Pub grub is becoming an ever-more prominent feature of London culture, and it seems to compliment a lazy summer Saturday most wonderfully (if it’s decent eating.) I ate at two pub/bar establishments on the 20th, both very different, and with somewhat surprising consequences.
The first was a broken affair, due to the first British & Irish Lions test match in South Africa. Watching this at the Clock House pub in Teddington (more or less my current local) made for some nerve-wracking eating. After roaring on encouragement to the unlucky Lions, my throat was dry, my stomach was churning and my palms were sweaty. After a narrow five-point defeat and a Croque Monsieur, I can safely assure you it was the rugby as opposed to the cuisine which had reduced me to such unattractive post-food conditions.
The dish itself was dependable if unspectacular. The Clock House has a decent French kitchen going for it, but it’s not quite up to the standard it might be, if you know what I mean. Le Monsieur was a touch dry, and the salad on the side was needlessly spiky. The frites were nice though – a little chunkier than you might expect with French food. Overall it wasn’t bad: decent standard with a couple of technical flaws. And after 26-21, I wasn’t in the mood to be eating much anyway.
The evening saw me rendezvous with Tom for a quick bite in Kick bar on Shoreditch High Street. There’s something I like about Kick, with its buzzy and varied audience and unobtrusive shifts in style from the front of the building to the back. You have outside tables, table football, a kitchen/café section at the rear and a bar set against a brick wall, fronted by a load of flag bunting. It’s ever so unpretentious for Shoreditch, and somewhere you can go for a relaxed drink or a bustling night out. Now, how about the food..?
I went for an old pub food standard, the beef burger. There were no chips on the side, they gave me cucumber slices pickled with dill, and the thing was as greasy as hell. Sounds poor, doesn’t it? Well, it was super. They passed the first test of being able to serve a burger as the customer requests (as always, rare was the order of the day), and from there on it was a delight. They shunned the classic approach of a bun with some soft crusty white bread (inspired), lightly herbed the burger, shaved some old-fashioned cheddar underneath the patty and sliced a thick tomato on top. It was indeed a delight to eat. We also enjoyed a sharp and smooth Eton Mess (with passion fruit and strawberries) and a decent chocolate fondant to finish.
Two most different establishments for eating and drinking, but two enjoyable experiences on a Saturday. Kick had the edge (perhaps inevitably), but if you’re near either, and looking for a drink and a quick bite, check these out.
Monday, 22 June 2009
Thursday, 18 June 2009
Egg Tarts
I vividly remember the first time I tried a Chinese (or perhaps Cantonese) egg tart. I'd told the friend I was dining with that I wasn't so keen on custard tarts and I would be alright without trying one. She persisted and I ate half of one of these small pastry nests with one bite. It was some kind of eye-opener, I'll tell you. I recently offered one to my mother, and her reaction was as happily surprised as mine.
The main differences between Cantonese egg tarts and an English custard tarts are in the personality of the dessert. (I think I can get away with that...) The eastern versions are artful, delicate and light. English egg tarts are quite heavy and dull; an overload of bland and gelatinous custard in a thick pastry case. Their eastern counterparts are simply delightful, and I recommend trying them to anyone. They are finer, less brutal, butterier, more elegant and a darn sight better. It also helps that they contribute perfectly to my favourite kind of Oriental cuisine: dim sum.
Get out and have some egg tarts today! The lunchtime menus at Royal China in Putney, Pearl Liang in Paddington and Imperial China in Chinatown should make for some top nosh, if you fancy trying one. Also have a look at Cafe Lisboa on Golbourne Road. These are Portuguese egg tarts, and whilst they are different, they are also seriously worth sampling.
The main differences between Cantonese egg tarts and an English custard tarts are in the personality of the dessert. (I think I can get away with that...) The eastern versions are artful, delicate and light. English egg tarts are quite heavy and dull; an overload of bland and gelatinous custard in a thick pastry case. Their eastern counterparts are simply delightful, and I recommend trying them to anyone. They are finer, less brutal, butterier, more elegant and a darn sight better. It also helps that they contribute perfectly to my favourite kind of Oriental cuisine: dim sum.
Get out and have some egg tarts today! The lunchtime menus at Royal China in Putney, Pearl Liang in Paddington and Imperial China in Chinatown should make for some top nosh, if you fancy trying one. Also have a look at Cafe Lisboa on Golbourne Road. These are Portuguese egg tarts, and whilst they are different, they are also seriously worth sampling.
Tuesday, 9 June 2009
The Delights of Korean Barbecue
In the past six months, I've had some varying experiences of Korean food. The first was a nightmarish, £30+ per head for a pittance at a place in Mayfair. The second was a struggle through a huge thin soup-ish hotpot and a couple of side dishes. More recently, I've found the kind of Korean food I want to eat: barbecue.
Ran restaurant in Soho is the place to go. (I say that with the false authority of a man who knows Korean food, but it really is good here.) The mixed udon noodles are oily, seafood-filled, light and perfectly cooked. The rice is spicy (but not tongue-lacerating) and a decent side dish. The surroundings are modern and refreshing. But this is not the most important thing...
The large hotplates on the tables are constantly being replenished with meat, fish, seafood and whatever you care to order by the helpful staff. The beauty of eating like this is that you can cook food as much as you want. Some of the sliced beef you'll get is juicy as anything. The assorted seafood is usually the final part of the process, and it's always worth waiting for. I won't go into everything that comes on a barbecue platter, but I will say that you should check it out. Just don't get dessert.
Ran restaurant in Soho is the place to go. (I say that with the false authority of a man who knows Korean food, but it really is good here.) The mixed udon noodles are oily, seafood-filled, light and perfectly cooked. The rice is spicy (but not tongue-lacerating) and a decent side dish. The surroundings are modern and refreshing. But this is not the most important thing...
The large hotplates on the tables are constantly being replenished with meat, fish, seafood and whatever you care to order by the helpful staff. The beauty of eating like this is that you can cook food as much as you want. Some of the sliced beef you'll get is juicy as anything. The assorted seafood is usually the final part of the process, and it's always worth waiting for. I won't go into everything that comes on a barbecue platter, but I will say that you should check it out. Just don't get dessert.
Friday, 5 June 2009
Borough Market
It's uber-cool to hang around Borough Market at the weekends, and when you manage to get down there, you can see why. Blazing Saturday morning sunshine, bubbling local pubs, quirky buskers, a healthy mix of foodies and tourists and one excellent selection of food, drink and other bits and pieces besides... It's wonderful under them old hall roofs.
I can't recommend going here highly enough, if you care about your food, or if you're just curious about buying fresh produce that's a cut above most of what you can get in a supermarket. The last time I was there, I ended up splashing out a fair amount, which turned into a six-course evening meal with some friends. Highlights were some large, juicy scallops (ten for around £8), some greasy and gorgeous black pudding (four slices for £2.50), some restaurant-quality foie gras & black truffle parfait (£7 for 100g) and a cracking variety box of mushrooms (£4.50).
I'm sure what I went on to make from these sensational ingredients didn't do them justice, but it made me realise what a gem this place is. Please go there for a cultural and gastronomical awakening.
I can't recommend going here highly enough, if you care about your food, or if you're just curious about buying fresh produce that's a cut above most of what you can get in a supermarket. The last time I was there, I ended up splashing out a fair amount, which turned into a six-course evening meal with some friends. Highlights were some large, juicy scallops (ten for around £8), some greasy and gorgeous black pudding (four slices for £2.50), some restaurant-quality foie gras & black truffle parfait (£7 for 100g) and a cracking variety box of mushrooms (£4.50).
I'm sure what I went on to make from these sensational ingredients didn't do them justice, but it made me realise what a gem this place is. Please go there for a cultural and gastronomical awakening.
Tuesday, 2 June 2009
Paradise by Way of Kensal Green, Kilburn: 1st of June, 2009
I love a good misnomer. Or, rather, a massive exaggeration. The problem with naming anywhere ‘Paradise’ is that you’re almost on a hiding to nothing before you start. Said gastropub/restaurant/eatery (I can’t decide which it is yet) in northwest London may’ve hexed itself by being a bit of everything with a name that promises everything. That said, there’s something undeniably charming about the restaurant area in the back of the building. Maybe that was the stunning first day of summer weather, actually… Either way, it was a gorgeous evening to be out and dining.
The main problem I had with Paradise is that they ruined two potentially great dishes for our main courses. (The third, a piece of tuna, was just average altogether.) A beautiful piece of duck had been pelted with orange zest and bits of Satsuma until the flavour of the meat itself had been replaced with an acidic sweetness that belongs more with a fruit cake than a piece of duck. When I’d managed to scrape off as much of this needless pulp as I could, I was doubly annoyed that the duck (even though they hadn’t asked how we’d like it cooked) was excellent: moderately rare, juicy and tangy. They also added a slab of chicory and some carrot puree to the dish, which became irrelevant after all that sauce. It was a similar story with the lobster. Coated in butter and decorated with leaves, they’d thoughtfully cut the shell open and separated it all for us. It was really good apart from the strange green herb sauce that lay on the bottom of the shell. (Think potent English pesto – I have no idea what was in it.) One bite was magic; the next was tongue-stiffening. And so it went…
Starters and desserts were pretty good. Standard oysters to begin, but potted rabbit was genuinely delicious. A Knickerbocker Glory for dessert was pretty nice – they had broken the fruit down from a barrage of pips and chewy mulch to a smoother, more pleasing component of the dish. Very good sticky toffee pudding, but it could’ve used some cream-like accompaniment. A well-presented meringue sandwich with raspberry sorbet and vanilla ice cream was an unexpected highlight. I didn’t go for the strawberries on the side, but it was very summery and refreshing.
I didn’t dislike my meal here, but I was quite upset with it. Two almost great dishes ruined by bad sauces, and bits of the rest were good, at times great. I’d also heard some good things about this place, so it may’ve been cursed by my expectations too. The service was also a strange mix of informal chattiness (“Stop talking now, the food’s here”) and the somewhat more standard practice of quiet politeness. Again; when it was good, it was very good… Paradise by Way of Kensal Green is not a bad gastropub/restaurant/eatery, but if you do go there, please tell me which of the three you think it is. And approach the main course menu with caution.
The main problem I had with Paradise is that they ruined two potentially great dishes for our main courses. (The third, a piece of tuna, was just average altogether.) A beautiful piece of duck had been pelted with orange zest and bits of Satsuma until the flavour of the meat itself had been replaced with an acidic sweetness that belongs more with a fruit cake than a piece of duck. When I’d managed to scrape off as much of this needless pulp as I could, I was doubly annoyed that the duck (even though they hadn’t asked how we’d like it cooked) was excellent: moderately rare, juicy and tangy. They also added a slab of chicory and some carrot puree to the dish, which became irrelevant after all that sauce. It was a similar story with the lobster. Coated in butter and decorated with leaves, they’d thoughtfully cut the shell open and separated it all for us. It was really good apart from the strange green herb sauce that lay on the bottom of the shell. (Think potent English pesto – I have no idea what was in it.) One bite was magic; the next was tongue-stiffening. And so it went…
Starters and desserts were pretty good. Standard oysters to begin, but potted rabbit was genuinely delicious. A Knickerbocker Glory for dessert was pretty nice – they had broken the fruit down from a barrage of pips and chewy mulch to a smoother, more pleasing component of the dish. Very good sticky toffee pudding, but it could’ve used some cream-like accompaniment. A well-presented meringue sandwich with raspberry sorbet and vanilla ice cream was an unexpected highlight. I didn’t go for the strawberries on the side, but it was very summery and refreshing.
I didn’t dislike my meal here, but I was quite upset with it. Two almost great dishes ruined by bad sauces, and bits of the rest were good, at times great. I’d also heard some good things about this place, so it may’ve been cursed by my expectations too. The service was also a strange mix of informal chattiness (“Stop talking now, the food’s here”) and the somewhat more standard practice of quiet politeness. Again; when it was good, it was very good… Paradise by Way of Kensal Green is not a bad gastropub/restaurant/eatery, but if you do go there, please tell me which of the three you think it is. And approach the main course menu with caution.
Monday, 1 June 2009
The Clerkenwell Dining Rooms, Clerkenwell: 28th of May, 2009
I’ve not spent much time in Clerkenwell, and that seems like a mistake, given how it’s a wonderful, transitional balance between the trendy east end and the safe west end: perfect for a timid adventurer such as I. The dining rooms themselves are a fairly modern, somewhat predictable set of shop fronts on St. John Street. Once inside, the space itself is quite trendy and comfortable. It certainly looks like somewhere you’d want to spend money on food. I attended here with six other people, some of whom I knew and some I didn’t. Definitely the sort of evening that could have gone either way from the outset. The atmosphere inside was buzzing and friendly. The music was too loud and pretty rubbish, which annoyed me, but the place was quite kicky and comfortable.
With a group of seven, we could’ve pretty much eaten the card but two pairs of friends ordered the Cote de Boef, which meant only two dishes were being eaten between four of us. (I have a strange aversion to people ordering the same thing as someone else at the table.) Still, I resisted and did the usual sharing job with my other half. Starters of the seemingly ever-present standard (glory be!) chicken liver parfait and field mushrooms on a polenta cake were quite superb. The former doing exactly what you’d expect and the latter being a combination of one huge mushroom on a crisped polenta pastry-style tart base, covered in a variety of smaller funghi. Add to this the variety of other dishes doing the rounds: a daring pimento frittata is something I wouldn’t order, but certainly enjoyed trying. Terrine of squid and red mullet was juicy and understated. Curry-spiced scallops were surprisingly great. Starters out of the way and we were all very happy.
Main courses were less varied and extravagant, but still did the job. The two steaks to share were properly cooked, cut and served. They came with some rather splendid hand-cut chips, which are a rarity these days. These were solid, fluffy, slightly crisp and (most importantly) not undercooked at all. Too many chip portions in restaurants these days are underdone, and this is always a real downer. The buttery hollandaise that came with them was passable and complimented it all well enough. The fish of the day was a gorgeous piece of salmon that was insulted by the addition of aubergine caviar and that most useless of accompaniments; couscous. The two stand-out dishes were the chicken and the lamb. They sound simple enough, but the chicken was a coquelet (baby chicken) in a creamy sauce, with shavings of parmesan, gnocchi and some light vegetables. This is an interesting and very highly recommended dish. If I could make a sauce this rich, I’d be doling it out in bowls for those queuing outside the job centre. Until this evening, I had no idea that beetroot was good for anything. (Some misguided souls might tell you that it’s great in salad.) In fact, beetroot is great when it’s used as the base for jus with lamb. Bravo Clerkenwell Dining Rooms. The lamb (both rump and confit ravioli) was really good, although bafflingly served on a bed of chicory (this can often backfire, I’ve found) and a few very tart anchovies. The meat and jus was great, but it’s a shame the ill-chosen dressings partly overwhelmed it.
We (shockingly) didn’t have dessert. There wasn’t much to interest us there, and we’d eaten about all we could. (Two of the group even took food away with them.) We got petit fours, which were nice enough – good, rich and bitter truffles and some miniature cookies that unfortunately had nuts in them. The meal here was pretty decent. Some excellent dishes, some average, but none to upset the stomach or to complain about. Worth a try in what’s becoming an ever-so-hip place to hang about in London.
With a group of seven, we could’ve pretty much eaten the card but two pairs of friends ordered the Cote de Boef, which meant only two dishes were being eaten between four of us. (I have a strange aversion to people ordering the same thing as someone else at the table.) Still, I resisted and did the usual sharing job with my other half. Starters of the seemingly ever-present standard (glory be!) chicken liver parfait and field mushrooms on a polenta cake were quite superb. The former doing exactly what you’d expect and the latter being a combination of one huge mushroom on a crisped polenta pastry-style tart base, covered in a variety of smaller funghi. Add to this the variety of other dishes doing the rounds: a daring pimento frittata is something I wouldn’t order, but certainly enjoyed trying. Terrine of squid and red mullet was juicy and understated. Curry-spiced scallops were surprisingly great. Starters out of the way and we were all very happy.
Main courses were less varied and extravagant, but still did the job. The two steaks to share were properly cooked, cut and served. They came with some rather splendid hand-cut chips, which are a rarity these days. These were solid, fluffy, slightly crisp and (most importantly) not undercooked at all. Too many chip portions in restaurants these days are underdone, and this is always a real downer. The buttery hollandaise that came with them was passable and complimented it all well enough. The fish of the day was a gorgeous piece of salmon that was insulted by the addition of aubergine caviar and that most useless of accompaniments; couscous. The two stand-out dishes were the chicken and the lamb. They sound simple enough, but the chicken was a coquelet (baby chicken) in a creamy sauce, with shavings of parmesan, gnocchi and some light vegetables. This is an interesting and very highly recommended dish. If I could make a sauce this rich, I’d be doling it out in bowls for those queuing outside the job centre. Until this evening, I had no idea that beetroot was good for anything. (Some misguided souls might tell you that it’s great in salad.) In fact, beetroot is great when it’s used as the base for jus with lamb. Bravo Clerkenwell Dining Rooms. The lamb (both rump and confit ravioli) was really good, although bafflingly served on a bed of chicory (this can often backfire, I’ve found) and a few very tart anchovies. The meat and jus was great, but it’s a shame the ill-chosen dressings partly overwhelmed it.
We (shockingly) didn’t have dessert. There wasn’t much to interest us there, and we’d eaten about all we could. (Two of the group even took food away with them.) We got petit fours, which were nice enough – good, rich and bitter truffles and some miniature cookies that unfortunately had nuts in them. The meal here was pretty decent. Some excellent dishes, some average, but none to upset the stomach or to complain about. Worth a try in what’s becoming an ever-so-hip place to hang about in London.
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