Blanch & Shock at The Endurance

Ever since I heard about 'food designers' Blanch and Shock, I've been wanting to sample their culinary creations.  However, despite being on their mailing list for ages, I've never managed to get to any of the events that they've organised or been part of.  Luckily, this month they have a 4-week residency in the kitchen of The Endurance pub in Soho.  Having been intrigued by the menu of small plates advertised on their website, I hurried down to Berwick street last week with a friend.  The pub was pretty empty, but the meal we had was so interesting and delicious that I found myself back there today, alone this time, eager for round two.  Today's grub was equally as good, despite the place being much busier than on my 1st visit.  It's about time, then, that I got my finger out and wrote about it.

Although Blanch and Shock do not make it themselves they have managed to find the best sourdough that I can remember eating.  The butter, on the other hand, is made in house.  It is cultured and then churned freshly each day before service.  Flavoursome and mousse-like in its lightness, I piled great, greedy globs of it onto the robust and springy bread.  When the bread and butter served for free at the beginning of a meal are as good as this, you know you're in for a treat with the rest of the courses.  (Incidentally the credit for the bread must go the genius bakers at St. John.)

The menu takes the now familiar shape of 'small plates'.  It is split into light appetisers and then slightly larger veg, meat and fish dishes with a few puds at the end. The dishes are just about big enough to share but I confess I was glad to get them all to myself today.  Prices are scarily reasonable - appetisers for about £2 and larger dishes for £4-7; it took a fair bit of self restraint not to shout 'bring me one of everything!' when the waitress came to take the order!

Chicken skins with red gooseberry powder did exactly what an appetiser is supposed to do.  The crispy skins were like 'chicken scratchings' - very moreish - and the powder was sort of like a British version of sumac; the fruity tang cutting through the chicken fat and making our mouths water.

Salty, fishy cod's roe was served with sponges made with nitrogen in the microwave (this was explained to me, but I can't remember the details). The sponges had a texture much akin to those used in the bath - or I suppose, more to the point, those found in the sea - they were perfect for mopping up the roe and the dusting of sea lettuce power which added to the marine flavour.

A simple salad of raw and cooked courgette with fennel was brought alive by a sharp lemon dressing and the addition of roasted spelt grains.  The flavours were fresh and clean and the combination of crunchy and soft elements was delightful.

We ordered English tomatoes with miso-soaked prunes and nasturtiums simply because we couldn't imagine what it would be like.  Happily the unusual combination turned out to be a good one - sweet umami flavour from the prunes (which had been steeped in a miso stock) paired well with crisp and fruity tomatoes.  The nasturtium leaves had a peppery, slightly sour flavour which added an extra dimension to the plate as well as the joy of coming across an ingredient totally new to me.

Pork belly had been cooked for 17 hours sous vide - it was tender, but retained its meaty texture.  The pork had been seasoned quite conservatively but its piggy flavour stood up well to the salty, barbecuey smoked plum sauce.  The puffed pork skin sprinkled on top had the texture of Rice Krispies and blackened little gem lettuce worked well as an accompaniment.

One of my favourite dishes was grilled ox heart with parsley sauce, green peppercorns and capers.  The ferric tang of the verdant parsley pureé was mirrored in the flavour of the meat.  The heart had the expected offaly edge, but was less 'livery' and more steaky than heart I've eaten before.  This may have been because it was served quite rare.  One of the chefs, Mike, asked me during my 1st visit if I thought the heart should be served this way, or cooked a little longer, to medium.  At the time I said that it was great as it was but, having eaten it again today, I think (as he did) that it would perhaps be better with a minute or two more under the grill.  Regardless of personal preferences about the cooking of the meat, the combination of flavours was spot on in this dish and there was something deeply satisfying about tucking into a thick piece of heart muscle!

Underneath the crispy, sticky, smokey exterior of this pork rib lay meat that was so melting that I could literally suck it of the bone: it was gone in a finger-licking instant and I wished I had a plate piled high with them rather than just the one.  It did only cost £2.50 - so I could hardly complain.  Blanch and Shock could make millions bottling and selling the smoked tomato sauce they served with the rib - I'd part with one of my kidneys for the recipe it was so delicious!  Somehow I managed not to pick up the plate and lick it.  Luckily I had managed to save some bread and I set about cleaning up every last drop with the fervour usually reserved for those with OCD.

Salt-cured bream reminded me of the herring I had from a stall in Amsterdam.  The flesh was firm and smooth and the absence of vinegar in the cure allowed the real flavour of the fish to dominate.  

A judicious scattering of pickled radishes and peppery watercress complimented the fish and made for a very pretty plate.

The most challenging dish I tried was beetroots cooked in embers with gooseberries.  The sweet, earthy beets and sharp, juicy berries played off each other nicely, but there was another flavour coming from the green stripe painted across the plate and a few torn leaves strewn on top.  At first this made me grimace - it was herby and bitter and I didn't like it.  Moments later, once my tastebuds had become accustomed, I found myself zooming bits of beetroot around the plate to pick up as much of the green sauce as I could.  It had a flavour similar to celery and fenugreek and it grew on me rapidly.  Apparently, it was lovage - another new ingredient for me.

Little sugar-dusted brioche doughnuts were well made and lovely when dipped in gooseberry sauce but thy weren't terribly interesting in relation to the other things on the menu.

As with the ox heart, I ordered the Hay and Malt tart both times.  Last week it was served with macerated strawberries and lime blossom.  The dark-brown pastry contained roasted barley malt, which gave it a rich almost Guiness-like flavour.  The filling was creamy and redolent of hay - a delicate but very pleasant flavour.  Apparently they roast and grind the hay freshly each day to flavour the cream with.  When I spoke to the chef, he didn't seem entirely happy with the execution of the tart - in his words, the cream and the base seemed to be 'having an argument' and indeed there was a bit of marbling when I looked closely.  By today, they had perfected it - the filling was pale and uniform and had the just-set consistency that melts on the tongue.  The strawberries remained, but the lime blossom (which was pretty but had little flavour) had been replaced with tiny mint leaves - an improvement.

As you can see, I am struggling to find much to criticise about the Blanch and Shock experience.  The food was surprising, fun, sometimes challenging and above all delicious.  You can tell by the way the chefs and the waitresses collect feedback from the diners and make little adjustments that they care very much about producing the best food they can.  There was hardly a foot put wrong in any dish I tasted - no mean feat given their experimental style and ever-changing menu - and in the best of the dishes, they achieved the goal of all food-alchemists - creating something that it much more than the sum of its parts.

The Endurance provides a great setting for this kind of food - it's relaxed but quirky and with gold flock wallpaper and stuffed animal heads it clearly doesn't take itself too seriously.  The staff were fun and friendly and happy to talk enthusiastically and knowledgeably about the food.

Enough food to fill 2 of us came to £45 with soft drinks.  Food for me today with a glass of wine, came to £25.  I can think of far too many places where I have paid a lot more money for a lot less exciting and accomplished food recently!

Blanch and Shock describe themselves as a design studio and catering company.  Their interests lie not only in cooking, but in 'gastronomy' in a broader sense - the choosing and sourcing of ingredients, the application of gastro-tech to make the best of the produce and the psychology and theatre involved with eating.  The skeptics amongst you might say that all this use of hay, smoke, dehydrators and waterbaths etc. is a little too achingly trendy and gratuitous.  Had I not tasted the products, I might have agreed but in contrast to many chefs employing such methods these guys use technology and unusual flavours sagaciously and to very good effect: every element of every dish is there for a reason. 

The residency at The Endurance runs until 1st September and details of the menu are released daily on their twitter feed. Also, each Saturday evening they will be cooking tasting menus inspired, in turn, by North, East, South and West.  Sadly, I gather that they don't have any plans to open a permanent eatery, but will be popping up regularly here and there to surprise us with new things!

Something tells me I will be back for more before the end of the month!

Blanch & Shock

The Endurance Pub

90, Berwick Street,

Soho, London.

W1F 0QB

10/10

£-££***

Randall & Aubin

Earlier this evening a friend and I found ourselves hungrily wandering the street of Soho, mouths watering.  Both being indecisive beasts, we were struggling to agree on somewhere to eat.  Our two 1st choices were closed for Sunday evening and we fancied a change from the ubiquitous (yet reliably excellent) small, no-bookings, italian/spanish/BBQ things we have been drawn to all too often recently.  Walking down Brewer Street, we came across Randall and Aubin.  I remembered having a decent meal there a couple of years ago and we were in the mood for fish - so in we went.  This, sadly, would turn out to be a mistake.

Most of the seating at R&A is on high stools at ledges around the edge or bar-tables in the middle of the restaurant.  The seats were a little difficult to get comfortable in, but we didn't think much about this as we tucked into delicious olives and bread and studied the menu in the frame on the wall in front of us.  My companion is a relative newcomer to eating fish and other things from the sea and was excited by the varied selection of seafood on offer.  I too was impressed by the menu, until I noticed the small notice in  the corner about the 'cover charge'  - £1.50 pp. to cover bread and olives.  These stealth taxes have always irritated me; if you are going to charge for your bread and olives, put them on the bloody menu and make them optional.  Sliding them in front of you with no mention of cost until the bill arrives (unless you have spotted the 'fine print' on the menu) is rather unsporting.  Looking back through the hindsightoscope, perhaps this should have given me a clue about the value for money, or lack thereof, that we should expect from the restaurant in general.

My starter of 'half a pint of native pink prawns' was spot on.  To my mind, prawns always taste better when you have peeled them yourself, plus you get the unrivalled pleasure of sucking the flavoursome goo out of the heads and drawing alarmed looks from the more squeamish patrons.

The salad of queen scallops with crispy pancetta and capers was reportedly quite tasty.  The scallops looked pretty tiny and there had evidently been a salad-spinner malfunction in the kitchen as the leaves were a bit wet but the flavours were good on the whole.

From then on, things deteriorated.  I chose the main course of king scallops for £19.50.  The tender broccoli and delicious fennel pureé that formed a bed for the molluscs were faultless.  My problem with the dish was not one of execution - the scallops were very nicely done - caramelised on the outside, sweet and just-raw in the centre, but there were only three of them.  THREE!  They were not especially large and for the best part of twenty pounds, I felt very hard done by.  For this price they could, at least, have served the roes as well, but these had been wastefully stripped away.  3 scallops for a starter: fine, but for a main course that's just mean.  What's more, the garnish of frizzled spring onion strips on top was tough, dry, chewy and unpleasant - if it wasn't for the faintest allium whiff I would have thought they had sprinkled my plate with hay.  This had all the makings of a great dish - but the lovely seafood and veg were let down by redundant and revolting garnish and the sheer parsimoniousness of the portion.

My friend decided to have the grilled sea bass. The chive, spring onion and rosemary salsa sounded tasty but, due to an allergy, he asked for the 'curry dusted potatoes' to be replaced with fries.  We were quite shocked to be told that this would not be possible.  ''The fries on the menu are a larger portion than the potatoes that come with this dish, so I cannot swap them, I'm sorry.''  What nonsense!  Chips are about as divisible as any food item I can think of - surely the amount put on the plate is up to the chef; the idea that they can only be served in a portion of a pre-determined size is absurd! Our waiter did not seem to understand this line of reasoning, so we asked to have the potatoes simply without the curry dusting.  This also was impossible as they were pre-prepared.  Short of ordering another dish altogether, the only option was to have the potatoes removed and to buy a side order of fries.  When the dish arrived we were surprised to find that the bass was a single fillet rather then a whole fish - this was not made clear on the menu.  It was slightly over-done but not to the point of being ruined.  The fish was accompanied by a small bunch of undressed watercress and the 'salsa' which turned out to be a collection of cold, chewy, greasy and vinegary slices of grilled scallion with some raw rosemary twigs thrown in as an afterthought - not nice.  The fries never arrived and by this time it seemed silly to ask for them as they would appear long after the fish was finished.

At this point we were hungry, annoyed and uncomfortable - our bill of £71 (with one soft drink and a glass of fino) only served to make us feel hungrier and more annoyed.  We decided not to hang around for pudding and hurried off elsewhere to find sweet things to fill our unsatisfied bellies and cheer us up (incidentally this took the form of exquisite desserts and cocktails at Yauatcha).

Based on tonight's experience I find it impossible to understand why this restaurant is so often packed, with queues sometimes stretching out of the door and down the street.  The music is just that little bit too loud to have a comfortable conversation, the seats are arse-numbing and  the service, while friendly, is rather blasé.  This would all be forgivable if R&A served decent food at reasonable prices but seeing as the only well executed and good value dish we had consisted of a glass full of cold prawns and a dish of lemon mayo (hardly requiring great skill to prepare), it appears those two boxes must go un-ticked as well.

Randall & Aubin

14-16 Brewer Street,

Soho.

W1F 0SG

3/10

X

Ceviche - Soho

I was lucky enough to spend a month in Peru a few years ago - I loved it - a vibrant, strikingly beautiful and wildly varied country.  One of my lasting memories of the food, other than the obligatory guinea pig (don't bother, incidentally) was Ceviche - the name given to raw fish, cured in 'leche de tigre' (so called 'tiger's milk' - a mix of citrus juices and chilli).  Ever since that trip, every time I have seen a Ceviche on a restaurant menu, I have ordered it - I find the combination of soft, slippery fish, sharp citrus and chilli kick quite addictive.  I've also made it myself a few times - with good results.  So, ever since I heard about Martin Morales' plan to open a Peruvian restaurant called Ceviche in Soho, I have been itching to try it out.  I am not usually one for rushing to new restaurants in their opening weeks, I prefer to let them settle in, iron out their kinks and hit their stride before I waltz in and issue judgement from atop my high horse.*  However, in this case my impatience got the better of me and today, a mere week after the opening, a friend and I went for an early supper.

My 1st impressions of the restaurant were very good - the front of house were very friendly and the ambience was great.  Vibrant posters in frames on some walls, black and white portrait photos on others, the latin-american soundtrack was upbeat and the waiters were smiley and helpful - Ceviche, we decided, was a very nice place to be.

The menu was full of interesting things - mainly 'tapas-style' small dishes to share: ceviches, anticuchos (grilled meat skewers), salads and assorted traditional dishes and sides.  We were encouraged to choose 3 or 4 dishes per person; this was not hard to do as I would happily have ordered any of the intriguing things listed.  However, as we looked at the prices, doubts crept in about how much we would have to spend to fill ourselves up.  We ordered fairly conservatively and before long the food began to appear.

1st came our two ceviches.  The first, irritatingly named Barranco I Love You, was seabass with a zingy citrus leche de tigre and a few crunchy fried corn kernels for texture.  It was a mouthwatering delight - transporting me back 11 years to a bar in Lima where I tried it for the 1st time.  The lip smacking juice had a pleasant, fruity, chilli heat but it didn't overpower the sweet fish at all.  The second dish was less successful. Pulpo al Olivo consisted of sliced, braised octopus topped with a zig-zag of oddly unattractive mauve sauce and scattered capers.  The sauce was too salty, which sadly overwhelmed the well-cooked octopus and the dish cried out for some acidity to lift it.  Octopus, done so well by the Spanish, Greeks and Japanese, is one of my favourite things to eat; but neither of us particularly enjoyed this dish.

Next came the Anticuchos de Corazòn; grilled beef heart skewers.  This was a pleasant surprise - the heart was tasty and succulent, and the peppy, yellow ajì amarillo dipping sauce complemented it well.  Not much of it for £6.25 though, especially given how inexpensive offal is.

A nicely dressed Quinoa salad was refreshing and full of varied textures - the toothsome quinoa grains, soft avocado, floury butter beans etc.

Next to the eponymous Ceviche, the dish I had been most looking forward to trying was the Arroz con Pato, described as Confit duck in coriander and dark beer rice with salsa criolla.  The duck was delicious - satisfyingly crispy on the outside with tender flesh within.  The rice hiding underneath it, however, let the dish down.  Although not unpleasant, it was rather underwhelming: a pallid khaki colour, slightly overcooked, and lacking much interesting flavour despite being adequately seasoned.  A little coriander came through, but there was no trace of the beer it had apparently been cooked in - shame.  Even if the rice had lived up to the tasty duck, the portion would have fit neatly into my cat's food bowl - a meagre helping for the £10.75 we paid.

Our last savoury dish was a Peruvian Corn Cake, the flavour of this offering was pleasant: sweet Choclo corn piqued by feta-like cheese, but it was overwhelmingly salty and simply too small to share.  My friend found it unpleasant (mainly due to the saltiness) and could only eat a little spoonful - I polished off the rest, but found myself gasping for water afterwards.

One pudding in particular aroused my curiosity: Suspiro de Chirimoya Limeña. This was described as a Chirimoya (custard apple) mousse topped with a cinnamon and port wine meringue.  Unfortunately, the soft, italian meringue on top of the dessert was extremely sweet and had no port wine flavour whatsoever.  This was not helped by the fact that there was altogether too much of it resting on top of the small amount fruit purèe underneath.  The custard apple itself would have been lovely on its own - but it is an intrinsically sweet, creamy fruit and had nowhere near the depth or acidity needed to offset the thickly saccharine meringue.  The pud was not a success, but mercifully it was truly tiny - a mere 4 spoonfuls and it was gone.

With the exception of a single Peruvain beer, the only alcoholic drinks on offer are based around Pisco - the national spirit of Peru.  Calling itself 'Europe's first Pisco Bar', I was rather hoping that Ceviche would give me the chance to sample a variety of different Piscos, (rather like the splendid variety of Tequilas and Mezcals found at Wahaca or the Sakes found at Bincho etc.) On the contrary, I was dismayed to find that there was no such selection on offer.  Pisco only came mixed into cocktails or in the form of Macerados - shots of the spirit infused with various fruits or aromatics e.g. Cherry, Physalis, Chilli, Lemongrass.  This disappointment aside, the cocktails we had were excellent - well crafted, balanced, interesting and fruity affairs that I could have drunk several more of with ease.

Looking back at the drinks menu online, I have just spotted that there was one example of Pisco available straight-up, I must have overlooked it, skulking as it was at the end of the cocktail list.

My thoughts at the end of my meal were mixed.  The restaurant itself is lively and convivial and the service was good (although when we were there, it was near-empty).  The food, on the whole was tasty and novel but let down in too many cases by badly misjudged seasoning.  My main problem with Ceviche is the value for money.  The dishes were, without exception, small and in order to fill hungry stomachs you need a fair few of them.  With one cocktail each, one bottle of water and 7 dishes the bill for two people exceeded £70 and we were barely full at the end of it.  The fact that less than 3 hours later we could be found stuffing ourselves with a mountain of excellent dim sum (for less than half the price) speaks volumes.  If we had eaten as much as we had wanted and had a couple more drinks each, as we normally would, the bill would easily have reached £140.  Simply put, this isn't the kind of food people expect to pay that much money for.

Ceviche is in very good company in Soho - surrounded by excellent eateries such as Koya, Polpetto, Pitt Cue Co., Wahaca, Spuntino, Bincho, Mooli's, et al.  In my view, all of these places will fill you up with delicious, good value grub.  With a little tweaking to the food and a reasonable reduction in price or increase in size of some of the dishes, I think Ceviche could happily compete in this neighbourhood.  As it is though, I suspect they will draw in the first-time punters with the promise of the new and exciting but lose out on return trade as people seek better value elsewhere. 

Hopefully, the small changes needed will come in due course (they have only been open a week or so, after all) and Ceviche will survive and go on to become another unique and special feature in the colourful and diverse Soho food district.

Ceviche

17, Frith Street,

Soho.

W1D 4RG

6/10

X

*For the 'Bernard Wooley' pedants amongst you: I am fully aware you can't waltz whist on a horse… shut up.

The Pitt Cue Co. - Soho

Ever since it opened, 3 weeks ago, The Pitt Cue Co. Soho has been reviewed to death, but after a quick lunch there today I found myself unable to keep quiet about it.  However, given the amount of blog-inches already written about this tiny restaurant, I'll try to keep this post uncharacteristically succinct!

The Pitt Cue Co. started life serving smoked, slow-cooked BBQ meat from a van under the Hungerford Bridge on South Bank.  Once word got around about just how good their food was, and how different it was from pretty much anything else on offer, they were selling out of grub on a daily basis.

I was sad when the Pitt Cue van left its spot on South Bank - it had provided me with some of my tastiest mouthfuls of 2011.  However, they have spent the time since they disappeared well and have been reincarnated in permanent premises near Carnaby Street.  From this tiny establishment they serve the same wonderful, melt-in-the-mouth pulled pork and brisket they had before as well as ribs, sausage, several interesting sides and daily specials.  They also serve a couple of take-away options.

The no-bookings policy and small number of seats means that it can be hard to get a table, but I strolled in today for a late-ish lunch and only had to wait 5 minutes (during which time I admired the impressive collection of Bourbons and sipped a glass of Four Roses).  Once parked, I chose the Pulled Pig's Head from the daily specials (the other being Smoked Ox Cheek with Pickled Walnuts) and the Burnt Ends Mash as a side. I topped this off with the Fried Pickled Shitake Mushrooms that seem to be becoming the unofficial 'signature' dish.

The food arrived and was every bit as tasty and interesting as the hype had promised. Smokey, juicy, pork which almost dissolved in my mouth was accompanied by thinly sliced, sweet and tangy pickles and a doorstop of charred sourdough to mop up the addictive juices. A jar of smooth, slightly cheesy mashed potato was topped with a rich, rugged sauce made from chunks of smoked beef brisket burnt ends - utterly delicious.  As if that wasn't enough umami for one meal, the pot of panko-crusted, pickled mushrooms were as delightfully crunchy and squishy as they were moreish.

In short, everything that was put in front of me was devastatingly good; I couldn't get it into my face fast enough!

On top of the glorious, slobber-inducing food, the laid-back and friendly atmosphere, chatty staff and thoughtfully stocked bar make Pitt Cue Soho one of my new favourite places - I can't wait to go back and see what other sticky, smokey morsels they have come up with (and to further my American Whiskey education).

Pig, mash, mushrooms and booze for one came to £16.50

Pitt Cue Co.

1, Newburgh St,

Soho, London.

W1F 7RB

10/10

£-££

Bocca di Lupo

For too long now London (and everywhere else) has been adrift in a sea of uninspiring Italian chain restaurants, but over the last couple of years a few small islands of imaginative, authentic food have appeared and all of a sudden we are spoiled for choice!

These days you can barely move in Soho without tripping over a Russel Normal restaurant - Polpo, Polpetto and Spuntino have set many mouths a-slobber in Soho lately and 'Da Polpo', soon to open in Covent Garden, is likely to be just as excellent.  Thanks to people like him and Jordan Frieda & Tim Siadatan of Trullo, Islington we finally have somewhere to shelter from the abject mediocrity offered by Gondola Holdings and Tragus Group (responsible, between them, for the ubiquitous Pizza Express, Ask, Zizzi, Bella Italia and Strada).

Bocca di Lupo, hiding away on a Soho side-street, is another such Italian eatery that has been attracting rhapsodic reviews since it opened a couple of years ago.  A friend and I decided to go and see what the fuss was about.

The trip to Bocca was a little impromptu and I left it until the morning of the visit to call and book a table - stupidly thinking 'It's a Wednesday lunchtime… how busy can it be?'.  Very busy, apparently.  The only two spaces left were at the bar, but despite being a little short on elbow room, we got a view of the kitchen and could see many of the dishes being prepared right in front of us.  Our fellow diners were a mix of business suits and trendy Sohoites and our waiter was very cheery and helpful.  Bright green olives, excellent focaccia and olive oil appeared quickly and we set about dissecting the menu.

And what an exciting menu it was!  Not only because of the mouthwatering, and often intriguing dishes on offer but also the fact that nearly all of them could be ordered as either small or large portions; meaning than almost any combination of starter and main was possible.  Why don't more restaurants do this?  Seriously!  Another nice touch was that each dish was labelled according to the region of Italy it comes from - just in case you fancy an entirely Ligurian lunch or Sicilian supper.

Neil and I decided on the same starter - Lamb proscuitto, raw broad beans and pecorino fresco.  The ham was sliced in front of us on a beautiful hand-cranked meat slicer and presented on a board with beans in their pods and 2 generous slices of young pecorino.  The colours were striking and the combination of salty ham, savoury cheese and fresh, slightly bitter beans was simple and perfect.

My pansotti filled with nettle and borage were silky and light but the deliciously rich, coarse walnut pesto they were smothered in made them surprisingly filling.  Neil's spider crab linguine was initially described as 'awesome' but on reflection he decided it was a little short on actual crab.

After my pasta and the very generous portion of spinach I ordered to go with it, I was pretty replete but my love for Italian desserts won over and I ordered the blood orange granita.  It appeared, a murderous shade of deep red, with a sprinkling of toasted almond flakes and chopped mint and after the first crunchy, juicy mouthful I was rendered instantly speechless.  It was at once rich and refreshing, the tart orange offset buy the toasty nuts and cool mint.  Once I had finished it and drained the last precious drops of sanguinous juice from the glass I recovered the powers of speech and then refused to shut up about how good it was for the rest of the day.

My friend's combination of 3 white gelati - yoghurt, coconut and ricotta-sour cherry - disappeared in seconds; before my camera (or spoon) got anywhere near them. They left a big grin on his face.

As we were en route to a wine tasting, we eschewed booze and coffee and drank only tap water; even so the meal was not exactly cheap.  But the food brought such pleasure, the ingredients were clearly top-notch and the service was great - so we could hardly grumble.  3 courses for 2 people including service came to about £85.

I should mention, that there was a lunch menu of 'one-dish meals' available as well - all of which sounded just as tasty.

Bocca di Lupo seems to me to occupy a clever middle-ground between such places as Polpetto (equally gorgeous food, but more casual and rustic and less expensive) and the more polished and pricey big-guns like Locanda Locatelli, Murano and The River Café.  I will certainly be back to sample the sections of the menu that we left untouched - the roasted and fried things all sounded interesting in particular.
I may even drop in from time to time just to get another hit of that narcotic granita!  

Bocca di Lupo

12, Archer Street

London

W1 7BB

9/10

££-£££ (depending on whether you are snacking or filling up)

Lunch at Wahaca

Wahaca has been a feature of the London restaurant scene since the summer of 2007, but the novelty of Thomasina Miers' punchy Mexican street food has by no means worn off.  On the contrary, the 4th outlet opened in Soho recently and the 1st in Covent Garden still regularly has queues stretching out of the door.

Many of you will know Wahaca already, but they've just released their 2011 Summer menu (one or two of the heavier dishes taken off and a few lighter ones added), so a couple of friends and I decided to check it out.

The Westfield branch that we visited is not all that busy compared to the buzzing Covent Garden Wahaca that I have eaten in before, but nevertheless the welcome from our waitress was as exuberant and friendly as I have come to expect.  We ordered a Horchata (cooling rice/almond milk and cinnamon drink) each and studied the menu.  Wahaca's menu is pretty flexible - there's something to please all appetites. My companions choose a few street food dishes to share; some of the new summer additions and a couple of old favourites.  I was a little hungrier so ordered a couple of the newly added small plates as well as a larger dish.

Mere minutes later food started appearing in front of us and the air was filled with the mouthwatering aromas of chilli and lime.  Scallop and shrimp ceviche tostadas were zingy and fresh; the lime-cured fish mixed with salsa sitting on crisp, fried tortillas - delightfully messy to eat!  Summer veg tacos came with splodges of deeply smoky chipotle sauce on top and crumbled white cheese.  Crispy, deep fried chicken taquitos and spicy Chicken Tinga tacos were very tasty and the chorizo and potato quesadillas and pork pibil tacos were as savoury, melting and delicious as they always are.

I was hugely jealous of my friends' Queso Fundido; another new addition to the menu.  A dish of thick melted cheese with delicious, dark green slivers of cactus hiding under the surface and adorned with a huge golden-brown crisp of fried cheese.  It was served with soft tacos - the idea being to shovel forkfuls of the stringy cheese concoction into them before stuffing them messily into your mouth.  I was allowed a forkful to taste… and was then very tempted to flag down the waitress and order one for myself straight away.

I probably would have done, had it not been for my Pork Torta.  On the menu, this is described as a 'mexican club sandwich'.  What appeared in front of me was a soft, lightly toasted burger bun crammed with lettuce, refried black beans, guacamole, salsa, sweetcorn and a very generous amount of spicy, slow-cooked pork pibil.  The juicy, tender pork and the other fillings combined into a fantastically spicy, vibrant mouthful and I was feeling pretty stuffed by the time I'd scoffed the lot  (Annoyingly, having been watching Masterchef the night before, I couldn't quite shake the image of a little Gregg Wallace sitting on my shoulder shouting ''Corrr, it's like a soft, spicy, meeeaty MOUTH-HUG…'' in his dulcet cockney tones…)

I had absolutely no room left for pudding but my friends shared a very decent Flan de la Casa.

A little while ago, I had the pleasure of meeting the lovely Thomasina Miers at a book signing (her colourful book 'Mexican Food Made Simple' does exactly what it says on the cover), we had a brief chat about Tequila - a thing that we both adore.  She recommended that I try Mezcal as well - something that I have no experience with whatsoever.  As far as I understand it, the difference between the two spirits is that when making Tequila, the agave cactus is cooked by steaming before fermentation and distilling, whereas in Mezcal production it is slowly roasted in fire-pits.  I believe that in Mexico, Mezcal is regarded as a superior spirit to Tequila, so when I noticed a couple of Mezcals added to Wahaca's already impressive list of Tequilas I thought I'd try one (the Del Maguey).  I'm really glad I did.  The flavour profile was initially similar to that of good, reposado Tequila, but there was less alcohol burn and an aromatic, almost resinous quality on the mid-palette which tapered to a rich smokey aftertaste.  Smooth and surprisingly easy to drink!

I've eaten at Wahaca several times now and I have never had a bad experience, the staff are friendly and well informed, the food is vibrant, unpretentious and great value for money but the most impressive thing for me is the consistency that they achieve.  Every dish is cooked, seasoned and presented just right, every time - not something that can be said for many restaurants that are this busy.  I'm sure the queues will continue for years to come.

My one, tiny (/petty) criticism would be directed at the really annoying, chunky, plastic baby spoons that come with desserts - they're actually quite unpleasant to put in your mouth!!

Food, drinks and service for three came to about £60 in total.

Wahaca
Southern Terrace
Westfield Shopping Centre
London
W12 7SL
8/10
££ ***
Other Branches:
66, Chandos Place - Covent Garden
80, Wardour St. - Soho
1 Canada Square - Docklands
~~ My thanks to my friend Seb Stanley for taking much prettier photos than I could ever have managed. ~~

St. John vs. Polpetto

For those of you who are already thinking that this is an odd, or even ridiculous comparison to be making, please bear with me – I hope my point will be made!

Also, my apologies for lack of decent pics - my camera was stolen before I had chance to upload them!!

St. John in Smithfield is nothing if not controversial.  Its champions talk of food free from frippery and the devotion to forgotten meat cuts, ‘nose-to-tail’ and such like.  It has, after all, featured on the ‘Top 50 Restaurants in the World’ list for a while, has held on to a Michelin star for 2 years and boasts a list of celebrity foodies and chefs who rave about it.

However, its critics are less satisfied with the pared-down approach to dining and question whether St. John really has a place in the constellation of london Michelin restaurants.

Having read mixed reviews (e.g. here, here  and here) a friend and I decided to see for ourselves.

The restaurant finds itself in a refurbished smokehouse in Clerkenwell – it has deliberately been kept minimal: open plan, bare walls, no art, paper tablecloths etc.  It really is the antithesis to the usual Michelin glamour.  The antidote, some would say.

The service was friendly and casual (the first time I’ve ever been served by a waiter in a blood-stained apron!) and the menu was full of intriguing things.  To start I ordered a warm octopus and potato salad.  It was everything octopus should be and so frequently isn’t; meaty and toothsome without being chewy or slimy and the dressing was a savoury, tangy delight.  The pig skin salad sitting opposite me was a generous pile of crunchy, deeply porky crackling shards and nicely dressed watercress.  My friend reported goosebumps after the 1^st mouthful.  The portions were ample, but boths dishes were pretty much dumped on the plates.

When ordering our main courses we had differing approaches: I wanted to try something completely new to me and he wanted to see how well St. John could prepare a simple, standard dish.  To that end I had the poached lambs’ tongues and he the roast duck breast.  The tongues were a revelation; succulent, soft and salty with a deep lamby flavour – not as ‘offally’ as I had expected.  They were paired with crunchy shavings of blanched carrot, whole radishes, some rocket leaves and white beans.  I ordered some boiled new potatoes as well and these were genuinely the most delicious I have ever eaten – with the fantastic deep, buttery flavour that I have only ever found in roast spuds before.  Sadly, my fellow foodie’s experience was not as good.  His duck was fairly moist and pink, but surprisingly flavourless – actually pretty bland.  The skin, though browned, was soft and devoid of the savoury intensity and crispiness that good roast duck should have (I am pretty sure it was cooked sous-vide).  It was accompanied by a lone braised turnip; halved and with a slightly tough skin and a splash of thin pan juices from the duck.  The dish was pretty charmless and left him sorely underwhelmed.  It was not poorly cooked per se, at least not enough to be returned to the kitchen, but both of us felt we had cooked better at home: not something you would expect from a restaurant in this league.

We decided against puddings (Paul A. Young chocolates is walking distance from the restaurant and we wanted to save room!) and left St. John with mixed feelings.

2 courses and a glass of wine each, potatoes and a side salad came to £76 including service.

On reflection, I feel that St. John is a good place to go to try well-cooked examples of the less frequently used parts of the beast.  Next time I feel an offal craving, I will be back to see what their ever-changing menu has to challenge my tastebuds.  However, I find their deliberately spartan, no-frills mess hall ethos to be oddly more pretentious than most of the restaurants they are trying to set themselves apart from.  If meat is to be unadorned and cooked simply, then it must be nothing short of excellent.  If a duck breast is the only thing sitting on a plate costing close to £20, then it should be the paragon to all duck breasts, not a lament to the misuse of a waterbath.  I do not think that a Michelin inspector eating the same meal would have allowed them to keep their controversial star.  

After our lunch in Smithfield and a wander around Islington and Soho, we decided to see if we could find a more inspiring, better value meal to put the smiles back on our faces.  I am yet to read a single bad word about Polpetto, so figured this would be a good bet.

We were not entirely sure we were in the right place as we wandered up the unassuming staircase by The French House pub on Dean St.  However, at the top, we were greeted warmly and shown to a small table somewhat wedged in between others.  The 28 cover restaurant is crammed into a single room above the pub but, at 6.45, when we arrived, it was already pretty busy and the atmosphere was palpably alive.

We ordered an Aperol spritz each while we perused the menu.  It quickly became clear that we both wanted to order the entire menu and it took a lot of discussion and willpower before we had whittled it down to a mere 6 dishes to share.

The 1^st to arrive was a carpaccio of swordfish adorned with pink peppercorns and dill.  The plate was tiny, but the flavours huge –grins were instantly restored to our faces and our mouths were left watering for the following dishes.  Next came a pizzeta with cured pork shoulder and pickled peppers – as thin and crispy as any I have ever had and incredibly moreish, and a bruschetta of ricotta, grilled fennel and prosciuto.  The fennel was wafer thin and char-striped; its cool, smoky slipperiness complimenting the salty ham perfectly.  Warm lentils with creamy burrata and heady basil oil were hungrily demolished.  Borlotti beans with wild garlic and rosemary crumbs were good, but I would have liked to have seen more of the wild garlic; it was a little lost amongst the beans.  Finally the braised ox cheek on white polenta arrived.  The cheek was so tender that we could literally eat it with spoons, the flavour was deeply beefy accented with slivers of olive and some melt-in-the-mouth cherry tomatoes.  The polenta was very soft – wetter than I am used to, but silky and lovely nonetheless.

My dessert was a small, dense polenta cake doused liberally with an orange and campari syrup and a splodge of yoghurt icecream. Pleasingly tart, slightly bitter and very moreish.  My friend’s flourless chocolate and walnut cake was a little dry and crumbly and rather heavy – but tasty.

2 spritzers, 6 sharing dishes, 2 puds and service came to £69.  We waddled back down the stairs feeling fat and happy and vowing to return soon to try the rest of the menu.  The only thing which spoilt an otherwise excellent evening was the fact that our table was very close to the adjacent one, which belonged to the most irritating diners I have ever come across – they were shouting, or rather bellowing conversation at each other across the table, on topics ranging from better restaurants they’d eaten in to French prostitutes, all the time swearing, guffawing and gesticulating wildly – it was almost impossible to keep my own thread of conversation going and I struggled not to butt in and ask them to pipe down a bit!  Space is at a premium in Soho and I don’t begrudge Polpetto trying to squeeze as many tables into their outstanding little eatery as possible – we were just unlucky, I guess, with our neighbours!

You might wonder why I am comparing these two restaurants.  It's not just that I ate at them both in 1 day, but rather that I think they share similar ideals – unpretentious, honest grub, celebrating the ingredients rather than aesthetics and high concept.  One may be rooted in traditional/historical English cuisine and the other in vibrant Italian fare but they are not that different in essence.

However I feel that, where Polpetto wins, St. John fails.  Polpetto do their best to excite and titilate you in a buzzing, friendly environment, whereas eating at St. John you feel as if you are being challenged to appreciate their food.  It is as though they are picking a fight; inviting and relishing the controversy, daring you to disagree.  This, to my mind, detracts from the experience.

St. John Bar and Restaurant

26 St. John St,

London

EC1M 4AY

6/10
£££  X

~~~~~~~~

Polpetto

Upstairs at The French House

49 Dean St,

London.

W1D 5BG
9/10
££-£££  ***