The idea behind Viet Grill and Cay Tre – sister restaurants both owned by Hieu Trung Bui – is simply to bring delicious (and authentic) Vietnamese cuisine to London. They’re not the only ones in the Shoreditch area hoping to do so, of course, with much of ‘Phở Mile’¹, the term coined by Bellaphon, vying for the same. Affectionately or otherwise, many have come to recognise the brillance of this wonderful strip of Vietnamese restaurants along Kingsland road. Personally I have limited knowledge of Vietnamese cuisine, being Chinese, I grapple on to equivalents when ‘translating’ the cuisine whenever I visit a Vietnamese restaurant, for better or worse. They eat rice, we eat rice. They share dishes, we share dishes. They have noodle soup, we have noodle soup. Chopsticks apply. I have colleagues who hail from Vietnam and their first choice is Song Que, the crowd favourite really,I loved it too on my visit. Unfathomable affordability and food was delish.

With Vietnamese cuisine being so accessible, it was only natural for people to be fascinated with it. Twitter is always alive with praise (and debate) of Vietnamese restaurants in London, not limited to Kingsland road of course, as the bloggerati claim phởveyors further afield such as Cafe East² in Surrey Quays.

Generally speaking, Londoners and especially bloggers like Viet Grill. Its popularity is also partly attributed to Mark Hix’s very public affirmations toward this restaurant. If a superstar chef regularly raves about it in his national food column, it can’t be half bad. Styled with a ‘French Colonial look’ of patterns of trees across the beige walls. It feels like a vacation inside, even more so with the sun beaming down on us right now.

Let’s cut to the chase then, Cha Ca La Vong, for two £10.

‘Cha ca’ means grilled fish, and this dish has its roots in Hanoi. The original place said to have popularised ‘Cha Ca La Vong’ is also the name of a restaurant in Hanoi³. I’m not sure how they serve it originally in Cha Ca La Vong in Hanoi (or Saigon for that matter), but at Viet Grill, I was pleasantly surprised when the waitress fired up a moveable gas cooker on our table.

“Slices of Monkfish marinated in galingale and saffron, grilled at your table and served with rice vermicelli, pimento, ground nuts, fennel and shrimp sauce.” …. yeah exciting fine print. Watching the gold coloured monk fish fillets sizzle away in front of us was hugely gratifying. As it heated up, a bevy of herby and grassy aromas accompanied, it was a great way to start a meal, with our senses fully engaged.

Such a visually arresting dish could taste as good as it looked. The range of ingredients was like a field of blooming roses (well…) on the palate. There was zestiness, not unlike mango, there were grass-like flavours, dare I say which reminded me of dill, nutty, saffron and pimento for a perfumed kick. I read elsewhere that a fresh water fish known as hemibagrus⁴ is the primary choice for this dish. For purists, a fish only available in Vietnam called Anh Vu⁵. Can’t say I’ve ever been to Vietnam, for what it’s worth however, I thought monkfish was a good substitute, necessarily flaky and all.

Saigon Sate Phở, £8.

We ordered the mandatory bowl of phở, this one in particular made “with tender beef poached in a full bodied chilli broth, smothered in Viet basil and smashed nuts”.

It was bloody full bodied alright, a big whack of chilli, like pouring a volcano down the throat. Also present were rich flavours of tomatoes. The soup was cloudy, so I assumed it was coconut cream that I was tasting, along with slices of mango. The better half thought it was great, especially the soup. About the the only thing I found wanting were the noodles, I thought they were a little too mushy.

Beef Vinh, £7.

This one was from the ‘Dishes we like most’ part of the menu, with a smiley face next to it. Rolled beef fillets, seared over charcoal and stuffed with what appears to be it’s own fat. I really liked this. It came with a nectarous ginger paste on the side, not unlike a ginger beer, perfect as a dipping. The beef itself was smoky, juicy and plump, I suppose with it being marinated with a number of spices unknown to me, the seasoning helped to add depth to savoury and beefy flavours.

Vietnamese durian and Tapioca Cake, £5.

Pudding was lovely, I didn’t detect the fragrance (or stink) of durian in the tapioca cake, rather it carried a sugarcane starchiness, a gluey textured. It was served super hot which provided a lively contrast to the icy coconut ice cream which began to melt from the moment it was served. Simple, enjoyable.

Condensed milk is such a revelation isn’t it? We finished with two Vietnamese coffees, one hot, the other with ice, both with condensed milk. Along with a bowl of steamed rice and a glass of soya milk (freshly made), the bill was £47 for two. Hmm, a little more expensive than I expected, considering we only had four dishes. All in all however, we enjoyed Viet Grill, the cooking seemed able enough and food was delicious. Of course, the beauty of such a restaurant is hidden in the sheer depth of the menu. Campfire beef, sitting duck curry, slow-cooked Mekong catfish… the next time I go to Viet Grill, I’m bringing my extended family and ordering one of everything. All to share.

The Gist of It

Viet Grill
Vietnamese, £25pp
58 Kingsland Road E2 8DP
Tel: 020 7739 6686
Tube: Hoxton

Distilled from the digital ether Chris at Cheese and Biscuits ; Fay says ; Cara at Gourmet Chick ; Luiz at The London Foodie ; Mathilde at Mathilde’s Cuisine ; Tom at TomEatsJenCooks and Mark Hix’s passion...

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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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The internet is in agreement: The Hawksmoor steaks are to die for. But let’s not jump to conclusions just yet. Bring on the mandatory steakporn and let the procession begin.

“Dictionary-thick” Steak.

I took the day off, and my out-of-office message read like so: “Kang will be shooting the breeze on a Sunny Wednesday afternoon… ahh. Call him tomorrow.” I also made my first proper ‘fine art’ photo-print at super print-house Metro Imaging. It is an A3 sized portrait of a cat (what else do you print for the 1st time?), who lives with a friend of mine, in Taiwan, and whom enjoyed sitting on my socks, of all things.

If only he knew, if only. It really was ‘gallery’ quality and it had better be at thirty pounds a go.

I was there to meet two others who are also positively mad for food. A couple minutes after I arrived, Mark whizzed into the door. It’s a little surreal meeting someone for the first time, but is also someone I chat with quite regularly on twitter. So it’s like we’ve met, yet we haven’t. I’m still not used to the whole the meeting virtually and then in person thing yet. We thought it took awhile for Catty to arrive; but little did we know, she was already in the restaurant, on another table! Eventually, all three of us settled on the same table, and almost immediately we began laughing, and joking, and we couldn’t stop talking about food. Oh how very exhilarating meeting like minded foodlovers… I’m not alone in my obsession. Aye.

Eat me.

I could have sworn that my starters were roast scallops with peas and samphire; it says scallops with devilled broadbeans on the website though. Ah, anyway for £9.00; the scallops rested on a creamy green bed, which tasted like mushy peas to me; actually there was a bit of tanginess, dare I say it tasted like pea ketchup. Hmm, perhaps I was seeing things because samphire was absent on the dish. As for the scallops, it was quite good; a little soggy on the inside, but on the outside was quite an open chargrilled flavour, a little on the subtle side though, like flames that have been put out with lemonade.

Alright enough bullshite, I came for steak, you are reading for steak and so we shall, now talk Schteak. (my Michael McIntyre Moment.. my mandrawers, argh!)

We ordered three 400g Rib Eye steaks. They weren’t kidding, Hawksmoor does serve dictionary thick steaks; one could immediately smell the real charcoal grill it was cooked it – wonderful barbecue aromas filled the air and I felt I really was in the shrine that worshipped the bovine. Alright then, time to dig in.

I don’t usually like photographing half-eaten food, but I wanted you to see the Hawksmoor’s definition of medium rare. To sum it up, it was perfect. The entirety of the meat looked as if it was coloured in with a pink crayon; it wasn’t rare in the middle, just so slightly cooked, and more beefy aromas were rising as one cut into it.

Right then, the first bite was… um, good. The texture is alittle tougher than I expected, it’s abit chewy, just abit too chunky. I was expecting it to be meltingly silky but it was quite the opposite. Still, it was still soft, considering its about an inch thick. I must say, the steak is really perfectly cooked. The crusty charred bits interacting with rock salt, left me nodding with approval, but I was most impressed with the way the juices were magically sealed within the meat. I had noticed there was no messy drool on the plate, and with each bite, the meat was just spewing wetness which coated my entire mouth.

The steak came on its own – naked – without any complimenting it, such an innocent sight I thought; brave and bold, the ultimate distillation of its form.

The taste was very reminiscent of something I quite enjoy: Twisties. Cheese flavour to be exact. I also tried the fatty marbles and those were the best bits, they were all dominating marrow-flavoured cubes. I couldn’t really bring myself to swallow too many of the fatty bits, since it was chunks of fat, but man that flavour was definitely something special.

But.

As much as I hate to say so, there is a but. It was a really good piece of meat, don’t get me wrong and I think it is entirely valid that this is one of the best steaks in the city, but it’s not the best steak I’ve ever had. I think it’s all the hype which has gradually built up around it and it had led me to expect that Hawksmoor housed a bunch of voodoo doctors who could turn 35 day dry-aged Longhorns into Grade 9 Kobe beef.

This was not the case.

The beef itself didn’t really have much natural flavour to it, it was merely ordinary and as I said earlier, the texture was just abit on the chunky side for me. I expected beefiness to fill my mouth, but in spite of the inherent sealed juices, I was actually longing for some kind of béarnaise or even red wine jus to dunk my chunks of beef into.

Having said that, the meat was outstandingly cooked. Maybe its down to personal preference, I do believe that the quality of steak is down to the quality of meat. You don’t need to do much to it, and one looks for natural flavours. In this case, I think that the weakest part of the meat was probably the meat itself.

The Aftermath

My meal ended on a high note with a really gorgeous sticky toffee pudding; our waitress couldn’t stop recommending it to us, and I could see why: it was luxurious. Topped with what I believe was a dollop of clotted cream, the pud was full flavoured, yet it lent itself a light airiness in texture, and the puffy pud was accompanied by a rich toffee sauce that lingered long. Raw sugar and honey sweetness, it was so very good. So good that with abit of hype, it might even be legendary. Perfectly sticky.

Mark and Catty were excellent company, our little lunch meeting went for over two and a half hours, and like all great meals; great company made it worthwhile and memorable. I look forward to future tw-eat-ups with fervent anticipation. As for Hawksmoor, well, I think it is certainly up there as one of the best steakhouses in London, indeed the kitchen does know how to cook the perfect steak, but reluctantly, it wasn’t the best steak I’ve ever come across. The three of us paid £150 for the meal; including two glasses of wine and a couple of side dishes; which is fairly priced I would say.

If you love meat, you should definitely give Hawksmoor a try, but go without expectation and you should be well-rewarded. Go with my more than hype-induced anticipation, then you might walk away feeling just a little torn.

The Gist of It

Hawksmoor official site
157 Commercial St E1 6BJ (020) 7247 7392
£50 for 3 courses, steak in a variety of sizes.
Verdict: Perfect execution, legendary pudding, but it falls short of the Grail. Don’t believe the hype, but go and try for yourself in anycase.

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Song Que £15 pp , plus imported lager.
134 Kingsland Road E2 8DY 020 7613 3222

There is a whole street of Vietnamese restaurants in Shoreditch, otherwise affectionately as ‘The Pho Mile’. My knowledge of the London Vietnamese food scene is murky at best, but I was pushed by my Vietnamese colleague – who frequents for the spicy squid – to give this a try.

And so I did.

Imported from Vietnam

This place has proper buzz, it was completely packed out on a Sunday night. There was a huge queue as well although I noted a quick turnover with the noticeably zippy service and flash speed food flying out of the kitchen. There were also huge print out posters of the Timeout review, proudly plastered across the large windows, probably in an effort to emphasize their Pho-cred.

Positioned next to Song Que was a rather posh looking wood laden Viet restaurant (I forget the name). My mate told me to keep walking till I saw some really garish forest greens. Oh yeah, atmosphere, I’ve never been to Vietnam but I’d like to feel like I was submersing myself in Vietnam, in London and drinking Halida, imported from Vietnam.

Paper Rolls

The laminated menu is huge and the long list of dishes got me a little cross eyed. Not a bad thing, I’m sure. Everything looked very affordable, ranging from £4 to £8 (I think) and there were a few seafood dishes that were just above the double digit mark. The waiters wrote our order down on the paper table covering (cloth? I don’t know.), maybe it’s just me, but I kinda find the whole write on the table thing quite a cool feature, they do it in Alan Yau’s fast food oriental chains, and I’m always intrigued with the flick of the pen. Flick.

The first dish to land on our table were the rice paper rolls, with a kind of thickish (thickish??) sweet chili nut sauce on the side. The coriander and chive wrap was rolled with some juicy prawns and dipping the sticky and bouncy dough into the sweet sauce produced a refreshingly appetising crunch to get the juices flowing. Not bad, not bad at all.

Mum knows Squid

This reminds me of the time when my Mum’s cooking reached a zenith. She reads this blog occasionally and she doesn’t always appreciate the name dropping. I persist in any case. My dear ol mum and me (no. I won’t use I) love deep-fried squid, and she was spurred on to find the perfect recipe after I’d told her I wanted to eat squid forever… when I was twelve (and I still want to). And so the story goes, about how a young madre tried out lots of different recipes then one day she discovered the perfect mix of salt, egg white (the secret is in the egg white) and baking powder which produced crispy, umami rich and powdery egg crumbs enveloping bouncy squids. And then her kids went off to Uni and she stopped making them.

Spicy deep fried squid. Simply seasoned with cut chilli (no noticeable seeds), pepper and a tinge of saltiness. It was a little tough but it went down with much moistness. There is just a little bit of heat in my throat and the fried spring onion bits were the best parts of the dish. Personally, and my mum would agree, it would be better fried crispier and more crumbly as opposed to the tough and crunchy. While this was good, but hey, no one does fried squid like my mum.

A star in the midst

Mince beef in Betel leaf wrap. I am convinced that this is one of the to-eat dishes on the menu. This dish resides in the starters section, and for about £5, the portions are pretty generous. Each wrapper hides chargrilled mince beef, bit like a doner kebab. There is alot of juice from the mince beef, accompanied by distinctive charcoal flavours and the fragrant aromas of shiso leaves. The cold noodles were great for dunking in the sweet sauce and the peanutty sauce went amazingly well with the beef rolls. All in all, a lively dish and a wonderful experience. Best of the lot.

Bring on the chops!

Suitably impressed. By this stage of the meal, I was really enjoying Song Que and all the tangy, zingy flavours swirling around made me hungrier than ever, ohh bring on the mains, indeed.

Grilled Pork Chop on Rice. I can’t remember the price exactly, but I think it was about £8 for this. Yeah, honestly though it looked abit of a sad dish – at least they could have layered the chops more evenly, absolutely zero marks for presentation. At first, I was a little skeptical as the meat looked to be sliced a tad too thin for my liking. It did look more like a veal escalope than a pork chop. On tasting I changed my mind, it was really soft and bouncy, lots of nicely grilled sensations. A little on the dry side but the flavour was spot on. I detected hits of sweet soya sauce to go with really fragrant jasmine rice. Im still uncomfortable with it being a tad dry, but overall the tastiness of the meat won me over. I like it, I want to love it, but something is holding it back.

The Pho.

And so we finally come to the hearty comforts that is the Pho. While I’m a big noodle boy, I rather prefer them dry, as opposed to a broth, but the Taiwanese part of me still appreciates a good bowl of noodle soup, every now and again.

I believe this is the Chicken and Pork Pho. Its a citrusy, hot and sour soup; a brothy delight with just a slight slick of oil on the top layer. There are good springs in the noodles and I felt like I was in South East Asia once again. A sizzly sensation on my palette led me to take a guess at the stock that was used to make the soup, erm… beef perhaps? It was lively as it hit my tongue and overall, I enjoyed this more than the pork chops.

‘Nam 2009.

I urge you to order this sweet liquid pudding with bits aptly named the ‘Three Colour Drink’. Consisting of mung beans, pandan jelly (my best guess) and finished with loving cream de la coconut. I had two, you can have two more.

All in all, the bill was no more than £30 for this spread of food, for two and I was impressed and walked away wanting to come back to try some other dishes I spotted on the menu – in particular, the grilled monk fish. I must say, I’m not the biggest Vietnamese eater (perhaps it shows) , my best experiences were years ago in the open air stalls behind Singapore’s Centrepoint, in tourist heaven, Orchard Road. Holiday Inn Park View is still my hotel of choice when I’m in S’pore; While I can’t be the best judge of how well Song Que compares with the rest of Little Vietnam in Shoreditch, I can confidently say that I had a good experience and was a little blown away by the mince beef rolls. For sheer atmosphere alone, and if you like buzzy and chatty restaurants, you’ll jive with the noise at Song Que; As for me, I’m looking into my calendar to squeeze in another visit in the near future.

The Gist of It.

Song Que £15 pp , plus imported lager.
134 Kingsland Road E2 8DY 020 7613 3222

Verdict: Great food, affordable prices and they have stuff like ‘three colour drink’ on their menu. While I can’t compare it to the other Vietnamese restaurants in the neighbourhood – it was still a heatwave of an experience.

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