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)]

Dinner

Never have I eaten anywhere with more hype than 'Dinner by Heston Blumenthal'.  Ever since he announced that The Fat Duck would be gaining a cousin in London, people have been talking about it.  Then the news came that it would showcase hestonised versions of antique British recipes and the intrigue and excitement grew.  Finally 'Dinner' opened in the Mandarin Oriental amid much fanfare about swiss-designed clockwork spit-roasts and bespoke jelly-mould shaped light fittings and the 1st of the reports began to filter through.  All the usual suspects seemed to have a table at Dinner within the 1st few weeks, and the reviews they penned were stellar - hardly a bad word was said. I had to get a table - and soon!

Securing that reservation was not an easy job as it turned out.  My friend (and unofficial photographer) spent 5 hours on the phone 3 months in advance to get us a reservation for 3 and the countdown began.  In the last few weeks, however, a few less favourable reviews started to creep in and I began to wonder whether the experience would live up to its billing.  The 3 months scurried past and yesterday three of us found ourselves crossing the marble threshold of the gaudy Mandarin Oriental in Knightsbridge.

After a short wait, we were shown to our table near the huge windows which make up one wall of the restaurant and provide a view over Hyde park.  Another wall is taken up by the glass panels surrounding the open-plan kitchen - including that swiss-watch-driven spit, complete with glistening, amber, spiral-carved pineapples slowly revolving in the corner.  The decor is simple for the most part, lots of dark wood and grey upholstery, but the numerous glowing jelly moulds keep things from seeming too serious.

It is not often you come across cocktail ingredients such as red icewine, sage and aged plum eau-de-vie - so we each enjoyed a delicious concoction from the bar menu while we argued about what to order from the menu.  The problem with such an intriguing menu, is that no-one wants to order the same as someone else but everyone wants to try everything.  The waiters were beaming and friendly and happy to explain - often in lengthy detail - what went into each dish (the menu descriptions are as diaphanous and cheffy as you might expect).  At length, and while enthusiastically tucking in to pleasantly chewy sourdough and unpasteurised butter, we each managed to agree on a starter and one extra dish (the now iconic Meat Fruit), and had decided on a main and pudding each.

We were a little disappointed that there were no amuses bouche (after all, it is 'that kind of place') but brushed this feeling off quickly as the 1st course appeared minutes later.

My roast bone marrow came minced with anchovy and parsley, served within a halved, cleaned bone alongside crisp pickled baby veg.  It was somehow rich yet delicate and had the flavour of the rendered, crispy fat on the side of a good steak.

The 'Broth Of Lamb' sitting opposite me comprised a collection of crisp radishes and baby leaves, crispy golden nuggets of deep-fried sweetbreads and a slow cooked egg, at the table this was ceremoniously baptised with a crystal clear, deep tawny consommé.  The liquor was powerfully flavoursome and once the egg yolk had begun to mix with it, it took on a silky texture.  The crunchy, breaded sweetbreads were described as 'like perfect fast food'.

My other companion chose the 'Salagamundy' - a warm salad of slow-cooked chicken-oysters, bone marrow, horseradish and parsnips.  The variety of textures and the perfectly matched flavours made this dish one of the best of the whole meal.

I think every review that I have read has mentioned the Meat Fruit, a part of me wanted to break with conformity and eschew it entirely but we saw several walking past us (in fact I'm fairly certain every table in the house was adorned with one at some point) and in the end we gave in.  When it appeared, it did really look just like a mandarin - there is no denying the presentation was brilliant.

The chicken liver parfait inside the mandarin jelly skin was very smooth, very light and very tasty - we happily scraped the board for every last smear of it but on reflection we agreed that it was no more than a well made pâté in a cunning disguise.  I think, had we not seen it on TV and in a hundred reviews and were not expecting to get… exactly what we got… we may have been a lot more impressed.

Onto the mains.  My spiced pigeon breasts were deep pink all the way through, juicy and extremely tender.  The flavour was quite mild - squab pigeon I think, and therefore not too gamey - but strong enough to stand up to the rich ale reduction and the artichoke hearts it was served with.

Chris' roast cod was golden and crisp on top but unbelievably moist and bouncy within, reportedly the most skilfully cooked fish he'd eaten.  The creamy cider and mussel sauce was beautiful.

Seb's duck legs had been brined, slow cooked and then glazed and roasted. The sweet, succulent meat needed very little encouragement to fall from the bone and the smoked fennel it was served with was an interesting foil.  

This dish was served with an ample portion of potato purée making it considerably more filling than the other two dishes.  Chris and I were glad of the tripple-cooked fries we ordered.  Also, sadly, the potato purée was over seasoned; not to the point of being unpleasant but enough for us to mention it to our waitress. This was the only example of non-perfect cooking we encountered - and hardly a major transgression.

In an effort to limit costs a little, we decided to nurse our cocktails for a while and wait until the main course for wine.  This presented the biggest problem of the evening and my only real source of genuine complaint.  The wine list is extensive but it is irritatingly overpriced.  I didn't count them, but I got the impression that there were more bottles priced in 4 figures than there were for under £100.  Needless to say, in a restaurant like this, in a hotel like this, the fat-cats and show-offs must be catered for.  It would be silly not to list the Château Latours and Chateau d'Yquems that people expect to see but we struggled to find an affordable bottle that would complement our meal.  That said, the Sommelier was excellent, she took into account that we were eating a mix of game and white fish between us (which pretty much limited us to the light, low-tannin reds) and that we did not want to spend more than double-figures on a bottle and we eventually agreed on a 2005 Nuits-St-Georges for £95.  It was perfect.  Fragrant with red cherries and oak leaves and with very light, fine tannins giving a supple, silky mouthfeel.

Puddings arrived after a little break to finish our wine.  My burnished, spit-roast pineapple was tender and full to bursting with sweet and sour juice. It accompanied a 'Tipsy Cake': six little pillows of soft sponge nestling in a small iron pot which, when disturbed, oozed custard indignantly.  Clever, delightful comfort food that brought a huge smile to my face.  

The Chocolate bar sitting to my right was an oblong of smooth, intense ganache and sharp passion fruit gel alongside a light, fine-textured ginger ice-cream.  The ice-cream tasted as though it had been made with milk rather than cream - very refreshing alongside the rich chocolate.  

The third pudding was the most interesting and the second stand-out dish of the meal.  the 'Taffety Tart' was almost like a millefeuille - a stunning, beautiful, layered construction comprising many and varied flavours all playing off one another: spiced apple, fennel, black currant, rose, chocolate and probably more.

We each chose a dessert wine by the glass.  An intense Szamorodniy Tokaii with a strong backbone of acidity to balance it's golden-syrup sweetness was perfect for my tipsy cake.  A perfumed, honeyed Sauternes from Ch. Suduiraut's second label was complex enough for the Taffety Tart and a dark, luscious, christmas-cakey Pedro Ximenez sherry stood up to the intense flavours of the chocolate bar.  Again, consummate recommendations from our lovely Sommelier.

After dessert, our waiter brought us each a tiny teacup containing a small, pale brown blob.  He explained that 'Heston is a great lover of tea and likes everyone to have a cup'.  The white chocolate and Earl Grey ganache in the cup was extremely sweet and cloying.  Chris and I found it quite unpleasant and couldn't eat it.  It was served with a crumbly caraway biscuit - this was slightly salted - I guess to cut the intense sweetness of the ganache, but for 2 of us it wasn't enough.  It rather ruined the aftertaste of the pineapple and Tokaii.  Our sweet-toothed companion, however enjoyed his and happily finished ours too, so I suppose it's a matter of taste rather than poor judgement in the kitchen.  However, when mentioned to the waiter that we found it too sweet we felt a bit fobbed-off with the flat reply 'It's supposed to be like that.'

The Maitre D' spotted Seb taking snaps of the food and asked if we were planning to write about our experience.  When he heard about the blog, he arranged for us to be taken on a brief tour of the kitchen area. We stood for a while at the pass and saw the dishes being plated with impressive, calm deftness - despite every table being full, the chefs all seemed to be unflustered and methodical. Some of them were even smiling!  They could have been on their best behaviour for our benefit of course, and our guide assured us it wasn't always that serene but I got the impression (from the 5 minutes I stood there chatting) that this was a kitchen where passion for cooking comes before big egos.

Working out exactly what to make of this restaurant was harder than I expected.  In general I feel that it is a victim of it's hype.  Those who have been unimpressed by their experience there have been, for the most-part, subject to false expectations I think.  People hear the name Heston Blumenthal and expect to be met with a taste of the arcane and the wacky.  They expect to be challenged and have their boundaries pushed.  But Dinner is not The Fat Duck.  It does not pretend to be The Fat Duck.  Heston may oversee the restaurant and provide the premise and the inspiration, but the head chef is Ashley Palmer-Watts and it is he who is in the kitchen running the show.  The food is outstanding - apart from a touch too much salt in the mash every dish was flawless, exciting and delicious.  The service was immaculate and congenial and the ambience lighthearted and classy.  However there are a couple of things that need to be addressed and they are enough to stop me short of giving Dinner my 1st '10/10'.

Firstly the wine list.  I am not a stranger to the fact that wine in restaurants is subject to a stupendous mark-up, but there is so much well made, interesting wine out there for £5-7 per bottle that would easily be affordable even with the restaurant mark-up.  It is unforgivable to have so few reasonably priced wines on the list, especially when the food really isn't all that expensive.

Secondly, the portion sizes of the various dishes, while never being over the top or mean, seem to vary quite a lot.  There is no way of telling from the descriptions/prices whether you are ordering a filling plate or something that needs a side-dish.

Finally, it would be nice to see an interesting pre-dinner morsel to whet the appetite and maybe a couple of petits fours with coffee.  I'm not suggesting theatrical nitro-at-the-table wizardry, but something a little more than the 3 courses (and a dollop of sugary tea-goo) would be nice when you're parting with £150 each for the experience.

We loved dinner and all vowed to save up and hurry back to taste the bits of the menu that we reluctantly missed.  Can I say that it was the best meal of my life? No, not quite, but it comes pretty close.  Let nothing else that I have said detract from the fact that the skill of the cooking is the best I have ever encountered.  If you can bare the ordeal of actually booking the table, do it!  You can't fail to have a wonderful time… providing your expectations are in line with Dinner's ethos and not clouded by the hype surrounding Heston and The Fat Duck.

Dinner By Heston Blumenthal

The Mandarin Oriental Hotel

66, Knightsbridge,

SW1X 7LA

9/10

££££-£££££

~~ Many thanks once again to Sebastian Stanley for the photography ~~

Capote y Toros

Olives with almonds and cold Manzanilla,
Octopus slices with hot smoked paprika,
Whole pata negra hams dangling from strings……
These are a few of my favourite things…

Oh hell, I find myself daydreaming about a meal I had a couple of weeks ago and all of a sudden I'm channeling Julie Andrews.  It is true though, Spanish, and especially tapas, is a very strong candidate for my favourite way to eat.  Capote y Toros in Chelsea is one of the best examples of why:

Firstly, I LOVE SHERRY.  There, I said it, and I'm not ashamed!  Yet, more often than not, when I admit this to people, they exchange furtive glances and make cliché comments about old ladies and altar wine.  When I try to explain that, if you know where to look and what to avoid, Sherry offers some of the most startling,  delicious and unexpected flavours you will ever come across in a glass, people smile and nod… but I get the distinct impression that they are humouring me.

The fact is that, if you ignore the sweet, blended Cream Sherries (the ubiquitous Croft Original and Harveys Bristol Cream etc.) that are found on your grandmother's mantlepiece, you are left with an array of other, much more interesting styles which are woefully under-appreciated in this country. There really is a variety for every occasion

Fino is the palest but is powerfully dry and crisp with enough nutty, savoury depth to partner salty olives and roasted almonds.  Manzanilla is similar, but lighter and has a pleasing littoral, saline edge to it - perfect with oily fish like sardines.  Amontillado has been allowed to oxidise a little to take on a golden brown colour and a richer, nuttier, dried fruit flavour while usually remaining bone dry - great with meat like pork, chicken and rabbit.  Oloroso is aged in contact with oxygen for longer, producing a dark, rich complex wine with a higher alcohol content.  It is usually still dry but this is offset by intense aromatic woody, raisiny flavours - drink with richer meat dishes and cheeses.  Darkly sweet and almost syrupy wines made from Pedro Ximénez or Moscatel grapes are full of opulent spice and fruit and are amazing poured over a good vanilla ice-cream.  Needless to say all these Sherries are great to drink on their own as well.  I'm in danger of getting carried away now (as I said, I like Sherry a lot!) So, on with the review!

When I heard that Capote y Toros, the latest, smallest offering from the people behind Cambio de Tercio and Tenido Cero had the biggest Sherry list in the country and an interesting tapas menu to match, I collared a fellow enthusiast and dragged him to Old Brompton Road in Chelsea.  We arrived a little early and as such were the only punters there.  We took a moment to gawp at the long, narrow room - painted in lurid pink and yellow. One wall was made up mainly of sherry shelves and the opposite was a mosaic of photos: Matadores, picadores and enraged bulls in the throws of contest.  At the far end was the bar, beneath several thousand pounds worth of top quality Ibérico hams hanging from the ceiling - a very good sign, we thought!

The wine list was, indeed, packed with a bewildering array of sherries of all varieties and prices.  Some familiar, most not.  Our friendly, strutting waiter (coping valiantly with my somewhat pidgin Spanish) was quick to guide us through the list and make suggestions within our price range but managed not to patronise us at all.

We began with a taut, refreshing glass of Manzanilla (Gutierrez Colosia) with some olives, toasted almonds, bread and olive oil while we tried to work out what not to order from the concise menu.  Fresh anchovies in a Palo Cortado vinaigrette were deliciously sharp and oily.

A generous portion of salmon tartare was soft and silky, with tiny brunoise chunks of raw courgette (I think) running though it and offset with a rather interesting aïoli flavoured with padron peppers.  Having drained our 1st glass, we moved on to richer dishes and richer wines.

A 'reassuringly expensive' plate of expertly sliced Ibérico ham was a perfect partner for a stunning Amontillado (Fernando de Castilla 'Antique').  The Sherry and the ham were both excellent on their own but together they brought each other alive - layer after layer of musky, woody, savouriness that seemed to go on forever.

Roasted cod with a sobrasada crust was moist,  flaky and translucent with a thump of hot paprika from the porky topping. 

Juicy piquillo peppers stuffed with ox tail were soft but meaty and covered in a shockingly vibrant sauce.  The amontillado disappeared very quickly and we felt compelled to order more.  We moved on to a bottle of Oloroso from the same producer to complement our final few dishes.  This wine, had a similar profile of flavours to the previous, but was richer with added flavours of toffee, cloves and raisins.  Another beauty, although, we slurred to one another, we preferred the swaggering Amontillado with its stiffer, drier backbone.

Cecina - cured beef ham - was a highlight of the meal.  A libidinous ruby red, the slices packed punch of concentrated beefy flavour - we savoured every morsel.

Indecently porky pig's cheeks were melt-in-the-mouth, but I found the potato purée they were squatting in to be a little too soft and gluey for my taste.

By this point, Neil and I were somewhat worse for wear and conscious of the fact that the place was now heaving with people - all, apart from us, conversing frenetically in Spanish.  We were politely told at the start of the meal that we might be asked to move to the bar after an hour and a half if the restaurant were busy, but despite the queue of people building up, we were left to take our time (possibly as we were getting through a lot of sherry).  It was not until we had scoffed our way through an excellent cheeseboard (I was far too pissed to remember the names of the cheeses) that we were asked if we wouldn't mind finishing our bottle of desert wine (a fruity, syrupy, christmas-cakey Moscatel whose name also eludes me) at the bar.

Having sat for nearly three hours and filled ourselves to the brim with meat and booze we didn't mind at all - it was good to stand for a bit and soak up some of the garrulous atmosphere at the bar - we could have been transported to a lively tapas joint in Madrid and not known the difference.

Our meal was not cheap - it set us back just over £200. However, about two thirds of that was on wine - we got carried away and could easily have ordered cheaper ( and fewer) bottles which would doubtless also have been excellent nonetheless.  Cost aside, the food was nothing short of outstanding; uncomplicated but imaginative examples of proper spanish cooking executed almost without fault.  The atmosphere was every bit as hearty and rich as the food and the service was good-humoured and efficient even once the place was heaving.  Go to Capote y Toros; arrive early with an empty stomach and a mind open to exploring Sherry… you'll not be disappointed.

Capote y Toros

157 Old Brompton Road,

London

SW5 0LJ

9/10

£££ - ££££

Celebrating Samphire Season.

Prowling hungrily around Waitrose after work the other night, I came across a pack of Samphire - one of my favourite things to eat.  Its bright colour, sharp saltiness and toothsome bite make it unlike anything else - It's great that it's now quite easy to get hold of, but a pity its season is so short.

I usually steam or sauté samphire as an accompaniment to fish, but in a spasm of hunger-fuelled inspiration I decided to try incorporating it into a dish.  Here's what I came up with:

Gnocchi with Samphire and Salmon Roe.

You will need:


For the gnocchi:

500g of potatoes

160g plain flour - ideally '00' grade

1 large beaten egg

Salt

For the sauce:

A handful of samphire - any woody stalk bits lopped off.

20g or so of salmon roe (or less… or more… depending how much you like it)

About 150ml crème fraiche

White pepper, salt, a lug of EV olive oil, a squeeze of lemon, a splash of milk.

Boil the tatties in their skins until well cooked but not collapsing - 15-25 mins.  (Most of the recipes I looked at say to keep the skins on and then remove them once cooked - if anyone can tell me why this is, I'd love to know… I found it a pain in the arse!  I don't see why you can't peel 1st…)

Remove the skins.

Squidge them through a ricer/mouli/sieve and beat until smooth.

Add the flour and egg bit by bit and mix well until you have incorporated them into a soft dough.  You should use all the flour, but probably only 2/3 -3/4 of the egg.  Once the dough comes away from the sides of the bowl and seems cohesive, it's probably right (it's a little bit like making choux batter). 

Refrigerate for 30 mins for the texture to improve.

Flatten the dough and shape into a rough oblong on a floured board.  Cut off half-inch-thick slices and roll into sausages.

Slice the dough-sausages diagonally into 3/4 inch nuggets, round off the edges gently and place onto a floured tray.  Bear in mind they will swell a fair bit when cooked

Press each one carefully with the tines of a fork to make little ridges - these help them cling onto the sauce.

Bring a large pan of salted water to a rolling boil, drop the dumplings in and set a timer for 3 mins.  Be careful not to overcrowd your pan - no more than 30 in a large saucepan at once.  They will float to the surface after about 2 minutes, but probably need 3 to cook through.  Once they are done and all merrily jostling for position at the surface, rescue them with a slotted spoon and drain well.

Chuck your samphire into the still-boiling water for no more than 2 minutes then strain and keep with the gnocchi.

Add the crème fraiche to the now empty saucepan over a medium heat.  Add a squeeze of lemon, lug of EV olive oil, pinch of salt and shake of white pepper and mix well.  Add the roe and then finally the cooked gnocchi and samphire.   Fold everything together gently, check the consistency and loosen with a dash of milk if necessary before serving.

The bright orange salmon eggs contrast the pale dumplings and verdant samphire and add a mild fish flavour and saline richness to the sauce.

I looked at various gnocchi recipes  - all very much alike - and sort of 'averaged' them out to get this one.  Some chefs insist on keeping the warmth in the mash while you make the dough, while others suggest letting it cool.  Some prefer waxy potatoes, others like floury ones.    The suggested flour:spud ratio varies and some say you should dry your mash in the oven a little before incorporating the flour.  To be honest, I'm fairly sure than none of this matters much.  Get good, flavoursome spuds (I used Charlottes), cook 'em, mash 'em, bung in the egg and flour and make a dough - it doesn't need to be any more complicated than that!

I used about half the dough that I made - this became 30 gnocchi;  enough to feed me well.  The whole recipe should feed 2.

I think I'll do the leftovers tomorrow with a simple sage butter an some pecorino.

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)