Pollen Street Social, the Emperor's New Clothes - April

Where: Pollen Street Social, Mayfair
With Who: J School
How much: Up there with the best... £150 for a selection of 8 small plates and a bottle of house wine, no desserts, champagnes (despite the thrice repeated offer of it at the start, a rather boring restaurant trick to play these days) or liquors
Come here if: you need to be seen in all the right places or you've just done a big deal and want to impress your partner with the depth of your wallet

I was testing a hypothesis for a new PHD for HR professionals most of the evening. Not because I am one, more because I was suffering from excessive clients and needed to whinge to J School. Do some companies recruit badly, only employing those who arrive as fully formed tits? Or do you get toxic companies, where all of the staff no matter how competent and lovely on arrival are slowly, gradually turned into arseholes through the lack of joy and the unbelievably stressful pressure of perfection placed upon them? A sort of nature vs nurture for idiots... If any HR professionals reading this fancy the challenge I don't expect any royalties, can point you in the direction of some wonderful examples, and would love to read the thesis.

Obviously I'm not talking about Pollen Street here, that would be rude, unnecessary and incorrect. The staff at Pollen Street were uniformly lovely. There were thousands of them too, in serried ranks in black. We had at least two main ones (one for speaking to and one to clear and serve), a sommelier and a couple of randoms checking in on us anxiously. You wouldn't be surprised if they were over-stressed and striving for perfection though, the pressure cooker of expectation here is palpable after one of the most hotly anticipated launches of the year. Following over 18 months of planning, Jason Atherton opens his solo venture, a move out from under the protective, if sweary, wing of mentor Ramsay.

The Riding House Cafe - a touch of the Caprice Holdings? Apr 2011

Where: The Riding House Cafe
With who: The International Man of Mystery and others
How much: small plates are £3-£5, mains hover over the £10-£13 mark.
Come here if: you're looking for a new creative digital agency, or you've got a meeting in the area

Lunchtime in another 'restaurant of death'... Not that anyone has actually died here, it's more a term that implies that it's never really settled as a venue. The previous incumbents, Curry and Lager (someone needed to give their brand consultant a good shoeing for that one), talked a good game, and sold a pretty decent all you can eat buffet, but never really looked like they were for the long term, laying their hot trays down on jerrybuilt stands over the remains of London secretary haunt Bar Ha Ha beneath. Such is the pageant of London's restaurants. Some you know will, and should, close within months, others fight on against all hope and others just feel like they've always been there.

Even within the first couple of weeks you get the impression that the team behind The Riding House Cafe will be there for a while. Searching around for the feel, I was initially gunning towards it being someone in the Russell Norman mould. There’s definitely the organised attention to detail you’d expect with an ex alumni of the Caprice Holdings group. Casual it may seem, but there’s an eagle eye for their brand of casual, clued up perfection and design at the top of the operation and that attention permeated through the staff on our visit. On checking, it’s actually from the team behind Bermondsey stalwarts The Garrison and Village East. Similar wrong side of the tracks chic for a creative relatively monied local market makes it obvious if you’ve been to the other two.

A Camberwell state of mind - Apr 2011

It's an odd beast is mother Camberwell. I've lived here for coming up a third of my life now and it never fails to surprise. Fitting between Brixton and Peckham, with the gentrified green of Dulwich and Herne Hill to the south, and the wasteland of the Walworth Road and estates to the north, it's a proper spoonful from London melting pot.

Crammed together you've got attempts at a new, cool and refined order, aided by the proximity of the Art College and waiting for the boost of the Hipster Express, alongside staunchly local spots catering to the working class community and the immigrants from Africa and the Caribbean who now call the area home. Spit and sawdust boozers, poundshops, chicken shops and evangelical churches vie with gastropubs and independent restaurants for the local real estate. It's a fascinating spot, if not the most picturesque.

If there's a block that sums this up best for me it's the bottom corner of Grove Lane (further up home to some of the most expensive, sweeping Georgian piles in the district) Where boho cafe Johanssons and next-door neighbour the Hermit's Cave exist in, if not blissful harmony, then certainly friendly ignorance. Next door to them you've got Cruzon, one of the most delightful old greengrocers you'll ever step foot in, owned by an elderly Cypriot and his family, friendly as you like having served generations from his faded old shop.

Squatly nestled on the corner of Camberwell Church Street like a bulldog faced Millwall fan, outwardly all neck, thrust and belligerence, The Hermits and many of its denizens are pure Sarf London bluster on the surface and properly, authentically friendly underneath. It's the sort of place where people are identified by the team they follow rather than the company they work for, you'll always get some form of conversation at the bar (if you want to) and no one bats an eyelid at the ever garish costumes of the art students. Having spent some wonderful afternoons, nights and (memorably for England's rugby World Cup win) a morning in there over the years, I feel able to call the place my regular.


Johanssons on the other hand scrubbed up a few years back, stopped metaphorically drinking and smoking and took a night course. It's now a cozy little cafe. Not cheap mind, but with really good quality ingredients. They don't always cook it as well as they could, a recent visit gave me bacon so hard it broke into shards as I cut it, but they're trying to up the tone and if we get an upward boost with the Hipster Express, will be full of yummy mummies within weeks.

As has been said (by me often, but by others too), Camberwell is a wonderful spot to live if you're a foodie. Some of the finest (and cheapest) local restaurants cover a broad spectrum of cuisine befitting the cultures that flock here. I wouldn't say you can eat authentically round the world without leaving the Village, but you can give it a bloody good try...

Some of my local favourites include:
Wuli Wuli - a near faultless Sichuan. Once they realise you're there for the good stuff and not the generic Chinglish at the start of the menu the staff will guide and offer suggestions. Listen to them, even if it involves Duck's Tongues - though they will strongly try and recommend you away from these slippery little delicacies if they don't think you've got the constitution for it.
Silk Road - rustic Chinese canteen serving home style specialities, complete with the scowling old lady churning out plates of pot sticker dumplings. Cheap, spicy and wonderful. The Middle Belt Chicken is the cheapest way to get full in the area.
Angels and Gypsies - Great, great tapas though staff do occasionally behave like they're running a starred joint in the West End rather than a small restaurant in Camberwell. Possibly they'll have the last laugh...
The Bear and the Tiger - Two lovely little pubs, renovated from their spit and sawdust days but still with plenty of character. The Bear was recommended in last year's Observer Good Food mag, though the service can be patchy when they're busy. The Tiger does great sausage rolls... seriously. They also have some great food options. A recent trip saw faultless pub classics of fish and chips and burgers well executed with great ingredients, as well as a well spiced and flavoured pig cheek ragu over homemade pasta. Either would make fine local pubs, if only most of my friends weren't wedded to the Hermits..

And shockingly there are many others that I haven't been to yet, I've got to get round to going to Pasha, the only Khazak restaurant in London (and favourite of their national football team who stayed here a few years ago). I was also reading a review for a brilliant sounding Eritrean restaurant called the Zeret Kitchen that will have to be explored at some point... Let me know if there are any others you think I'm definitely missing...
Camberwell images come from www.davidhankin.com (Copyright David Hankin)

Steak Club @ A la Cruz - The Second Meating - Apr 2011

Where: A la Cruz, Farringdon
With who: 15 good steaks and true
How much: starters between £3 and £6, mains vary wildly, but for £20 you'll have more meat than you can cope with
Come here if: you're organising a big party for carnivores.

While Gaucho have cornered the market in the pricier end of fine Argentine dining they're not the only cooks on the block specialising in the meat heavy cuisine of the region. John Rattagan, of Buen Ayre fame, is making his own slower push into the market. His original has been a popular authentic local staple on Hackney's Broadway Market since 2004 and the management team have moved a little up market to a converted pub between Farringdon and Exmouth Market. Opened in 2009, it's the first proper asador (named after the traditional fire pit that cooks most of the meat) in the UK.

Where the original is a little rough and ready with a large open firepit on which hunks of meat sit and sizzle, they've tricked this one out slightly differently. White walls, dark woods and a more refined air should justify a higher end price tag, but thankfully they don't hike the prices to match. You can eat well here for not much more than a starter at Gaucho. Thankfully too, the grill at the heart of the restaurant remains.

Empanadas, the rock and roll brother of the Cornish pastie, stuffed with densely packed spiced mince (beef naturally) and deep-fried for extra emphasis, they are a staple of Latino street food. Here they're petit recreations, almost a little too refined, served with a fairly forgettable salad of roast veggies and thankfully, lest we saw them as too healthy, a slice of melted provolone cheese. 

These were followed swiftly by plates of mixed sausages and charred, chewy sweetbreads, known as Mollejas in Argentine. The latter were served with vegetarian taunting similarity to barbequed halloumi, jazzed up with a sharp lemon drizzle. The sausages were fine in the main though the morcilla, Argentine blood sausage based on pork, was best. Dark, herby and with a subtle chilli tang, it was soft enough to spread on bread and truly a thing of beauty. 

Nice as these all were, the steak's the thing. Served to the table on Parillada grills, thin metal trays heated with charcoal, they're mighty meaty lumps of rump and rib-eye. The advertised 300g per head feels like an under-estimation initially but it's more than enough to tame the most savage beast and we're forced to send shamefacedly for doggy bags. Great cuts, cooked well. The secret here is to get enough onto your plate before the residual heat of the grill takes it past the desired level of done.

Unable to give it true justice, I remember enjoying a dulce de leche ice-cream and some fine coffee to finish, but I only had thoughts for home, my bed, and a long snooze. Meat dreams are made of this...

Spuntino - A studied slice of Williamsburg in Soho - Apr 2011

Where: Spuntino,Soho

How much: £50 for a good selection and a couple of glasses of wine
Come here if: you can get through the door

I came to bury, not to praise. After all, we don't really like a winner in this country, not if we’re honest. And particularly not one who manages to make it appear so effortless. We prefer those who huff and puff and manage to succeed almost despite themselves, like Kenny Dalgleish. So Russell Norman, already the proprietor of two massively popular and critically lauded Italian tapas joints (Polpo and Polpetto as you're asking) was really pushing his luck. And how does he do with the third? Yawn, damn near faultless again... How bloody dull.

This one's no bigger than the bathrooms in Spice Market, the hollow gilded cage of gaud currently parting stupid people and the idle rich from their readies in Leicester Square. And no, you won't find me reviewing it soon. I've already had a hollow chuckle at the pricing on its tired fusion menu and spent far too much for far too little in its New York sibling to fall for that trick again. Spuntino probably cost as much as one of the gold taps.

That's not saying it isn't designed. Norman really gets how important the look and feel of his joints is to the atmosphere. All have subtle similarities, but fit their homes like well worn hipster jeans. They peeled back the interior panelling on this old bottle shop on Rupert Street and allegedly found the most gorgeous open brickwork and Victorian tiling... Swine. A few architectural prints and oddities artfully thrown up and you’re done. The restaurant, if you can call it that, comprises 20 odd seats round a battered zinc bar that's been there for years (since opening last month). It looks beautiful. Passing Shoreditch design Nazis lie fitting and frothing on the floor outside. Grabbing a seat is a total lottery here though, no reservations mean little chance at busy times unless you’re prepared to watch and wait. Turn up as we did, a pair of Soho irregulars dubiously justifying a meeting on a late afternoon, go early (they open at eleven) or whistle for it, your call.

Like the others, there's a simple selection of wines by the carafe or the tumbler next to a short menu of mouth watering small plates on a paper placemat. Some of the dishes port across from the Venetian tapas roots of the other restaurants; a sweet and butter soft zucchini (more on the language in a bit), mint and chilli pizzetta with a moreishly crispy base wouldn’t look out of place on either menu, soft-shell crab is a favourite and there’s a small selection of different bruchetta. I was more interested in the transatlantic dishes featured. The Mac n Cheese arrived with the gents next to us, a hangover cure sent from heaven. Darkly crispy breadcrumb topped oozing cheese arrived in an enormous Staubb style pan. A steal for £8 and more than enough for one, though judging by the clash of forks next to us, not quite enough for two. We sampled the sliders, another obvious Americanism, this year’s I don’t know what (a Spanish themed version also appears on the menu of The Opera Tavern) and destined to be copied repeatedly and badly elsewhere. We took three from the selection of four; firm spicy sea-salty mackerel, salt beef with Lilliputian cornichons and small beef bombs, made further moist with bone marrow and cooked to a deep salmon pink precision within their coating of cheese, nestled into tiny white buns, chewy firm enough to stand guard against the mingling juices.

We’d also sneaked in a portion of chewy eggplant chips dipped into a fennel yogurt. Interesting, the cold fennel dip was a good twist, but not up there with Zucca’s, admittedly different, Fritti. Worth more than a mention though were the deep-fried olives for which I’ll turn to Mr Hugh Wright, proprietor of www.twelvepointfivepercent.com and as delightfully acerbic and well written gentleman as you’ll ever read. "Hot, bitter, salty anchovy-farced pellets of pleasure, laced for all I know with a sprinkling of crack in the crispy crumb encasing them." Words to make you smile.

Do try and come. It’s worth the (repeated) effort to slide into one of the fixed bar seats, and is in itself as effortlessly cool as the well drilled and friendly rockabilly bar team. So move over Paul Raymond, there's a new king of Soho.

 

The restaurant at St John Hotel - Apr 2011

Where: St John Hotel, Leicester Square

How much: 

£70 for 2 courses and 2 glasses of wine

Come here if: you have an unquenchable thirst for tripe

Not many things that can tempt me into Soho on a Saturday night, much less Leicester Square, its bratty sibling, where dead eyes scan the tourist hordes for their money. It's a logical spot for a restaurant, high priced cash generators abound, fleecing the unwary with no care for reputation among the passing trade. Why in the hell chef's chef Fergus Henderson picked here for his latest venture I'll never understand. But pick it he did, so visiting I must come.

It's a sparse white space, below and ajoined to a new boutique hotel. Once upon a time the building was occupied by one of the grand dame's of pre-theatre dining, Manzi's. I have to be honest and say that I went a couple of times, admittedly towards the end of it's life, and never really saw the fuss, but Mr Henderson (among many) has fond memories and has resurrected the old space in his own style. One wall is taken up with a large long kitchen, another features windows ideal for people watching the slightly odd mix of humanity that throng the square at night. The kitchen is open from early, serving breakfasts to the hotel guests. This I've got to try. Their robust, gutsy take on previously unachieved bits of animal has to translate into a fine fry.

The supper menu is concise, with seven or eight starters, mains and desserts (caveat, I was here in the first week, not particularly planned, I thought they'd been open for a month). A spectacularly hungover Dr Vole came seeking veggies, possibly not the best option in an offalhound's paradise like this. On another day, with my trencherman's hat on, I'll go for the suckling pig. Previously only available pre-ordered at parent restaurant St John, here it's available on spec. A hearty sounding dish of bacon and beans is available to share, as is an intriguing sounding pike pie. Dr Vole went for the sole vegetarian option, an excellent celeriac dauphinois with a side of rough chard mash and a peppery watercress salad hit further with a mustard and caper dressing. Creamy and soft, with a rounded edge of aniseed, I couldn't help think how well it'd have gone with the aforementioned suckling pork...

I went for two starters, crumbed skate cheeks with tartare, a frugal and filling take on scampi, comprising crisp nuggets of golden crumb that broke to reveal soft yielding fish. The second was another St John favourite, thin slices of slow cooked veal tongue were mixed in with waxy potato to more of the mustardy watercress.

There was method in my madness, compensating for the lack of a main with one of the several excellent puddings available. If the main menu can challenge at times (the eagerly anticipated focus on offal isn't to everyone's taste) the puddings won't. I'd be happy coming here for them alone. Despite being tempted by a chocolate terrine and a burnt prune custard we plumped, literally and metaphorically, for a dark ginger loaf with sweet cider caramel and an enormous apple shortbread pie with bay ice-cream. not as weird as it sounds and a perfect end to dinner.

While the menu won't be to everyone's taste, the food is worth challenging your expectations for. Well priced for what it is, it's such a relief to know that there's now a quality dining option in amongst the clip joints and tourist spots of Leicester Square. I'm not there that often, though will be back just for that suckling pig, I'm just glad that there's a chance some of the tourists might be tempted away from the dubious delights of the Angus Steakhouse and by doing so gain a proper understanding of how good British food can be.

Koya - noodling round Soho- Apr 2011

Where: Koya, Frith Street Soho

How much: Bowls of noodles or rice are between £8 and £13 with side plates around a fiver each. 

With who: The Lumberjack

Come here if: you can manage to get a table

There's a real renaissance in reservation free dining in the West End. Looking at most of the current hot lists, there's a number of names cropping up again and again; #Meateasy, the New Cross burger pop up, Sputino, Russell Norman's latest 26 seater Soho spot, Dishoom and Koya, each expect you to take your time, and take your chance with the queues. I'd love to link it to some banker backlash, a sense of camaraderie from eager restaurateurs seeking to kick back against the elite and provide opportunity to all, but it's more of a new type of dining, a more casual twist away from the fine dining edge. 

Casual Koya certainly is. Dressed down, colour coordinated soft linen lined staff straight out of a Muji advert. Plain walls, bare wooden tables aimed at twos and reclaimed floor tiles, it's a pretty space, though nothing designed, arty or memorable. It's a little Japanese cafe focussed firmly on the art of the noodle.

There's lots to like here. The staff are friendly and unobtrusive, still or sparkling filtered water land on your table as soon as you're handed the slim 2 page menu. There isn't long to wait for food, the homemade udon noodles that are the staple of the house, are made fresh daily and briefly braised in an umami rich broth and served with a variety of accompaniments. While you can have several of their delicately flavoured toppings with rice and have the noodles dry, without the broth, but for me these both miss the best bit. We started with cold sliced duck breast in light soy with fierce Japanese mustard on the side comes to share. It's nothing to write home about (assuming your home was in Japan) but it's a great piece of meat, cooked well. The noodles are exceptional, as always. Thick worms of al dente udon simmer in a broth shared with slow poached chicken, vegetables and a golden poached egg shining in the centre of the pot. Sprinkled with a spoonful of deep red shichimi seasoning, combining chilli pepper, orange peel and toasted sesame seeds, it's a thing of beauty.