Balthazar - power lunching in Covent Garden - Sept 2013

This was in all likelihood going to be the review that got away. I've spent time in the original Balthazar and had some lovely lunches but, especially in a white hot, can't get a table for love nor money, opening period, I'd resigned myself to forgetting about the London branch. And anyway, who really wants to go to the London branch of a slavish New York recreation of a traditional French bistro? I could be on the Eurostar before they'd answered the reservations line.

As it goes, it's reasonably quiet, even on a Thursday lunch, and therefore the perfect spot to slide into a banquette opposite the International Man of Mystery. He's never sure which city he's in at any given point in time, so this level of high class generic internationalism is perfect for him.

It's not cheap, their range of French classics, but if you've come here deliberately you know that and are comfortable paying £24 for a plate of Steak Frites and £17 for a burger. If you're a wall-eyed tourist who has just stumbled across its prime Covent Garden location then congratulations. You're going to be fleeced, but in a much more pleasant way than if you'd wound up in the Angus Steak House.

Get a back wall booth if you can, they're perfect for people watching amidst the monied buzz and much, much more room than on the cramped blood red banquettes filling the centre of the room.

After being spoilt by their homemade bread, the ceviche starter was utterly underwhelming, a few sorry rings of squid or octopus dredged in an acrid vinegar coleslaw of fridge cold mandolined bell peppers and onion. From a distance it looked perfectly pleasant, but ended up being pushed around the plate, like a refugee from a different, inferior restaurant.
 

Confit duck on the other hand was perfect. Rich and unctuous, it fell off the bone like a dark silk dressing gown might slide from a Parisian courtesan's shoulders. Lifted with green leaf and waxy, puckered little spuds to provide substance, this was definitely a contender for comfort dish of the year, though at the price it bloody well should be.

It's a lovely cavernous space, with decent food slightly over-assiduous staff (that'll be the New York influences rather than the French) but for the money, the ambience and the attitude, I'd much rather be in Zedel, sucking down champagne with the money I've saved on my steak. If it's a power lunch that I need, then I'll be back at the Wolesley first.


 

 
 

Tozi - promising and classy Victoria Italian - Sept 2013

The Edinburgh Festival is getting bigger every year. This year, as in many recent years, it manages to spread down to London to keep the party going well into September. Thankfully, though the 5am finishes stay up in Auld Reekie, in the weeks after the Festival there are almost enough shows booked in for post Festival London residencies for the discerning theatregoer to skip the trip North entirely.

If you're reading this in time, do go and see The Events at the Young Vic. It's on over October and was one of my Festival picks. There's normally a few at the Soho worth seeing (including Fleabag and There Has Possibly Been An Incident) and the scarily talented Lucy Ellinson was bringing Grounded to The Gate way before she'd won the plaudits of every man and their dog in Edinburgh. The cynical among you might wonder what these shows, hits every one of them, were doing slumming it in Edinburgh when a money making London run obviously awaited. But it's not a sure thing, this business of pre-programming critical hits, as you'll know if you'd had to sit through I'm With The Band.

Mercifully short, we were out of there by just after 9 and contemplating a schlepp into town or an early night when I remembered Tozi, a sexy sounding new Italian cichetteria unglamorously wedged under the lumpen Park Plaza Hotel like a pair of risqué kitten heels on a rugby prop forward. We weren't looking for a blow out, more a couple of glasses of fizzy and a couple of plates to take the taste of mediocre theatre away.

A couple of large, over Peroni'ed, verging on loutish tables of office boys deadened the bar slightly, but pushing past them opened up a large dark space, loudly packed with the young, the amiable and the well dressed. It's obviously an easy option for the hotel guests of the unlovely place above, but there seemed to be enough people there to suggest that Tozi might be a rare oasis in the Victoria culinary desert, capable of bringing people to it, rather than only those forced to work in it.

An uncomfortably Lilliputian table wedged us too close to our TOWIE neighbours, but at least was opposite the main pass giving a great view into the cavernous kitchen and ample opportunity to overhear and people watch. Assuming the rugger buggers aren't colonising it every night, the lighter, padded bar area seemed a better, more comfortable option.
  

Small plates arrived quickly and in no particular order, not specifically for sharing (I've never understood why the two things go together - smaller portions make me much less inclined to share) we did, going for 5 of them to share, less than the 7 recommended for two diners, but plenty for a post theatre snack. Soft shelled crab was hot, fresh and thankfully greasefree. It's one of those dishes that really reminds you you're eating a dead creature, crunching through yielding shell like a bit part character in an Indiana Jones movie. If you can cope with the vicera, there are few dishes more rewarding. Deep flavoured flesh ensconced in a tight, light batter - dreamily divine, brought higher with a sprinkle of chilli and a sharp basil oil.

Juicy baby chicken arrived on a wooden paddle, a slightly tongue in cheek mini roast, complete with copper gravy pot of deepest silky umami. This was a lovely and accomplished little plate. With a crunchy, clean side of some sort, I'd quite happily take this as a regular lunch option.

Aubergine parmigiana was sleekly and lusciously creamy, like a dowager countess in full length mink. Slow braised aubergine, cut with tomato and a hefty jolt of cheese. Definitely not the clean and healthy side to pair with the chicken. Decanting it into a lukewarm Staubb didn't do much for it, but the fundamentals of the dish were good enough to make me scrape the plate clean.

The jolly, and not so jolly, staff were certainly authentico, if a little unfocussed at times. And when your restaurant is this full at 9.30 on a wet Wednesday in Victoria, you need to be better, or at least slicker. That being said, it certainly wasn't a terminal performance front of house and, given that it's one of a (very) few decent options in Victoria, is certainly something to gloss over.
  

 
 

Festival Edinburgh - Food fail - Sept 2013

The joy of Fest...

Edinburgh has some proper restaurants. Some superb local ingredients cooked by some of the finest kitchens in the UK. I could wax on about the delights of the Leith seafood scene and it's recent renaissance, I could talk about the elegant and romantic Witchery (or it's recently lauded little sibling, The Honours). I could talk about David Bann's hearty vegetarian food, the innovative delights of 21212, Tom Kitchin's eponymous place and fish masters Ondine. I could give a few lines on the multitudes of bistros that have popped up recently serving cut back mod Scot menus comprising the finest ingredients the Islands, Highlands and Lowlands can offer.

I could tell you all of this. Though, it'd all be from someone else's experience. I could tell you all of this. Because I read enough to know about it.

I can give you chapter and verse on the places I've been meaning to go to, but in a 16 year history of coming to Edinburgh religiously every summer, often for 2, 3 or more weeks at a time, I can't have had more than 5 or so 'proper' meals out. When I say proper, I mean planned, "that sounds nice, we should definitely go there sometime", meals out. Rather than, "urgh, I'm pissed / hungover. Need chips / pie / fry up". Sadly, my Edinburgh story is entirely written and directed by the Fringe Festival.

It's 16 years since I first came to the Festival and probably my 10th or 11th visit in that time. From wide-eyed ingenue in car crash clunky student 'drama' to director (of car crash clunky student 'drama'), venue manager, producer, scout and punter, I must have seen several hundred shows over that time, including a couple of years when I saw next to none other than the ones I worked on. I've seen the inside and the outside of innumerable pubs, clubs, tents and bars and disrupted a romantic dawn marriage proposal by climbing Arthur's Seat at 4.30 in the morning with a group of fellow performers after the terrible club we were in closed. I've eaten with taxi drivers, postmen and transvestites, but yet not anywhere with a tablecloth and plates not made out of paper or polystyrene.
  

Lunch is habitually either ignored, liquid or grabbed from Pie Master, a uniquely and wonderfully doughy temple to the pastry slice just off the Royal Mile serving warmed individual pies, and nothing else. With over 25 different flavours of filling from chicken tikka and lamb stew to apple and custard (and yes, haggis too) you could literally eat here for every meal. And reader, some years I have… Standing on Tron Square in the drear, that unique Scottish weather system that feels like being in a cloud, chowing on a scalding haggis pastie is one of the rights of passage. No one looks great in a pac-a-mac, but you'll be dry and that's more important.

Anything made out of stomach, offcuts and oat is going to be challenging at first, but don't think that eating haggis is just for brave tourists and the terminally homesick. Head to Dirty Dicks on Rose Street for the real(ish) deal. That being said, eating haggis on the Royal Mile, while wearing a tartan Glengarry hat, listening to the squirl of a schemie from Portobello abusing a bagpipe, is for tourists. Avoid please.

Breakfast takes care of itself by occurring in the time you are finally, fitfully fast asleep. In the years that I needed to be up that early, generally to bother tourists on the Royal Mile by flyering at them with extreme prejudice, a matchstick thin roll up and a coffee would suffice.
  

The problems arise at what you usually know as tea time. The 5.30 till 8.30 slot is usually filled to the gills with any number of unmissable bits of theatre or early comedy. It's both a lucrative and likely award winning slot, if only because you can guarantee that most critics and audiences will have finally woken up by then…

So by the time that's out of the way, you've had a couple more pints, caught up with your New Fest Friends and been dragged into a ropey cabaret show featuring Loopy Lisa and her Luscious Lollipops. Another couple of pints to deconstruct the horrors you've just witnessed and it's close to 11. Into one of the jerry built performers bars with Loopy Lisa and her Lollipops (out of the show, all cleaned up and delightful darling) you go. Before you know it, it's 3.30am and you're watching some tool with a sparkly hat trying to play the piano in the corner of an upstairs lock in while a midget with a poncho tries to seduce your friends.

You've got to love the Festival Bubble though. It allows you to binge drink nightly and smoke heavily for 2 or 3 weeks in a row, eating nothing but fried, sleeping in a room that doubles for a scene in Trainspotting. You'll feel fine until you leave and then it all catches up with you. You have to love the locals too, and contrary to popular belief, the locals love the Festival. Like most people, they adore having their daily lives disrupted and their pubs and restaurants crammed by a bunch of strangers who own it for a month of the year. Mainly because they take such delight in helpfully directing you to the random pop up theatre you desperately need to get to. Just stop one and ask!

The JUST EAT Chinese Challenge! Sept 2013

We need to talk about noodles...

Another week, another PR invite. You lot are seemingly a desperately valuable demographic for the hospitality industry... Take a bow, no really, you deserve it.

Despite their best efforts to make it easy for me to plug their product (no I won't just 'copy and paste this press release onto my blog') I usually either turn these down or take them on condition I can review anonymously (and then only if I really like the sound if it and it's somewhere I would eat anyway). 

As a reader, you'll know when I've done it as there will be a disclaimer at the bottom. I'm always honest, and sometimes it can really backfire on the restaurant. So you need to pay it back for me. Go and eat out somewhere, that's an order. It's the start of the month and you've just been paid. There are bound to be some great new restaurants. Or you could stay in and get a takeaway…



On with the challenge!
Coincidentally, I was recently invited by takeaway aggregator JUST EAT to sample a range of the takeaways they represent (and in doing so review their takeaway technology). I've used the site before, quite liked it and so once we'd ascertained that I wouldn't just copy and paste a press release onto my blog, we briefly discussed how this could work.

Eventually, we came up with the idea of a Chinese Challenge (to be followed up with other cuisines over time). JUST EAT would credit an account with enough for me and an assembled crowd to try four or five different takeaways and we'd judge them on a range of criteria on the same night.

It worked, to a point. The site itself is a real boon. It's easy to use and navigate, allowing you to see and select from the menus of hundreds of takeaways that deliver in your area. The problem, as always, is quality. With so many to choose from, you're either reliant on prior experience, or the sites own, less than ideal, customer (more on that later) star rating system.

In order to standardise the Challenge, we went for Chicken Chow Mein as the control dish. Apparently Britain's most popular takeaway dish (oh you imaginative folk…) when done well, it's a thing of simple beauty. Crisp and crunchy bean sprouts married with soft noodles, cut with garlic, spring onion and chilli, braised with soy and scattered with chunks of flavoursome chicken. What's not to like? To contrast with that we also grabbed a special from each of the restaurants and divided the starters and rice up among the orders. Orders went in within 10 minutes of each other, we sat back with Tsing Tao and awaited a noodley landslide.

On the judging panel:
Semi-regular dining companions Dr Vole and Nicco Polo (a man of extensive Oriental travel and chowing experience), The Cousin (Oscar Wilde with better skin), The Professional (food PR by day, vigilante by night) and The Velo-Raptor. We all know our Chow Mein from our Cheung Fun and three of the six had been to China before. We know Chinese food… But was that going to help here? This was a war of attrition, with voting cards. And prawn crackers. 

 
Takeaways by order of arrival:
Oriental Star (Ordered at 20:41, arrived at 21:10, 29 minutes)
Key elements: Chow Mein and 'special' Chinese curry. Guilty pleasure - I've always been a fan of the Chinese curry. A bizarre variant on the Katsu style Japanese curry, with added raisins. Nothing special about either of the dishes, but it arrived reasonably quickly and tasted freshly cooked. This was a pretty decent stab at the standard Chinglish.

Wuli Wuli (Ordered at 20:33, arrived at 21:25, 52 minutes)
Chow Mein and Sichuan Aubergine with Minced Pork, half aromatic crispy duck. A slight cheat here, Wuli Wuli came near the top of the list, but is also a regular favourite of ours due to its excellent home style Sichuanese menu. It didn't disappoint. Aromatic duck was (barring an obscenely sweet, thankfully meagre portion of hoisin sauce) one of the better versions I've had in this country. Chunks of slow cooked creamy aubergine were the perfect foil to a dense and meaty pork mince and the Chow Mein was fresh, spicy and grease-free.

Spring Way (Ordered at 20:25, arrived at 21:45, 80 minutes)
Chow Mein and Special Chicken with Pak Choy. "Sorry mate, we're facking busy..." Unfortunately not busy enough to learn to cook. Definitely the worst of the bunch. Greasy Chow Mein with burnt oil (or possibly diesel) notes was marginally better than it's accompanying chicken with Pak Choy, saltier than Del Boy's Uncle Albert and half as authentic. Virtually untouched and entirely unloved. A bonus point for oddly moreish prawn toast, immediately removed for the portion of pre-loved pork 'rib' made entirely of knuckle.

Kam Foh (Ordered at 20:45, arrived at 22:20, 95 minutes!)
Chow Mein, 'Szechwan' Beef and Chicken with Cashew and Yellow Bean Sauce. Possibly better than Spring Way, though our tortured taste buds were definitely struggling to tell at this point. The chilli doused beef was plain nasty and the rest was generic, somewhat watery and very, very late... If this had been our only order, the 95 minute wait would have been a real deal breaker.

No go: Sun Kong (ordered at 20:37, order rejected as we were 'Too far to travel'.) Given it's around a mile away, I put this down to a polite way of saying we're too busy.. )

Our notes - Scientific!

Overall:
We challenged them. It was 8.30 on a Friday night. Prime delivery territory (with waits to match). And they didn't all step up to the challenge sadly… If I had to wait over an hour and a half for a delivery meal, no matter how good it was, I'd be seriously dubious about using that takeaway again.

The JUST EAT site works well, to a point. The menus are a godsend, there are a lot of restaurants listed and it's very easy to use. The 'but' however is a pretty big one. The recommendations and star ratings are beyond the worst excesses of TripAdvisor bad and desperately need sorting out. To give one example of how badly they've been gamed, the worst of our restaurants (Spring Way) has over 550 reviews and an average of 5 out of 6 stars. One reviewer Tinabao, loved it so much he ate from there 5 times in three days, including 3 times within the space of less than 4 hours. Now that's a dedicated food fan.

Would I use JUST EAT again? Certainly. Would I plan on using it to discover new restaurants? Probably not.

Disclaimer:
I was invited to do a round up by the team at JUST EAT who credited a voucher into an account for us to use. They didn't select the restaurants, we went with the site's top recommendations for our area. 

The winning Chow Mein...

And one of the horrors...