When the moon hits your eye... know your pizza - Sept 2010

As A.A. Gill describes it, pizza is "the one truly international dish, the only edible thing that is understood in every language from Icelandic to Burmese, from Inuit to Tagalog. It has grown from its origin as a simple unleavened paste roasted crisp, with tomato, oil, rosemary and perhaps a little mozzarella, a food for the very, very poor, and become a frisbee that travelled around the world."

We're a long way away now from the simple flatbreads of our ancestors, and a good few hundred years on from the Naples chef who, so the legend goes, added mozzarella and basil to the tomato base and served up the pre-cursor of the modern dish to Queen Margherita of Savoy.
It's the Neapolitan style that is most common today, certainly in the UK. It's the 'traditional' crisp based but slightly chewy pizza favoured by outfits as diverse in quality as Franco Manca and Pizza Express. With the exception of aberrations such as Pizza Hut and Papa Johns, most places will go for a variant of the Neapolitan. Wood fired in a brick oven (for authenticity) it's even got its own organisation to control its origin, The Associazione Verace Pizza Napoletana, a shadowy organisation dedicated to the protection and dissemination of the only 'true' pizza.

             "The pizze must have certain specific characteristics to be vera pizza Napoletana, or true Neapolitan pizza. The dough must be hand pressed with Italian flour and the precise amount of water. The tomatoes are always Italian, usually San Marzano style. And the mozzarella cheese (bufala Mozzarella) is that from water buffalo in the region between Napoli and Roma. These are the ingredients with practiced hands and the special high temperature wood burning oven that make authentic pizza Napoletana."                              Associazione Vera Pizza Napoletana

Not to be outdone, the Romans have two styles bearing their name. The Roman (or Lazio) style seen most often is served 'restaurant style' as a round with an ultra thin and crispy base, almost more a flatbread than a pizza. They also pioneered the pizza rustica or pizza al taglio, served in the working class suburbs of the city. Instead of being served in round pies, the thicker base is baked on metal trays and cut into paired squares, then quickly reheated to order. 


The humble, portable pie was an obvious foodstuff for the economic migrants into the States. Easy to recreate and most importantly cheap, it quickly spread through the ex-pat populations of New York and Chicago, both of whom lay claim to their own unique styles developed and finessed over generations. That being said, it might have stayed as a niche taste if transit around the world necessitated by World War II hadn't also hastened the spread of the pizza into the States. Odd to believe, but it didn't really enter the wider public consciousness until after the war.


Chicago style is deep pan, a Neapolitan base baked in a lipped pan to give a flan shape filled with toppings. New York style, popular in enclaves such as Brooklyn from the early 1900's, spread inward and upper class over the years and is now found on every street in the Five Boroughs and far beyond.  A thin crispy hand tossed pizza served from huge wheels with a few toppings. Served by the slice, eaten on the run. The famous Noo Yoik names such as Ray's Pizzeria, Grimaldi's, Lombardi's (one of the first, founded in 1905) and John's of Bleeker Street pull in the tourists, but nowadays vie with the more upmarket pizzerias for the local's dollar. The main variant served in legendary pie shops such as Brooklyn's Di Fara, Dominic and Artichoke Basille's in the East Village the Sicilian style. It's similar to the Roman al taglio, a thick doughy based square slathered in sauce, topped with pecorino and anchovies. 

We're just not going to mention Pizza Hut, alright?
Interesting pizza-based links:
American Pie: American Heritage - Hanna Miller
Pizza, pasta and red sauce: Italian or American? Donna R. Gabaccia, University of Minnesota
Pizza: A Global History - Carol F. Helstosky
A.A. Gill in The Sunday Times on Pizza East
The Association Verace Pizza Napoletana
New York Pizza - Is water the secret? - Sarah Gilbert

Gaucho Grill - Tower Bridge - Sept 2010

Where: Gaucho Grill, Tower Bridge
With who: The Daddy and Pipes

How much: starters £4 to £5 and mains around £7 to £9

We were celebrating. We hadn't seen The Daddy for a while, and he was just about to become The Daddy Redux. That called for steak, and wine. Much wine.

The word of the Gourmet has spread, and so I'll often get challenged in situations like this to 'pick good'. This was one of those situations. Matters weren't helped by the location, expeditious for the group. The Daddy and I have done Goodman recently, and while I could have pushed for Hawksmoor, it was too far away to hit the brief. Anyway, the Gaucho in Picaddilly is a favourite of mine and I wanted to believe that the quality permeated through the  group like the marbling on a fine ribeye. We planned and booked for 8pm, and I raised my cachet with a pre-dinner drink at The Draft House. The Daddy fired through a pint of Rauchtbier, the smokey ham notes providing in his words, "the only starter I need".

Decorated like a goth's wet dream. This is uber masculine design. Consisting entirely of blacks, mirrors and the odd flashes of cow, the room disorientates at first, black doors open onto black rooms through black walls, until you manage to pick out the shades. The crowd in the place is similarly male, a slightly confused couple sat next to us slotted uneasily next to large groups of braying men, flushed of face with bonhomie, wine, good steak and self importance. Deals weren't being done, but like Keens and the grand old tradition of New York steakhouses, they were certainly being celebrated.

It didn't start well for for the restaurant service wise I have to say.. We sat in the (black) departure lounge of the bar and sipped insipid cocktails. I went for the Bloody Asado, a watery £8's worth of roasted plum tomato, red pepper and vodka, reminiscent of a very cheap salsa. The Daddy was nearly ejected after ordering an (off menu) effeminate Kir Royale. 45 minutes after our reservation time we were still sat there. "Don't you carry some weight? Do they know who you are?" Pipes chimed in hopefully. Yes, I do carry some weight, and I'm about to (hopefully) add some more, and no, they neither know, nor care who I are. The location and the crowd would suggest they are focussed firmly on the volume business market.


We finally sat down at a table an hour and 15 after our reservation. The urgent need now was for food and fast so we skipped the starters and got straight in. For the record, the starters have always been a hit in the past. Fresh fish ceviche and tiraditos are bright and clean, served straight up with lime and lemon, the citric acid 'cooking' the meat. The Daddy and I looked no further than the Gaucho Sampler, a 1.2kg board of fillet, rump, sirloin and ribeye. The meat arrived served as requested (though identified incorrectly by the server) and was a melting joy. With a bottle of excellently chosen Malbec, pre-identified by The Daddy and recommended by the server (one bright spot was their wine training) the meat was exactly what we needed. Moving through the sampler board from cleanest (fillet) to most complex (ribeye) flavours I was amazed by how clearly the differences in cut shone through when served alongside each other. It's a must do experience for the steak lover.  Pipes was less lucky, he'd ordered a 'new' cut they were promoting, a thick fillet style piece with a thin white band of tender fat, but ended up with a churrasco cut of what appeared to be rump, thin sliced and served with an excellent (though unexpected) chimichurri. Checking the bill later, they'd charged it as a fillet too... not good. Sides were largely forgettable (and incorrect).


Ultimately you're here for the meat, and probably business. If you're looking for a great steak experience in London then go to Hawksmoor. If you're looking for an authentic Argentinian steak restaurant, go to Buen Ayre in Broadway Market. If you're bringing your (mainly male) team to celebrate winning a piece of business over a few bottles of Malbec and some decent steak, then the Gaucho will do just fine.

Carravagio - Sept 2010

Where: Caravaggio, Camberwell Church Street

With who: The California Kid, The Art Tart and assorted others.

How much: starters £4 to £5 and mains around £7 to £9

What we need much more of in this country are the little local restaurants, putting fresh, well prepared food in front of their local customers with an understanding that with quality, in terms of service, ingredients and preparation, comes repeat business and profitability. It's a virtuous circle far removed from the endless, turgid chains pumping out minimum wage warehouse prepared crap, served by minimum wage servers who care little about their customers or the food that they serve.


With this rant over, it's fair to assume that I want to really like local Italian restaurant Caravaggio. Sandwiched between a couple of decent spots (including Silk Road, Tadim and Angel's and Gypsies) on Camberwell's version of Restaurant Row, it's a family owned place and even after only a year or so in operation, feels like it's been there for years. 


I feel slightly as my parents may have felt in the 70's and 80's. Chirpy waiters chat freely over cheesy pop to their regular customers in a large wood and garish wallpaper lined back room. It's comfortable, if not particularly stylish. The menu is as they'd have expected, lined with straight forward pasta, fish and meat standards. There's no innovation here, but you wouldn't expect it at the price.

After the obligatory sliced pre bought baguette (basket, paper napkin) and mixed olives I started with a fair enough (and large) portion of King Prawns in a piquant tomato sauce and followed with a bubbling homemade lasagne straight from the oven. I wouldn't say it was the best I've ever had, tasty enough, but over salted and low on meat. That being said, it was a massive portion for £7 and I certainly didn't feel shortchanged at the end of it. Another bottle of wine and a complimentary limoncello (just like mum and dad used to get..) we rolled out. Deservedly busy on a Monday night, it's definitely a good standby option for a cheap eat in Camberwell, if not somewhere you'd make a journey for.

Review of Bedford & Strand - Sept 2010

Where: Bedford and Strand, Covent Garden

With who: Ed Hitter in Chief
How much: between £12 to £15 a main, starters £6 - £8

An anonymous doorway on Bedford St, just off the Strand (see what they did there...) takes you downstairs and into a well designed white tiled, mirror lined bistro. It isn't difficult to find, but is thankfully anonymous enough not to appeal to the tourist herds piling in to TGI Friday two doors up for their chicken wing shakes.

Desk bound working lunches are the norm in the UK, with work done over an actual lunch (by which I mean useful business related conversation) seen as a bit of a perk. They wouldn't go for it on the continent... Bedford and Strand is the kind of place that Keith Floyd would have unearthed in a railway station in rural France. In short, the sort of place that we should all have access to regularly. They do a two course set lunch for £12 and to be honest, I'd be in there most days if i worked in the neighbourhood. A casual meeting with Ed Hitter in Chief was proposed and he kindly offered lunch at his 'local'.

It's a simple rustic French brasserie menu with a great little wine list priced by 'reliable', 'honest', 'decent' and 'good'. I wasn't drinking, but there were enough here by the glass that I was made to feel slightly envious. Like some of the best spots round here it was a former wine cellar, think Gordons or Terroirs, and there's something of the dark, comfortable evening venue about the place. Leaving into the sunlight felt frankly wrong.

I can honestly say that there wasn't anything I wouldn't have eaten from the menu. Cauliflower and White Truffle Oil soup vied for my attention among the starters alongside Chicken Liver Parfait, Goose Rillette and potted crab. We were on a time constraint so skipped sadly by and onto the mains. A couple of nearby city types from large local employer Coutts on the Strand tucked into large, padded well seared steaks, served with crispy looking thin frites. The money managers murmured their approval.


On a (slight) health kick, I skipped the Braised Rabbit in a Mustard Sauce and a wonderful sounding Parmesan Crust Pork Chop and went for the Chicken Caesar Salad. large slabs of plumb charred chicken breast arrived on a well seasoned salad with the (admittedly inauthentic) bonus of crispy bacon strips. The dressing was fresh, piquant and delightful. Ed Hitter in Chief took plump fishcakes in hand, they looked stunning, a mixture of smoked haddock and seasoned potato in a crisp crumb.


A very solid option for the area, and proof of Covent Garden's delightful ability to reinvent old spaces and manage to provide well for the locals as well as the tourists, something it's more difficult to say for transatlantic cousin, Times Square.
   

Vasco and Piero's Pavilion - Sept 2010

Where: Vasco & Piero's Pavilion, Poland Street, Soho

With who: Most recently for a welcome dinner for a new member of staff
How much: starters around £8 each, mains £16 - £18. There are some goodies on the wine list but it gets steep quickly...
Vasco & Piero's Pavilion has been there for 40 odd years, anonymously squatting on the unlovely Poland Street. Synonymous with London's media scene, it's one of those places that advertising execs used to take folk for a roister-doister, "it's alright, we're not needed back at the office anytime soon, now how about that contract" lunch into afternoon into evening event to celebrate. But in all the times I've been in there in that state, I've still never remembered to ask about the name though...


The menu downstairs is set, something I'd be less bothered about if there were more than eight of us. Especially having drooled over the menu upstairs, with its extensive list of pastas and wonderful sounding dishes; lombetto, a cured loin of Umbrian pork, tortellioni of duck or seabass, fennel flavoured salamis, the list goes on... The menu downstairs is more workaday, with a couple of treats, but does make you yearn for the 'proper' list.

Not having been there for a few years, I was looking forward to this. God knows why, but I went for a standard but unadventurous asparagus and mozzarella starter. Nothing special. It came drizzled with a beautifully fresh, zingy and fragrant basil oil but the trimmed asparagus felt like it hadn't been out of the fridge for long enough. I suppose it's partly my fault for ordering it way out of season. If the starter was a bit of a let down, then the pasta course reminded me why I love good Italian food. Little pockets of silky smooth aubergine ravioli came with tooth sticking aubergine skin fried into tiny tasty splinters scattered atop the sun yellow pasta parcels. The room silenced until the pasta had vanished. The main of duck breast was served simply with green beans, great quality ingredients and lovely with a lipsmacking jus. A simple desert of baked ricotta was slightly spoilt by too sharp raspberries, but was in itself lovely. 


Like Andrew Edmunds, The Ivy and a number of other little Soho gems, it hasn't changed much in years, and keeps going in such a cutthroat location because it gets the fundamentals right time after time. The chefs inspiration, and many of the ingredients, come from Umbria in central Italy. They cater to a local crowd who know the staff and each other and take the odd party, like us, and shoehorn them away in a downstairs room where they won't disturb the regulars. Not that I minded, it was perfectly pleasant, if a little like dining in a provincial hotel with it's light and forgettable decor. On thing to note about the upstairs is that the noise levels frequently get high. It's not somewhere for a quiet tete a tete (but ideal to tell someone some bad news over a perfect dish of pasta..)


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Melito - Sept 2010

SADLY MELITO IS NOW CLOSED - REPLACED BY CHAIN MEXICAN BENITO'S HAT

Where: Melito Pizza Bar, Great Castle Street, Oxford Circus

With who: most of my colleagues over the last few weeks
How much: pretty good value at £3.50ish for a couple of squares of pizza, pastas and salads for £4-£5


Another day, another new opening in the new food quarter north of Oxford Circus... We now have more restaurants and coffee shops than Soho has irritating media types in horn rimmed glasses. Sadly the latest, a lunchtime pizza joint, looked more mundane than most. 


Then you notice the menu, and it starts looking a little more interesting... five different pizzas, served al taglio (Roman street style*, chewy crust pizzas cooked and served from large rectangular trays) including a Salami Picante, an unusual Fennel & Parma Ham number and a Quatro Formaggi with Laverstoke Park buffalo mozzarella, gorgonzola, taleggio & ricotta. They've also got a couple of pasta dishes, soup and salads, but we're here for the pizza.


And it's not bad. Not bad at all... A little oily perhaps, but freshly cooked with no skimping on quality, pre-cooked and quickly oven heated on demand. The Fennel & Parma ham is particularly pleasing, with the caramelised fennel strips adding a pleasing aniseed note to the salty strips of Parma ham. Others try the pasta, with particular plaudits for the veal and pork meatballs, fragranced with sage, served with a well cooked macaroni. 


It's a very pleasing addition to the area, and for £6 with a couple of slices, salad and a drink, it's one of the cheaper local options for lunch. Worth trying for the price, the quality is what will keep you coming back.


*Irritatingly Roman street style or al taglio is not the same as plain Roman style. I'll do a post on it when I get to the bottom of what the differences are...


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Dehesa - Sept 2010

Where: Dehesa, Ganton Street

With who: The Californian Kid
How much: Tapas between £4 and £7 each. We spent £30 a head including a bottle of wine.

In the mould of other modern tapas joints such as Barrafina, Salt Yard and Brindesa, Dehesa strives for quality rather than authenticity. No sombreros or Spanish guitar here and it's so much the better for it. Cramped but comfortable, with hams hanging and a central bar dividing the two halves of the low lit bar. Three semi-circular banquettes underneath the large windows are ideal if there are 3 or (skinny types only) 4 of you, if there are more I'd recommend booking the cozy private room in the basement, if there are 1 or 2 of you then you're encouraged to share the communal table or take a seat at the bar. It's a bright and loud well heeled  Soho crowd and the room chatters with conversation.

It's a regularly changing seasonal menu, that usually consists of 15 or so items, split equally between meat, fish and vegetables plus a healthy selection of charcuterie and cheeses. Despite the lumps of air dried meat hanging in the window, you wouldn't have a problem bringing vegetarians here. There are more than enough decent dishes, including lightly fried courgette flowers stuffed with Monte Enebro goat's cheese and drizzled with honey. I had these in their sister restaurant Salt Yard a few years ago and they're exceptional. The two filthy carnivores were also tempted by a silken squash ravioli, parcels of al dente sun yellow pasta served in a borlotti bean, speck and marjoram sauce. 

We'd had our appetites whet with a chewy toasted sourdough bread that came with a Spanish charcuterie selection including a so-so paprika edged lomo and an excellent nutty Salchichon salami. You can, and probably should, spend at least one meal sat near their meat bar, taking wooden platter after wooden platter of the ham on the bone. 

We also went for an chunky hunk of grilled sea bream set off perfectly with its salty stew of mushrooms and samphire and finished with a confit of (slightly dry, the only missed note) rabbit wrapped in parma ham served with a salsa verde. 

Dehesa works on so many levels, but principally because they care about their ingredients and cook them, in the main, very well. Service and atmosphere are laidback and friendly and the pricing almost no different to La Tasca. You've got no excuse for ever going to an 'authentic' tapas bar again...

La Tasca - Sept 2010

Where: La Tasca, Victoria

With who: The Vole
How much: Tapas between £4 and £7 each. We spent £25 a head with one glass of wine each.

Fuck. It's Friday night, and I'm in a faux Spanglish restaurant, surrounded by other chain 'fun' (hello Zizzis, Nandos Ha Ha and Wagammama) in a new build shopping centre. I could be in Swindon, or Croydon, or Basildon or any other wrist slittingly dull commuter belt town in the South East of England.

But it's not. And I'm not. I'm in Victoria, self styled restaurant desert of London. Whether the rents are too high for all but chain joints or whether, like sedated battery farmed animals, the locals ignore the delights just over their doorstep and simply take what they're given.

I'm not, despite the Vole's beliefs, anti-chain restaurant (or Victoria for that matter) but I am anti mediocre food served sloppily for the sole intent of making money. And that's the deal here.

It's 'authentic' in La Tasca... In a pints of lager, sanitised flavours and faux memorabilia from the old country kind of way. Terracotta features heavily, I'm sure I saw a sombrero. Your 70's parents may have been impressed, but even the Vue Cinema going families that this chain is squarely aimed at know better these days don't they? They feature Manchego cheese in the meat section of the menu, a real lack of care about product demonstrated from the top down. A sales card on the table exhorts us to come and celebrate Spain day with them (3 weeks late to tie in with an end of the month promo they run for the local worker drones), I'd rather join Dali.

Bland, almost floury olives arrived with a soft tasteless baguette and stayed on the table throughout the meal, dessert and coffee, forlornly ignored by me and the servers.

Ham croquettes were school dinner-like. Cheesy lumps of mashed potato in a fried til crunchy carapace. The same aoli that slightly redeemed them was also found on the one relatively decent dish, small goujons of indeterminate white fish, moist and flaky in a fresh dry batter. Roast aubergine was greasily anonymous and (possibly in embarrasment) hid under a slick of cheap mozzarella. Patatas Bravas were similarly muted. My real standout came with King Prawns in chilli and garlic infused oil. Five sorry looking specimens arrived swimming in an 'authentic' terracotta serving dish. The oil was a full inch deep and judging by the lukewarm temperature, hadn't even been used to cook the cringeworthy crustacea. I wasn't sure whether to use the bread to mop it up, or save it for an engine change.

A lemon cheesecake and an apple merangue pie arrived (just after the coffee, really? Before dessert? Don't you look at what's on the table?). Both came with identical lattice plate decoration writ large and sugary in a Mr Whippy Raspberry Sauce pen. The Vole declared herself satisfied, I suspect she may just have been feeling contrary. I took my fast developing stomach upset home and dreamed of Dehesa and Meson Don Felipe.