Shoryu, Regent Street

Plenty of people have been raving about Shoryu for some time now, so much so that I had expected arriving to Pitt Cue or Flat Iron style queues down the street. But no. The gas guzzling patio heater thingy was burning purely to warm the night sky rather than any hungry, patient punters. We walked in to a slightly feeble out of sync mumbling of "irashimase" and had the pick of the tables as the place was half empty.  

Maybe the slightly ghostly atomsphere was because I went to the Regent Street branch shortly after the Denman Street pop up opened. Granted it was a Monday night and on the plus side the majority of those frequenting the filled tables were Japanese which is always a good sign. Maybe I just got lucky. Overall, however, I can't help thinking that I've missed the initial wave of enthusiasm and that, as the queues of excited London foodies have dissipated, so has Shoryu's attention to detail.

Soft Shell Crab Tempura

Shoryu might claim to be Japanese run (by Japan Centre over the road) and to have flown in a chef especially but there was no hint of it the night that we visited. All those wearing chefs whites were distinctly pale and mousy of European extraction as were all but one of the waiting staff. Without meaning to be overly personal, there are some people who are not suited to wearing tight fitting stretchy oriental patterned shirts (I count myself amongst them) - I considered a photo but it would have been cruel. They look good on those for whom they were designed but get over a certain height/weight and its not good. Those same people should also probably not be forced to endure wearing a lilac purple "Daniel-san" Karate kid head band. 

Hugh of Twelvepointfivepercent talked about a warm welcome and the beating of a drum, as did Marina O'Loughlin,  however on our arrival (and throughout the visit) the drum was just a silent, large and cumbersome ornament blocking up the main counter (albeit the only token towards a Japanese theme other than the fancy dress staff).  Shoryu, perhaps rather than theming your poor staff, you might focus on making the look and feel of your actual restaurant slightly less like any high street chain coffee shop and more like the "authentic" ramen joint you pride yourself on being- I'm not talking about making it a ghastly "themed" restaurant but at the moment its rather odd (right down to the flavoured coffee syrups on display - what's that about?!). The accompanying soundtrack of "smooth jazz" music only helps to add to the sentiment that at any moment you might hear the whoosh of an Italian coffee machine and someone calling "skinny soy latte and the code for the free wifi please". It feels wrong.

We ordered cocktails, opting for a Mountain Berry Martini and a Lemongrass and Ginger martini.  The mountain berry was off apparently so was swapped for a wasabi martini but apparently they couldn't do this one either (how is this even possible? Wasabi is an every day item in the larder of any Japanese restaurant surely?!) So five minutes later two lemongrass and ginger martinis emerged. They were dire. I get that we don't expect an inexpensive ramen joint to be master cocktail mixers but if you can't do them properly then don't do them at all.  Chunks of ice were floating around in the martini, no martini should ever have chunks of ice. There were also slightly weird browny black and hairy blobs floating on the surface which the lady in the black suit with  a supervisor badge (with power comes permission not to wear the silly outfit clearly...) claimed was ginger but I'm 99.9% confident that it wasn't. Ginger is not black for starters and, whilst fibrous, is not hairy. So they both went back. L - rather bravely in my opinion- agreed to a replacement whilst I went for draft Kirin which is seemed altogether more reliable than the preceding cocktail disaster.  The replacement was ok. Just ok though. When they say 'martini' by the way, they literally mean "Martini" as in slightly 80's connotation vermouth drink. They told us that the lemongrass had been omitted this time, oh and no shochu either (so just a ginger martini then...) and the raw ginger replaced by Belvoir ginger cordial. Ultimately a lemongrass and ginger martini supposedly made with shochu and fresh ingredients morphed into posh British ginger cordial mixed with Martini and water.

Ordering food was almost as painful. I am sure that the handheld electronic ordering machine and system is designed to make the system as accurate and efficient as possible but it didn't work. Not only did we have to repeat our order multiple times for it to get typed into the little black box but two sets of other people's food were wrongly brought to our table and I later got the wrong dessert. Perhaps good ol' pen and paper might be better?

From the "Starters" list we tried gyoza which had a decent flavour and a little kick oozing oil into the dipping sauce. Soft shell crab was not bad, the tempura coating quite light but a little on the greasy side.

Onto the main event. The redeeming feature is the ramen. The basic ramen package involves kiruage mushrooms, bean sprouts, spring onion, sesame, ginger, nori and mayu garlic oil as well as the unforgettable nitamago egg; soft in the yolk and rich as can be (although I'm always left wanting the other half as you only get half an egg).

The char siu pork is lovely, tender rolled roast pork but is categorically not "bbq" as the menu claims, not a whiff of barbecue colour or flavour in sight. The meat is nice and succulent though and good as roast pork goes. The broth, however, is an absolute delight. Deep and rich in flavour and creamy in texture, there are no watery bland noodles served in the name of ramen here. This is down to the heaps of pork bones that are stewed for a loooong, long time in preparation whilst meticulously skimming off the surface to leave behind an opaque but smooth soup.

As long as you aren't planning on speaking to anyone for the following 24 hours, the Dracula Tonkotsu Ramen is an excellent choice. In addition to the basic package you get added mayu oil, balsamic vinegar and garlic chips leading to a darker soup. It claims on the menu to be spicy but I didn't find it overly so. This would be my choice if I were to return.  There are over 15 further permutations above and beyond those we tried and many do sound pretty good. Menu highlights for me include the Yuzu tonkotsu and the Hokkaido curry ramen.

Desserts are bought in from Japan Centre over the road so don't be expecting anything that London hasn't seen before on that front. I always forget when I go to Japanese restaurants in the UK that the Japanese aren't massive on desserts on home turf let alone abroad (memorably after a spectacular seven course savoury meal in one michelin star Tokyo sushi house, dessert was a single strawberry).

The yuzu sponge roll was sort of like an arctic roll but with a large quantity of some kind of slightly citrus flavoured butter instead of ice cream. Very greasy and just a tiny bit bland.  It wasn't awful but I wouldn't order it again.

Matcha ice cream has a delicate matcha flavour and a pretty colour but doesn't rival other matcha ice creams that I've tried (and even not the Haagen Dazs Matcha)

Would I go back? Ask me after I've tried other ramen trendies Bone Daddies and Tonkotsu! If I were in the area and very hungry then I would definitely stop by for a bowl of ramen but I wouldn't travel for it. I also regret not having tried the hirata buns so they might be worth a revisit. So long as you stick to just a ramen and a cold beer and are immune to service issues then its excellent value for money and a good example of a decent ramen. If you want a great dining experience then avoid.

Shoryu
9 Regent Street, London.
No telephone & no reservations.

 

Hawksmoor, Air Street

On my first visit to Air Street it took me a while to realise that I was in the same venue that previously housed former ill-fated inhabitant Cocoon. Glossy sci-fiesque plastic furniture in whites and lurid oranges and reds have been replaced by a glorious art deco interior, a dark wood parquet floor, gleaming brass bar and half moon stained glass windows. 

Reclaimed school bench tables, replete with polished-over compass carved graffiti and aged, spotted mirrors add to the feeling that Air Street has been there, well, simply forever! Despite being prime time West End, this could be a very difficult location from an aesthetic perspective; a very long thing room with low ceilings that might easily feel oppressive, especially with all that wood panelling but its all been done exceptionally well.

picture borrowed from Hawksmoor website!

Clever and sophisticated interior design job aside, a lot has changed from the sometimes strange asian fusion offerings from Cocoon. Hawksmoor are, of course, synonymous with excellent steak, however Air Street sees their first real foray into adding fish to the menu following input from Dartmouth based seafood guru, Mitch Tonks.  Although scallops, dover sole and monkfish all sound delicious, I am here for the beef. 

I've been to Air Street a couple of times now with different groups of friends and never written about it. It was when a recent Sunday a lunch at Barbecoa in St Paul's was aborted before it had even begun (boiling hot inside and horrifically loud dance music for a Sunday lunchtime or a table outside in the shopping centre- at those prices no thanks!)  and my immediate instinct was to call Air Street and retreat to something reliable, that I knew I should write it up.

On a Sunday a roast beef lunch is on offer for £19. Not the cheapest roast on the market but excellent value in my book. Rather than the traditional thin slices of beef, an inch thick chunk of beef is served. The meat is initially seared over charcoal before going into the oven to roast in order to try and replicate the old fashioned spit roasting of meat of yore. The plate is dominated by a giant Yorkshire pudding, crunchy on the outer with a soft doughy pillow as well as a roast garlic bulb releasing oozing, nutty garlic squish, roast shallot, carrots and greens. Horseradish sauce is a sinus-cleansing, zinger of a sauce but it is the sauce that really makes this plate sing. Onion and bone marrow gravy is a thick, sticky powerful concoction; sweet in part but deeply, deeply savoury coating your tongue with such a texture and flavour that makes you know that sauce took hours of reduction before it reached your table. 

Why is it that despite believing yourself to be utterly full you can aways find just a little bit of space left for something sweet? Its almost as if you have two appetites or two stomachs, one for sweet and one for savoury. The trick is to just say no when the dessert menu approaches but I can never take my own best advice and instead always say that I will just take "a little look" then before you know it, dessert has been ordered.

A pretty, individual, round apple pie comes with the offer of pouring cream, clotted cream, ice cream or custard. I don't think my father has ever had so many options and was briefly awed into uncharacteristic silence. 

The salted caramel chocolate cup is essentially a giant salted Rolo. Rich beyond belief, it nearly had me floored but I couldn't leave any of the wonderful salted caramel topping beyond so I soldiered on.

photo also borrowed from Hawksmoor...

Lemon and mint sorbet was refreshing with an excellent tart vs sweet balance and would have been a much more sensible dessert to go for than my chocolate caramel whopper. 

The wine list is just as good as the other Hawksmoors. A 1999 Urbino Crianza Rioja is a little bit of a luxury at around £48 but utterly delicious and well rounded sliding down altogether too easily for a Sunday afternoon. A more reasonably priced Montepulciano at £22 is a perfectly good accompaniment to a a Sunday roast; fruity and quite light but with the oomph to stand up to the beef. The cocktail list is broad and interesting and I will definitely be going back to Air Street just for drinks.

I think that Air Street has the potential to become my favourite of the Hawksmoor family. In part this is down to the location but also the decor, I can imagine that with a summer of Gatsby mania approaching, I might not be the only one....

Hawksmoor Air Street

5a Air St  London W1J 0AD 020 7406 3980

    

Restaurant Story by Tom Sellers

So Restaurant Story is all about telling a story is it? Their "dream is for all guests to leave a book at Story, which will remain there to evoke the inspiration in others that we hope our food will evoke in you"? In which case I'm going to start this post off by telling a short story of my own then. One about the history of food. Are you sitting comfortably? Good, then I'll begin...

In the beginning when cavemen wandered the earth chasing dinosaurs and throwing spears and the such like, food was a means to an end, it filled their tummies and gave them energy. At some point some bright spark must have realised that some foods taste nicer than others. Later on, along came chaps like the lovely Antonin Careme who decided that wouldn't it be splendid if food could also look pretty? After all, the human senses are very closely linked; if it looks nice we're more inclined to believe it tastes nice. In more recent times there are those that advocate the need for a concept or meaning behind our food. Whether it be elaborate tales of the source of the ingredients or the chef's story as to how he conceived the dish to remind him of something in his past. All very interesting. 

So, in summary, evolution of food can be (very) roughly divided into four sections:
1) Fill belly
2) Taste nice
3) Look pretty
4) Have a meaning or concept. 

From my (albeit very amateur) perspective, when dining out numbers 1) & 2) are absolutely vital 3) is always nice and 4) well, concept I can take or leave. Its an added bonus if its clever or funny but it comes waaaaayyy behind 1) & 2). 

Bear with me and keep that little list in mind as we go on a journey into Restaurant Story.......

I think its pretty fair to say that Story has received its fair share of publicity recently. From weeks before it opened journalists and foodies were all buzzing about how good it was going to be. Therefore, it came as something of a surprise that our first challenge was actually finding the restaurant. The website uses a very oldy-worldy font and pencil drawing skyline of London which brings to mind a modern take on Samuel Pepys' diary so I was, incorrectly as it turns out, expecting somewhere old and cosy. What I was definitely not expecting was a newly built, glass front, wooden one storey building in the middle of a traffic reservation on the site of a former public toilet. From the outside it resembles a lakeside cafe in the park. After circling it and finding no identifying features we hazarded a punt and went in (if only to avoid walking any further down the interminable Tooley Street).

We were indeed in the right place and yes they do know its hard to find. We were informed that apparently "the chef likes it to be discreet". There is nothing wrong with discretion but it is usually a positive if your customers can find you. Here's hoping that the real reason for the anonymity is that the new door sign is still on order and hasn't turned up yet, any other reason could be deemed rather pretentious in a new restaurant.

Canapes arrived at a lightning pace, before we had managed to even take a gander at the drinks list or the menu in fact.  I was left juggling napkin, wine list, menu and bits of food. Fish skin with an oyster puree and carrot tops had an incredibly strong flavour but was quite pretty I suppose. Unadventurous on my part maybe, but something very dry and strong with the occasional scale still attached was a step too far and one and three quarter portions went back whence they came. What turned out to be the real highlight of the meal emerged next; a polenta coated deep fried "rabbit sandwich' topped with slices of heritage carrots and a tarragon puree. Crispy outer giving way to layers of moist, succulent rabbit flesh were a joy; I could have eaten a whole plate. Nasturtiums filled with an oyster cream were, well, just rather odd. 

Two options are on offer; either 6 courses for           £45 or 10 courses for £65. It seems churlish not to go the whole hog once you've gone to the trouble of getting your hard fought for reservation and managed to find the restaurant. Mmmm hog, I wish there had been some hog.....

Perhaps the most talked about dish Story is presently offering is the beef candle with bread rolls. As the candle burns it creates a pool of thick, molten dripping in a metal dish at the bottom of the candlestick holder.  The dripping has a fabulous meaty flavour and the bread a really good texture. It arrives accompanied by a pot of pickled vegetables and cubes of veal meat that contrast nicely with the grease of the dripping. Despite it pretty much being posh bread and butter it is tremendously clever. We're off to a great start.

Beef candle. Hand modelling by A. 

What remains apparent throughout the entire meal at Story is that an incredible level of imagination, culinary skill and effort has gone into conceiving, preparing and presenting each dish and it is very clear that all the kitchen staff are very passionate, coming out and presenting dishes to diners themselves explaining the origin of ingredients and dishes. The youth and earnest passion exuding from every last sinew of the kitchen crew therefore makes it hard to say you didn't like something. It feels a bit like kicking a puppy.  

The wine list is accompanied by a very detailed description (or "story") about how they did lots of tastings with their friends and picked only the best ones and how they will go brilliantly with the food etc etc. To be honest we didn't find anything that appealed on the main list but went for a carafe of Riesling and a carafe of Bordeaux. Both were decent quality and the Riesling was indeed a good match for the first few dishes. At around £25 for a half bottle carafe they are not super cost effective. The cocktail list is comparatively short but decent, an Old Fashioned was well made.

Burnt onions consisted of a variety of different types of onions (Lyonnaise, Roscoff and baby onions) cooked in different ways; some roast, some pickled. An apple & gin vinaigrette brought a fresh zing to the burnt bits of the onions and wild garlic flowers added depth of flavour. Tasty stuff.

Scallop was well executed ceviche style but unfortunately A is afflicted by a rather annoying seafood allergy. The plate was first delivered with scallops so had to go back, when it returned it was essentially a plate of cucumber, ash and dill. Yes the scallops had been replaced by some dill snow but "snow" of any variety does not a main ingredient make. Replacing ingredients to address allergies is a challenge that any restaurant offering a fixed tasting menu is always going to be faced with and one that Story didn't meet for us.

The ash is produced in a kettle barbecue contraption kept out the back of the restaurant and apparently its the job the kitchen staff all compete to do. 

Pressed pear with leek, kelp jelly and white crab had very clean contrasting flavours. I could definitely done with some more crab though.

The next course was, contrary to expectation, my favourite savoury one of the whole meal. 

Early season English asparagus chargrilled was served with a beautifully smooth, cheesy creamy mash (made from some "exceptionally rare, special potatoes from Wiltshire that the restaurant is really lucky to be supplied with but the farmer is mates with Tom" I'm given to understand) surrounded by coal oil. I have to admit that I didn't derive a great deal of flavour in the coal oil but it was aesthetically interesting. Basically if I could have had a giant version of the rabbit sandwich with plenty of this mash and asparagus I would have been a very happy camper.  

The only meat dish of the 10 course menu was a lamb dish. My picture was blurry and I forgot to write it down. Sorry.

Confit beetroot was served with more snow (horseradish) and sliced raspberries with another vinaigrette (raspberry) and more oil. 



Yep, you've guessed it. More snow. Lemon nitro sorbet this time.  This dish involved meringues, lemon custard ice cream. It was very refreshing and kind of a very elaborate deconstructed lemon meringue pie. 



"The chef is trialling a new prune dessert and wondered if you would like it instead of the rhubarb?"  Maybe I'm expecting too much here but if I've selected a menu then I'd like what I ordered. If the chef needs guinea pigs to test new dishes on then shouldn't it be served in addition to the listed courses not instead of? I got the feeling that perhaps I was supposed to feel grateful to be allowed to try this new morsel before the masses clamouring for a table, sorry, no. We stuck with the rhubarb dessert and were glad we did as the little milk bottles served with a stripey red and white paper straw in an old fashioned wire milkmans crate were delicious. A layer of rhubarb puree was covered in liquid custard and topped with cream soda, I could have drunk a giant one!



Then came the turn of the porridge. A cartoon of the three bears was silently placed in front of us, each image marked "too salty", "too sweet" or "just right". The waitress came over and placed three small bowls in front of us and announced rather imperiously that we were to "try and see if you can work out which is which and we will discuss afterwards". Call me grumpy but anyone commanding me that I will discuss my dinner with them afterwards to see if my taste buds are working is highly likely to get short shrift.

It doesn't take the most sophisticated palate to work that one is really very salty (almost inedibly so), one is very sweet (and quite nice as a very small portion) and the other? Well, its "just not right". Its more of a mixture of the other two resulting in an odd sweet and salty combination that only works on popcorn but definitely doesn't have a place in porridge. Neither, for me, does porridge have a place on an evening dessert menu. Who in their right minds willingly serves a dish to diners that is "too" anything? If it wasn't good enough for Goldilocks then it's a fair guess that I'm not going to like it either.

The bill came totaling £230 so £115 each for what was predominantly a very pretty, extremely laboriously prepared and imaginative arrangement of vegetables interspersed by occasional protein. I also think the £2 for water is a bit much. Yes its only £1 a head but we ordered tap water, surely if you're going to charge for it you should tell people? As the Critical Couple blog once pointed out with regard to another establishment, all those £1 fees add up to quite a handsome sum over a year.  Serve was good but still lacking a little in experience in some quarters but that will come with time. I did sense that they must already be used to people throwing superlatives around about the food since although I asked lots of questions, they became gradually more disinterested in me as the meal went on. 

The bill was accompanied by two chocolate teacakes (or giant chocolate nipples depending on your viewpoint). They were flavoured with rose which was a little overpowering but fitted with the nostalgic theme of the meal and the pervading strong clean flavours throughout the menu.

Sellers clearly has an impressive pedigree and the restaurant is a fabulous achievement for someone his age- it does make you question what you have achieved in your own life. Having worked alongside chefs such as Tom Aikens, Rene Redzepi, Adam Byatt and Thomas Keller, the influences are apparent in his cooking but Redzepi and Keller are the two that seem to have made the greatest mark, both in terms of emphasis on raw food and fish and also the conceptual side to the food. Story is a success in that it gets people talking, I've had more to say about this meal than many others I've eaten recently. That said though, I don't think I'd be recommending it to anyone any time soon, the whole "Story" concept just feels forced. Ultimately there is too much style over substance and although I didn't leave hungry, I wasn't exactly full either. Vegetables far outweigh other food types as the main element of dishes which doesn't exactly enthrall me.  Oh and enough with the vinaigrettes already, my insides must have been pickled by the time we left!

Reverting back to my mini history of food and the 4 types of food - told you to bear with me! Somewhere along the line Story lost sight of points 1) and 2), that is the bit about tasting good and keeping your belly full which is a great shame as both of those elements are still of paramount importance for me.  I love all the alchemy and gadgets and ooh and ah at the spectacle of dry ice and a beautifully conceived and constructed plate but for me to really rate a meal it would have to taste amazing blindfolded and that is where Story fell short.

Towards the end of the meal the waitress asked what our highlights had been and on mentioning the rabbit cake canape she commented that they get that response a lot- maybe this shows that people like something a bit meaty with some substance!

Will I go back?  I don't think so, unfortunately. That's the thing with placing the emphasis on experience and concept over taste, once you've done it, it loses its impact a second time round. I shall leave the last word to A who shared the meal with me. At the end I asked her verdict. Her response? "Well I didn't not enjoy it". 

Restaurant Story 
201, Tooley Street, 
London. 
SE1 2UE.
020 7183 2117

 

Medlar, Chelsea

I love Medlar. Turn round and walk away now if you're expecting one of my occasional scathing, sharp tongued rants, this is going to be nothing but an homage to what has incredibly quickly become my favourite London restaurant. Since my first visit towards the end of 2012 I have already returned far more often than the waistband of my jeans would like but its formula of great, relaxed service, perfectly executed food and a delicious, varied wine list makes it irresistible. 

Medlar made an understated but immediately acclaimed entrance into the London food scene in April 2011.  Its more public prominence came about when it was awarded its first Michelin star in September 2012. If you were to summarise London food trends in one sentence, 2012 was the year of the super-trendy, starry, young chefs like Ollie Dabbous or Ben Spalding, it was also the year of the hyped up, queue-because-its-worth-it,  fast/finger food type restaurants. Not that there's necessarily anything wrong with this - on the right occasion I love all that stuff-  but how nice is it to have a straightforward, good, customer-focused, hype-free South West London restaurant? You know you're getting long in the tooth when all you want on a night out is to make a booking, know you will arrive at your destination, be seated straight away with a smile, be able to eat your food with a knife and fork and not have to shout at one another. Oh and not having to travel to the depths of east London/Dalston is a bonus.

I like the décor very much, the main room has walls in a neutral greeny beige, funky wall lights, art I would stick on my own walls and an age spotted mirrored wall leading through to a light and airy room at the rear . No photo from me unfortunately, those that I took were so excrutiatingly awful I couldn't post them. I've taken the liberty of nicking one from Medlar's website - hope they don't mind!

I have to admit to being potentially rather biased at this point. I have always been a big fan of both Chez Bruce and The Square however it was only after my first booking that I realised that Medlar is co-owned by David O'Connor (former manager at both CB and the Square) and chef Joe Mercer Nairne. Medlar quite clearly has drawn many inspirations from the Nigel Platts-Martin stable whether at Chez Bruce or the Square. Even the font in the wine list is the same as at Chez Bruce.  That said, this is far away from being a carbon copy.  Staff are not uniformed and are for the most part quite casual in jeans and pumps. The majority of staff are French despite the English chef/owner partnership and an absolute delight. The atmosphere is more laid back and the menu edgier. The egg tart with ducks hearts is anything but an obvious choice but has found a place on various "best dish in London" lists. 

The menu follows the Chez Bruce/La Trompette etc formula of a fixed price for 3 courses, something I don't object to in the slightest but could be annoying if you're a salad leaf muncher (then again probably not Medlar's target audience, despite it being Chelsea). Here's where the good bit comes though; the price. On a weekend lunchtime and Saturday nights it is a mere £30 for three courses. Michelin star food at high street prices. Even on a prime time Friday or Saturday night its a not unreasonable £42. What is especially impressive is that the same quality of ingredient and menu is offered on the cheaper days as on the usual ones. An even balance of meat, fish and veggie includes classic dishes with a twist and some more unusual options; both crab raviolo and calves brains appeal to different types of diner but have equal prominence on the menu

Former winner of "Young Sommelier of the Year', Clement Robert, is a massive asset to the restaurant and has put together one of the best wine lists I have seen in a long time.The list is comprehensive and broad in its appeal. The 'names' are well represented from all French regions but more unusual grapes and wine regions also make a welcome appearance.

After merrily debating with us the merits of left bank Bordeaux versus right we opted for a 2008 Croix de Gay Pomerol. So good in fact that I’ve spent more time than appropriate searching for it on the internet (and bought a case of 2010 to keep- couldn't get any 2008 apparently Medlar buy from the same source as me and beat me to it!). On other occasions we have flirted with the Rhone, sampled Austrian white and even Chinese dessert wine (separate post to come on this).

We started with a bottle of the house champagne, at £11 a glass or £49 a bottle buying by the glass is less economical so we forced ourselves- it was tough but we survived- to be as efficient as possible on the champagne drinking front and have the whole bottle.

So onto the all important bit; the food! Crab raviolo is one of the starters for which Medlar has become known, a signature dish you might say. In fact, follow either the restaurant or David on Twitter and you will occasionally get a running commentary on how many crab raviolos have been served since they opened and we're into the tens of thousands. Consisting of one very well stuffed and well seasoned raviolo perched in a rich, creamy seafood bisque dotted with tiny curled up brown shrimps, it didn't fail to impress.  Samphire and tomato added an extra dimension and colour.



The wild garlic soup with pheasant egg and morels consists of a startlingly bright emerald green soup which has a delicacy of flavour that you wouldn't expect from something as powerful sounding as a garlic soup. The vibrance of the herbs was balanced by the rich ooze of a soft boiled egg but the stand out ingredient balancing the dish to perfection were the morels, bursting with a gently salted butter gloriousness. Yes folks, it a vegetarian 100% meat free dish and I loved it. What is wrong with me?

Talking of well stuffed, portions are a really decent size at Medlar.I don't generally order lamb, its not my favourite flavour of meat but took a shine to it having a bit of a beef overdose in the preceding week. But oh my days! The highlight beyond highlights of this dish was the humble fondant potato. A caramelised brown, buttery oval of the most meltingly soft potato you can imagine.

That said, the under blade fillet of beef with cafe de Paris snails was also pretty amazing. Served with super crunchy, fluffy centred chunky chips and a truly excellent bearnaise sauce; its fine dining spin on the classic steak and chips and utterly delicious. The addition of the lightly curried flavour snails takes the dish from a well executed classic to something new and exciting. My favourite main course, however, (and- dare I say it- the best piggy dish I have ever had) is pork served five ways using Richard Vaughan's rare breed middle white pork from Huntsham Court Farm. Slices of very slightly pink, succulent pork were accompanied by a peppery, dense, meaty sausage and a chunk of sticky,sweet pork belly. Light, crunchy, puffed up crackling was saved until last in time honoured fashion and was worth the wait. The fifth porcine offering was perhaps my favourites: little deep fried croquettes of tender pulled pork that melted in the mouth. A light jus sauce, cocotte potatoes, runner beans and sweet carrot puree completed my perfect dish.

 

I am passionate about cheese. Ridiculously, inappropriately so. Other than a chunk of parmesan for cooking I don’t keep cheese at home, it’s just far too dangerous, I'd resemble the marshmallow man within weeks. I was therefore really happy with the cheese tray at Medlar. With in excess of twenty cheeses on offer, all tastes are catered for. To ensure the best possible range and quality Medlar source their cheeses from four different suppliers including one which was a new one on me (and the source of my favourite cheese of the evening St Felicien) Bielleville which is near Harrods in Knightsbridge. I also had a 3 year old very sweet, nutty Comte and some Epoisses so runny that it slid around the plate like primeval ooze (in a good way honest!). The creamiest of Brillat Savarin's you can find and mouth itchingly mature Montgomery contrast with a well balanced, award winning Barkham blue. Pyrenean Bleu des Causses, Livarot, Cropwell Bishop stilton (Paxton & Whitfield), the Who's Who of cheeses rumbles on.  All in all, fantastic cheese. If you're into goat its all there, just not my bag!

I had been umming and ahhing between the chocolate tarte or rhubarb jelly for dessert but after the rich cholesterol cheese hit was relieved I’d gone for the jelly. Ginger granite started off with a lovely delicate flavour that spread into a buzzing warmth much more powerful than its appearance belied. Blood orange sorbet was rich in flavour but light in texture. The jelly itself packed a boozy punch. A really balanced and beautifully conceived dessert that I know I'm going to return to time and time again. I hear, however, that sometimes a tarte tatin makes an appearance on the dessert list. I'm hoping beyond hope that it will be on the menu when I visit one day as it has fans far and wide across London.  Pear and almond croustade consists of a wigwam shaped tent parcel of the thinnest filo pastry dusted in sugar that you crunch through to find soft pears and an almond puree. Cocoa nib ice cream balances the pears well, the nibs giving enough of a chocolatey hint without being overpowering.  Despite many jokes as to whether the camp ice cream that accompanies cannele comes with sparklers, a feather boa and a Liza Minnelli fanfare, it is delicious, not something I would have expected to enjoy but well matches the rich molten, Congolese chocolate. 

Every meal is rounded off with cocoa-dusted, soft chocolate truffles that you never think you have space for but somehow always manage it. 

I make no apologies if this write up borders on the sycophantic. Its hard to countenance using the word "perfect" in relation to any restaurant but there is truly nothing about a Medlar dining experience that I would change. There are rumours in the wind that the owners may be branching out in the future. If any new offering were just an ounce as good as Medlar then they are on to a winning formula. How often is a restaurant so good that you book your next visit before you leave? This one is. Despite the plethora of new places on my wish list in London at the moment I keep going back again and again.  See you soon Medlar!

Medlar
438 King's Road, London. SW10 0LJ
0207 349 1900

Seven at Brixton

If I was being generous I would start by saying that I suppose Seven isn't technically a restaurant. But I'm not feeling generous. Far from it, in fact, because sitting down at the computer and recollecting my visit to Seven has made me cross. Seven sits in the now well renowned Market Arcade in Brixton and  does an excellent impression of pretending to be a purveyor of food in the form of Spanish style tapas.

Rammed to bursting on an unseasonably chilly Friday night, customers were put off neither by the cold, the dark room, nor the elbow to elbow crowds huddled around the ubiquitous mismatching furniture and dangly industrial lights. The upstairs is given over to local artists resulting in interesting decor but you couldn't see it even if you wanted to as the place was so crushed.

After wriggling to the bar we ordered various of French Martini, strawberry balsamic daquiri and Sloely Giving In. The first and last were both well made and pretty tasty and I could happily spend a summer night whiling away the hours getting steadily squiffier on five pound cocktails however the strawberry concoction I could take or leave- too much ice and not enough strawberry.  The bar is apparently known for its pintxos and I would have been keen to try them but genuinely felt that I might be risking my future gastrointestinal health if I'd proceeded. They had taken on the appearance of having been laid out at the edge of the overcrowded bar for quite some time, festering gently like some form of GCSE Biology experiment.

Now, I know that we're pursuing a Spanish theme here but just what is wrong with the humble pound sterling sign might I ask? As currency symbols go it's not a bad one and it's done the trick for millions of people for quite some time now. So why the trend of leaving it off? Whilst I'm at it, why has 50p turned into ½? Are we going to see 75p in the near future as ¾? Or perhaps 40p as 2/5 (sorry there wasn't even a symbol for that one)? It's just silly and I don't like it.

At £5 (sorry that should probably be '5 or something) padron peppers are not worth their price tag. If Dehesa can do them for less than a fiver then so should you, Seven. Your overheads are much lower and your food of a lesser quality than Dehesa, there is just no excuse. Croquetas, one of my favourite things on earth were ham and leek. HAM AND LEEK?! In a croqueta?! We're creeping into ironic Findus crispy pancake territory here and I don't even think they were being ironic. Although I suppose at least they were on the cheaper side at "3½".

We ordered a large sharing platter for £20 and a couple of extra dishes. The platter consisted of patatas bravas (see more on that below), olives - decent but not exceptional, piquillo peppers, bread and oil, sliced cured meats and "a selection of Spanish cheese". The sliced meats were decent quality and had been taken out of their packaging in a very skilled manner and been arranged prettily on the plank. Well done.

I am a massive cheese fiend. It is such a wondrous and varied creation with so many beautiful permutations, second only to wine but both sharing the characteristics of being a living thing that evolves and develops throughout its life and according to its surroundings. It was very clear to me that the slices of cheese had suffered greatly due to their surroundings having been cut some time previously and left out.  They had achieved the very special acclaim of managing to both sweat and curl as well as drying out. The blue was just clinging on but the second of the 'selection'- possibly once manchego?- had long since deceased and was inedible.

It took three goes to find out what the blue cheese was. The first response was "blue". I know its dark in there but, really? Your average Nappy Valley six year old would have a better punt at a description than that. When I dared to probe for slightly more detailed information the waitress offered to ask a colleague; "Spanish Blue" was the inspired response. I must have inadvertently let loose a small frown as the 'chef' was asked and finally we found out it was a Picos de Europa. Picos is usually quite a wet,  semi soft, sticky, cheese (not dissimilar in texture to a French Roquefort) however as you can see from the picture any sign of sticky had long since gone, the blue veins dried out to white.

I put 'chef' in inverted commas because in all honesty I'm not sure that someone who visits a Spanish deli, lets the ingredients get to the end of their reasonable shelf life then serves them up on planks of wood deserves the title 'chef' but I don't suppose he/she will be the last to be given this ill-deserved moniker.

One of the few dishes on the menu that does require cooking, mores the pity,  is the king prawns with chorizo and garlic. Overcooked, rubbery prawns bobbed around like sunburnt Costa del Sol tourists in a watery, oily tomato sea. If you had told me that they had been microwaved I would not have been surprised. The chorizo had been so over cooked that its flavour had faded to "slightly porky" although on the up side all its paprika had leached out into the liquid surrounding it giving a modicum more flavour.

Another "cooked" option was the patatas bravas. There was nothing brave about these potatoes. Roughly hewn slices of skin-on new potato were topped with quite sweet and sickly tomato sauce. This combined with the topping of a dollop of creme fraiche does not a patatas bravas make.

To me Seven at Brixton is the perfect example of hipster culture gone too far. I appreciate art, I love good food and am a sucker for a well mixed drink but the totality is just very underwhelming. Unimaginative, badly prepared food being served at over inflated prices to people who are there because someone said its cool. Noone in their right mind would travel to what is essentially a cold, cement market stall for fun unless there is a VERY good excuse to do so. Needless to say I won't be eating there again any time soon.

It's been a long time since I've written up such a hatchet job of somewhere as I generally have a lot of respect for the amount of work that goes into running a restaurant but in this case I have no such compunction; they clearly have no respect for their customers or the produce and ingredients to be serving this kind of drivel up. Maybe I caught them on a bad night, who knows? All I can attest to is that on the night I went it was pretty awful.  Pop in for a really very reasonably priced cocktail over the warmer summer nights by all means but please for the love of God if its anything like when I went, steer clear of the food. After all, its a matter of metres to all kinds of yummy treats in the form of Wishbone, Franco Manca or Honest Burgers amongst others so why would you put yourself through it?

Seven At Brixton

Unit 7, Market Row, Brixton

0207 998 3309



Dehesa, Soho

How Dehesa has, until now, completely missed my radar I'm not sure as it is so completely and utterly 'me'. Apart from anything else, it's been there FIVE years for goodness sake. I've been to sister restaurant Opera Tavern and loved it, I adore Spanish tapas and its not exactly rare that I'm out and about around Soho so this counts as a major oversight. Anyway, feeble excuses aside, it was brand new to me.

I woke up on my birthday knowing that if only one thing were to happen that day (other than getting another year older) then it had to be that I would eat croquetas. There is just something about that crispy breaded outer being the last bastion standing between me and a hot, oozy centre that gets me all of a tizz every time. Cue Google quest for decent Spanish tapas around the Oxford Circus area.  It ended up being a toss up between Dehesa and Copito so if anyone's been to Copito and had a good time, do share!

So back to Dehesa. I have to admit to having been a weeny bit suspicious of combined Italian/ Spanish tapas but the menu is just too delicious to hold that thought for too long. I was also completely wrong; Spanish and Italian together can be a wonderful thing. We attacked the bar snack side of the menu first for something to nibble on whilst contemplating the altogether more detailed tapas options over a glass of cava.

Both the pork and chorizo terrine and the chorizo & guindilla pate had sold out so I will have to go back for those another day.

First to arrive were padron peppers, quails eggs and pork rillions. Sitting somewhere on the pork spectrum between scratchings and well done pork belly,  rillions are meaty little morsels that just oooze terroir. I am fully aware of just how pretentious that last sentence sounds but its true, the flesh is so flavoursome that you can just picture happy pigs running around the countryside snuffling out acorns. Padron peppers were lightly charred to release the pungent bittersweet flavour and salted to a tang.  Quail's eggs were, well, quail's eggs albeit left in half a shell which, whilst pretty, was also a bit fiddly.  Special mention has to go to the smoked paprika salt for dipping the eggs. Simple, inspired and sooo being copied next time I have friends over.

Dehesa itself is a laid back but bustling kinda place, lots of high chairs at long tables and some comfy chairs at lower round tables, cleverly built into the round windows so that you have excellent opportunities for people watching both inside and out. On one side the bar staff are doling out the wine or mixing up drinks whilst in the far corner is the fun bit; a huge pata negra ham sits waiting for the chef to carve off little salty slices on a preparation area next to the dumb waiter so you can see all the dishes appearing as if by magic from the kitchen.

The croquetas on this particular occasion were of the cornish crab and prawn variety served with a crustacean aioli. The aioli had amazing depth of flavour, like a much reduced lobster bisque in mayonnaise form. The velvety seafood sauce was complemented by a dash of saffron flavour binding the crab meat in the croqueta itself. If I hadn't had a dinner ahead of me that evening I could have sat there all afternoon eating plate after plate washed down by endless cava.

Grilled chorizo with smoked aubergine puree wasn't the most aesthetically pleasing dish to come out from the kitchen but it was bursting with flavour, the mellow smokiness of the roast aubergine cuddling up to the paprika packed chorizo in a glorious comfort food hug.

A dish of pork belly and rosemary scented cannellini beans was well executed with a nice amount of crunch on the pork skin. For me it was very rich and greasy (not a criticism when it comes to pork belly....) and whilst the cannellini beans were nice and very definitely of the rosemary variety,  I would have liked something to cut that grease just a little bit more. Last of all came the beetroot and taleggio gratin with egg, migas and truffle dressing; bright pink in colour and tangy with powerful taleggio. I hope I'm not showing my ignorance in admitting that I did have to google "migas" but it apparently means "crumbs". As you can see below, it seemed to be more like a caramelised pickled onion but whatever it was I liked it, adding bite to the very creamy, rich gratin.   Not the most super truffly dish I've ever tasted but pretty darn good nonetheless.

Other dishes that imminently need to be a part of my life include the courgette flowers with Monte Enebro and honey, the jamon iberico de bellota with Ermesenda toast and the octopus a la plancha with chickpeas, piquillo peppers, spinach and gremolata. I defy anyone other than the most hardened vegan to read that sentence without admitting to even just a hint of salivation.

Would I go back? Definitely. Its not somewhere you'd go for a special occasion but its great for a catch up over a decent bottle of wine with a friend or a pitstop when shopping. Best of all you can also reserve some of the tables in advance thereby avoiding the dreaded Soho curse. 

Dehesa

25 Ganton Street, London W1F 9BP

020 7494 4170