Ceviche

No doubt you’ve already heard about Ceviche, the first of a trio of Peruvian restaurants to open in London this year. Started by Martin Morales, Brit with half a Peruvian heritage, he gave up a notable music career (According to Xanthe, he signed KT Tursntall and launched iTunes in Europe!) to plug a gaping hole in the market. Which he reckons will be nicely filled with an introduction to raw seafood cold cooked in tiger’s milk. Apart from the fusion dishes at Nobu, I’ve never eaten Peruvian food. This cuisine has always been written about as the next big thing (Monocle did a nice spread last year), partly given its unique history of diverse cultural influences, one can argue that Peruvian is a true expression of fusion food. Given the decades the Nobu restaurants have spent in the (international) limelight , Peru hasn’t really taken off as a must visit destination for gastro-tourist. The cuisine’s foremost ambassador is Gastón Acurio. By wikipedia’s account, he is a bit of a legend in his native Peru. His name is attached to No.35 on the 2012 World Best 50 , but it diffuses down to a diverse portfolio of operations which include a hamburger bar, a Peruvian-Chinese restaurant, a hotel and even a ‘gastronomic’ university. I’m most intrigued by the mention of his roast chicken franchise, La Pollada. Might it come on British

Quo Vadis? To eat Jeremy Lee’s food tonight.

I am too tender in age to have lived through the days when Conran restaurants were the pride of the industry. Those glory days are no more than urban legend as told by the doyens amongst food writers… some of whom have exhausted equal column inches in slagging off the same restaurants dreamed up by the original Design Entrepreneur. I’ve wanted to write about the radio initiative of Tyler Brule’s pioneering (and my favourite) print magazine, Monocle 24 for some time now. I love it so much; it has become an integral part of my gym routine. There are 12 radio shows, my favourites are The Menu, The Entrepreneurs and Section D. In this particular winter special, Section D managed an interview with Sir Terrance, who spoke about his Habitat days as well as his career high in striking a tie-up with M&S. It meant he got to sell his furniture to the masses, as opposed to being niche. Or to paraphrase – how distribution of his designs were democratised. Alongside his entrepreneurial adventures in home furnishings, Conran’s expansive brasserie empire grew to include The Orrery, Bluebird, Coq d’Argent, Pont de la Tour as well as Bibendum at the Michelin House in Chelsea. Eventually he sold up to the D&D group which now operates this group of restaurants. The owners Des Gunewardena and David Loewi are both ex-Conran. Conran’s legacy

Bistro du Vin Soho : A good standard

Here’s a list of good things I expect from a good bistro: 1.Good soup 2.Good steak 3.Good frites 4.Good tartare 5.Superhot waitress I recall a highlight reel of what the Glasgow arm of this luxury out-of-town hotelier is capable of, during an episode of Don’t tell the bride. They took the tour through the banquet room, the room for the exchange of vows, the grounds. the venue was so slick, the bride cried knowing her man would never plan their wedding there. Of course, I don’t watch that show. It just happened to be playing in the background as I was shaping my manly deltoids at the gym. Obviously. There are fifteen Hotel du Vins up and down the country from St Andrews to Brighton, none are in London, but presumably all of the hotel restaurants resemble some version of bistro du vin. As of writing, there are two Bistro du Vins in London; one is next to the shit-hot Duck Soup Soho, and the other currently occupies the site where one of the best London bistros died – Bjorn van de Horst’s Eastside Inn. You do remember Eastside Inn don’t you? That was nice French food. Bistro du Vin doesn’t punch at that level, but in many ways that’s a good thing, because really the formulae that’s being applied – competitively priced, traditional French bistro affair, enomatic-preserved wines by

Copita : Iberian Fantasimo

I told you Barrica was good. Not all of us agreed two years ago, but we probably do now. After all, they’ve impressed enough of us to have a crack at a second child: Soho newest sensation called Copita, for sherry glass. I’m sure I recognised a couple of ex-Barrica staff who now work at Copita. Looking back, it may have been because Barrica was yet another conventional tapas bar in face of the stiff competition. The Brindisas for example, the mighty Dehesa group, the supremely hot Barrafina, and that’s just along the spine of Shaftesbury Avenue. 2009 feels like such a long time ago. In the future (2011) , populist plate sharing still prevails, but we have matured past reserving tables or eat sitting down, we’ve put Sherry on the tube map, and small plates are no longer limited to Iberian classics. How does the rest of the world think of the way we Londoners like to eat out, I wonder. We seem to enjoy the shift toward establishments that merge drinking and nibbling, we don’t mind queuing up, or even notice that new restaurants are cramming the same covers onto shrinking floorspace. Just when you thought the proverbial towel of shared plates has been well and truly wrung of juicy ideas, comes a new tapas bar with enough upgrades to set itself apart from the competition. But first,

Ducksoup: Souped up.

Banana skin. I was suggested to try the ‘Ocre Rouge’, a Pinot Noir from Dions (as opposed to Burgundy) and I had come to the conclusion that this was a quirky little devil of a wine. The finish and its tannin structure was akin to banana skin, a first and a rather interesting peculiarity. The same could be said of the terribly cramped environs of the new Soho opening which has captivated Twitter’s appetite. Not only are they the latest restaurant to operate a no reservation service, they have gone the extra mile to install a record player on premises, inviting returning patrons to share their vinyl collection with everybody in the room. Ducksoup is either a genuinely hip place to dine or at the very least a good pretender. It is in keeping with the presumption that Londoners are still very much in love with the idea of less is more when eating out. Think Brawn, Spuntino and Rochelle Canteen throw in a Kitchenaid, then splashed across Fernandez & Wells. Et voilà. The brains behind this genius are ex-Hix, chef Julian Biggs ( I think he is the beardy one) , Clare Lattin and Rory McCoy, collectively have managed to make the genre of uber-cool and understated, easily egalitarian yet decidedly British restaurant, feel refreshed once again. I really like the name, obviously it is not named after soup,

Empress of Sichuan: Poetic Trotters

Ah, Chinatown. One can only love it and loathe it, at the very same time. I despise Chinatown like the way I despise the way Justin Bieber’s bobcut falls over his forehead. I may well be the last person in London who will write nice things about the state of Chinese food in London but at the same time, I love it for the very same reasons. Firstly, for the rude service, what was once a spectacle at Wong Kei, has now become a culture spreading rapidly across restaurants in Soho, perhaps even an act worthy of its own Westend matinee; Secondly and more pressingly for the transient standard of cooking – It could be great on Monday nights, but total piss by Friday noon. On the otherhand, whenever I exit Leicester Square station, the smell of roast duck, bbq pork (and piss) takes away any and all anxieties, hope is immediately restored in this culinary wasteland. The Sichuan fad was something I never fully understood, and am still scratching my head over. To me, it’s oil, sichuan pepper, luncheon meat, more oil, more bud numbing pepper and yet more oil. But you lot love this stuff, no doubt with a helping article or two from the revered queen of Sichuanese writing – Fuchsia Dunlop. Which leads me to the Empress of Lisle Street, the Queen of Sichuan food in

Cay Tre Soho: Ox Cheek + Pho = Winner.

Coming to a West End near you, a slice of Little Hanoi. Let Pho fever be unleashed. Again. Yep, you feel it too don’t you. It is starting, Cay Tre is going to sweep the intertubes, and with good reason: they flog smashing Vietnamese food to the public. Many of you are already quite familiar with the Vietnamese Kitchen’s group of restaurants, namely Cay Tre and Viet Grill, which counts Mark Hix, amongst its many fans. This time round however, Mr Hix happens to also be a very involved stakeholder with Hieu Trung Bui’s latest venture. So it is little surprise that the new Cay Tre in Dean Street shares much of its menu with the Hoxton branch and Viet Grill, such as the theatrical Chả cá Lã Vọng and the incastratable Mekong Catfish. Reminiscent of Viet Grill, but one in which its decor has been given a spit shine of the highest order. Pristine, white enamel table tops, black chairs with black leather cushions, wooden panel walls, painted white and pressed against cement walls (also painted white). Wah… so clean. The room is long and narrow, a little clastrophobic, and if you squint, you would be forgiven for mistaking this to be NOPI, but with less brass. Much less brass. My eating schedule is all screwed up these days, so lunch for us was at the sleepy hour of

Spuntino: Three times, is really a charm.

I would like to begin by publicly apologising to Russell Norman and his team, because on reflection, I think I was man-pmsing when I wrote the Polpetto review. I was out of line, and rude, and I hope I can be forgiven. Handslap. Most of you are already familiar with the famous bacaro in Soho that is Polpo, and many of you would have heard of the owners, Norman and Beatty’s exciting plans of growing the brand they have created. And while Polpetto was more of the same, except smaller (great ossobuco), the third outfit, Spuntino, is a step in a totally different direction. The Italian influence, is now heavily laced with references to the American diner, the menu is still presented as a personal paper table cloth; except this time round, you can almost hear Robert Frank’s shutter going off in the background to a recital of the bebop beat poetry of Jack Kerouac. Spuntino inherits the winning ambiance from its predecessors and then some. There’s just something very special about this squarish room, in the heart of striptease central. I didn’t like the crammed Polpo and hated the rammed Polpetto, but Spuntino is very close to perfect. Spuntino is tiny, about twenty can sit around the bar, there’s a table for six right at the back, and at the very end of the bar, there is a oversized

Dumplings’ Legends : Durian puffer-upper, and above average dumplings.

Perhaps it has aspirations toward becoming the Ding Tai Fung of Europe, what with the copycat white walls, chefs folding xia long bao behind glass panels. Full marks for ambiance and kudos for trying to emulate a franchise which has perfected the delivery of consistently good XLBs. Unfortunately, we’re closer to Chinatown, London, than we are to Tienmu,Taipei, and sadly that makes for a more than wary customer in me. I cannot say I’m not glad to see Dumplings’ Legend take over from the ageing and overly torrid Lee Ho Fook – a champion way before my time, but probably because of Warren Zevon’s singing rather than for its Michelin winning ways – which in its twilight years, churned out some of the worst Chinese food I can remember. Though usually applied to restaurants with rip-off prices, my dad branded it a ‘black store’ (as in blacklisted, banned, do no enter, nuclear wastage) anyway. Unconfirmed reports and to my best guesstimations suggest that the owners of Dumplings’ Legend also own the Leongs Legends restaurants, as well as Empress of Sichuan. So at the very least, some semblance of quality can be expected. I take the general view that LL and LL Continues (for the overspill of customers) are two of the ‘best’ dim sum restaurants in Chinatown, which says very little of the tremendously bad quality of Chinatown restaurants these

Wright Brothers Soho : Conveniently fine oysters.

The long time resident oyster bar at Borough market opened their 2nd London outlet in late 2010, in the very heart of central London. It takes up an entire wing that oversees the courtyard in Kingly Court, with a view of nearby Cha Cha Moon. Alan Yau’s woefully modern noodlebar, which I dread, and which is a place I would only return to, if prices revert to the introductory £3.50-for-every-plate. Fortunately, I may never need to, now that the new Wright Brothers is so conveniently located, staying open all day from lunch through to midnight, I find myself compelled to go shopping, just as an excuse to pop in for a mid afternoon oyster slurping session. Wright Brothers are in fact oystermen themselves, who own the Duchy oyster farm in Cornwall, cultivating over 5 million natives and pacifics every year along the Helford River. I have obviously never visited, but it seems like an interesting weekend trip to conduct one of these days. This positions WBs as one of the most productive oyster farms in GB. Previous to WB Soho, my go-to oyster bars were Bentley’s (damn their oysters are fine) and then to J Sheekeys. If you are an oyster lover like me, you can only appreciate yet another oyster specialist opening in town. The media has thus far graced it with a rather luke-warm reception, though it largely

Bob Bob Ricard : Modern Vintage.

The sheer volume of blogposts on Bob Bob Ricard throughout 2010 made the interwebs quite a homogeneous place to read about new things. For a moment in time, BBR was perhaps the trendiest all day, all-booth, Anglo diner in London, complete with

Les Deux Salons: French is back in vogue.

Les Deux Salons is into week 3 of operation, as of this visit, and I am glad to say that the kinks from the soft launch, crucially to do with service & speed, have been thoroughly worked out of the system. But thank goodness, this resplendent brasserie is not run with military precision, rather with a conservative friendliness instead. It is early days yet, though impressions are that Les Duex Salons is a serious contender for the title of ultimo Soho Anglo-French brasserie. We must start with decor, and boy is it breathtaking. The site is on William IV Street – which is near another Gallic superstar, Terroirs – once a Pitcher & Piano, painstakingly (at great expense I gather) converted into a thirties-style brasserie that harks back to Middle Europe Grand Cafe traditions, of a champagne brass, green leather booths and vintage train station-style lamps. 250 covers are spread over two floors. The decor immediately reminded me of another throw back design that is the sheer grandeur of St Pancras Grand (at St Pancras Station), and sure enough, the man who has dreamt up this luxury is doubly responsible for both. Martin Brudnizki, London based and Swedish born designer, also the main man behind many of Richard Caring’s luxury sites, including the recent redesigns of Ivy, Scotts, J Sheekey and Dean Street Townhouse. I really do feel a certain

Bincho: White Heat

All hail the gods of charcoal, keeper of the exalted flames, oh revered and magnanimous Ganko Ojisan, for I require six allotments of your juiciest chicken oysters. I imagine this place would be a hit on weekends what with its convenient location in Soho and

Gelupo: Wolf cries Ice Cream

Are you melting in the English summer yet? I’m surprised how humid the weather is so far, I went to Uniqlo to get new shorts so I can let the wind blow me dry… …. So there is a new gelateria in town, the same group behind the excellent tour-the-Italian-regions restaurant, Bocca di Lupo, and how very timely too. The gelati are pretty unique rather than just offer a standard selection (such as stracciatella or fiore di latte), there are combos such as ricotta, coffee and honey (which was excellent) and avocado & honey (which was a little off kilter, was a little sour). What I really enjoyed however, were the sorbets, the melon in particular tastes just like frozen cantaloupes, sweet, sugarly, stringly and fresh, just what one needs to cool off really. Even better were their granitas, we tried the watermelon, icy, syrupy and quite literally chipped frozen watermelon. Other granitas on the menu include coffee, blood orange and almond. The only things that disappointed were the cannoli. On paper it sounds interesting, stuffed with pistachio ice cream, fresh pistachios and a dark chocolate icing. It did taste freshly fried, but as it was stored in the freezer, the pastry dough became soggy. If only they fried and stuffed the cannoli (with gelato of choice, and as an alternate choice to wafer cones) to order, that would be

Koya : Udon-mania hits London.

Fernandez & Wells : I died and went to sandwich heaven

Andrew Edmunds : Soho Charm.

Le Salon Bar : Joel Robuchon’s best kept secret in London.

Leong’s Legend Continues : Dim sum with a touch of Taiwan

Tierra Brindisa : Getting over the tapas fever.