nine pounds eighty is just sheer value for money, and most of all, delicious. There is this convention about restaurants serving good dim sum and the assumption is that if dim sum rocks then dinner will be appalling. It is not entirely unfounded of course, case in point : Leong’s Legends. Great dim sum, some even claim it to be the ‘best’ in Chinatown which is the view I share (if we leave Yauatcha out of this equation… different price class), however I found that like many contemporaries – including Royal China – they have utterly ordinary dinner menus. I don’t know why there is a disconnect in quality, perhaps some sort of Chinese wall exists between the dim sum and the dinner guys even though they share the same kitchen. Anyway, enough hot-air, let’s dissect some evidence. Table of six.

Lobster Noodles, £33 (Market Price)

It is well-known that Paul Ngo, the head chef at Pearl Liang used to lead the capital’s most famous restaurant for lobster noodles at Mandarin Kitchen. While the latter has maintained its legacy since Paul’s departure, it comes as little surprise that he has brought his most commercially viable creation to Pearl Liang. A variety of sauces are available including shaoxing wine or black bean and one can even choose to have it as a sashimi. We chose ginger and onion. The sauce is great, thick gravy-like, full bodied flavours, so richly aromatic of its major ingredients. Juicy chunks of lobster meat wok-fried with savoury floury bits, noodles are just a tad chewy. Overall, the dish has an effervescent quality about it, satisfyingly lively. I prefer this to the current Mandarin Kitchen.

Half Drunken Chicken with Old Wine (£15)

One from the ‘cold toss’ section. Salty soya sauce flavours, with a fruity (is that the right description?) alcoholic, almost medicinal compliment. It is served cold so the elemental flavours are muffled, but refreshing. As for the chicken itself, a very juicy texture, the breast meat is mellow, probably from a delicate poach and perhaps broken down further by the wine marinade. The leg meat was satin. My only gripe was the alcohol content, a tad high, and the balance just tipping over at times but that’s just me being pedantic. It took nothing away from the overall experience. I really enjoyed this.

Pei Pa Tofu (£8.80)

A staple offering in most Cantonese restaurants. Deep-fried tofu swaddled in a golden gravy, straw mushrooms, carrots and spring onions all feature. I cannot remember if the tofu was stuffed with shrimp to be quite honest, while the hearty sauce filled the senses, it was ordinary.

Sizzling beef sirloin with fruity mandarin sauce (£10.80)

‘Chinese style steak’, a literal translation, is usually one of the dishes I order for benchmarking purposes. I’ve done this in Chinese restaurants around the world from Singapore, Hong Kong to Sydney (not Taipei I don’t think) and is something I inherited from my dad. Usually it is medium rare and served cubed. A good example will still bloody and juicy. A good example will also exhibit the hallmark smoky charred flavours otherwise known as wok-hei. A good example will also have a skilfully balanced fruity sweet sauce, where one can taste the sugar, but in which that tarty edge is taken away by salty soya and just a hint of pepper. This had none of those qualities. The beef was ridiculously rubbery, the sauce was too salty. A horrid example.

Sauteed King Prawns with Salted Egg Yolk (£10.80) … Twice.

There were times during this meal, where I would have very nearly wrote it off. Just as I wanted out, they reeled me back in (Pacino!). These are not just your average battered prawns. These are battered with the yolk of salted duck eggs, which are pre-prepared by soaking in brine or sometimes covered in charcoal paste. The duck egg takes on an intense salt flavour, great with congee, though this is the first time I have experienced it being used as a batter, and if my research is right, a bona fide Cantonese dish. Very interesting indeed, the yolk crust formed a powdery yet crunchy batter, rich in brine flavours and with a creamy eggyness. Some of the yolk was also made into a runny juice with grainy bits of what I suspect are the egg white. Doused over the prawns, it intensified the flavours. Fantastic with steam rice, in fact I liked it so much I ordered another just to have it all over again. I’ve had deep-fried shrimp in all its various guises, wasabi, cornflakes, butter, nestum, thousand island sauce, you name it, this is my favourite recipe.

Stewed Pork Belly with Preserved Vegetables (£8.80)

We had to order a pork belly dish and this took me all the way back home. Stinky, mellow, hearty, homey and the fatty bits just disintegrated like hot butter. What excellent texture. I thought it was just right, however my Taiwanese half claims that it was a tad too sweet compared to say the Hakka recipe. The differences probably down the choice of ‘mui chai’ or Chinese pickled mustard cabbage, and in which there is a preference for it to be sweeter in order to fit Cantonese cooking.

You know me, I take – what some would say – a rather dim view of Chinese restaurants in London. Compared to most other cities around the world, I feel that our Chinese restaurants are weak. I keep hearing these hero stories of Toronto’s char siu rice from my cousins, London just doesn’t have quite the same depth or variety. I’m sure most Chinese restaurants would not hesitate to kick me out if they knew what I’ve said about their food. I still stand by the view that London Chinese restaurants are mostly – for want of a better term – lousy. I am only so critical partly because I feel that quality has slowly dwindled over the years. I feel that Chinatown circa 2002 had alot more to offer than Chinatown today. Take Royal Dragon for example, pre-refurbishment days in 2005/2006. Fantastic dim sum, amazing chinese style steaks. Now, a mere shadow of its former self. Mayflower did I hear you say? No longer the institution it once was, just surly service, more reputation than actual mettle. Other reputable places such as Matt Norman’s 9.95/10 outpost in Hampstead, Goldfish, and Hakkasan (which I was once I huge fan of during its hey day and when it was still owned by Alan Yau), are in my opinion overpriced and not worth a visit. So it is refreshing to find such good food at Pearl Liang.

Food, plus tea and rice for six came to £130, just a little over £20 per head. Great value, as it should be. The menu is expansive, it is spread across ten pages. I don’t think that everything is amazing, based on the evidence from my visit, I believe most are of decent quality. And based on this visit, I would be comfortable to take my family to this restaurant, confident that it can even impress my dad – one of the pickiest eaters I’ve ever dined with …You should have seen him let rip at Gaucho…

Overall, I enjoyed dinner at Pearl Liang, benchmark cooking and I highly recommend it if you are in the mood for affordable and delicious Chinese food. For those of you who prefer dim sum at night, I believe there is a small selection on their dinner menu, so do feel free to mix and match. I recommend the wasabi prawn dumplings.

Read about Dim Sum at Pearl Liang here.

The Gist of It

Pearl Liang Official Site
£25pp Chinese
8 Sheldon Square W2 6EZ
Tel :020 7289 7000
Tube: Paddington

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It was my first time wandering down the long and narrow that is Bermondsey Street. I passed sexy looking small restaurants, chic design offices and a rainbow coloured building which, as it turns out, is the Fashion and Textiles Museum. At the end of this never ending walk from London Bridge, we eventually reached the thick glass panel front door at Zucca. The owner is a certain Mr Sam Harris, Sam also owns Maltings Cafe which caters to Mediterranean grazings a stone’s throw away at Tower Bridge Road. His CV boasts training at Leith’s, a short stint at River Cafe, Bibendum and has also served as an Egon Ronay inspector. Much of the scrutiny into his illustrious past will be on the six months he spent at Ruth Rogers’ institution. One does wonder about the inspiration he had taken from his once mentor, including absorbing the name of her restaurant designer perhaps. Even though his stint with the River Cafe was well over 10 years ago, Zucca shares a striking resemblance to the rebuilt River Café of today. Stepping into Zucca was not dissimilar to crossing into an alternative universe, for one Zucca shares similar pristine white furnishings, large glass walls let in heaps of natural light and an entirely exposed kitchen which filled the room with nourishing aromas. Strips of blue paint replaced with beige brown and a carpeted floor and Hammersmith Bridge in the West swapped for London Bridge in the East.

Oh how I love an aromatic open kitchen, as we sat down, we could hear the harmonious sizzling behind the counter just high enough to shield it from our view. Our waiters – an all Italian line-up – very carefully floated us to our table exuding a laid back, 21st century warmth, inviting us in like guests to their home rather than mere customers to a restaurant. The open space is unabashedly modern, a breathe of fresh air but no Sam Harris in sight. We fell in love with Zucca instantly of course. The daily menus are ever changing, and is described in four very clear and very short sections. Antipasti of polenta, carpaccios and zucca fritti (fried pumpkin strips); Pastas include linguine with clams and samphire, tagliatelle and artichokes; The Fish section features grilled John Dory’s and Halibut with chilli, tomato, swiss chard; And among the Meats choices are Lamb leg with berlotti beans and braised pork shoulder, sage. The K.I.S.S. concept extended to its equally slender bottom line as we were pleasantly flabbergasted with the prices – Carpaccios for £4, Veal Chop for £12.50 and Halibut for £12.95? Get out of town, that’s nearly a third of the price at River Cafe, ten years ago. We were recommended by the glass, and chose two reds – Barbera D’Alba (£5.50) – a grape varietal (Barbera) and a wine region (Alba in Piedmont) which I am unfamiliar with, but which I found to be easy drinking if a tad oaky.

And away we go with the food, antipasti firstly : Speck with pigeon crostini £4.

A livery pigeon pate that was not unlike chewing on brain – not that I’ve had brain before – was a pleasurable start to the day. Ah, I almost forget to mention their excellent selection of home-made bread, especially the heavily salted crisply crusted foccacia. The waiters also seemed very proud of their choice of Planeta olive oil, introducing it to us and other tables around us as he poured out a sample as dipping for bread. I liked it so much, I asked for another serving of bread, which by the way is about as expensive as a large jug of tap water.

Carpaccio of Sea Bream £4, yes four quid!

Gargantuan portions, so much so that we felt as if we were ripping the restaurant off, something which I rarely chance upon in London restaurants. Super fresh, superiorly fluffly with a zesty and spicy hit that (I am guessing) is attributed to capsicum, perhaps red peppers. Soaked in a juicy and oily glory, we were cooing with delight at this perfectly executed dish, after all, with a recipe so simple, there was little that could go wrong. You know how much I enjoy raw squidgy things, cured or untreated and I loved every bite of this.

Pasta – Pappardelle with Spicy Sausage and Parmesan (£6.25)

The truly post recession pricing continues with the pappardelle, which by all accounts are made in-house like the bread and the gelato. Fresh, wet and extremely juicy, cherry tomato skins still visible. I remembered my experience with the rabbit pasta dish at River Cafe which was just a tad soggy, if juicy. I certainly experience a case of deja vu as I would describe the pappardelle to be just a little past al dente. The ragu was quite mellow considering the usage of spicy sausage, probably over shadowed by the sweetness of the tomatoes. I also detected a hint of the peppery, perhaps from fennel. The sogginess didn’t detract from the overall experience, in fact I rather enjoyed the juiciness. Slurp.

Time for mains, starting with the fish: Halibut, samphire with new potatoes (£12.95)

I dipped my nose into my partner’s dish straight away – awesomely hearty. The potatoes were fluffy and powdery, halibut swimming in a potent citrus parsley soup. The fish was beautifully pan-fried, a pacific golden crust that barely hid the gloriously flaky white fish. The citrus heavy sauce balanced well against a slimy halibut skin both fishy and oily and wonderfully rustic. I’ve always said that samphire is a robust ingredient that is often underused, here I was all too happy to see it so triumphantly deployed.

Ah, and finally the show piece of the meal : Grilled Veal Chop (£12.50)

Ladies and Gents. This is the one. A resplendently golden exterior with picture perfect griddle lines – a mark of excellent execution I gather. Only slightly pink, a delicately mellow texture, a wonderful charcoal flavour and replete with its own juices. The rim of fat was not unlike crispy triple cooked chips, full flavoured and completely buttery. The veal sat atop blanched spinach spiked with zest, balancing well against the juicy chop. Refreshing…. so refreshing. My better half usually steers clear of calves, pigeons, anything remotely game-like and even lamb but she was irrepressibly seduced by this magnificent piece of meat. As she tried some, it suddenly reminded her of a similar experience in Florence – at that time, the language barrier convinced her it was beef. She savoured it as did I. We failed to check the circumstances with regards to how the veal was farmed, but if I pushed ethics aside for pure epicuriousness – this was a stunning dish.

Dessert: Pannacotta with Poached Plums (£3.95) and one scoop of vannila ice cream (£0.75)

As our meal drew to a close, we were treated to an exquisite ending, the wizards at Zucca could do no wrong pumping out a sweetened silken wobbly pudding that carried toasted vanilla flavours. The texture was masterful akin to spreadable processed cheese rather than tofu, the sweetness clinging on to my palate as I finished up.

They even fold your napkins up as you visit the little boys room. For all this food, plus two coffees (£1.50 each) and exemplary service, the final bill came to a mere £57 for two. They did not charge for service, so I emptied all the change I was carrying with on me. I have not met with such a light weight receipt in a very long time. This is what we have all been clamouring for. This is the reason why we eat out. Refreshingly rustic recipes expertly cooked, a modern room with industrial design sensibilities, friendly but not over-bearing service and an affordable bottom line. The quintessential restaurant for the twenty-tens has arrived. There is so much to love about Zucca, I can barely find fault – if any – with this establishment. I’m more than happy to hop on the Zucca-express and I have even made my next reservations with them, the next time it will be for dinner. We were assured that the dinner menu was the same as lunch, but presumably with more of an ambiance. I highly recommend this restaurant to anyone and everyone who has even a remote interest in food and eating out, and pending ethical reasons, you should order the veal chop, twice if not thrice not only because you can afford it, but because it is a landmark accomplishment. Long live the Pumpkin.

The Gist of It

Zucca Official Site
£30pp Italian.
184 Bermondsey Street SE1 3TQ
Tel: (020) 7378 6809
Tube: London Bridge

Other glowing words showered upon Zucca: Guy at Timeout London ; Fay Maschler ; Andy Lynes for Metro ; Will Eat for Money ; Made by the Chef.

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Given its stately status on the London dining scene, its opening was modest and reticent, not announcing itself proper to London without a press release or even a swanky launch party which would have been appropriate. I could not have known this in 2003, a time when I was then still rocking Rockports as I wrestled the technical differences between a batch reactor against a continuous one. I queried the wisdom of the internet, which brought to light Caroline Stacey’s visit during the infant weeks of its opening. The Wolseley needed no extraneous PR since it already had much pulling power behind the carriage. Steering the institution were Chris Corbin and Jeremy King, and at the time of opening, Chris Galvin – one half of the Galvin Brothers who are charting the course of their own gastronomic empire in London today. As far as the dining republic were concerned in 2003, Corbin and King were royalty. The duo responsible for moulding other London institutions namely The Ivy, Le Caprice and J Sheekey. Feared and revered, the trinity is now in the custody of Richard Caring’s empire.

Seven years on, The Wolseley has lost none of its prestige. Considered one of London’s most profitable ventures and universally adored by critics, tourists and most bloggers. Success partly attributed to its concept of replicating the Grand Cafes of Middle Europe. The highly polished marble tables, lacquered furniture, the sweeping staircases granting access to its art-deco mezzanine levels and the dizzyingly high ceilings. The quintessential lines classically out of place and seemingly of another period, reminiscent of a much older form of indulgence. It is ironic then, that its history has little to do with the actual Grand Cafes of Europe. The Wolseley began life in 1921 as a showroom for luxury cars, and then as a branch of Barclays where it remained as a bank till 1999. I did a swift search for Grand Cafes in Europe, seeing as to how I had never actually visited one before and two cities threw up rather interesting results. In Prague, there is the art-deco Grand Cafe Orient , a true grand cafe resurrected from the twenties with true art-deco designs. In Vienna, Cafe Central once the historical assembly point for poets, thinkers and other leading minds of the 19th Century.

Rarely do I remember meals more than three months old, but I find it difficult to forget my first meal at the Wolseley. Back in 2008, it had established itself as the ultimate destination for breakfast. I was impressed with the weightiness of the silverware which felt like eating with jewellery, and I contemplated buying the Wolseley Book on display by the entrance to the loos – partly because I wondered about the restaurant’s rather brief history, but mostly because it is penned by AA Gill. Ah but it was also because of the food itself, I dragged my family with me, especially my dad who was convinced that nobody could out do his father’s scrambled eggs. Glowing driblets of golden eggs, the smell of butter and diagonally sliced toasts served in its own silver rack. The Arnold Bennett so sumptuously rich in dairy and protein, it made me forget there were even flakes of haddock underneath. I believed that the Wolseley had perfected the art of waking up what with its superlative atmosphere and luxuriously expansive breakfast menu. Choice was abundant as breakfast encompassed everything from muesli, meatloaf with duck eggs to kedgree, prices hovering the ten pound mark. A full English obviously also on the menu, as was caviar omelette for a cool fifty five pounds. For days when one feels as untouchable as Fabulous Fab I suppose.

I would have returned sooner to glorify its existence if not for its strict policy on photography, till I decided to simply take the risk to make my photographs fully expecting to be stopped in the process. I wasn’t. As I arrived this time around, the room was visibly filled with tourists pointing and shooting each other uninterrupted. Part of me felt relieved. The restaurant stays open all day from 7am through to midnight, and they are usually full up most of time. Initially told that I wasn’t going to get a table at high noon, I was asked over the phone to simply show up a little after lunch hour, and that I should be quickly seated. So I chose high tea instead and I was indeed immediately seated. And the abundance of choice was a little overwhelming to say the least. In addition to the breakfast menu, there is lunch & dinner featuring a flurry of roasts, grilled meat & fish and soup. I guess I would describe the menu as being classical European, an assorted range of auld glamour: Escagots, Duck, Oysters, Steak and Caviar. Contrarily, the menu appears to be quite affordable, a small lobster & crayfish salad ‘merely’ £11.50 and double lamb chops with bubble & squeak a reasonable £18. Additionally, there is also the all-day cafe menu. Plat du jours ranging from Coq au Vin to a 7 Hour Lamb could be had for £16.75; half a dozen rock oysters at £11.50 and steak tartare for just under a tenner.

I started with the Soupe de Poisson £7.75.

Grainy, intensely aromatic of distilled shells of crustaceans, but not so overly fishy that it overstank. A vigorous fish soup can make for a gratifying start to a meal, especially one as good as this. Warming.

Afternoon Tea £19.95.

I would imagine that Wolseley is the perfect stage to indulge in a tea sipping competition, the afternoon tea set comes with finger sandwiches, sweet pastries, scones, clotted cream and strawberry jam as well as an explanation from the waiter. For an extra £8, you get champagne too. Personally, I’m not a big fan of afternoon tea, though I can appreciate the theatre of it. I found this set to be a tad overpriced to be honest, granted it was photogenic and that it was mostly edible.

Half a salt beef sandwich £5.25.

I actually wanted a full sandwich (£9.75) as I arrived to watch the neighbouring diner wolf it down with fervour. It looked epic, but I guess our lines were crossed when the waiter took my order. The half was less dramatic, but it was still warm and wet and filled to the brim with radiantly pink salt beef slices. Yes, I suppose it was not bad, I can’t say it was any better than Beigel Bake to be honest. It’s just a sandwich.

Plus a cappuccino, the bill for two came to £40. Expensive for sugar, flour, water and preserved meat. I regret not ordering what I was really craving, oysters and steak tartare, and in hindsight I really should have just obeyed etiquette, it was only table manners to have ordered whatever I wanted afterall. The second visit was less successful than the first, high tea at the Wolseley not quite as dizzying an experience as breakfast. However, it didn’t take the shine off the experience as a whole. There is just something uniquely attractive about this restaurant which has cast a spell over me, making it impossible for me to write anything remotely bad about it. I have yet to actually have a proper meal at the Wolseley though, it is in my eventually-to-be list, so untill that happens, I will default to my position of worship.

The Gist of It

The Wolseley Official Site
£30pp, European.
160 Piccadilly London W1J 9EB
Tel: 020 7499 6996
Tube: Green Park

Other considered opinions and accounts: AA Gill for Times ; Time Out London ; Eat, Drink, Sleep, Shop & Love ; FoodNut

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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 had thoroughly enjoyed Douglas’s intoxicating piece on Le P’tit Normand, and had since been waiting for the right opportunity to give it a try. I tell you what, its website is shrewdly well-designed and it painted a neighbourly, always-summer-here vibe about the restaurant. I thought it would be in a part of Southfields that would look like Chiswick or even Harrow on the Hill. Nope, nothing like that, it was a bloody long walk from the station – panting as I reached the door, occupational hazard of course – and into a drab lifeless drag. As I said, deceptively well-designed website. Through to the door then and my first impressions were that Le P’tit had an atmosphere that was equally so. In the place of rustic quality was a very distinct phoniness about the entire set up. Over polished wooden beams perhaps? Or potted plants – with real soil – as table decoration. The silence was a little harrowing as the restaurant was completely empty for Friday lunch, but which was quickly filled with bombastic Parisian tunes. Tunes switched on by whom I assume to be the restaurant manager, Krystyna. If I am correct, there were only two people on shift, the chef in the kitchen and Krystyna tending to the sole table, ours.

Being a local restaurant, I was looking for value, and it certainly did not disappoint in this regard: The two course set lunch menu is only a mere £10.95, and the priciest a la carte combinations measuring £8-£16-£5. Food is recognisably French – parfaits, tartares, cassoulets, entrecôtes and escargots. However, a closer inspection revealed items of interest such as Foie Gras au Torchon or Duck Liver cooked in cloth and Gigue de Chevreuil Rôtie, Poires Pochées au Vin Rouge, Purée de Céleri Rave. Coulis d’Airelles, Roast venison haunch, pears poached in red wine, celeriac puree. Cranberry sauce. To date, this is the first restaurant I’ve been to which served complimentary pork rillettes to start, a nice touch.

As per usual, I was in the ever so gracious company of the missus, who was delighted with her more than affordable set lunch menu. Starters duck liver parfait.

I love parfaits with the yellowish butter (or is it duck fat?) layer enveloping it – it just gives the parfait an extra skip in its step. Like whipped air, bubbles of fat pushed together – beautifully seasoned, salty but not overly so – it spread beautifully on the soft, sweet brioche. I’ve had better in London, but this was benchmark stuff.

What kind of music is this called? Is it Cabaret? You know what I mean right, Edith Piaf with the melodramatic strings. My starters : Foie gras and Apple Creme Brulee £7.

No no, you read that correctly, a savoury creme brulee to start. A little strange, its texture was a little too much like soil, perhaps even a little overcooked. It was tart, presumably from the apples, The overriding flavour was – unsurprisingly – of sugared liver. It also felt like eating an upside down apple tart, but infused with tea and vanilla. Unconventional for me, I thought this dish was just on the wrong side of being confused. Two spoonfuls in strangely satisfying; anymore and it was soberingly wrong.

On to the mains then, the set lunch option of Pan fried salmon.

Gently fried, juices still intact, just a tad pink in the centre – perfect. For the life of me, I cannot remember the sauce that was poured over it, I want that it was a citrus butter, but the truth is that it was forgettable. However, bearing in mind that this was from an eleven pound set, it represented great value for money. I noted the hand cut chips, fluffy, but it could have done with more frying time.

And finally, the pièce de résistance : Saddle of Rabbit stuffed with mushrooms, rabbit and tarragon sauce £13.95

I’m not familiar with rabbit cuts, though I assumed that the saddle was used to make this dish. The meat exhibited an off-the-bone juiciness, something which I hadn’t really experienced with rabbit before – my impression had always been of a more chewy nature, not unlike a chicken breast. This was different. As it was explained to me, the rabbit was slowly roasted, and then made into a stuffed roulade with mushrooms and yet more rabbit meat inside. All of it finished off with a buttery sauce, not unlike a cream of chicken, actually. The entire dish has a moist quality to it, very homely and wholesome. I must say, I appreciated that it wasn’t yet another brave exploration of the limits of human toleration to nose to tail designs. My tastebuds swimming in gently roasting clarity instead. There was so much mash, I couldn’t finish it. I enjoyed this. It was well executed, and I think it would have been more enjoyable if the restaurant didn’t smell like it had just been… fumigated.

Lunch for two plus a glass of red came to just under £40. As we were finishing up, a table of four walked in, otherwise, the restaurant was empty. I think Le P’tit Normand is a victim of horrendously out of date decor as well as an equally inaccessible location. As the consummate restaurant collector, I have little qualms in travelling (the rush of the adventure I suppose), but in most cases, hidden locations do act as a deterrent. It is what has hampered my journey so far to say, Chez Bruce which is seemingly a million miles away from Gloucester Road. I liked Le P’tit Normand, the retro if quirky menu with its equally eighties pricing is ironically a breath of fresh air, in fact dining at Normand feels more like dining in Glasgow, or dare I say, Brussels. I suppose if you don’t mind Wong Kei style never-to-be-redecorated surroundings, and if you so happen to be in the area, you might be delightfully surprised with what this petite French restaurant has to offer.

The Gist of It

Le P’tit Normand, £25pp official site
185 Merton Road SW18 5EF
Tel : 020 8871 0233
Tube : Southfields
Reviews elsewhere : Intoxicating Prose

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