A short review of Bento Cafe - Dec 2010

Where: Bento Cafe, Parkway, Camden
How much: £18 for lunch for one, not cheap considering...
Come here: if you're in the area and craving Japanese or seeing a show at the Jazz Cafe next door


Best not to judge it on looks, Bento Cafe isn't the prettiest spot, inside or outside... Stuck on one of the most unlovely junctions in Central London, Camden Parkway, It doesn't look too smart from the street, with a curling menu in the window, but there have been some reasonable reviews and I couldn't really stomach the thought of Camden Market 'street food'...
Stepping inside, I was pleased to see a sushi counter piled high with fish, though there was slightly too much pre-cut fish for a restaurant that had only just opened its doors. Like the decor, the extensive menu laid in front of me is slightly tatty round the edges. They cover the gamut from tempura to teriyaki, tonkatsu to donburi and a wide range of nigiri, maki and sashimi. The photos certainly look professional, and there are some interesting choices, particularly in the mains (mainly between £8 and £10 a portion, other than the more expensive black cod). I was briefly tempted by Hotate Mentaiko, grilled scallop with superior roe sauce (though a little unsure why it might be superior...) 
 The bento box, a lunchtime special at 6.40, came with a good sized, fresh portion of rice, a neat side salad and slightly muted pickles. The chicken teriyaki had a good flavour in the sauce but was slightly too dry otherwise. The vegetable gzoyas were the least successful element. Measly parcels of sad that could have come from the aforementioned Camden Market stalls.. I also grabbed a plate of mixed sashimi, a tale of two halves. Meltingly sweet, quality salmon, yellowbelly and mackerel, it arrived fridge cold (I knew there was too much piled on the counter) and in lumps just too big to enjoy. The fish was tender and yielding, with particularly excellent tuna the consistency of foie gras. Once rendered into smaller mouthfuls and slightly warmed it was lovely.

Nice enough if you're in the area and craving Japanese or seeing a show at the Jazz Cafe next door, but not worth a special trip. If you're in the area and just hungry, I'd suggest there are better pickings to be found.

What happens at Steak Club, stays at Steak Club - Dec 2010

Where: The Hawksmoor, Spitalfields
With who: 12 good Steaks and true...
How much: £50 set menu, covering starters, skillets of steak, sides to share and half a bottle of a very acceptable house wine each.
Come here: to worship at a temple of meat
When I mooted the idea of a Steak Club to Nicco Polo, Mrs Jones and others, there was no question it would be an enormous screaming success. Not due to the grand organisational skills of yours truly in any way, more down to the fact that most of my friends are slathering, semi-obsessive carnivores too... There was little discussion where the first meeting would be, and a month after inception 12 of us were sitting down in the atmospheric (if slightly gloomy, hence the lack of photos) backroom of one of my favourite restaurants in London, Hawksmoor Spitalfields. It's a seriously macho restaurant, I'm sure you can picture it if you haven't been, bare brick walls with a butchers tile motif, functional and solid dark wood furniture and a large, well stocked bar in the centre of the room. It's a British take on the classic American steak n' cocktail concept that arrived in 2006 like a rain shower in a desert. Chosen, and loved, for its near fanatical devotion to quality cow, we approached them with the request to host our first steak club. We wanted meat, plenty of it, and I was confident the team would oblige. 

Their opening salvo of family style (the annoying Americanism for shared plates) starters set the tone. Tamworth belly ribs, like the rest of the meat here UK sourced and supplied by the Ginger Pig, were smokey, sweet and tasty. Bone marrow came roasted in the bone, mixed with soft yielding onions and served with a sourbread toast. It had the texture of foie and a dense almost mushroomy flavour. I'd have traded my mother for another bite. 
The steaks had to go some to beat that, thankfully they lived up to their (and my) billing. Platters of Bone-in Prime Rib, Porterhouse and Rump arrived to table, surrounded by a variety of unhealthy, but super tasty, sides. The Prime Rib was exceptional, certainly my favourite, succulent and perfectly cooked to a medium rare with an almost tart tang of blood. The Porterhouse wasn't far behind. An expansive mattress of meat, juicy soft tenderloin and equally tasty strip steak around the bone. Intensely flavoured and seasoned to match, soft enough to cut with a fork. 
It's not an obvious place for a date, unless the resulting meat coma is something you can both rise above, but is certainly solid enough for a (macho) client meeting. We found out quite how well it works for a coming together of meaty minds, a successful start to Steak Club, and a high bar for other vegetable dodgers to reach. 

Balans - Dec 2010

Where: Balans, SohoHow much: Starters for around £6, mains between £10 and £14Come here: any time of the day or night, for a true slice of Soho life


I bloody love Balans. I've been coming here for the last 10 years and feel at times like I've charted my age with the place. When I first came to London, I came here after a night's clubbing for a 4am burger or an 8am fry up, revelling in the fact it was still open and serving better than expected food at a time normally reserved for the plastic hot dog men. A little older and I was coming here for a cheapish (though it didn't feel so at the time) bite to eat with a date from its diner menu. Now it's the perfect spot for a meeting over brunch or an afternoon coffee before meeting clients. It's nothing special, but like thousands of Londoners over the years, it'll always be a place I'll go back to, regardless of any quirks.

The menu is exotic, quixotic and a little bit schizophrenic if I'm honest, much like the clientele on occasion, an odd mix of Soho habitues and a constantly changing crowd well worth a watch. If you've got friends coming in to London from out of town (and especially out of the country) it's a wonderful spot to recommend for people watching. They serve all sorts, so they've got used to catering to all sorts and there's almost no cuisine they don't cover. Starters range from quesadilla to crab cakes, with shredded duck spring rolls, foie gras terrine and smoked salmon blinis all making an appearance. Mains tread the same path with an (excellent) burger snuggling up alongside honey miso salmon, jambalaya and staples such as fillet steak, pie of the day and sausages and mash. It won't ever win an award for the food, but it's all done competently, even though service can be hit and miss. That being said, you don't come here for the food alone. As a go-to that's bound to work for pretty much everyone I'd certainly recommend it. Just go for the experience, sit at the front, and watch Soho go by.

Review of Yalla Yalla Oxford Circus - Dec 2010

Where: Yalla Yalla, Winsley Street (literally just off Oxford Street... opposite Poland Street)
With who: Ed Hitter (and then the Queen of Harrogate the following day... sucker that I am for a good local lunch spot)
How much: £22 for a good amount of lunchtime mezze.
Come here if: you want a decent authentic feed just off Oxford Circus


I didn't know whether to be excited or trepidatious when somewhere I love, especially somewhere so small, quirky and seemingly unchainable opens another branch. The original Yalla Yalla only opened a year or so ago on a tiny anonymous (and slightly pissy if we're honest) alley just off Brewer Street. It became a favourite for lunch, if slightly far away and always too crowded to sit down. They some very clever things with a bit of lamb, a few sesame seeds and some very good flatbread. Homely, authentic and very down to earth, it certainly didn't have Global Resto Megachain written all over it.
The closure of our local greasy spoon wasn't a cause for much mourning, cheap and a little scuzzy, it was never more than a last resort lunch spot. The surprise came with the news that Yalla Yalla was going up in the world, and expanding. It's certainly got more space than the original. They've still got the same menu of authentic Beirut street food, though have expanded this to include a few larger dishes. 

On both occasions (twice in two days, but working lunches doesn't count as proper calories) we went for sets of mezze to share. Tart pickled turnip (a proper revelation), olives and peppers came as we sat, the food freshly cooked and shortly afterwards. Hommos (sic) came with moreish juicy lumps of lamb, melting with crisp burnished edges from the hefty elephantine leg of meat rotating round the grill. This is how sheep hope their babies end up and as far from your local 'bab house as you can get. The same lamb features with a lemon parsley salad as a main course and packing their (perfect for takeaway) rolls. Grilled pitta stuffed with spicy minced lamb came topped with tahini and pomegranate, a princely portion for £4.25. The other entrant in the 'can't believe they can do that good for that cheap' category was a huge portion of deep fried prawns, whitebait and calamari, well cooked, well spiced and well cheap (sorry. Really...) for £5.50. There's not much I wouldn't go back for to be honest. And it's round the corner from my office, so I will, soon.  


The slightly claustrophobic feel of the Green Court original has gone, banished by wide spaces, though thankfully many of the more pleasing, rustic touches remain. Bench seating, dotted in places with throws and cushions, goes well with the thickset oak furniture. The staff are keen, possibly too keen, but you can't fault them for that. Genuinely eager to please, four of them checking on how the meal was going may have been a little OTT, no matter how much they meant it. It's a genuinely promising place for lunch, perfect for shoppers and Soho workers unable or unwilling to get to Charlotte Street. 

Review of Polpo - Dec 2010

Where: Polpo, Soho

With who: The Literary Lady

How much: £75 for the pair of us. More food than we could cope with (almost) and a bottle and a half of a very acceptable house red.

Come here if: you don't care when you eat and you're catching up with an old, loud mate. No reservations in the evening creates a buzzy bar, but isn't ideal if you're hungry or used to eating at an exact time.

I've talked about the concept behind Polpo before, in a rather overexcited review of younger sibling Polpetto. In a nutshell, it's a cosy, busy, reservation free joint selling  Venetian tapas, known as chiccetti, a combination of meats, fish and vegetables served with bread or polenta. 
Decorwise, it's got that Soho House style shabby chic look down to pat. low light from bare bulbs and simple furniture bely the thought that has gone into the joint. The staff are friendly and surprisingly relaxed considering the unruly mash of drinkers and diners crammed into their tiny bar space. A smatter of seats aside the bar are the best in the house, keeping you cozily ensconced in the amiable bar crowd. It's not a place for the shrinking violet. The Literary Lady and I are certainly no violets but we struggled to make ourselves heard at times. Like little brother Polpetto, this is definitely somewhere to come and meet and mingle and if you grab a bite, then it's a result. The atmosphere is key to the experience. 
But what of the food? There was a fair amount of it that grabbed us on the throwaway paper menus, and plenty of tasty morsels certain to soak up a lovely big Sagiovese, well priced for house at £16.50. We went for five plates to start and added another two on at the end, greedily tempted by a neighbouring order. Garlicky mushrooms served in a rather dry flatbread was so-so tasty, but no more than you'd expect from a student dinner party. For me, a duff note came with another student standby, sparse handful of garlic prawns, part shelled, in an insipid tomato and bean sauce.
More positive notes came with thick slices of pork belly, tenderly braised and meltingly sweet with hazelnuts and the edge of radicchio. Mackerel tartare is a favourite on the menu, winter and summer, cut through with a horseradish cream, it's a pleasing combination and provides contrast to the meatier dishes. Their polpetta, gamey and (slightly too) salty meatballs are great winter beer fodder but not too sophisticated. The duck ragu was another welcome winter warmer, served with wormlike fingers of strozzapetti pasta and the bite of green peppercorns. Not 'posh nosh' as such, but simple and pleasing. 

Review of Bar Shu - Spicy Sichuan Soho Style - Dec 2010

Where: Bar Shu, Soho

With who: Seven of us in total, a mix of the great and the good and the work colleagues

How much: £30 a head for a great range between the seven of us. Go in as big a group as you can, better to order more. Other than that most dishes are in the £8 - £12 range and are large servings.

Come here if: you want hot, proper Chinese cooking, without the rough service and beery boys filling most of the Gerrard Street dives. Great for a (fairly adventurous) team night out.


'Chinese cuisine' is a broad label. To sum up all of the different cuisines of such a vast land under one catch all title is impossible, but it's what most Chinese restaurants in this country have been doing for years, in an attempt to cater for unsophisticated or pedestrian palates. Now, like many Indian, Pakistani and Bengali restaurants, they're starting to throw off their generic roots, and cook more authentically, as people increasingly demand it. Bar Shu was one of the original London proponents of this, to the British palate, new style of Chinese cuisine. It's as far away from gloopy, generic MSG laden shit in a tray as you are going to get. 
Sichuan food is well known for its heat. The tiny red peppercorns proudly take the name of the province and appear in most dishes paired with fiery dried chillies.. When done well, the aim isn't macho heat but a level of warmth and gradual tingle, raising heartbeat and seratonin levels, like a lighter, benevolent (through still addictive) form of cocaine.

The restaurant recently closed for refurbishment and is a good looking beast now it has reopened. Several floors high on the corner of Romily and Frith Streets, it's not a small place, but it's well appointed in dark intricately carved wood and splashes of bright colour. It's quiet inside, with a hum rather than a buzz. The staff bustle, but don't push and the tables are evenly spaced. The thick menu does a good job with well taken photography and scary warnings in English, detailing the spice quotient of each dish. You won't struggle if you don't speak Mandarin. These menus are normally the signifier for a dumbed down Westernised menu, not seemingly in this case, though there was an absence of cartilage, gizzard and tripe, the usual signifiers of authenticity in a cuisine that favours texture as much as flavour. We weren't craving utter authenticity though, and mindful of the perils of ordering for seven, we instruct our server to bring us a selection. 
There's not much that you'll necessarily recognise from your local takeaway (thankfully) but there are a few of the regional Sichuan dishes that have crept into a wider consciousness, notably Gong Bau (or Kung Po) a flash-fried dish often of chicken (here with prawn), lightly flour dusted and fried with a light marinade, peanuts and the lip numbingly warm Sichuan peppercorns. One of the nicest variants I've had of this dish, and the huge portion easily catered for the seven of us, each getting a couple of the large, sweet shellfish. 
Thin sliced pork rolls were served room temperature, toothsome and sweetly piquant in a spicy garlic sauce. Shards of blackened beef, mini hot bites like biltong, came embued with rich chilli oils that even pleased the spice neutral South African in the group, comfortable with this North Chinese take on his national dish. Life seldom being about (sadly) meat alone, we grabbed a favourite of mine, the deep fried green beans with minced pork and ya kai, a preserved (and either absent or innocuous) mustard. 
A mild and almost soothing cucumber with speckles of pulled pork was interesting, but relatively unforgettable as anything other than a palate cleanser, but there were only a couple of dishes I wouldn't order again. Water boiled pork slices were possibly the least successful. A slightly acrid broth held mushy porky pieces that had been slow soaked in the water over a period of hours (possibly days), unusual texture for the meat, but not anything I'd return to.
Twice cooked pork belly, another Sichuan classic, comes recommended. The pork belly is boiled in a garlic, ginger and salt marinade before being fine sliced and stir-fried. Ants Climbing a Tree is another famous regional dish, thin rice noodles in the ubiquitous chilli oil, with the 'ants' made up of minced pork. It's good, but not worth the trip alone. Boiled beef slices with 'extremely spicy sauce' was overly apocalyptic in its description and while it was warm, the spice built well within the dish rather than beating you around the head. The flavour of the beef came through, and this, despite being one of the last dishes, vanished quickly.
Bar Shu is definitely a recommendation. Compared to some of its siblings over Shaftesbury Avenue and into Chinatown proper, it's clean, friendly and focussed on delivering decent food rather than turnover. Rolling out into a snowy London night, the warmth and satisfaction from the Sichuan heat stayed with me, though that could have been the booze..

Breakfast at Blue Mountain Cafe - Dec

East Dulwich, home to smug middle-class media breeders and their delightful progeny, has all but erased the working classes, the unwashed and the ugly from its midst through a social programming drive Machaevellian in the extreme. 
First we got a couple of delis and a couple of the local spit and sawdust boozers metaphorically cut their hair and had a wash. Then the little odd independent boutiques started to open... a newer sort of person started queuing outside the exceptional but resolutely local butcher William Rose, an ernest sort of person, a fleece wrapped, rugby shirt, sensible shoe wearing broadsheet reader who "really wanted to stay West, but when we started thinking about the kids it was either move here, or move out of London". 
And they demanded places to eat, and places to shop, and places to drink, with other similar spirits and their Bugaboo prams filled with flaxen haired organic, free range children. And then in one dreadful year, they opened The White Company, Oliver Bonas and Foxtons. The Richmondification of East Dulwich was almost complete. 
This isn't a teary eyed pean to a stalwart of the retail community deemed unsuitable for little Jemimahs and Jacobs, closed and turned into a high-class cheese shop, this is just to prepare you for the people who occupy the Blue Mountain Cafe on Northcross Road, ground zero of the yummy mummy.
It's twee. By which I mean reclaimed oak furniture and country cottage chic, and mismatching, and quirky, some of those things deliberately. They have set spaces for the prams and pushchairs - woe betide anyone trying to get a table here from 10.30 on a weekday. It defines the term mother's meeting. The food is well sourced and relatively well prepared, certainly freshly prepared. Their Full Monty breakfasts certainly are a thing of beauty, sourced and prepared by someone who really cares about what they're putting out. The sausages and bacon, from the aformentioned William Rose, are solid meaty protein torpedos. There's a decent pile of buttery mushrooms and a frankly enormous heap of beans. Perfectly poached eggs top thick slabs of brown toast. A substantial load, more suited for a trucker's cafe than a genteel suburb.