Imperial China - Chinatown, Sunday April 22nd, 2012

There is something so unutterably reassuring about Chinese teatime. It's one of those meals that you know is a bad idea for both money and cholesterol levels, it's a relatively unnecessary meal and if you eat it you most probably won't need dinner. Having said that, what makes it such a familiar comfort is that - most of the time - you will feel satisfied with what you got.

Imperial China is an old favourite and it was on a quiet Sunday with not much to do that we decided to enjoy our afternoon with a few dishes. What I like about this place, aside from the food, is that it remains one of the truly elegant restaurants in Chinatown. Its gateway through the small garden-like entrance becomes something resembling a properly upmarket eatery, all within the scummy throes of one of the busiest parts of west end London.

We went for some beef cheung-fun to get things started, being that the long, thin dumplings are a mainstay of dim sum for the wife and I (left). These were lovely in texture, but lacking in taste. The beef was lost in the skin, meaning the hint of flavour we were anticipating never came. Pretty disappointing, given the quality one expects here.

Next up were some chicken feet, which the wife had insisted on (right.) This really is one of those Asian dishes you have to give it your all for and despite the wife's affirmations, these are not for me. Whilst the meat and skin is actually soft and rather pleasant, the amount of small bones you have to spit back out leave a lot to be desired.

Egg tarts were predictably fantastic; a reminder of just about the best thing ever to come out of Hong Kong (left). Warm, flaky pastry surrounding a delicious egg cream with a slightly gelatinous sheen - perfection. I could eat these for way longer than is healthy.

We departed from our usual dim sum themes to try some spring rolls (right). These were a nice surprise - hot, soft and just about as tangy as you want your spring rolls to be. Slightly Vietnamese in style, they were packed full of vegetables, herbs and dainty flavour.

Next up was some pork rib (left). When this came to the table, it looked more like pork knuckle. Similar to the chicken feet, there was some pretty enjoyable meat here, but the amount of cartilage destruction and bone separation didn't really merit the eventual pay-off. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't a top one for me. The wife, however, really enjoyed these.

Finally, no dim sum outing of mine would be complete without some char siu bao, the fluffy barbecue pork buns (right). These were hot, steamy but sadly a little too thick. The meat inside was great, which is not always a given with these in dim sum places, but the bun slightly overwhelmed the filling. Not bad but not quite up to scratch.

There were a few highs and a few middles (no real lows to speak of) from our tea time at Imperial China, but it remains a favourite of the area. Its tea and lunch time appeal is just about as good as anything else you will find in Chinatown and it's more or less always the restaurant I'd recommend to anyone if they are in the area.

So, note it down: next time you feel like something worth your money in Chinatown, head off the bustle of Gerrard Street and onto the quiet sleaze of Lisle Street. Imperial China is waiting.

Imperial China

Union Jack's - Wednesday April 4th & Thursday May 10th

There are parts of modern-day celebrity cheffery that make the stomach curdle with discontent. Often the ill-feeling is based on nothing more than first impression and hearsay but that's what happens when cooks put themselves in the public eye. For instance, when Marco Pierre White teamed up with Frankie Dettori to create the Frankie's chain, it was a real head in hands moment. (Mind you, anything White puts his name to these days seems to be doomed.)

There is surely nothing worse than a celebrity chef cookware range. If that isn't pandering to the most money-grubbing low-end of kitchen fame then I don't know what is. The chef I associate with this most is the now outrageously successful Jamie Oliver. The guy has a finger in every piece of pie out there. If it isn't customising dried herbs and risotto spatulas, it's with one of his many, many television shows telling people that there is joy to be had in creating three courses at breakneck speed (and shopping at Sainsbury's.)

But, as Marco himself says: you've got to make a living. Maybe there is nothing wrong with a bit of slumming it at the low end. After all, that's how most chefs are going to make a big difference in modern society. And fair enough, Marco's Knorr recipes are pretty excellent home-cooked meals. Heck, some of Jamie's 30-minute meals are fair cop too.

Back on topic though, as soon as I found out Jamie Oliver was opening a chain called 'Union Jacks' I groaned. Then I found out that the chain would specialise in something called an 'English flatbread'. I was sort of intrigued. These flatbreads sound like sandwiches, I thought. Why have I never had one? Then I found out that they are essentially pizzas. Oh no, I thought. Everything about this sounds like a disaster. Jamie Oliver makes faux pizzas... Head in hands time.

All that said, when I read the menu online (a new branch was about to be opened in Chiswick), I was mildly intrigued. The tacky, type-written appearance of the menu aside, it didn't look too bad. The pizzas (I refuse to call them 'flatbreads' any longer) sounded appetising and the philosophy of using British-only suppliers and produce all sounded rather pleasant.

And so it came to pass that the wife and had two lunches there not long after it opened. Both were on the fly, hastily decided affairs and both were extremely enjoyable. Once you get past the oi-oi-saveloy outlook that this is indeed a Jamie Oliver restaurant, the substance underneath the at-first worrisome crust is actually worth it. On our first visit, we were in something of a rush so we ordered two sides and one pizza to come simultaneously. The sides were exactly what you want from British-only small plates: garlic mushrooms & mayonnaise and chicken liver with pickled onion & parsley salad.

Both of these are classic-sounding plates which could easily go quite wrong unless the restaurant is acutely aware of the importance of delivering on trend-of-the moment dishes. The mushrooms were a nicely varied field assortment with a properly rustic mayo. It was exactly the sort of thing we were looking for in a lunchtime small plate. Similarly, the chicken liver was a dismissive smear of grey which delivered in a most satisfying way, reminiscent of St John with the dressing on the side.

Given that we were only ordering one pizza, we just had to go for the 'Red Ox', a pizza promising beef braised in Worcester Sauce with Red Leicester, horseradish and watercress. This is certainly food which bangs the drum for home-famed foodstuffs and the result was even better than the description suggested. A delightfully balanced pizza with a perfectly thin base was rich and satisfyingly topped with a combination of punch from the beef, saltiness from the cheese, spice from the horseradish and a wonderful juiciness in the watercress.

I was astonished at how much I had enjoyed the lunch. So much so that a few weeks later we were back there again. This time we decided it was pizzas only and we went for the Red Ox again, this time with the 'Old Spot', with shoulder of pork, a sauce of quince and bramley apple, Stilton, crackling and watercress. This was another expertly-combined pizza but for me it wasn't quite as exceptional as the Red Ox. The Stilton was a little too pungent for me but the idea was great.

Without wanting to put too fine a point on it, I had been bowled over by Union Jacks. I had been turned off from the start but was quickly proved wrong. The pizzas are exceptional and the prices aren't too high either. Interesting side note - they appear to have changed the description from 'flatbreads' to 'pizzas' on their website - a welcome change for me at least.

Whatever you think of celebrity chefs, Union Jacks is definitely worth a visit if you're near one of their venues. More appear to be on the way and they have already started expanding out of London. The food is great, the atmosphere surprisingly apt and even if there is a strange aura of Oliver-ness in the air, the pizzas are so good it can be easily forgiven.

Union Jacks