Rosas - Thai in Spitalfields Apr 2011

Where: Rosa's, two branches, Shoreditch or Soho
With Who: Most recently with Miss Jones
How much: starters around £6-£8, mains between £11-£14
Come here if: you need a quick spicy hit of authentic Thai or are angling for a reliable dinner option in two very busy locations

I'm a sucker for Thai or Viet food. Often claiming it's a healthy option, I'll quite happily drag people along to Pho or Rosa's in Soho every day of the week.


Despite the extensive menu here, I always get menu tourettes in Thai restaurants. This goes double for starters, no matter how many times I think about the Poo Nim Thai Herb (Deep-fried soft shell crab topped with Thai herbs, shallots and spicy fresh chilli sauce) and it's chewy salty fresh goodness, I end up with their, admittedly excellent, fried and fresh spring rolls.


Mains are similarly exciting, and are definitely worth pushing the envelope for. Pad Thai, Green Curry, Jungle Curry and a few other staples appear reasonable, but other than a passing graze at a prawn Pad Thai, I've always diversified and dived straight into their excellent char grill and stir fry options.


Big flavours and big dishes. For just under £8, the beef sirloin 'salad' Yam Nuea Yang is a substantial enough main, with strips of juicy meat soaked in a tart, peppery marinade. The Pad Kra Pow is another good value option under a tenner, capable of being charged for more than that. A dry dark and extremely spicy take on the popular peasant dish, often made with minced meat, here with strips of tender beef or chicken it's a winner. Another signature dish well worth recommending is the Nuar Kwang Pad Prig Thai Dam, a mouthful of a title as long as the description. Silky stir-fried venison, soaked in a tongue humming peppery sauce. If there were one dish here that I just had to keep going back to, this would be it.


They're both light, bright locations and suitable for casual business lunches, pre-theatre (especially when you consider the queues at frankly over-rated Soho neighbour Busaba Eathai) and dates, however can get noisy when busy. The staff are friendly often very much so, but aware when busy that table turning means extra bunce. At £25 a head, it's not the cheapest option and shouldn't be viewed as such, but it's a good quality, authentic and interesting place to casually dine.

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. 

Lunch at St John Bread and Wine Spitalfield - Aug 2010

Where: St John Bread and Wine, Commercial Street

With who: Northern Mother
How much: £25 for three largish plates to share, at least half a loaf of their excellent sourdough bread and a nice glass of Voignier.


Arriving back in London via Liverpool Street on a Sunday still has me straining at the leash to hit Spitalfields, but since my chain resto disappointment detailed last month I've totally lost faith with the 'old' market, and now loop round it to hit the Up-Market (geddit, geddit!!!), Truman's Brewery (for the inestimable Rough Trade Records) and the food stalls clustered around the top end of Brick Lane under the new and shiny Overland line.


That being said, a new street food dim sum concept eatery called NOW has just opened on Liverpool Street and I'm a sucker for concepts, especially steamed ones, so I hauled Northern Mother along there. Before walking in, I'd been entertaining hopes of a dim sum version of the legendary Moolis and hadn't, yet, realised that it was part of the Ping Pong chain. It's fairly obvious as you walk in that's where they're from and the initial view was disappointing. A pared down range of pre-prepared parcels sat in their take-away boxes in a central steamer. I would report on the food but the four staff took ten minutes to serve the couple in front of us, seemingly not happy for them to leave the counter and refusing to move to the next customers until every item had been commented on, loaded onto their tray and paid for. As for the concept of lunchtime dim sum boxes, they've certainly got to get a lot better at actually serving the stuff at speed, even if it does just arrive pre-packed from a warehouse in Slough. 


A derisory stomp past the grockles queueing outside Wagamama and The Real Greek brought up Commerical Street and a cheeky sidestep into St John Bread & Wine. It was like diving into a cool outdoor pool on a hot summer's day. The high white walls are reminiscent of a butcher's shop from bygone days and the tiled floors, piles of bread and high windows remind me of my grandmother's pantry. The casually efficient staff glide between the close parked tables with insouciance and slot us neatly into a spare two top. Owned by Fergus Henderson and sister to the splendid St John in Farringdon, this, the smaller restaurant, is a more casual spot, opened some seven years ago when they needed room to expand and moved the bakery operation down to Commercial Street. 


The food arrived as it was ready, looking like it could have come from the rose tinted pantry of my childhood. Potted pork with sweet pickled gherkins was creamy and moreish, with a salty kick and a pleasing bite. It was an enormous portion for the price and perfect spread on the rapidly diminishing pile of sourdough. This was followed by thin sliced Middle White ham, served with a side of crisp, tart and mustardy piccalilli and the light lunch finished off with thin slivers of a nutty and slightly sour Ticklemore goats cheese, served with freshly shucked raw peas and topped with peashoots. Food of champions.

A short review of A. Gold - July 2010

The joyous and shiny new Berlin inspired Hipster Express from New Cross deposited me across the road from Hawksmoor. This could just be my new favourite journey. Walking through the old market to Liverpool Street, my mood went down from there. I genuinely hate how the developers have ripped the heart out of Spitalfields. The individual stalls and shops are pretty much cleared out now and even the camp but beautiful trinket shop Queens has recently closed. The few that remain are a shadow of their former glory peddling vanilla clothing, ethnic notebooks, expensive Laahndon souvenirs and ripped off Banksy prints in the main. 

Wandering through there on the way to meet the Masticator I found myself getting angrier and angrier, remembering some of the wonderful food stalls displaced and now moved to the Up-Market round the corner on Brick Lane. Striding past the mass market inadequacy of Wagamamma, Giraffe, Gourmet Burger Kitchen, The Real Greek and some generic crepe place I can't even be bothered to recall. It's a high end food court in a Croydon shopping mall.

Moving out onto Brushfield Street though I remembered A Gold, a quirky little place owned by Jeanette Winterson. Sandwiched between S&M Cafe (expensive 60's theme greasy spoon cafe) and a random sushi place. It's also 60's themed, though in a very different way, A Gold has authenticity in spades. They run a fascinating (albeit very expensive) deli specialising in dried goods and tracklements and also do a great range of (proper) old school sandwiches and cakes; British ham and mustard, cheese and pickle, a lovely Victoria sponge and other plain speaking treats.

Their delightful staff sort me out with a lovely single estate coffee while I wait for The Masticator. Beans ground to order, served from a beautiful drip feed set up into an array of charity shop mugs. They care about their store, and also worry about the over gentrification occurring. I take a seat outside and enjoy. Across the road, the new shiny Spitalfields Market shimmers in the sun, bereft of life and integrity, but full of confused tourists wondering what the fuss is.