Duck soup

New restaurants open in London all the time. You would need a hell of a lot of time and money to try them all. Some things however, stand out from the crowd. A restaurant headed up by Julian Biggs and other team members from Hix's Oyster and Chop House? This was something I had to see.

There began my surprisingly easy quest to eat at Duck Soup in Soho. Twitter had told tales of long queues and significant waiting times but we strolled in for dinner at 7pm on a Tuesday night and were immediately seated at a place in the bar. So that was nice and easy.

Now I don't mind eating dinner at the bar, some people might, but then if they do, I suspect that Duck Soup isn't the kind of place they would enjoy at all. The atmosphere is, on the whole, very laid back. Vinyl records spin in the corner, belting out an eclectic mix of tunes apparently chosen by both the staff and the customers. Laid back is fine, but it should also go hand in hand with comfortable, and there was a significant failing on that front.

The bar wasn't deep enough for you to sit straight ahead without bruising your knees, so unless you have incredibly short legs, you are pretty much forced to adopt that legs to the side, torso to the front eating position. Not comfortable.

Even less comfortable when halfway through the meal, more people were squeezed onto said bar and I spent the remainder of my meal being jolted in the kidney vicinity by my new neighbour's elbow. Don't get me wrong - he wasn't doing it out of spite but there simply wasn't enough room for him to eat without said rather annoying kidney jabbing action.

Gripe over, the food was stellar. The menu changes daily, and it was nice to see a handwritten menu - small things really do make an impression. We started with smoked crab roe on toast (can't get enough of the little things it would seem) and followed it up with veal shin (me) and gurnard with scallops and clams (Jon).

The veal was melt in your mouth tender with a depth of flavour that is rarely encountered in that meat. The gurnard was firm and fleshy albeit bony, and came with a generous portion of scallops and clams.

Both dishes had us dipping into each other's plates and generally thinking that all is well with a world where you get to eat such things for dinner. The creme caramel was a little on the eggy side, and could have done with a stronger caramel to counterbalance that but was still a good finish to what had been a mostly enjoyable dinner.

Edinburgh love (a short snippet)

We popped in to Edinburgh last weekend whilst taking a much deserved break from teaching chocolate making workshops. The task? A tasty but cheapish spot of dinner. Twitter of course, came to the rescue and suggested The Dog restaurant.

I love it when a plan comes together. While I've been to Edinburgh before, its normally been to write an article so I've had very little time to play with recretionally. Perhaps that explains why I've never come across The Dog before but I'll tell you one thing. Once you have found it you won't be forgetting it in a hurry. Mark my words.

Why?

Let me see...

Does that explain things a bit?

A compendium of fun

I have also been doing some schtuff over the last few months - it would take too many blog posts to cover them in detail but I thought a little photo compendium might just be the trick... enjoy!

Chilli and parsley hot smoked salmon. Inspired by Lindy Wildsmith's wonderful book Cured


A trip to Dumfries and Galloway - possibly my favourite British Hotel Knockinaam Lodge - no photos of the food but with it holding one of the few stars to be found outside of Edinburgh, it's certainly something special.



And the surrounding scenery is fairly impressive - cliff walks, gorse and heather



Not forgetting Hix Oyster and Fish House in Lyme Regis. I shiver. Yes shiver, when I think of that meal...

Aloka – Brighton

I’ll be the first one to put my hand up to say that I am a dedicated meat-eater, as you’ve probably guessed from previous entries. But what I just don’t understand is the attitude I encounter from so many other carnivores – I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. If it’s not meat and two veg, it’s not worth looking at. What is the point in that? No, I’m a meat eater but I’m not a numbnuts, so when I heard about vegan restaurant Aloka in Brighton I thought I’d go along and try it.

The restaurant is part of a wellness centre just off of the seafront – there’s a spa on site too for those who are looking to cleanse more than their dinner’s worth from their bodies. Alas, I was too concerned with eating and eating alone on this mission, but having checked out the treatment list, I think it’s safe to say that I’ll be rocking down there for a massage at some point in the not too distant future.

Anyway, back to business. The restaurant itself is nicely laid out; the bright surroundings and large windows make for a pleasant backdrop to the stellar food the kitchen puts out. This isn’t vegan stodge, Aloka presents well thought out and presented dishes containing some very imaginative ingredients.

My starter for one was fairly impressive – a trio of mushroom dishes: forest grilled oyster mushroom ceviche with mulberries, sea-black rice and shitake mushroom with cashew, miso paste and dakon radish plus country chestnut mushrooms with tarragon, spelt and pearl barley base. Of the three, the black rice and dakon with shitake was my favourite, and quite unlike anything I’ve ever tasted before. A definite thumbs up.
The mains were equally imaginative – my ‘chef’s special’ was good but nothing extraordinary – a round courgette filled with cannelloni bean, celeriac and cherry tomato white wine stew, smoked creamy polenta and grilled fennel and orange bruschetta. Most parts of the meal worked and worked well – the creamy polenta was excellent as was the courgette but the celeriac and cherry tomato could have done with more flavour.

Jon’s seasonal risotto worked with many of the ingredients from the mushroom trio but even so, tasted fresh. Again, there was a spelt and parsley base with oyster mushrooms, cashew sour cream and tarragon. It was very tasty but did feel like a slight repeat of the earlier dish.



Although there’s no dessert list as such, diners can pop downstairs and choose one of the tempting cakes from the counter – my banana cheesecake was wonderful dense enough to have substance and with just the right amount of banana coming through – I would give anything to know how they could make a cheesecake with no cheese?! How do they do that? If you know, do spill...

While vegetarian and vegan restaurants are ten to a dozen in Brighton, Aloka brings something completely new to the table. No mean feat considering this is pretty much the city that puts the V in vegetarian. If you want to try something different, mosey on down there – bring your meat and two veg friend too, who knows, they might just find that they enjoy it!

Waiting rating: Excellent. Even the chef popped out to say hi
Scoffing potential: High, the menu is small but varied.
Wallet buddy: Mains between £11-14
The crowd: Brighton's best

14 East Street
Brighton, East Sussex BN1 1HP
01273 823 178

Local love (a short snippet)

Although I’m no longer a resident of my much-loved Brixton, that’s not to say I cant show it some local love. It’s a brilliant destination for those wanting to try something a little different and ‘brave’ the so-called mean streets of Sarf London. Anyone who hasn’t been to the recently revived Brixton Village should. It’s a fun amalgamation of market stalls, shops and independent restaurants that has people flocking to it, particularly at the weekend.
Particularly close to my heart is The Olive Tree – a small family run restaurant serving Iraqi and Moroccan food, it’s a lovely place to while away an afternoon with a few unknown dishes and a traditional mint tea…..

41-42 Brixton Village, Unit 43-44,
Coldharbour Lane,
Brixton,
London,
SW9 8PR

NOPI: The Preview

Yesterday was totally like the best day ever! Yeah man. I had been waiting and waiting for it to roll around for weeks. Why? One word. NOPI.

Ottolenghi is one of the darlings of the London food scene - it would seem that the man can do no wrong. A meat eater who will happily showcase the discoveries to be made in vegetarian dishes, his cafes have gained him a secure star on London's culinary hall of fame. But was his new restaurant venture NOPI, with co-executive chef Sarit Packer, going to be up to scratch?

There's no better way to put a new restaurant to the test than to go on the first day of its soft opening. In a way, you're almost seting yourself up for disappointment - the kitchen isn't quite up to scratch, the staff haven't quite polished the service, the timing's a bit off. Well, there was none of that yesterday.

Instead, we were confronted with an almost perfectly seamless meal, a series of brilliantly executed dishes that will stand out in my memory for times to come.

The food is what it's all about. During the soft opening, they've opted to showcase the sharing dishes that will form the backbone of their main menu after they're fully launched. Dishes are of a mediterranean bent and bursting with flavours.

As expected from Ottolenghi, there is a significant vegetarian selection, but those who cannot do without their meat will be happy to spy dishes such as ossobuco, beef brisket croquets and baked lamb belly peeping out from the menu too.

We started off with the seared prawns with fennel, white oregano and feta which was elegant but simple. The prawns (see opening shot) were plump and firm, nicely offset by the saltiness of the feta. So far so good.



Next up was the baked blu di pecora cheesecake with wild mushrooms. I cant even begin to explain how much I loved this dish. My initial doubts about a savoury cheesecake disappeared in the blink of the eye. It was light, fluffy and delicately flavoured and definitely my favourite dish of the day.



The hake kebab was oddly shaped like a fishcake, perched seductively atop of a bed of yoghurt and garnished with pickled lemons and salad. it was nice, the hake was flaky and soft, nicely seasoned but a bit bland until you paired it with one of the lemons and then, zing, it came alive. Culinary magic at work.

I'm never normally a polenta fan but, for the sage and parmesan polenta that came with the ossobuco, I'll make an exception. Cheesy beyond belief, this swiftly put paid to my theory that polenta was overrated and overused. The cheesiness worked well with the melting ossobuco for another dish the tastebuds thoroughly approved of.



Dessert came in the form of quinces, with quince jelly and Vin Santo Sabayon. Unlike the jellies of our childhood, this was a barely set jelly with an initially disconcerting texture, particularly paired as it was with the warm sabayon.

It was one of the more unusual desserts I've come actoss in a while and very much the better for it. It's nice, as a non-chocolate pudding eater, to be faced with something other than cheesecake or creme brulee.
And therein ended the meal.

Unlike the Ottolenghi cafes, NOPI is quite a formal dining experience. Sleekly presented staff vanish your coat away at the blink of an eye and seat you quickly and efficiently. The white walls with gold touches shouts modern sophistication, and if you were left in any doubt, the mirrored emporium that is the toilets screams Soho glamour.

But it's not all starched napkins and stiff upper lips. Our waiter and waitress were fantastic - making suggestions here and there, joking and, most importantly, smiling - goodness knows they've got something to smile about if they get to eat that food every day.

And I'll leave you with a snap of the very mirror-y toilets...





Waiting rating: Excellent. Funny, talkative and friendly. Curiously no unattractive people - was this intentional?
Scoffing potential: Seemingly endless.
Wallet buddy: £25 a head with a glass of wine during the 50% off period. Double it thereafter. Unlike lots of other places, it is worth it.
The crowd: Business lunchers, quite a formal set
21-22 Warwick Street
London W1B 5NE
(0)20 7494 9584


Tel: 020 7856 2154

Lunchtime Pastime: Hawskmoor Seven Dials

Until last week, I had a dirty little secret. I lived in London, ate meat and hadn’t been to Hawksmoor. It’s funny how a small detail can take over your life* - everywhere you turn, fingers point, mouths snigger and you are left with a debilitating shame that no ordinary steakhouse restaurant can get rid of.

But I can hold my head up high.

For I have partaken of the Piggy Burger.



And it was good.

In fact, it was brilliant. A pure example of burgerly delight to be precise. A juicy aged patty paired with pulled pork, smothered in barbeque sauce and topped up with your choice of Ogleshield cheddar or Colston Basset Stilton (I plumped for Stilton, couldn’t resist).

Forget what you’ve learnt about burgers in the past. The tiny flat and oddly sweet bun we too often encounter is replaced with a soft, springy one perfect for soaking up the juiciness that will erupt from your burger.

The patty itself reads as a memoir of a Longhorn cow that sacrificed itself for a greater cause, especially when it is snuggled up with delicious chunks of pulled pork, barbeque sauce and Stilton.

Bites of London was similarly impressed with her Kimchi burger. So much so that I predict a return visit soon so I can get my hands on one of those, along with a few of Hawksmoor’s legendary cocktails.

So no, I’m no longer ashamed – i can stand up and say that I have been to Hawksmoor. I have eaten the piggy burger. And it was good. And filling. You should be able to say the same....

Can Meateasy compete tomorrow? We shall see...

*well not exactly take over. More like irritate repeatedly.

Waiting rating: Top notch – speedy, attentive and friendly.
Scoffing potential: Conquered the piggy burger, then time for Kimchi burger and then.... the steaks
Wallet buddy: Lunch can be had with a drink for under £20. Dinner more expensive.
The crowd: Lots of business lunches and the Hawksmoor cult followers
1 Langley St.
London.
WC2H 9JG

Tel: 020 7856 2154

The Salt Yard

There are a good number of decent tapas restaurants in London and then there are those that are a cut above the rest. Salt Yard would like to think it belongs to the latter category but I'm not so sure.

Let's set the scene. It was a Friday night and we were having a reunion of all the Dubai folk who, by some freak of coincidence were in London at the time. Nothing suits a good cath up better than tapas - the sharing of food, a bit of sangria or wine.

First off, I would like to point out that any restaurant that has two sittings on a Friday night is never going to get an unreserved thumbs up from me. Especially when it is a group of ten people. Nothing puts the pressure on a nice, relaxed meal like a waitress reminding you every five minutes of the limited time you have your table for. The moment we sat down, a few minutes later than our 7.30pm booking she was already champing at the bit for us to get ordering and reminding us that we only had the table until 9.30. 9.30? I dont remember the last time I sat down for dinner with a group of nine other people and managed to eat pleasurably in less than 2 hours - but apparently, that is de rigeur at this 'homely' little restaurant.

By the end of the night, I felt like the subject of a precision-planned militiary operation - we were almost shunted out the door by 9.45. I personally am not interested in whether the restaurant wants to maximise their takings, I'm interested in sitting down, enjoying my food and wine and having a nice chat with my friends.



Rant aside, I'm going to put forward an objective view of why Salt Yard really could do better. Some of the dishes were outstanding - cauliflower flowers stuffed with goats cheese encased in the lightest batter were a treat to eat - perfectly seasoned and avoiding the pitfall of blandness we so often find with this dish.

The chorizo with marinated peppers was also something to write home about - not to gristly and with a depth of flavour that had us all reaching over to grab another slice while we thought no one was looking. But congratulating a spanish restaurant on great chorizo feels a bit like congratualating a Japanese restaurant for a tasty piece of sashimi. Its so obvious it's almost farcical.

There were definitely other highlights to the meal the Chargrilled Neck Fillet of Lamb, Crushed Jerusalem Artichokes and Salsa Verde perfectly balanced the melting softness of the lamb with the kick of the salsa and the Roasted Scallops with Caramelised Cauliflower Puree, Hazlenuts and New Season Garlic was a tasty, if utterly predictable take on scallops.

But there were far more disappointing dishes than I reasonably expect to find in a restaurant like this - Confit of 'Gloucester Old Spot' Pork Belly with Rosemary Scented Cannellini Beans offset a delicious pork belly with under-seasoned, nigh on flavourless beans. If one of my perfumes scented me in the same way the rosemary had supposedly scented the cannelini I'd be back in the shop and demanding a refund pretty pronto. The crispy egg with giolles and balsamic was so bland I barely remember tasting it, apart from the balsamic.

All of this would have been easily overlooked were it not for the fact that the service was fairly atrocious. As I mentioned before, there were ten of us, including one vegetarian. We'd asked the waitress to bring a selection of the dishes for us to share, presuming that she would bring out enough of each one for at least most of us to try.

That was, apparently, a presumption too far. Considering that the serving size of each of the tapas plates is paltry at best, I calculated that it would take three of each to ensure that everyone had a piece, so was duly baffled when the waitress kept on turning up with one dish of this and one dish of that.



One dish, four pieces of chorizo that are already fairly miniscule and don't lend themselves to be split into almost invisible portions. Ten people. HOW is this ever going to work?

I'll tell you how, it evolves into a strategic game of guerilla warfare. If you see something you are not overly keen on, you generously pass it down to the other end of the table hoping that next time, when there is something rather irrestible perched in front of you, you can take a piece without feeling guilty. Even then, sometimes you are required to 'fall on your sword' so to speak and pass up.

Ditto for wine, which was always having to be asked for when we'd run out. Nothing major in itself but the little things add up to a bit of a let-down on the service front. Fine if you're in McDonalds, but when I can honestly say I had much better service in La Tasca the week before, I think the Salt Yard has some work to do.

Overall, the night was lots of fun - but it was always going to be - it was old friends some of whom I hadnt seen in yonks. But when I'm presented with a £45 bill for tapas at the end of the night, I expect to have thought it was worth it and I can't honestly say this was the case

Waiting rating: Sloppy
Scoffing potential: Good - some blindingly good, some blindingly bland
Wallet buddy: Expensive for tapas
The crowd: On a Friday - fun, friendly and quite loud
54 Goodge St
London
W1T 4NA

Tel: 020 7637 0657

Lunchtime pastime: Anchor & Hope

Yesterday, with good intentions of new weekly blog post in hand, a friend and I went to the Anchor & Hope in Waterloo for a sneaky long lunch before she jets off on an envy-inducing 6 month travel stint. Boasting a heritage from restaurants such as St John and London’s original gastropub The Eagle, this had to be a failsafe location for a nice spot of lunch in comfortable surroundings. Or so you would think.

The pub was pleasantly empty in comparison to its evening shift, when it’s packed to the rafters. Assuming we could take our pick of the tables I started heading to a pleasant spot by the window before being hustled into a corner by the rather pushy waiter. There are few things I like less than being sat back to back with a stranger close enough for our chair legs to strike up an ongoing flirtation, especially when most of the tables around us are empty.

Despite this, our stomachs were rumbling as we perused the daily-changing menu. Dishes such as warm snail and bacon salad, braised ox cheek and chips vied with traditional favourites such as minestrone, mussels ‘mariniere’ and potted shrimps for our attention.

In the end, the mussels won out but when I asked if I could have them as a main instead of a starter our waiter’s answer was short and to the point. ‘No’. No explanation, no apology, just no and a suggestion that I have it with another starter for a more filling lunch. So I plumped for potted shrimps, while Rachel went for the snail and bacon salad.

The first dishes arrived quickly – the snail and bacon salad was surprisingly large and apparently very tasty.


The potted shrimp was nothing to write home about. The portion of shrimp was quite large but let down by the fact that it was under-seasoned and served with a paltry half slice of toast that wasn’t up to the job of holding all the shrimp at all.

Before we’d eaten ½ the dishes in front of us, our bowls of mussels materialised and had to be pushed to the side until we finished. By the time we got round to eating them, they’d cooled down a bit but, to give credit were perfect; the plump molluscs swimming in their delicious sauce.

The plates from our first dishes still hadn’t been cleared by the time we finished our second, and we waited for a good ten minutes before one of the waiters saw fit to clear the array of empty crockery sitting in front of us. Predictably, it was another ten before we were given the bill, five before we paid and so on.

The food at the Anchor & Hope was promising overall, and if it wasn’t for the abysmal service I’d definitely visit again in the evening and try one of the game dishes for which they are famed. However, if a gastropub eschews letting punters choose their own tables and ordering at the till, they have to make sure that they have the rudimentary elements of service in place.

To me, one such rudimentary is more than three waiters for what became quite a busy dining space by the end of our lunch or ensuring said waiters were up to scratch. They weren’t and it let the Anchor & Hope down.

PS Apologies about photos, I forgot to bring the camera so trusty phone had to make do...


Waiting rating: One word. Rubbish
Scoffing potential: Overall, high – quality ingredients and exciting dishes
Wallet buddy: OK
The crowd: Foodies, laid-back lunchers.
36 The Cut
Waterloo, London
SE1 8LP
Tel: 020 7928 9898

Chomping Through South-West Ireland

Up until last month, my experience of Ireland was limited to an 18 hour stint in Dublin along with three girly friends to celebrate my 21st birthday and a few tall, dark and handsome men with irresistible accents. You might think I’m joking when I say 18 hours – I’m not even sure it was that – being young and energetic I relied on the fact that we could stay up all night, go for drinks, party and then get back to London the next morning.

Not so last month’s trip to the Emerald Isle. I wasn’t sure what to expect from a seven day gourmet tour of the country ending with the Galway Oyster Festival but it was going to have to set the bar pretty high to impress. It did.

Within an hour of getting off the plane, I was rolling up my sleeves and helping out with the feeding of one of the lambs at Rathbaun Farm: the lamb was possibly the only animal I’ve ever met whose very, very enthusiastic appreciation for its food surpassed my own – as it literally dragged me across the barn trying to get the dregs of its milk from the bottle.



Culinary treats abounded from the first day – holed up in the secluded Cashel House, I have very fond memories of the sticky toffee pudding that rounded off the evening’s dining. Forget the mediocre semi-dry sponge too often masquerading under the title of sticky toffee pudding – this dish lived up to its reputation in every sense of the word – a dense, moist pudding with lashings of toffee sauce and a dollop of cream to set it off.

The next morning, when getting on what is possibly the smallest plane in the world I might have wished I’d shown a little less gusto with the pudding the night before as I heard the dreaded words ‘Hop onto the scales then – we need to weigh you to make sure we distribute the weight evenly throughout the plane’. Urgh... but it was worth it when we stepped off the other end on the smallest Arann island Inis Aer.



After tramping around to take in the views of the small stone-wall fields and rugged coastlines, we went to the small independent Fisherman’s Cottage restaurant run by Enda and Maria Connelly for some local seafood treats – treats being the operative word. The table was piled high with simple mouthwatering fare such as lobster and crab platters, saltfish fritters, mackerel escavetch and seaweed scones. Most of the ingredients used in the dishes are sourced locally, from within a one kilometre distance – making it a locavore’s dream.



Seafood platter


Mackerel escavetch

From Inis Aer, it was a short hop skip and jump over to the biggest of the Aran Islands, Inis Mor. Although it’s the most developed of the islands, it’s still incredibly relaxed – you can still travel around the island by pony trap – though in practice this is the domain of the tourists....



Visible from much of the isle. Dun Aonghasa is a prehistoric fort atop a cliff with absolutely stunning views out to the mainland. So focused was I on storming my way up to the top, I just about caught the rainbow that saw fit to appear at the very moment we reached the fort. Didn’t run off in search of the leprechaun though, rather a shame as a pot of gold wouldn’t go amiss but hey....

Like all island people, the folk on Inis Mor know how to party in my personal favourite sense of the word – great food and a spot of craic: the destination? Ti Joe Watty’s... Local singers and musicians take to the stage while the pub focuses on putting out some rather mouth-watering treats. I maintain that the lobster and chips might not only be one of the tastiest I’ve ever tasted but was definitely the best value at €29 for a monster-sized portion...

Back on the mainland, we drove through the picture-perfect views of County Galway and County Mayo before settling in at Delphi Mountain Resort for a pampering session complete with a seaweed bath – a novel experience to say in the least. In line with the resort’s emphasis on sustainability , food is sourced as locally as possible before being served in the restaurant.


Views from Delphi Mountain Resort

And then, it was time. We wended our way to Galway for the Oyster Festival – the perfect place to gorge yourself on the world-famous Galway Bay Oysters and shake a leg at what’s been named as one of the 12 best experiences on earth. The festival was made up of a series of events from the official opening ceremony to black tie dinners and afternoon celebrations. We’d barely settled into the hotel before we were whisked off to put back a few pints of Guinness (or other tipple of choice) in the local pubs in preparation for the Friday night party.

I can’t say I have ever encountered a night where I’ve quaffed lots of champagne, eaten oysters and not had a good night and myself and new mate Jill ended up storming the dancefloor later as the party stepped up a notch.

It follows that a good night can be followed by a slightly err rougher morning – if it wasn’t for the fact that we were going to a cheese shop and deli, I’m not sure getting out of bed before midday would have been a valid option at all. I was rather glad when we got to Sheridan’s Cheese Shop & Deli and Seamus Sheridan announced it was his birthday and promptly cracked out a few bottles of prosecco accompanied by (of course) more oysters.



The deli is one of the orginial artisan cheesemongers in Ireland and the perfect place to pick up local cheeses like Cashel Blue – a rather punchy blue cheese and Durras an unpastureised cow’s milk cheese from West Cork.

We carried on with the festivities with the afternoon gala lunch where the official Guinness World Oyster Opening Championship takes place. Though mainly occupied with tasting the seafood platters, oysters and other delights tantalisingly wafting past me – I did take the time out to notice that the oyster opening contestants have rather delicious arms, especially when employed in opening up one of my favourite little tidbits. When I do finally write my Mills & Boon bodice ripper, it will involve one of the said contestants – Mr Ireland and Mr Sweden would make particularly good fodder methinks.

And then, it was almost all over – but not before we’d spend the night at the wonderfully quaint and romantic Mustard Seed Lodge in Adare, County Limerick. Game dishes such as the rabbit terrine particularly stood out for their intense flavours, as did the braised duck (gorgeous), the crème brulee too was definitely something special. In the morning it was one last full Irish breakfast and then time to go home – sad. That said, I can’t imagine it will be that long before I make my way back.....

Ahoy Sailor: The Ship

The glaring differences between a pub that serves food and a 'gastropub' are hard to miss. Irrespective of whether the pub would rate itself in the former or latter category, only the food can tell.

Some pubs have that special something, that magic touch that differentiates a microwaved pile of slop from a plate of flavoursome goodness. And some pubs dont. The Flora Sandes Weatherspoons in Thornton Heath for example, where I found a rotting bluebottle in my lasagne, is, unsurprisingly, a pub that doesn't have it.

The Ship, on the other hand, is an excellent example of a pub that does. I've been to this wonderfully eclectic find on the river three times now and each time has cemented my belief that this is a pub that has the gastro touch, and has gained my eternal devotion for it.

The first time was a beautifully sunny day where we lounged on the tucked away restaurant patio whilst sipping on thirst-quenching Pimms and embarking on an epicurean adventure that left us popping out our bikinis for the pool party later that day (rah rah rah).

I can't think of many pubs more suited to summer days, when the sun is shining and you're ensconsed in one of their several outdoor areas, if you're lucky looking over the Thames. But even on those oh-to-frequent gloomy days, there's ample seating space inside for a cosy night.


The second time, well, they adventurously invited a rabble of bloggers to try a few new dishes soon to debut on their ever-changing seasonal menu. I don't want to give the whole game away, but think rather exciting appearances from dishes including carpaccio of Mackerel with Anchovy fritter, basil sorbet and tomato foam. Initially slightly sceptical about the suitability of mackerel for the task, it was to become one of my favourite dishes of the evening - a bud-awakening combination of light but punchy flavours.

Other personal favourites included the Seared Scallops with Black Pudding, Citrus Braised Baby Gem, Hazlenut and Courgette Salad for starters.

Mains wise it was a tie-break between the Loin of Rabbit with Dublin Bay Prawns, Tarragon Mousse, Creamed Leeks and Peas with Sauteed Girolle Mushrooms and the Cornfed Chicken and Crimini Mushroom Pie with a truffled celeriac puree. Memories of the plump, moist hunks of chicken submerged in the mushroom sauce is enough to make my mouth water. And yes, it's every bit as porno as it sounds.

Desserts ranged from the unusual (Lime pannacotta) to time-old favourites (sticky toffee pudding) with a few interesting stops in between (pineapple tart tatin with star anise).

But it didn't stop there. One of the beauties about The Ship is that yes, it's a pub and it's a restaurant but essentially it's also a very friendly local where there's always something going on, the people working there are friendly and you're never short of a few people to chat to (track down Oisin, Emma and Charlie for some quality banter). Live Irish music on a Tuesday night - hell yes. In fact, that pretty much sums up my attitude to this fantastic find where I anticipate I'll spend far too much time in the coming months....

Dateathon starvashathon... But I'll always have The Lavender

I used to be such an angry little ball of fire. There was nothing I liked more than a bit of self-riteous inner rage. Don't get me wrong, I was never the kind of person who would lash out, and I'd be just as likely to cry tears of pent-up frustration than shout at anyone else but I'd be lying if I didnt admit that there was a little, no, large part of me that actually quite enjoyed the ride.

I'd like to think that this has changed. That with maturity (don't snigger) has come a mellowness that definitely was not there before. It started when I left Dubai - not only was I travelling around some of the most beautiful countries in the world but I was literally living an almost stress free existence.

There were no taxi drivers refusing to listen to my directions and haring off to the wrong end of the city, no coffee baristas calling me mamsir or sirmam or (the penultimate sin) just sir (I am CLEARLY a girl), no twats telling me that they didnt understand my English because of the colour of my skin. Yes, I certainly became a lot calmer.

But once in a while, I feel the old self-riteous boiling of blood coming back and these days you can almost bet your bottom dollar that it is going to be boy-related.

At 24, there is only a limited amount of patience I can have with a right old numpty, which is quite a bit of a pain in the ass as someone up there has decided to allocate me a fair share of them over the last few months.

There's no conversation, no spark, no enthusiasm. I've never understood why boys go through the rigmarole and potential embarrassment of chatting a girl up if they are not going to at least pretend to be a normal human being with good conversation, emotions and a bit, even a bit of joy in their life. Patrick the moaner, Matt the twat, Tom the waster, Sean the genie (poof he's disappeared - magic). It's a roll call of wasted evenings and often bad conversation.

That said, all these deflated dates have given me the perfect chance to spy out some new eating and drinking locations, the pick of which has to be The Lavender on Lavender Hill. Quaint, small and serving stellar cuisine, this is one of the stars of Clapham Junction's dining scene and relatively off the radar. Perfect.

And so, here beginneth a period of self-imposed singledom or, as I've named it my dateathon starvashathon, hopefully leaving more time for blogging and training for that pesky little half marathon I've signed up for in September. I will be in imminent need of distraction (the one thing dating is apparently is time consuming) so feel free to send over any recipes you've spied. I'll be glad to try them out.

Off to The Ship in Wandsworth tonight - soon to be blogged, keep your eyes peeled!

The Lavender
171 Lavender Hill, London, SW11 5TE
Tel: 020 7978 5242

Girls Love Steak Too! The Lonsdale

I'll start this blog post by admitting that I'm slightly embarrassed because it is mainly about steak. Again.

Someone (male) said to me the other day 'You love your steak an awful lot for a girl'. Yes I do. But what does that even mean? Because I have mammaries that I am not supposed to like eating a healthy slice of big fat steakiness? Not this girl my friend. He of course tried to retract it with some kind of mumbled jumble about well 'girls normally like salads and stuff, you know, all that rabbit food, tofu, salad err'. He slowly stuttered into silence under the glare of my withering gaze.

'So I'm not girly then, is that it?' 'No no, of course not, you know what I mean' I obviously didnt and said words much to that effect before he uttered the singlemost worst thing he has ever said to me. "Well, it's not very ladylike Julianna." 6 days later and I am still barely speaking to him. So here it is for the record.

I will totter around in heels, much to my simultaneous pleasure at looking about 5 inches taller and chargrin that the price is the discomfort of considering every movement I make in them in terms of potential pain factors. I very rarely wear trousers (apparently another unladylike thing according to my prehistoric-era neanderthal buddy). I like the so-called girly foods such as salads, tofu, brown rice, soba noodles - in other words HEALTHY food that my dear little friend the oik doesnt seem to have got his head around. But I also like, scrap that, love a steak 'raw and wriggling' to quote Gollum and blue as can be. So there.

Which is why my Thursday night sojourn to The Lonsdale was really a very pleasant one. Myself and Anne-Laure from Tasty Diaries descended on Notting Hill's newly reopened bar/ restaurant/ club ready for a night of girly chatter, cocktails and steaks. And that's exactly what we got.




The Lonsdale achieves that rare combination of being as much of a bar as it is a restaurant. It's one of my pet hates for a place to be described as a bar and restaurant, only to find when you arrive that if you're not eating you're shoved onto a high stool at the front and treated with a disdain normally reserved for lepers. No such thing in existence here, you're encouraged to plump yourself down wherever you like (if you're clever, on the leather banquettes towards the back of the venue) and peruse the cocktail or food menus, whichever takes your fancy.

It wouldnt have been too hard to get rather steaming on the cocktails alone, which were worth the trip themselves. Expertly mixed, the list would take weeks to work through - you may regard this as a challenge. I'd be thoroughly interested to hear if anyone ever takes it up.

Overall the food was very good. The steaks at The Lonsdale are bought from Allens of Mayfair, the oldest of London's master butchers who are, confessedly a dab hand at the craft after 120 years of practice. While the Sirloin steak with mustard sauce was admittedly, a little on the tougher side than we would have liked, the filet with bearnaise was flawless: a moderately large slab of meat that would have shone even being eaten on its own but went perfectly with a few chips and a fresh tomato, basil and onion salad. Sorry kiddos, no photographic evidence of the actual steak..

To round it off, we got stuck into the Sticky Toffee Pudding and Creme Caramel, both of which were very tasty, but proved too much after the other two courses.
And then, off we tottered in our high heels, post cocktails, post giggles and post steak. So far, neither of us has grown a mystery beard or hairy feet as a consequence. So a message for my friend. Girls like steak too. Please drag yourself out of the 1800s, I love you too much to let you run around alienating the fillies as you have been known to call us with silliness such as that above...

You got the best of my love: Bob Bob Ricard

I generally don't like to go with the flow and pride myself on a downright cantankerous outlook to many aspects of popular culture. Dan Brown = worst writer on the planet. Twilight films and books are so godawful I literally cannot get my head around how so much of the world's population has been duped into paying good money to see them. Team Edward or Team Jacob? How about team stick them all down the plughole and be done with the whole lot?

But even I can admit that there are some things that receive their just desserts and Bob Bob Ricard in Soho is one of them. Other bloggers have raved about Bob Bob and for once, I agree. Having dined there twice, I've been served two flawless meals - pretty much a first for any restaurant in London.

Unlike Bar Boulud, Bob Bob Ricard is a restaurant that understands the concept of space - the railway-styled seating is perfect for two or four, though maybe a bit too tight for six. With two, Farzana and I had the run of the table and didnt we make use of it?

Before we started the meal 'proper' we tried a pairing of traditional russian salted cucumber and Kauffman collection 2006 vodka 'to open the palate' (this is what I love about the Russians). The salted cucumber on its own is probably not going to rock your world, but the pairing with the vodka brings out flavours I wouldnt have imagined from this rather bland little vegetable.

The next amuse bouche was pickled herring with boiled potato and Bob Bob's infamous homemade zubrovka. I cant think of many better ways to start a meal...

After that, it was a parade of brilliance. The venison steak tartare I'd tried last time, but loved it so much I couldnt resist getting it again. The quail's egg and crispbreads set off the dense flavours of the tartare. Judging from the smells wafting across the table and the noises of appreciation, the scallop and shrimp shell pie went down equally well.

Mains came in the form of Lobster & chips (again another staple that can go so, so horribly wrong, as anyone who's been faced with an overcooked piece of chew can account for) and poached turbot with truffled mashed potatoes and duxelles. The lobster was impeccable - fresh and firm served with a just-on-the-right-side-of garlicky sauce and crispy frites. The turbot was a success story of its own, with strongly flavoured duxelles to complement but not overwhelm the delicate fish.

And desserts. It took some (not much) mutual persuading that dessert really, really was a good thing after all of that food. But a cheeky glance proved too much temptation for us to resist and we finally settled on the Grand Marnier souffle and Strawberry Souffle. When ordering the notoriously tricky desserts, we joked with the waiter that the chef had better be up to the challenge. He was, much to our delight. So finished a rather flawless meal...

Maybe the next time someone recommends something/ somewhere to see/ read/ eat - I'll take it on board. Though I still draw the line at Twilight. I'd rather watch paint dry.


Waiting rating: Is it wrong to say that the waiter was cute? What?! He was... That aside, service was excellent anyway.
Scoffing potential: If you can't eat and love the food at BBR you deserve to be sent to the land of bland
Wallet buddy: By no means cheap but balanced by large portions and sheer brilliance
The crowd: Soho's young and trendy, Soho's old and trendy.
1 Upper James Street
LONDON W1F 9DF
020 3145 1000