Vineyard House - a Camberwell take on Limonia - Aug 2011

Where: Vineyard House Greek Taverna, Camberwell
With who: Dr Vole and The Ginger Prince
How much: starters around a fiver, mains between £8 and £12
Come here if: you have a hankering for moussaka and retro dining

These days it seems every mention of Camberwell comes with the breathless rejoinder that a gentrification is coming. Church Street is on the way up, Camberwell Village is on the way up, the whole damn area is coming up like a teenager at their first rave. The new housing, the new restaurants and bars, no restaurant review is complete without a GCSE style compare and contrast between the 'grim, gritty Camberwell' of old and the rays of light being shone by the latest purveyor of gastronomic goodness and culturally relevant modernity. The honourable exception in the press being Mr Jay Rayner, who lives round here and knows that it's always been a salty but fascinating and (relatively) cohesive community.

The Vineyard Taverna feels like it's been part of the community for generations. Like Primrose Hill's Lemonia, it existed before the area pulled itself up by the bootstraps and like Lemonia it obviously has long term fans. If your parents grew up in the area, this is likely to have been one of the places they'd have come to on a date. In fact, on a Saturday night, it still feels like the type of place young local couples come on a date.

We were here because all of the other, newer eateries we fancied were slammed full. The still deeply patronising (though by now almost understandably so) front desk at Angels and Gypsies stifled a laugh when I enquired about a table at 9 on a Thursday evening, "did you not plan your night out sir? Did you not realise several weeks ago that a couple of beers post work would almost certainly fire a desire for food and therefore procure a booking?" The chaps at The Crooked Well were nicer. Apologetic, friendly, understandable and accommodating; but still full to the gills until 10:15.

Looks wise, it makes some attempt at the authentic Greek taverna style. Faux grapevines cover the ceiling, white paper table cloths give a light air though the effect is localised with black and white prints of Camberwell Church Street in years gone by and spoilt by the large TV in the bar cum entrance. Tables spill onto the street in even the most inclement weather, though these, like the few scattered around the bar are often occupied by the local Greek Cypriot community who use the space as their overflow front room.

Ordinarily, I've gone for the mezze. Shared mixed platters for the table of dips, crudites, pitta and vine leaves fold into various species of fried and are followed up by lumps of chicken and lamb kebab. It's not that it's bad, it's just pedestrian, forgettable and other than being an acceptable beer soaker-upper, not really anything to get fussed about. It's somewhere you go en masse, like you did at university, diving on the sharing plates with your shared bonhomie more important than what you're shovelling down your neck.

This time though, I'm pleased to report that we go off piste and I sample some really rather good cooking. After a trio of those fairly forgettable dips, my main of Lamb Kleftico arrives in front of me with a rush of fragrant steam. A hefty portion of slow roasted meat, pink and juicy, falls of the bone, glistening motes of garlic and a hint of bay mingling in the oil infused flesh. Soaking into the olive oil cooked chips, it's a struggle to finish the slab, and a bigger struggle not to suck the bone clean afterwards. It's a worthwhile reminder of why you should support longstanding local restaurants. 

 

Sabor - the Argentinian at the end of the (Essex) Road - Aug 2011

Where: Sabor, Islington
With who: Team Dogface
How much: Starters were £6ish each, mains hover between £13 and £16
Come here if: you're called by ceviche, or have an urge for an empanada

"She'll bite you... If I tell her." being slightly intimidated by a toothless man wielding a lhasa apso wasn't how I'd planned to spend my Saturday evening, and I was lucky at this point that we shared a common language, 'slightly pissed', enabling me to smile and gurn my way out of trouble. Granted, he was slightly more fluent than I, elevated only slightly from the level of street drinker by dint of the pub bench he sat at. Sat outside the New Rose, next door to Sabor and a glimpse of the other Islington. Only a mile from but a million miles removed from the gentrified surroundings of Islington Green and Upper Street.

Essex Road has sidestepped most of the ill effects of recent gentrification, with the odd outriding bar or restaurant gradually spreading the money down from Upper Street and Islington Green. As you head further down, these become fewer and further between, replaced instead with a scattering of old style cafes, blacked out pub windows, bottle shops and the more colourful side of street life. I like it, but then I live in Camberwell.

We weren't here for the salty locale though, we were here on recommendation, punctuating an evening's drinking with a bite to eat at the relatively upmarket 'Nuevo Latino' cantina Sabor. It's a thin, bright space with white walls, primary coloured tables and an eclectic selection of South American objects scattered across the wall, somewhere across between a child's playgroup and gap year returnee's bedroom.

The food was well meaningly authentic but fairly scattergun, starting with a warm but too dry cornbread. I went for a seemingly Peruvian style of potato known as Papas Rellenas, essentially a thickened mash with a spiced minced meat filling, served with a tomato 'foam' on the side. It wasn't disastrous, but watching others plough into hot flakey empanadas and surprisingly solid vegetarian quesadillas I did have a little pang. There were some great dishes among the starters in the group, sadly mine wasn't one of them.

For my main I went for a rib-eye. Well cooked and a great bit of meat to boot. Unfortunately the balsamic glazed plantain that it came with was a little eye-watering for me though. It's an interesting idea, but the al dente discs of banana's bigger brother just didn't take enough of the marinade on, leaving it darkly slick across the plate. It clashed with the over-garlicky chimichurri like two rival gangs on my palate.The lettuce accompanying was just pointless. A classic piece of menu Tourettes. I regretted my choice watching across the tiny toy tables as Pickleodeon ploughed into a Cuban shredded beef brisket and rice dish with a wonderful piquancy to it. There were similar positive murmurs about the red snapper. It certainly smelt good, though the sample I tried got mugged on the way to my tastebuds by that chimichurri.

Desserts followed the theme. My chocolate tres leches was a classic three milk brownie, dense and sticky, a perfect balance of texture, sweet and bitter. Two of the party went for what seemed like a sweetened, poached tomato, served disingenuously with a spoon of highly alcoholic rum and raisin. 

It's a fun, friendly and fairly good value night out. I don't see myself back here at any point in the near future, but that's more the area than the restaurant. It's worth popping in if you're nearby.