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

£-££***

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
££-£££  ***