The Square
It's not often one gets to eat lunch at a 2-Star Michelin restaurant for a mere £25 for 3 courses, so we are eagerly anticipating this treat. Thanks to the LRF, The Square (Chef Phillip Howard) and a good number of other great restaurants are peeling back their prices so that we foodies-on-a-budget can see how the other half eat. A tube-strike Monday leads us to leave extra time for the journey up to Mayfair, but luckily we aren't troubled by anything like the total gridlock of a few days before, and actually arrive early. The restaurant is a short walk from Bond Street so we enjoy a little gawp at the flagship Louis Vuitton store - its windows filled with magical and whimsical ostriches and ostrich eggs are enough to brighten even the grayest day.
The Square is a large open restaurant, with floor-to-ceiling windows onto Bruton Street filling the space with light - a sculptural glass screen provides just enough privacy - and we are quickly and efficiently seated at a nice large table for 2 with a view towards the windows. The Festival menu offers 3 choices for starters and entrees, and 2 for dessert, so we choose without too much discussion or horse-trading. I choose a half bottle of a Rosé Champagne to pair with my dishes – I am a firm believer that bubbles are made to go with food - and a glass of Mt. Difficulty Pinot Gris for the tortellini then a Barbera d’Alba for the hare. 2 dishes of butter arrive: a tiny sculptured pine cone of unsalted that's too precious to spoil, and a much plainer slab of salted sprinkled with more sel de mer. Swiftly followed by a lovely selection of house-made breads. While I am admiring the silver Christofle salt and pepper mills, an unexpected amuse bouche is placed in front of us - a sample of what's to come, it’s a shot glass containing a layer of creamy onion mousse, a wild mushroom gelée and topped with a pumpkin foam and a handy parmesan tuile for stirring. Each individual flavour has a voice but the whole sings like a well honed choir.
Our two starters next: tortellini of langoustine claws and salmon, a carpaccio of shellfish and a Champagne foam, and a mousseline of grouse with pearl barley and lardo. The pasta is perfectly cooked, and resonates with an intensity of the seafood flavours while the sauce is more of a gentle bubble than a full-on foam. The grouse mousse is silky smooth and subtle and there are hints of wild mushrooms in the sauce – a lovely rendition of autumn flavours.
The seasonal theme is carried through to the entrees: saddle of hare with tarte fine of pear and celeriac, and fillet of cod with pumpkin purée, wild mushroom and sage. I’ve always thought of hare as being fairly game-y, but this one is tender and not at all strong flavoured, and the delicate tarte is another taste of autumn that’s a well balanced counterpoint. Sweet pumpkin and wild mushrooms echo that in the cod dish – both are perfect examples of balancing the yin and yang of contrasting flavours and textures.
Dessert choices are a Brillat-Savarin cheesecake with currants, and a chocolate ‘mess’. The mess is a chocolate lovers delight – a treasure trove of unsweetened cocoa mousse, milk ice-cream and warm chocolate sauce with some lovely chocolate crunchy bits – it’s a substantial dessert but we somehow manage to scoop out every last mouthful. The cheesecake is light and airy but it’s fighting a losing battle against the chocolate.
Finally, a tray of house-made nougat pieces with our coffee. Soft and chewy, the nougat is something of a signature of Chef Howard, as we recall from our previous encounter (see ‘The Square pops up in Putney').
The great thing about lunch is you have the rest of the day to recover from your excesses especially if you don’t have to go back to work afterwards, the other advantage is that many of London’s top restaurants offer a much better value at lunch so even without the LRF it’s possible to satisfy a Champagne taste on a beer budget.
We both feel decidedly like spheres rather than squares as we head back out to the street, but it is worth it: The Square lived up to our expectations in every way and in some cases, exceeded them. Now, let's see how the ostriches are doing.
Tuesday, 12 October 2010
Sue's London Goes To Sicily
Siracusa/Ortygia
Before memories of our dining experiences in Sicily fade as quickly as my tan, it's time to reflect on some of the highs (and a few lows). Siracusa is on the southeast coast of Sicily and Ortygia, an islet connected so firmly to the mainlaind that it's almost inseparable, is full of nightlife with bars, restaurants and cafes around almost every corner. It's also a maze of narrow streets and alleys, and impossible to truly get lost for long. A bit wary to start with, we set off on the 15-minute walk from our beach-side hotel as dusk descended, and tried to ignore the slightly dodgy area we seemed to be passing through - later, as we grew more familiar with the route we lost our initial nervousness and each sighting of other, lone strollers emboldened us. Once on the island, swept up by the crowds out for the nightly 'passegiata' (the traditional meet-and-greet nightly stroll that is such a part of the culture in Italy and Spain), we feel completely safe and start to enjoy the spectacle. Minimal research has resulted in a few possible restaurant options for the week ahead, but this first night, failing to find any of them, we dive into the best looking option, the aptly named Dionysius (the Greek God of Wine). It's 8pm, but the place is empty save for the Chef, a waiter and, presumably, the owner/investor - though within an hour the place is heaving, and it's clearly a neighbourhood place as most of the clientele are greeted like old friends. Oddly, for a restaurant trading on its association with wine, there's no wine list, and we're invited to simply choose something off the shelf. Well, that's a bit of a dare, isn't it? Thank goodness I know a thing or two about Sicilian wine and carefully negotiate our way into what should be a moderately priced white - Cusamano Insolia - as we will almost certainly be eating a fishy meal. Coastal Sicily makes the most of the bounty of the seas, and we've already encountered a distinct lack of meat during our time in Siracuse. Local specialties include sea urchin, tuna and swordfish along with some unidentifiable small fish that are larger than anchovies and smaller (and less bony than) sardines. Unfortunately the meal turns out to be largely unmemorable, save for the feeling that we've walked into a scene reminiscent of The Godfather, without the guns thankfully!
Our next venture into Ortygia is more successful, as we've done more thorough research this time and booked at a restaurant specializing in 'modern' Sicilian - Oinos. Weaving our way through the alleys we stop for a glass of Prosecco at an outdoor cafe in the Piazza del Duomo (great people watching) before moving on to the restaurant. Again we are the first diners, unable to hit the right timing on Sicilian dining. An empty dining room means a lack of atmosphere, so we opt for an outdoor table where we can enjoy the neighbourhood comings and goings. That Oinos is several levels above Dionysius is clear from the start: friendly and efficient staff bring menus and, yes, a wine list, and we are soon immersed in the series of eliminations that are needed for the final line-up.
An amuse-bouche of mussels in a tomato broth is presented shortly after we place our order – the mussels are tender and obviously very fresh, a good sign. We’ve ordered a layered dish of goat cheese and figs (millefoglie dei fichi e caprino con miele) and duck breast with foie gras,figs and pears. The local honey makes a spectacular appearance in both dishes, the sweetness working really well with the saltiness in each case. The duck comes with a generous slice of foie gras that is perfectly cooked: caramelized on the outside and melting in the middle. The goat cheese is salty, soft and fresh and is lifted by the figs and honey. A crisp Vermentino, ‘Grillo’ makes a good pairing to the latter, while Cusamano Buana, a blend of Nero d’Avola and Syrah handles the duck rather well. It’s also a good match with the next two dishes: guinea fowl with a foie gras, rice and spinach stuffing, and ‘bocconcini’ of Argentine beef – large cubes of beer-marinated, grilled steak – on a bed of baby spinach. Both are delicious, and in the case of the beef, simply and lovingly prepared. The chef clearly has a confident hand, and in an homage to Sicilian cuisine, uses local ingredients as often as possible and, by pairing them with more exotic foods, elevates them above the mundane. We are simply too full to find room for dessert and instead waddle slowly back to the hotel. Oinos has lived up to the magazine hype and if we were there for longer we’d have gone back – high praise indeed.
For our final foray into Ortygia we’ve chosen a restaurant that has just celebrated 25 years in business – Don Camillo. The Chef here is also a keen advocate of the Slow Food movement. We are seated in the busy front room where we can also admire the wine collection – there are plenty of Sicilian wines to choose from here which is great because they are my new favourite wines. A couple of glasses of prosecco arrive to tide us over while we look over the menu. There’s a stuffy formality to this restaurant, which makes us roll our eyes a bit (in a ‘get over yourselves’ way), and though the service can’t really be faulted it is not friendly. The menu is extensive, with a lot of seafood and ‘signature’ dishes, but when it comes it’s apparent that this restaurant is living on its laurels, and the style of cooking is very 1980’s: we have a tired veal scallopine dish, and an uninspired pasta dish. In direct contrast to Oinos, it has not changed with the times and as such is a disappointment.
For the most part, we’ve been very impressed by the freshness of the local food, and only disappointed when it was clear that the food wasn’t either fresh or local. We also ate at our hotel a couple of nights, where Mama was in the kitchen and produced the most delicious simple meals in the local style. Home cooking at its best – maybe the chef at Don Camillo needs to come here and get a refresher course on how to produce dishes that celebrate your ingredients, even if they are humble and few.
Before memories of our dining experiences in Sicily fade as quickly as my tan, it's time to reflect on some of the highs (and a few lows). Siracusa is on the southeast coast of Sicily and Ortygia, an islet connected so firmly to the mainlaind that it's almost inseparable, is full of nightlife with bars, restaurants and cafes around almost every corner. It's also a maze of narrow streets and alleys, and impossible to truly get lost for long. A bit wary to start with, we set off on the 15-minute walk from our beach-side hotel as dusk descended, and tried to ignore the slightly dodgy area we seemed to be passing through - later, as we grew more familiar with the route we lost our initial nervousness and each sighting of other, lone strollers emboldened us. Once on the island, swept up by the crowds out for the nightly 'passegiata' (the traditional meet-and-greet nightly stroll that is such a part of the culture in Italy and Spain), we feel completely safe and start to enjoy the spectacle. Minimal research has resulted in a few possible restaurant options for the week ahead, but this first night, failing to find any of them, we dive into the best looking option, the aptly named Dionysius (the Greek God of Wine). It's 8pm, but the place is empty save for the Chef, a waiter and, presumably, the owner/investor - though within an hour the place is heaving, and it's clearly a neighbourhood place as most of the clientele are greeted like old friends. Oddly, for a restaurant trading on its association with wine, there's no wine list, and we're invited to simply choose something off the shelf. Well, that's a bit of a dare, isn't it? Thank goodness I know a thing or two about Sicilian wine and carefully negotiate our way into what should be a moderately priced white - Cusamano Insolia - as we will almost certainly be eating a fishy meal. Coastal Sicily makes the most of the bounty of the seas, and we've already encountered a distinct lack of meat during our time in Siracuse. Local specialties include sea urchin, tuna and swordfish along with some unidentifiable small fish that are larger than anchovies and smaller (and less bony than) sardines. Unfortunately the meal turns out to be largely unmemorable, save for the feeling that we've walked into a scene reminiscent of The Godfather, without the guns thankfully!
Our next venture into Ortygia is more successful, as we've done more thorough research this time and booked at a restaurant specializing in 'modern' Sicilian - Oinos. Weaving our way through the alleys we stop for a glass of Prosecco at an outdoor cafe in the Piazza del Duomo (great people watching) before moving on to the restaurant. Again we are the first diners, unable to hit the right timing on Sicilian dining. An empty dining room means a lack of atmosphere, so we opt for an outdoor table where we can enjoy the neighbourhood comings and goings. That Oinos is several levels above Dionysius is clear from the start: friendly and efficient staff bring menus and, yes, a wine list, and we are soon immersed in the series of eliminations that are needed for the final line-up.
An amuse-bouche of mussels in a tomato broth is presented shortly after we place our order – the mussels are tender and obviously very fresh, a good sign. We’ve ordered a layered dish of goat cheese and figs (millefoglie dei fichi e caprino con miele) and duck breast with foie gras,figs and pears. The local honey makes a spectacular appearance in both dishes, the sweetness working really well with the saltiness in each case. The duck comes with a generous slice of foie gras that is perfectly cooked: caramelized on the outside and melting in the middle. The goat cheese is salty, soft and fresh and is lifted by the figs and honey. A crisp Vermentino, ‘Grillo’ makes a good pairing to the latter, while Cusamano Buana, a blend of Nero d’Avola and Syrah handles the duck rather well. It’s also a good match with the next two dishes: guinea fowl with a foie gras, rice and spinach stuffing, and ‘bocconcini’ of Argentine beef – large cubes of beer-marinated, grilled steak – on a bed of baby spinach. Both are delicious, and in the case of the beef, simply and lovingly prepared. The chef clearly has a confident hand, and in an homage to Sicilian cuisine, uses local ingredients as often as possible and, by pairing them with more exotic foods, elevates them above the mundane. We are simply too full to find room for dessert and instead waddle slowly back to the hotel. Oinos has lived up to the magazine hype and if we were there for longer we’d have gone back – high praise indeed.
For our final foray into Ortygia we’ve chosen a restaurant that has just celebrated 25 years in business – Don Camillo. The Chef here is also a keen advocate of the Slow Food movement. We are seated in the busy front room where we can also admire the wine collection – there are plenty of Sicilian wines to choose from here which is great because they are my new favourite wines. A couple of glasses of prosecco arrive to tide us over while we look over the menu. There’s a stuffy formality to this restaurant, which makes us roll our eyes a bit (in a ‘get over yourselves’ way), and though the service can’t really be faulted it is not friendly. The menu is extensive, with a lot of seafood and ‘signature’ dishes, but when it comes it’s apparent that this restaurant is living on its laurels, and the style of cooking is very 1980’s: we have a tired veal scallopine dish, and an uninspired pasta dish. In direct contrast to Oinos, it has not changed with the times and as such is a disappointment.
For the most part, we’ve been very impressed by the freshness of the local food, and only disappointed when it was clear that the food wasn’t either fresh or local. We also ate at our hotel a couple of nights, where Mama was in the kitchen and produced the most delicious simple meals in the local style. Home cooking at its best – maybe the chef at Don Camillo needs to come here and get a refresher course on how to produce dishes that celebrate your ingredients, even if they are humble and few.
Friday, 8 October 2010
Fifteen x 2 = brilliant
Fifteen London
They say you shouldn't go back, that something that was wonderful the first time rarely lives up to the memory. Having given Fifteen such a glowing review the first time we went, I had hooked a couple of friends who were desperate to join us the next time they were in London, so I had two reasons to be crossing my fingers that it would live up to the pedestal on which I'd set it.
Dinner at Fifteen now offers exclusively a 5-course tasting menu at £65, which I am sure is wonderful, but we wanted the freedom to try as many different dishes as possible so we opted for lunch instead, and booked for 1.30pm – that gives us time to work up a bit of an appetite! A lovely crisp, mineral Italian white wine helps get the juices going too, along with a plate of those enormous green olives – if your closest encounter with green olives is limited to pimento-stuffed and speared in your martini these babies will be a revelation: so fresh there’s a toothy quality to them and you cannot just eat one – I dare you!
There follows a spell of deep concentration . . . all eyes focussed on menus, making sure we get the combinations right. They are so user-friendly here, there are fixed prices for every option: 2 courses, £21; 2 courses plus dessert, £24; 4 courses, £28 and it’s the same with the wine pairing. Don’t worry, compared to choosing your fantasy football team, this is easy stuff. Bearing in mind we have the whole afternoon ahead of us, so plenty of recovery time, we all go for the wine pairing option and I sigh with relief: choosing one wine that matches everyone’s food choices is impossible, and you often end up with a compromise that’s like the curate’s egg – good in parts. So we all decide to skip the antipasto offerings and dive straight into the nirvana section: when it comes to pasta, what’s not to love? And a different pasta for everyone means we can ‘do some business’ which is the whole point of not dining alone, isn’t it? And they are all fabulous – the pappardelle with lamb and pork ragu (omg, the ragu is sensational), the linguine with octopus and anchovy pangratatto, the ravioli of goats ricotta and chard doing the backstroke in a caper and mint butter sauce and, the piece de resistance, the ‘lightest’ gnocchi with fresh girolles again living up to their lack of gravity. The sommelier has chosen some great wines to accompany each of these though, sadly for posterity, I fail to note what they are other than pitch perfect.
So far, so perfect. Two of us have chosen the same entree – char-grilled, marinated leg of lamb with aubergine (eggplant) funghetto – while our partners have chosen Sicilian Fisherman’s stew and 10-hour braised shin of beef respectively. We lamb-eaters are presented with an Italian red wine from a collective run by a drug rehab clinic – San Patrignano – a concept that at first is a source of much joking, but then we realize how it dovetails perfectly with the ethos behind Fifteen. Aside from making wines, San Patrignano also produces cheese, olive oil, honey and salumi. Our wine, Noi, is a DOC blend of Sangiovese, Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot and, boy, those ex addicts make some great wine. It has great body and balance and is just right with the lamb. In fact it’s so good that our beef-eater, not too happy with the wine choice he’s been given, asks to switch to the Noi. By the way, please check their website – www.sanpatrignano.org – to learn more about their programme. The lamb is melt-in-the-mouth delicious and I’ve reached the point where I don’t really want to share any more. From the cleaned plates at the end though, I’m guessing everyone’s happy with their dishes.
Now in a serious food coma, and 2 hours + into the meal, we have to consider dessert. Feeling distinctly like Mr. Creosote before he explodes (Monty Python’s Meaning of Life: ‘I’ll have the lot’), we are helpless to resist (who can, with the likes of Panna Cotta with spiced plums, blackcurrant and Vin Santo baba and tiramisu semifreddo with dark chocolate mousse?) and one of us even goes for the cheese plate. Heaven’s above.
What was that about ‘you can’t go back’? Well, at least in the case of Fifteen, you can . . . again and again. In fact, before we leave we’re already talking about coming back for the tasting menu dinner next time, blow the expense. I stand by what I said the first time, best damn Italian food in London, period.
http://www.fifteen.net/
They say you shouldn't go back, that something that was wonderful the first time rarely lives up to the memory. Having given Fifteen such a glowing review the first time we went, I had hooked a couple of friends who were desperate to join us the next time they were in London, so I had two reasons to be crossing my fingers that it would live up to the pedestal on which I'd set it.
Dinner at Fifteen now offers exclusively a 5-course tasting menu at £65, which I am sure is wonderful, but we wanted the freedom to try as many different dishes as possible so we opted for lunch instead, and booked for 1.30pm – that gives us time to work up a bit of an appetite! A lovely crisp, mineral Italian white wine helps get the juices going too, along with a plate of those enormous green olives – if your closest encounter with green olives is limited to pimento-stuffed and speared in your martini these babies will be a revelation: so fresh there’s a toothy quality to them and you cannot just eat one – I dare you!
There follows a spell of deep concentration . . . all eyes focussed on menus, making sure we get the combinations right. They are so user-friendly here, there are fixed prices for every option: 2 courses, £21; 2 courses plus dessert, £24; 4 courses, £28 and it’s the same with the wine pairing. Don’t worry, compared to choosing your fantasy football team, this is easy stuff. Bearing in mind we have the whole afternoon ahead of us, so plenty of recovery time, we all go for the wine pairing option and I sigh with relief: choosing one wine that matches everyone’s food choices is impossible, and you often end up with a compromise that’s like the curate’s egg – good in parts. So we all decide to skip the antipasto offerings and dive straight into the nirvana section: when it comes to pasta, what’s not to love? And a different pasta for everyone means we can ‘do some business’ which is the whole point of not dining alone, isn’t it? And they are all fabulous – the pappardelle with lamb and pork ragu (omg, the ragu is sensational), the linguine with octopus and anchovy pangratatto, the ravioli of goats ricotta and chard doing the backstroke in a caper and mint butter sauce and, the piece de resistance, the ‘lightest’ gnocchi with fresh girolles again living up to their lack of gravity. The sommelier has chosen some great wines to accompany each of these though, sadly for posterity, I fail to note what they are other than pitch perfect.
So far, so perfect. Two of us have chosen the same entree – char-grilled, marinated leg of lamb with aubergine (eggplant) funghetto – while our partners have chosen Sicilian Fisherman’s stew and 10-hour braised shin of beef respectively. We lamb-eaters are presented with an Italian red wine from a collective run by a drug rehab clinic – San Patrignano – a concept that at first is a source of much joking, but then we realize how it dovetails perfectly with the ethos behind Fifteen. Aside from making wines, San Patrignano also produces cheese, olive oil, honey and salumi. Our wine, Noi, is a DOC blend of Sangiovese, Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot and, boy, those ex addicts make some great wine. It has great body and balance and is just right with the lamb. In fact it’s so good that our beef-eater, not too happy with the wine choice he’s been given, asks to switch to the Noi. By the way, please check their website – www.sanpatrignano.org – to learn more about their programme. The lamb is melt-in-the-mouth delicious and I’ve reached the point where I don’t really want to share any more. From the cleaned plates at the end though, I’m guessing everyone’s happy with their dishes.
Now in a serious food coma, and 2 hours + into the meal, we have to consider dessert. Feeling distinctly like Mr. Creosote before he explodes (Monty Python’s Meaning of Life: ‘I’ll have the lot’), we are helpless to resist (who can, with the likes of Panna Cotta with spiced plums, blackcurrant and Vin Santo baba and tiramisu semifreddo with dark chocolate mousse?) and one of us even goes for the cheese plate. Heaven’s above.
What was that about ‘you can’t go back’? Well, at least in the case of Fifteen, you can . . . again and again. In fact, before we leave we’re already talking about coming back for the tasting menu dinner next time, blow the expense. I stand by what I said the first time, best damn Italian food in London, period.
http://www.fifteen.net/
Thursday, 9 September 2010
Riddle and Finns Champagne and Oyster Bar
Riddle and Finns Champagne and Oyster Bar
A trip south to London-on-Sea, or Brighton as it's better known, in pursuit of a rare sighting of a culinary hero of mine: Anthony Bourdain. He is appearing as part of the month-long Brighton and Hove Food Festival, courtesy of City Books who have organised this event to promote his latest book, 'Medium Raw'. So, for an investment of £6 each we get to spend an hour listening to Tony talk off the cuff about his culinary adventures, ask questions, get our books signed AND get a free glass of wine! With that and a £4 discount off the book, they are almost paying us to be there.
Afterwards we emerge onto the seafront to a picture-perfect sunset and with an appetite for some really good food. Now those last few words don't usually go hand-in-hand with Brighton - with a few notable exceptions - so I did a considerable amount of internet trawling before the trip and came up with a pearl. Amid a sea of fish and chip shops, there is an island of seafood gastronomy and its name is Riddle and Finns Champagne and Oyster Bar. It is hidden away in the Lanes and we must have circled it several times before finding it - like Diagon Alley, you only find it by magic - and magical it is. A busy open kitchen overlooks a temple of white tiling where shared tables are the order of the day. The menu is extensive, if a little pricey, so it takes us a while to fix on selections. I've a hankering for a fish soup, but first a special of sashimi catches our eyes so we order one to share, along with a bottle of Sauvignon de Touraine (£22). The trio of raw fish - salmon, tuna and scallop - are as fresh as if they'd just come off the day boat (and probably have) and slide down easily. Dover Sole, the king of flat fish, is another special, but as befits its royal status, it is a princely price so we pass. Brill steps in - a much overlooked white fish, Brill can be every bit as meaty as HRH Dover Sole, just maybe not as subtle and certainly not as costly. Here it is roasted and served with sauteed fennel and a beurre blanc, and does a sterling job as a last minute bench substitute. My soup is filled with fishy creatures - a meaty langoustine sitting astride a bowl that's chock-a-block with razor clams (delicious), cherrystone clams, mussels and nuggets of what I take to be salmon, mullet and maybe some haddock. All swimming in a hearty cioppino-style broth. I am a very happy camper working my way through 'til the spoon hits the bottom of the bowl. Everything is just about perfect, the one slip-up is theside of samphire which is tough and stringy, and which should have been caught by the kitchen (the older stalks need to be pulled off their tough cores before serving), but FOH does the right thing and takes it off the bill.
Riddle and Finns is a wonderful fish restaurant - the sort of place that every seaside town needs - they not only know how to cook fish and seafood, they know how to sell it. Our table partners had also travelled some distance to enjoy a favourite dish - wok-fried crab - and were clearly enjoying every mouthful. Elsewhere folk are tucking into giant plates of Fruits de Mer that look like a mermaid's jewel box. It's no wonder R & F proudly list their endorsements from the likes of Gordon Ramsey on the website. We're also told Rick Stein raves about it, and, damnit, so he should. Next time you find yourself in Brighton, make a wish and if you're lucky, you'll find Riddle and Finns.
riddleandfinns.co.uk
A trip south to London-on-Sea, or Brighton as it's better known, in pursuit of a rare sighting of a culinary hero of mine: Anthony Bourdain. He is appearing as part of the month-long Brighton and Hove Food Festival, courtesy of City Books who have organised this event to promote his latest book, 'Medium Raw'. So, for an investment of £6 each we get to spend an hour listening to Tony talk off the cuff about his culinary adventures, ask questions, get our books signed AND get a free glass of wine! With that and a £4 discount off the book, they are almost paying us to be there.
Afterwards we emerge onto the seafront to a picture-perfect sunset and with an appetite for some really good food. Now those last few words don't usually go hand-in-hand with Brighton - with a few notable exceptions - so I did a considerable amount of internet trawling before the trip and came up with a pearl. Amid a sea of fish and chip shops, there is an island of seafood gastronomy and its name is Riddle and Finns Champagne and Oyster Bar. It is hidden away in the Lanes and we must have circled it several times before finding it - like Diagon Alley, you only find it by magic - and magical it is. A busy open kitchen overlooks a temple of white tiling where shared tables are the order of the day. The menu is extensive, if a little pricey, so it takes us a while to fix on selections. I've a hankering for a fish soup, but first a special of sashimi catches our eyes so we order one to share, along with a bottle of Sauvignon de Touraine (£22). The trio of raw fish - salmon, tuna and scallop - are as fresh as if they'd just come off the day boat (and probably have) and slide down easily. Dover Sole, the king of flat fish, is another special, but as befits its royal status, it is a princely price so we pass. Brill steps in - a much overlooked white fish, Brill can be every bit as meaty as HRH Dover Sole, just maybe not as subtle and certainly not as costly. Here it is roasted and served with sauteed fennel and a beurre blanc, and does a sterling job as a last minute bench substitute. My soup is filled with fishy creatures - a meaty langoustine sitting astride a bowl that's chock-a-block with razor clams (delicious), cherrystone clams, mussels and nuggets of what I take to be salmon, mullet and maybe some haddock. All swimming in a hearty cioppino-style broth. I am a very happy camper working my way through 'til the spoon hits the bottom of the bowl. Everything is just about perfect, the one slip-up is theside of samphire which is tough and stringy, and which should have been caught by the kitchen (the older stalks need to be pulled off their tough cores before serving), but FOH does the right thing and takes it off the bill.
Riddle and Finns is a wonderful fish restaurant - the sort of place that every seaside town needs - they not only know how to cook fish and seafood, they know how to sell it. Our table partners had also travelled some distance to enjoy a favourite dish - wok-fried crab - and were clearly enjoying every mouthful. Elsewhere folk are tucking into giant plates of Fruits de Mer that look like a mermaid's jewel box. It's no wonder R & F proudly list their endorsements from the likes of Gordon Ramsey on the website. We're also told Rick Stein raves about it, and, damnit, so he should. Next time you find yourself in Brighton, make a wish and if you're lucky, you'll find Riddle and Finns.
riddleandfinns.co.uk
Wednesday, 8 September 2010
Kitchen W8
Kitchen W8
In these days of text-write, the name of this restaurant gives pause (weight?) but it actually describes its location just off Kensington High Street. Abingdon Road is down at the non-U end of KHS, but there's nothing downmarket about this restaurant. Executive Chef is Phillip Howard whose food we've enjoyed earlier (see The Square Pops Up at Putney), and we are looking forward to a pre-Bank Holiday lunch treat on a typically cool and cloudy day. Summer seems to have skipped out early, handing over August to the gods of Autumn, so the dining room is a welcome retreat from the elements. London seems to have emptied out for the weekend, and few tables are occupied - by the time we leave at 2.30pm it's still spotty though a couple of old writer chums are more than making up for the lack of ambient noise at a nearby table. At first we regret there's no cover of background musak, but in the end just give up and shamelessly eavesdrop.
The plan is to stick to the set menu - 3 courses for a very affordable £19.50 - but another plan is quickly hatched: one 3-course set, and one dish from the A La Carte leaves us open to negotiation on who gets dessert. I start with a dish of thinly sliced pork belly with house-made piccalilli (a mustardy pickled vegetable chutney for my US followers!), chicory and mustard dressing. The pork belly is ethereal and, while the piccalilli may be a touch strong, the mustard dressing is its opposite - subtle and with the right amount of emulsion it sings with the lardo-style silkiness of the pork belly fat while chicory adds a nice crunch. Main courses are, for me, Cornish Mackerel and, for him, Rump of Lamb. The Mackerel is served on a bed of finely diced potatoes, an even finer dice of pickled cucumber and red onion and with an accent of silken beetroot puree. The vinegar in the cucumber cuts the oiliness of the fish perfectly, and the beetroot makes for an interesting counterpoint. The Lamb is perfectly cooked and is the most colourful presentation with a puree of fava beans contrasting with red shallots and a drizzle of rich red wine jus. I manage to snag a taste before it all disappears, and while the lamb is great, it's the puree that enchants - it melts in the mouth, its flavours fleeting across the palate just long enough to make an impression.
Dessert was a no-brainer from the start: roasted figs with an oat biscuit and a vanilla mousse. It's just a question of who gets to eat the most, especially once the first few bites confirm it was the right decision. The vanilla mousse is like a panna cotta, but without the firmness; it's like a cream without the denseness, just somewhere between the two, and it's fabulous. The figs are warm and luscious with the honey lifting their innate sweetness while the biscuit adds a welcome crunch of brown sugar.
The wine list covers all the bases and though the by-the-glass list is disappointingly limited, we each enjoy a 250ml carafe with our dishes - one a Chilean Sauvignon Blanc and the other an Australian Pinot Noir - which both worked well with our dishes.
The conversation at our neighbouring table continues to fascinate - we could probably stay all afternoon but have to drag ourselves away. We'll be back for more another day as food this good and this well-priced deserves a second look - even if we add a little more w8 between us. C u l8r.
http://www.kitchenw8.com/
In these days of text-write, the name of this restaurant gives pause (weight?) but it actually describes its location just off Kensington High Street. Abingdon Road is down at the non-U end of KHS, but there's nothing downmarket about this restaurant. Executive Chef is Phillip Howard whose food we've enjoyed earlier (see The Square Pops Up at Putney), and we are looking forward to a pre-Bank Holiday lunch treat on a typically cool and cloudy day. Summer seems to have skipped out early, handing over August to the gods of Autumn, so the dining room is a welcome retreat from the elements. London seems to have emptied out for the weekend, and few tables are occupied - by the time we leave at 2.30pm it's still spotty though a couple of old writer chums are more than making up for the lack of ambient noise at a nearby table. At first we regret there's no cover of background musak, but in the end just give up and shamelessly eavesdrop.
The plan is to stick to the set menu - 3 courses for a very affordable £19.50 - but another plan is quickly hatched: one 3-course set, and one dish from the A La Carte leaves us open to negotiation on who gets dessert. I start with a dish of thinly sliced pork belly with house-made piccalilli (a mustardy pickled vegetable chutney for my US followers!), chicory and mustard dressing. The pork belly is ethereal and, while the piccalilli may be a touch strong, the mustard dressing is its opposite - subtle and with the right amount of emulsion it sings with the lardo-style silkiness of the pork belly fat while chicory adds a nice crunch. Main courses are, for me, Cornish Mackerel and, for him, Rump of Lamb. The Mackerel is served on a bed of finely diced potatoes, an even finer dice of pickled cucumber and red onion and with an accent of silken beetroot puree. The vinegar in the cucumber cuts the oiliness of the fish perfectly, and the beetroot makes for an interesting counterpoint. The Lamb is perfectly cooked and is the most colourful presentation with a puree of fava beans contrasting with red shallots and a drizzle of rich red wine jus. I manage to snag a taste before it all disappears, and while the lamb is great, it's the puree that enchants - it melts in the mouth, its flavours fleeting across the palate just long enough to make an impression.
Dessert was a no-brainer from the start: roasted figs with an oat biscuit and a vanilla mousse. It's just a question of who gets to eat the most, especially once the first few bites confirm it was the right decision. The vanilla mousse is like a panna cotta, but without the firmness; it's like a cream without the denseness, just somewhere between the two, and it's fabulous. The figs are warm and luscious with the honey lifting their innate sweetness while the biscuit adds a welcome crunch of brown sugar.
The wine list covers all the bases and though the by-the-glass list is disappointingly limited, we each enjoy a 250ml carafe with our dishes - one a Chilean Sauvignon Blanc and the other an Australian Pinot Noir - which both worked well with our dishes.
The conversation at our neighbouring table continues to fascinate - we could probably stay all afternoon but have to drag ourselves away. We'll be back for more another day as food this good and this well-priced deserves a second look - even if we add a little more w8 between us. C u l8r.
http://www.kitchenw8.com/
The Canton Arms
The Canton Arms
A trip to the NFT raises the perennial question of where to eat. While the Southbank has several options we seem to have exhausted most of the best which leaves chains which we try and avoid. The Anchor and Hope is a great gastropub but always has a line out the door and Livebait, a usually reliable fish restaurant, has disappointed of late (both are in The Cut along from The Old Vic). We're left with the chains or finding somewhere in the culinary wasteland to the West on our way into the Waterloo area. Some research digs up The Canton Arms, an old style boozer in Stockwell which has been revamped and has the added advantage of Chef Trish Hilferty, formerly of the very first Gastropub in London, The Eagle in Farringdon, and an alumnus of the aforementioned Anchor and Hope, at the helm. It also boasts a mouth-watering signature dish: the foie gras toastie. Well, that does it - we head for an early dinner weaving through the puzzle of the Vauxhall one-way system like the ball in the pin-ball machine waiting to be thrown out and hoping it's the right exit, and find ourselves in the heart of the Portuguese community that now inhabits Stockwell.
We arrive to a slightly frosty welcome - we put it down to our being the first diners of the evening - but luckily the next waiter cancels it out, he is charming without being obsequious, and friendly without fawning. The moniker Gastropub has been abused to the point of calling in the Social Services - every pub serving food now calls itself a gastropub, taking liberties with the original concept. The Canton Arms however clings tight to the apron strings of the mothership (to mix metaphors), serving simple food in relatively dressed down surroundings at affordable prices. Another box-checker is a good selection of ales and wine. We order a bottle of a white wine from Mas de Daumac Gassac, a standout winery in the Languedoc region of southern France, which is a field blend built around Viognier and Chardonnay. Crisp but with good stone fruit flavours it's an easy all-rounder of a wine.
Of course one of us orders the Foie Gras toastie, while I go with potted shrimps. The fgt disappoints a little - the foie gras only just surviving the heat blast of the Breville toaster - and perhaps the idea needs slightly better execution. The shrimps are served in a preserving jar with a very light mayonnaise rather than straight butter. A sprinkle of dill provides a nice counterpoint. Oddly, we have both ordered the whole grilled plaice - because we like to share we nearly always choose different dishes - but when it comes up we are glad we did. Perfectly cooked, and served on the bone, the fish are swimming in a liquor of buttery, fishy juices. A side of tiny new potatoes help mop up the broth.
There's just time for a shared dessert of a Lemon Pot before curtain-up, and it amply satisfies the sweet tooth with it's edge of tartness.
The Canton Arms is a real find, especially in this neck of the woods, and we know we'll be back for more.
No website currently.
A trip to the NFT raises the perennial question of where to eat. While the Southbank has several options we seem to have exhausted most of the best which leaves chains which we try and avoid. The Anchor and Hope is a great gastropub but always has a line out the door and Livebait, a usually reliable fish restaurant, has disappointed of late (both are in The Cut along from The Old Vic). We're left with the chains or finding somewhere in the culinary wasteland to the West on our way into the Waterloo area. Some research digs up The Canton Arms, an old style boozer in Stockwell which has been revamped and has the added advantage of Chef Trish Hilferty, formerly of the very first Gastropub in London, The Eagle in Farringdon, and an alumnus of the aforementioned Anchor and Hope, at the helm. It also boasts a mouth-watering signature dish: the foie gras toastie. Well, that does it - we head for an early dinner weaving through the puzzle of the Vauxhall one-way system like the ball in the pin-ball machine waiting to be thrown out and hoping it's the right exit, and find ourselves in the heart of the Portuguese community that now inhabits Stockwell.
We arrive to a slightly frosty welcome - we put it down to our being the first diners of the evening - but luckily the next waiter cancels it out, he is charming without being obsequious, and friendly without fawning. The moniker Gastropub has been abused to the point of calling in the Social Services - every pub serving food now calls itself a gastropub, taking liberties with the original concept. The Canton Arms however clings tight to the apron strings of the mothership (to mix metaphors), serving simple food in relatively dressed down surroundings at affordable prices. Another box-checker is a good selection of ales and wine. We order a bottle of a white wine from Mas de Daumac Gassac, a standout winery in the Languedoc region of southern France, which is a field blend built around Viognier and Chardonnay. Crisp but with good stone fruit flavours it's an easy all-rounder of a wine.
Of course one of us orders the Foie Gras toastie, while I go with potted shrimps. The fgt disappoints a little - the foie gras only just surviving the heat blast of the Breville toaster - and perhaps the idea needs slightly better execution. The shrimps are served in a preserving jar with a very light mayonnaise rather than straight butter. A sprinkle of dill provides a nice counterpoint. Oddly, we have both ordered the whole grilled plaice - because we like to share we nearly always choose different dishes - but when it comes up we are glad we did. Perfectly cooked, and served on the bone, the fish are swimming in a liquor of buttery, fishy juices. A side of tiny new potatoes help mop up the broth.
There's just time for a shared dessert of a Lemon Pot before curtain-up, and it amply satisfies the sweet tooth with it's edge of tartness.
The Canton Arms is a real find, especially in this neck of the woods, and we know we'll be back for more.
No website currently.
Sunday, 6 June 2010
Launceston Place
Launceston Place, Kensington
A birthday celebration gives us an opportunity to knock another name off our Must Eat At list of London restaurants - though as quickly as one gets moved to the 'done' column, another one gets added! That's one of the great attractions of this city, there's always something new to try. LP popped up on our radar screen when sous chef Steve Groves won the BBC's 2009 Professional Masterchef, though it has been a restaurant of regard for many years - even more so when Head Chef Tristan Welch moved into the kitchen after working with Marcus Wareing at Petrus.
The restaurant is a maze of dining spaces in a calming, though sombre, palette and an atmosphere of cool professionalism pervades. Because of the layout, the restaurant never seems full as only two or three tables are visible from our cozy corner - though those we see are occupied. Though the tasting menu is tempting, we soon put it aside in favour of the 3-course prix fixe (£48). My sister and her husband are our dining companions, so it must be the shared dna that prompts she and I to choose the same starter and entree, but when my husband and brother-in-law also plump for identical dishes I conclude that it's some sort of Stockholm Syndrome. Or maybe in the same way that people come to resemble their pets there's a symbiosis that develops in extended family members. Hmmm. Whatever it is, we choose scallops roasted in their shell, steak tartare and four orders of roast suckling pig. I order an old favourite - William Fevre Chablis - to whet our apetites and pair with the scallops, and it is perfectly balanced: a harmony of stone fruit flavours and crisp minerality. Another favourite, a Margaret River Cabernet Sauvignon/Merlot blend from Leuwin Estate is ordered for the men and their raw meat. The wine list is extensive and well chosen - have to say we were tempted by the Domaine Romanee Conti La Tache, but at £3300 a bottle it stayed a temptation!
Little plates of house-made seasoned potato chips arrive - my guess is it's a clever use of the leftovers from making fondant potatoes as they have large holes in the centre and are tied in small bundles. Too more-ish, they disappear in a hurry!
An amuse-bouche shooter of mushroom consomme and herb foam lands on our plates - the consomme is intense and earthy but we're not too sure about the foam as it tastes a little soapy. I think lavender is the culprit - not easy to pull off without the old lady bath salts subtext and it hasn't worked here. The scallops arrive - 2 giant diver scallops still attached to their shells, and roasted with coastal herbs (I think there might be a bit of a fixation here. Looking back at the menu herbs feature largely in most of the dishes). They are meaty and succulent and the herbs are just right this time. The steak tartare is fairly chunky and wears a dollop of foam - the dish is described as '35-day aged beef tartare, barley, beer and chives' so can only imagine the foam is beer. Our carnivores are enjoying it too much to pass much comment, though the cleaned plates speak volumes.
The Tamworth suckling pig is a pared down plate of slices of tiny tenderloin and a large cube of . . . belly? shoulder? . . . hard to say, accompanied by ethereal potato puree and Alexanders which I later discover is a roadside plant resembling angelica that grows profusely in Kent - who knew? The piggy is delicious, though I am left wondering what happened to the rest of it. The red wine is almost gone - perfect with the pork - so we order another, why not? It turns out it's the last bottle - shame.
As we switch into thinking-bout-dessert mode, a pre-dessert is brought to wake up our palates: a perky little granita. Feeling just a little rushed, we slow up service so we can savour the wine and digest dinner before embarking on the real thing. Luckily the rice pudding souffle with raspberry ripple icecream is advertised as a 20 minute wait, and - there's that symbiosis again - two of our party order it. The other two choose cheese. A small cheeseboard, but choice - Stilton, Camembert and Yarg (a Cornish cheese with a crumbly texture and nice sharp notes) - a good way to polish off the wine. Before that, a cupcake with a candle for the birthday boy - no waiter's chorus though thank goodness! When it arrives, the souffle doesn't quite hit the right note, though I understand the ice-cream made up for it.
There's a whiff of the hunt for a Michelin star here that's for sure - a feeling that's confirmed when we are presented with a cute little package of chocolates as a parting gift - but despite a deft touch with some dishes, there were a few too many hiccups that need to be cured before it reaches that standard.
http://www.launcestonplace-restaurant.co.uk/
A birthday celebration gives us an opportunity to knock another name off our Must Eat At list of London restaurants - though as quickly as one gets moved to the 'done' column, another one gets added! That's one of the great attractions of this city, there's always something new to try. LP popped up on our radar screen when sous chef Steve Groves won the BBC's 2009 Professional Masterchef, though it has been a restaurant of regard for many years - even more so when Head Chef Tristan Welch moved into the kitchen after working with Marcus Wareing at Petrus.
The restaurant is a maze of dining spaces in a calming, though sombre, palette and an atmosphere of cool professionalism pervades. Because of the layout, the restaurant never seems full as only two or three tables are visible from our cozy corner - though those we see are occupied. Though the tasting menu is tempting, we soon put it aside in favour of the 3-course prix fixe (£48). My sister and her husband are our dining companions, so it must be the shared dna that prompts she and I to choose the same starter and entree, but when my husband and brother-in-law also plump for identical dishes I conclude that it's some sort of Stockholm Syndrome. Or maybe in the same way that people come to resemble their pets there's a symbiosis that develops in extended family members. Hmmm. Whatever it is, we choose scallops roasted in their shell, steak tartare and four orders of roast suckling pig. I order an old favourite - William Fevre Chablis - to whet our apetites and pair with the scallops, and it is perfectly balanced: a harmony of stone fruit flavours and crisp minerality. Another favourite, a Margaret River Cabernet Sauvignon/Merlot blend from Leuwin Estate is ordered for the men and their raw meat. The wine list is extensive and well chosen - have to say we were tempted by the Domaine Romanee Conti La Tache, but at £3300 a bottle it stayed a temptation!
Little plates of house-made seasoned potato chips arrive - my guess is it's a clever use of the leftovers from making fondant potatoes as they have large holes in the centre and are tied in small bundles. Too more-ish, they disappear in a hurry!
An amuse-bouche shooter of mushroom consomme and herb foam lands on our plates - the consomme is intense and earthy but we're not too sure about the foam as it tastes a little soapy. I think lavender is the culprit - not easy to pull off without the old lady bath salts subtext and it hasn't worked here. The scallops arrive - 2 giant diver scallops still attached to their shells, and roasted with coastal herbs (I think there might be a bit of a fixation here. Looking back at the menu herbs feature largely in most of the dishes). They are meaty and succulent and the herbs are just right this time. The steak tartare is fairly chunky and wears a dollop of foam - the dish is described as '35-day aged beef tartare, barley, beer and chives' so can only imagine the foam is beer. Our carnivores are enjoying it too much to pass much comment, though the cleaned plates speak volumes.
The Tamworth suckling pig is a pared down plate of slices of tiny tenderloin and a large cube of . . . belly? shoulder? . . . hard to say, accompanied by ethereal potato puree and Alexanders which I later discover is a roadside plant resembling angelica that grows profusely in Kent - who knew? The piggy is delicious, though I am left wondering what happened to the rest of it. The red wine is almost gone - perfect with the pork - so we order another, why not? It turns out it's the last bottle - shame.
As we switch into thinking-bout-dessert mode, a pre-dessert is brought to wake up our palates: a perky little granita. Feeling just a little rushed, we slow up service so we can savour the wine and digest dinner before embarking on the real thing. Luckily the rice pudding souffle with raspberry ripple icecream is advertised as a 20 minute wait, and - there's that symbiosis again - two of our party order it. The other two choose cheese. A small cheeseboard, but choice - Stilton, Camembert and Yarg (a Cornish cheese with a crumbly texture and nice sharp notes) - a good way to polish off the wine. Before that, a cupcake with a candle for the birthday boy - no waiter's chorus though thank goodness! When it arrives, the souffle doesn't quite hit the right note, though I understand the ice-cream made up for it.
There's a whiff of the hunt for a Michelin star here that's for sure - a feeling that's confirmed when we are presented with a cute little package of chocolates as a parting gift - but despite a deft touch with some dishes, there were a few too many hiccups that need to be cured before it reaches that standard.
http://www.launcestonplace-restaurant.co.uk/
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