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

Dandelion Chocolate

I know that individual product reviews aren't usually my thing but, for Dandelion Chocolate, I feel the need to make an exception.  Imported rom California, this small-batch, hand-made chocolate is the best I can remember tasting in a long time.

Founded in 2010 in San Francisco, Dandelion make their chocolate from single-estate cacao in tiny quantities, adjusting the way the beans are roasted to maximise the characteristics of each variety they use.

The bar I tried was the 'Sambirano, Madagascar' 70%, made with beans from a single farm, roasted hotter and for a shorter time than usual.  It has lightness and characteristic fruity acidity I'd expect from good Madagascan chocolate, but somehow they've managed to coax out vibrant, juicy berry flavours that took me quite by surprise. In fact, I found myself checking the ingredients to see if any fruit extracts had been added; but no: just cocoa beans and cane sugar. 

Dandelion chocolate doesn't come cheap; this 56g bar was £9.50.  I guess this is to be expected as producing fine chocolate in synch small quantities from single origin beans from around the globe is sure to be an expensive pursuit.  However, this is some of the most arresting and delicious chocolate I've had the pleasure of sampling and I'll be willing to pay that price again, occasionally, to treat myself and sample the rest of their range.

I discovered Dandelion in Paul A. Young's fantastic chocolate shop - well worth checking out (not just for Dandelion, but for his own beautifully made, inventive and interesting chocs).

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

£-££

The Blue Print Café

The Blue Print Café has been high on my list of places to visit for some time now.  I very much respect chef Jeremy Lee's principles of seasonal produce cooked simply, so the other day two friends and I met there for dinner.  Unexpectedly, we left rather underwhelmed.

The Blue Print Café sits on the 1st floor of The Design Museum in Shad Thames, right by Tower Bridge.  The large glass windows frame an impressive panorama over the river.  This view and the comfortable, stylish dinning room decorated seasonally with small pumpkins and other harvest fruits make the restaurant a very pleasant place to be.  The service, however, was not quite as smart as the surroundings.  Nobody was rude, we were neither hurried nor kept waiting, but a few small things added up to leave us less than satisfied.

After a fairly long walk in the November drizzle we arrived pretty hungry.  Tasty sourdough bread was quick to appear once we'd taken our seats but the instant we had polished off one small slice each, our bread plates were whisked out from under our noses.  Normally I expect bread to be available at least until the main course, but we were left without hope of a second morsel long before out starters arrived.

On the menu, Salt Mallard with Pickled Prunes and Cherries sounded very interesting - I ordered it almost without hesitation.  On the plate though, the dish fell a little flat.  Presented somewhat untidily, the duck was tasty but a little dry - the pickled fruits were sharp and delicious but didn't provide enough juice to moisten the meat and the wodge of un-dressed watercress did little to help.

A Warm Smoked Eel Sandwich was very tasty - the oily richness nicely offset by thinly sliced, vinegary red onion pickle.  The otherwise excellent dish was let down by the fact that it was barely warm - it was as though it had hung around for a bit before finding it's way to the table.

The third starter was Razor Clams with a Parsley Crust.  The sweet, delicate flavour of the clam flesh was sadly over-shadowed by the grit hiding in the shells beneath it.  Explaining this to the head waiter was not as easy as you might expect.  He didn't seem to understand what my friend meant when he politely complained and eventually he had to be very blunt: ''There is now sand in my mouth.''  The dish was taken away, only for another waiter to appear a few minutes later - evidently the problem was still not understood:

''Sorry, what was wrong with your starter?''

''I'm afraid there was some grit in the clams.''

''Are you sure?  The herb topping is quite crispy and…''

''No no, it was definitely quite sandy - it wasn't the breadcrumbs.''

''Ok… would you like to try it without the crust this time?''

''No thank you! I'm happy with the crust… just without the grit please.''

It was all a bit patronising.  The clams reappeared - grit free - and were very tasty.  To their credit, this dish was removed from the bill without us having to ask.

Of the main courses, Skate with Brown Butter and Capers was very well cooked and very generously capered.

Venison was mildly flavoured and perfectly pink but served with the same pickled prunes and clump of watercress as my starter.  A bit of sauce would have been nice.

When choosing the main courses, my companions were advised to order some vegetables as their dishes didn't come with accompaniments.  I was told that, as my ''Grouse & co.'' came with plenty of traditional accoutrements, I should be fine without extras.

The Grouse sat on a fairly small plate alongside a handful of game chips, a small mound of fried breadcrumbs, a square of toast with the bird's liver spread on it and yet another sheaf of naked watercress. Perhaps, I thought to myself, I should have ordered some veg after all.  The 1st problem with this dish was a practical one.  I like to think that, as a keen cook (and qualified veterinary surgeon),  I can carve a roast bird with decent enough skill and dexterity; but it turned out to be impossible to butcher the grouse without it sliding around on the little plate scattering game chips across the table in all directions.  With hindsight, I should have asked for a sharp knife rather than trying to make do with the bluntish one I had been given.
While on the subject of 'game chips', I've never really seen the point in them.  They are, in essence, just crisps.  I know they're traditional, but they get in the way, you need to put your knife and fork down to eat them, they don't soak up any of the juices… perhaps I'm missing something.  Although, I suppose I ordered the dish, they were on the menu in black and white: I can't really complain.
The liver on toast was truly delicious - rich and unashamedly gamey.  The meat from the bird, once I had eventually dismembered it, was succulent, pink and tasty.  However, the small amount of dark grey juice that seeped from within the cavity was profoundly bitter and burnt-tasting leaving me to wonder if it had been washed out before cooking.  I found myself carefully steering pieces of meat around the plate to avoid puddles of juice rather than mopping them up eagerly as I had expected to.  The pleasant bread sauce and redcurrant jelly served with the dish did well enough to mask the unwanted flavour of any pieces that had been tainted.

Desserts were also a mixed bag.  The highlight was a St. Emilion au Chocolat - a rich, mousse-like chocolate tart - opulent and unctuous.

An Almond Tart with Baked Fig was also good, although the fig wasn't quite sharp enough to cut the very sweet filling making it hard to finish.

My Rum Baba with Orange Curd was less enjoyable.  The sponge was light, the curd was tasty and the ice cream well made, but the thin sugar-water that the whole affair was drowning in was devoid of flavour and I was unable to detect the merest whiff of rum.  I left most of it.

All in all this was a fairly lack-lustre meal.  An interesting, decently priced, seasonal menu was sorely let down by the fact that only the skate and chocolate pudding (i.e. the two safest dishes) were without fault.

I would like to think that The Blueprint Café was having a bad evening and that the chefs and waiters are capable of doing the menu and the view better justice… but there are a lot of other places I'd like to eat at before I would consider giving them a second chance.  A shame, as I had been rather hoping this might become a regular haunt.

4/10

££-£££

Hawksmoor - Seven Dials

I feel like I'm a little late to the party.  After all, Hawksmoor has been around for a few years now and most London foodies/bloggers/tweeters have already been many times and already written their glowing reviews.  However, being relatively new to this game, Hawksmoor only appeared on my radar in the last few months and only last week did I finally get round to checking it out for myself.  I was expecting a great meal - based on the hype.  'Hawksmoor does bloody good steak' is hardly newsworthy, so I wasn't actually intending to write about it (hence the lack of decent photos - sorry!).  However, when I got home at the end of the night, I couldn't stop myself: there are others out there, blissfully ignorant to this temple to Beef - these poor souls need, as I was, to be saved!

Deceptively small from the outside and hidden down the end of a Covent Garden side street, it took us a little while to find the restaurant, but once inside and down the stairs the place opens up, tardis-like, into a large bar and dining room.  An abundance of wood, brick, iron and racing green leather lent a vintage, masculine feel to the surroundings and indeed by quite a margin the majority of the clientele were male.  However, rather than seeming stuffy or macho there was an unaffected ease and warmth that made us feel very much at home.

From a very tempting array of starters (I can't wait to go back and try 'Grilled Clams in Bacon Bone Broth') my friend chose the Hawksmoor Smoked salmon and I had the Dorset Rock Oysters.  Being September (the 1st month with an 'R' in it for ages), I hadn't had oysters for a while, let alone native ones.  Native oysters (whether from Kent, Essex, Dorset or other parts of the British Isles) tend to be smaller and punchier than their flabby imported cousins and these were the freshest, tastiest oysters I can remember eating.  I eschewed the shallot vinegar they were served with and savoured them unadorned; enjoying the clean, rock-pool flavour and remembering the happy day, years ago, when my Dad first bought me one to try.  The house-smoked salmon was thick-cut, firm and piquant, served with a simple potato salad.

Hawksmoor specialises in steak but, with the risk of sounding like an M&S commercial, this is not just any steak… it is the result of research, obsession, cooking-trials and taste tests.  The meat comes from British, slow-growing Longhorn cattle sourced from The Ginger Pig and is dry aged for at least 35 days.  It's all predominantly grass fed and finished on grain.  On advice from the ever-reliable Lizzie (see her outstanding blog: 'Hollow Legs'), my friend and I decided to have the prime rib from the blackboard hanging on one side of the room.  The rib is quite a large portion of the beast - the smallest they offered was 800g (28oz) and largest was a terrifying 1.2kg (42oz).  We decided to split a 1.1kg steak between us.  Usually I order steak rare; in so many restaurants it is the only way to be sure that you won't end up with a tough, overcooked, tasteless plimsole masquerading as a steak. This time, however, I trusted the waitress' recommendation that prime rib is best appreciated medium-rare, as it allows more of the fat to melt and perfuse the meat with buttery richness.

The monstrous steak arrived - 2 inches thick and cut into fat slices.  We devoured it in awed silence, accompanied by some perfect triple-cooked chips and a very tasty tomato salad. (I was pleased to see that, although the salad involved various unusual tomatoes of various shades of purple, it was not tarred with the now ubiquitous and trendy epithets 'heritage' or 'heirloom'!).  The flavour of the meat was incredible - charred and very well seasoned on the outside, deeply beefy and buttery in the middle.  We ordered some grilled bone marrow on the side which we hungrily scooped out with our knives and spread on the steaks - as if it wasn't decadent enough!

Having chomped through nearly 20oz of cow each, we were both verging on uncomfortably full (our large preceding lunch of delicious udon at Koya and stunning ice-cream at Gelupo were, on reflection, a really stupid idea)… but the dessert menu appeared and we were both immediately drawn to the peanut butter shortbread with salted caramel ice-cream.  Despite being almost completely unable to move afterwards, we didn't regret our choice - the warm, crumbly shortbread, the gooey peanut centre and the almost-too-salty-but-actually-quite-perfect ice-cream were a great combination.  The barman recommended a 13y/o american rye whiskey (Vin Winkle Family Reserve) to accompany the pud - a perfect match and, now, my new addiction - smooth vanilla, caramel and dried cherry flavours with an edge of white pepper, charcoal and heck of a kick.

Unsurprisingly, dinner at Hawksmoor is not cheap - food of this quality rarely is.  The popular cuts of meat are priced by weight (e.g. £6.50/100g for the rib) meaning that our steak alone was £71 between us.  To some this may seem crazy when you can go to the pub down the road and order a steak for less than a tenner.  However, when you consider the care that has gone into sourcing such excellent, lovingly-reared meat, hanging it for the proper amount of time and the skill which went into cooking it to absolute perfection, it seems pretty reasonable.  To add some perspective, it's worth pointing out that if you were to wander into the Angus Steakhouse on Leicester square and order a 10oz rib eye steak they would charge you £17.50 (i.e. £6.25/100g) - about the same price for inexpertly cooked, poor quality meat served in unpleasant surroundings by staff who don't give a fish's tit whether you enjoy your meal.

The food at Hawksmoor is some of the best I have ever eaten: simple, uncomplicated finesse.  The staff were efficient, friendly and very knowledgable and the atmosphere in the restaurant was great.  For the 1st time ever, I cannot fault the experience in any way: I'm pleased, therefore, to give Hawksmoor my 1st 10/10.  I am looking forward to my next trip - I have my eye on the rather indecent-sounding 55-day aged (!!) rump (as recommended to me by Steven of 'Adventures of a Foodie', another staunch meat-addict). Bring it on!

Hawksmoor

11 Langley St,

Coven Garden.

WC2H 9JG

020 7856 2154

10/10

£££-££££

[Hawksmoor have 2 other restaurants, serving the same menu: one in Spitalfields (E1) and another in Guildhall (EC2)]