This is my obligatory nod to the original pioneer that gave (London) street food the tremendous popularity it enjoys today. Helped by extensive blog/twitter exposure it has – to a certain extent – changed the way we eat out.

It’s hard to imagine a time when the only way you could wrap your mitts around a Yianni Papoutsis burger was to follow his free roaming food truck as it toured around London. The theft of the original Meatwagon grounded the mobile trendsetter and inadvertently led to the creation of the prototype better known as #MEATEASY. By then, they’d already gained cult status, but their popularity soared to new heights (outside of ‘foodie’ circles) when they popped up in a pub (formerly Golsmiths Tavern, then New Cross House by Scott Collins) under refurbishment in New Cross last year (to make enough money to buy a new Meat Wagon). In doing so, they accidentally created the greatest London restaurant to have never existed. I put it down to the fact that it had an inimitable atmosphere that was altogether tatty, grotty, speakeasy-esque in a venue that was genuinely so. Most of all however, the pub kitchen allowed Yianni and team to churn out their fabulous products with great consistency, albeit at the cost of long cooking times. But it was without doubt that they had served some of the best chilli fries, chicken wings, burgers and hotdogs the city has ever seen. MEATliqour enjoyed much of the same feverish success (and crazy queues), transposing the essence of what made #MEATEASY so special into the faux-abattoir interiors, that is itself fast becoming the main highlight for nights out.

These burgers were never gourmet and Yianni has always championed the greasy, sloppy, everyman junk food that burgers are really loved for. Given the popularity, their greatest challenge has always been maintaining consistent quality within sensible time frames, and being able to feed all the salivating palates who come in droves. Sometimes the burgers can be incredibly salty, other times incredibly bland, but when they get it spot on, the juicy, 100% chuck patties are peerless.

And at last with MEATmarket, this cultural phenomenon has been streamlined into a model that is recognisable as a fast-food joint with no table service, which – on the surface – seems ‘franchise friendly’. Beyond the staple burgers and hotdogs, soft-serve ice cream and milkshakes (both with alcohol) are introduced to the Meatwagon universe.

The better half and I arrived on Saturday at 4pm where there were only a couple of people grazing on burgers. We ordered at the counter and waited for my name to be called.

In that time, I enjoyed a ‘hard’ shake (£5) made with bourbon (Woodford Reserve) and maple syrup (and presumably with the new softserve ice cream). I found it to be so smooth, so delicious and so addictive that I had to resist the urge to order one more.

Food was ready in 5-6 minutes – an amazing contrast to the predecessors. I have ordered burgers from Meatwagon at the very start of service before, with a short queue of maybe 4 – 5 guys. Even then, they took a good 15 minutes to grill the hand-formed golf ball patties.

Double bubble, £7.50.

Double patty with pickles, minced onion, american cheese, ketchup and mustard.

Undoing the red and white striped grease-proof wrapping revealed …a sloppy beast! It looked like a Meatwagon burger alright. Gone was the hand-formed misshapen patty and replaced by two thinner patties that visually look like it may add up to the same weight (6-7oz I’m guessing). Presumably, this is what has led to the significantly reduced cooking times, since all MEATmarket burger options available are double patty variations.

Mmm. Tastes like a Meatwagon ….those rich beefy flavours. The mince is quite loose, almost like panfried corned beef, it even came slightly pink (we did not ask for preference). I noticed how the bread was moist and crumpled, and spotted metal cloches by the grill in the kitchen. But for me, my only grip were that the heart-stopping leak down the cheeks juiciness (which the classic burgers are famous for) were significantly reduced. Perhaps even missing altogether. Pretty certain my tin tray was dry after I devoured the beast. Maybe the burger has shrunk a little, or maybe the burger just came a little too done.

Although I don’t think it took anything away from the fact that it was still a genius product. For me at least, the classic cheeseburger remains my favourite of the Meatwagon lot.

Chilli Dog, £7.00

Two sausages in the bun, with a chilli con carne drizzle, jalapenos, onions, cheese and loads of mustard. It was very good, very sloppy, with an incredible girth that the greasy motherload barely fit into my fully opened mouth. The sausage was just a little too salty, and it was quite spicy. Otherwise, the chilli was really fantastic. As I remembered it at #MEATEASY.

Fries £3 and Popppaz £4

I was tempted to scrap the chilli topping from the hotdog and dump it on the fries. Really do hope they’ll do the chilli fries someday soon.

Melting cheese with chopped jalapenos oozing from the fried parcels, the poppaz were ok. We would have liked to have had some buffalo wings instead.

Dead hippie for take-away, £7.50

The burger was so good that after an hour wandering around the piazza, I decided to take one home for supper. Again, only a 5-6 minute wait, with maybe 3 or 4 customers also waiting for their orders. It was wrapped with an additional internal aluminium foil presumably to keep the heat. I ate it roughly 3 hours after (taking in the England – Norway friendly) , and while it had obviously gone cold (the patties dried up by then), it was still delicious, the mince was loose and beefy. However, I felt like it was distinctly missing lettuce and I could hardly comprehend what exactly was special about the dead hippie sauce.

We paid £26.50 for the sit down meal, and an additional £7.50 for take-away.

By design, I think the thinner double patties do not provide the signature soaked sensations, so perhaps it isn’t quite as exhilarating as the original. Saying that, the rest of the burger remained a brilliant roller-coaster ride, and the speed of delivery is certainly – as Yianni intended – convenient. This in turn should lead to greater consistency.

You could say that this is Meatwagon watered down and as the business grows and grows, the streamlining is inevitable. I do think this project was never intended to be MEATliqour v2.0, which has a different brief altogether. At the risk of being on the receiving end of huge gasps, I will default to the logic that at the end of the day these are just burgers!

I’m all for high quality fast food done right and I think it should also be easily accessed and churned out quickly. In that regard, MEATmarket absolutely delivers on its premise. It has certainly been intriguing to watch the growth of the Meatwagon ‘brand’ so I can only wonder what’ll be next. With its central location I think it’s gonna be difficult to resist the temptation or consider any other place to grab a quick bite.

The Gist of It

MEATmarket
£15pp Burgers, hotdogs and softserve
The Deck, Jubilee Market Hall WC2E 8BE
Tel: 020 7622 1199
Tube: Covent Garden

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The original Phil Howard protege, Adam Byatt may have had his ups and downs through the years, but things certainly look like they are up and up in 2012. Trinity has turned into a well-oiled machine for six or so years since it opened, gathering a generally good reputation and turning into a local Clapham favourite. Known for the grounded classic cooking with a touch of modernity, overly generous portions and value driven pricing. In fact, things have gone so well that Adam is now on to his second restaurant (also in Clapham), Bistro Union. More of an everyday outfit of sensible British cooking in contrast to Trinity’s special occasion menu, as suggested by its name.

Instead of bringing up the Hospital Club days, I’d rather like to talk about his cameo in a delightful book called Londoners : (with a really long subtitle). An album of stories cherry-picked from many hours of (taped) interviews conducted by its author Craig Taylor – a Canadian writer – who lives in London, aiming to weave an ‘oral history’ of London through the words of its residents. Careful editing has ensured the most compelling of stories had gone into the book to give a very human face and voice to London. Some are so hysterical that it can only be true. Adam participates as the humble working London chef, unsurprisingly as part of the ‘Feeding the City’ chapter, giving his thoughts about the cliches of molecular gastronomy. His commentary was akin to a wringing moan hiding a temper just bubbling underneath each sentence but all of it peppered with dark humour. A great read, all very well transposed into the written format. He has an interesting opinion that can probably sustain a side career as a food columnist. It reminded me that the last time I ate Adam’s food was 2 years ago, a superb Sunday lunch, but we’d always been itching to return.

Initially, I wanted to try Adam’s bespoke menu, at 8-9 courses at £60, which is crafted jointly by the diner and the chef ahead of the visit, allowing the kitchen the opportunity to cook some fantasy one-off dishes. But in the end, I was limited by time, and moved my lunch to a Friday dinner with the missus to try the standard taster menu for £45 for 6-7 courses. Tremendous value of course. We forgot to take the Londoners book with us to have Adam autograph his section.

Radishes, smoked cod roe.

Fresh radishes, served with an extremely addictive pink-hued sort of taramasalata made from smoked cod roe. It went well with everything. We had wrestled to keep on the table as a permanent ornament through the meal.

There was a £2pp cover charge, which covered this, choice of filtered (still/sparkling) water and some lovely house-baked bread.

Burrata.

The next canape was burrata – or Mozzarella with cream – served simply with olive oil, pepper and tea spoons. I slathered the cod roe dip all over the cheese.

Course 1: Vichyssoise of English Asparagus and Jersey Royals

Probably the first time I’ve come across Vichyssoise, served cold with a single stem of asparagus, cows curd and a single potato crisp. The soup was presumably liquidized asparagus and potatoes. A creamy off-green colour, very appealing, tasting milky, rooty and generally appetizing. A nourishing start.

Course 2: Charred Mackerel, Oyster Mayonnaise, Cucumber and Shrimps

The compressed cucumber texture was like the vegetable but denser, a little smoky (from the charring presumably) made a nice combo with the pickled shrimp which was sweet. The mackerel was nicely cooked, but personally I found it just a slight overdone, however was very well matched with the oyster mayonnaise. Eaten together all, of the previously mentioned flavours were a generally pleasing combo.

Subtle rather than powering. A pleasant dish perfect for the season. If I didn’t eat Alyn Williams’ faultless mackerel (the silky textures..) dish just a week before, I would probably sing louder praises.

Course 3A: Trotters, Sourdough, Gribiche and Crackling

I opted against the scallop dish to go with the Trinity signature dish.

Aka: Adam’s pièce de résistance! Roasted, fried, diced – amongst other ingredients – with ham hock, the end result was a sweetish, almost like a cold congealed gel, may also be described as a spread with tasty lumpy bits. It has a powerful depth of saltiness that is distinctive. The yolk adds this richness, this creaminess to the trotters that is redolent of bbq burnt ends. Just delicious.

Perhaps it is brash for me to suggest it, but this could probably make a fine sandwich as well. A generous dollop of this trotters stew, egg with runny yolk, pickled cabbage, gribiche, maybe some of the cod roe dip for good measure, between two floury toasted buns and your hands wrapped around it. Cor, I’m salivating just thinking about it.

Course 3B: Seared Scallop, Mussel Emulsion, Shellfish and Monk’s Beard

Initially, they brought us two of the trotters by mistake, as the missus opted to stay with the taster menu’s choice of the elegant scallop dish. We didn’t mind the extra trotters dish, and gobbled it all up, but didn’t expect them to follow up with the original order for the single scallop dish – a nice gesture.

How wrong was I to skip this – it was extremely good. This dish also offered the classic power flavours which Adam is known for: Intensely salty samphire, a rich cream made from mussels, and of course a single scallop, perfectly pan-fried and still translucent in the centre. However, the best part of the dish were the almond crumbs, bringing a sweet, perfumed sizzle to the naturally salty mussel emulsion. The dish is modest in terms of innovation, but it was a classic marriage of flavours that was simply delicious to eat.

Intermission : Gazpacho, coriander.

Two puffs of cold herbaceous flavour – two scoops later and it was gone. All foam and no body at all, that played tricks on the palate! Visually it looked just as intriguing, with this opalescence that kept changing as light reflected off from it.

Course 4: Smoked Beef Fillet, Carrots and Wood Sorrel

I was told the beef was cold smoked for a couple of hours over oak chips in a bespoke smoker installed at the restaurant’s rooftop. And then boiled in a bag for another two hours. I forgot to ask about the provenance of the beef, but we both thought the steak was simply fabulous. Served very pink, I would say rare, but as it’s been smoked then sous-vided, I guess I should say that the original textures were preserved. The fillet was meltingly tender and as it should be highlighted for choosing this cut of beef.

Where it lacks natural flavour (as it is a lean cut) , the smoking enhanced with a set of complex flavours to bulk things up : a genius move in my opinion. The smokiness was evident, but integrated within the meat. As opposed to a sort of in your face, bbq-like smokiness, it felt deeply embedded into every muscle fibre instead of coating it. I would also describe the beef as having sugarcane flavour (maybe even grass) and also blue cheese, but that could just be the natural flavour of hung beef being enhanced. If I’m not mistaken, the green smear was made from tarragon, razor sharp and served to balance against the intensity of the steak. Charred broad beans were served on the side.

I liked the simplicity of the main course, with all of the magic concentrated into the beef itself. It’s fillet served rare, but with its original characteristics enhanced, rather than swathed by sauce. In a sense, that’s the point of good cooking. The table fell silent, we both enjoyed this dish.

( I woke up the next day and punched my pillow. It only dawned on me then that I forget to order Adam’s wonderful triple cooked chips with bone marrow to go with the beef! )

Palate Cleanser : ‘Elderflower-aid’ , Lemon & Thyme ice cream

A fizzy elderflower drink, like a ‘float’ with an intriguing lemon and thyme ice cream. The creamy, seamless texture of the ice cream led me to believe that a Pacojet resides in the Trinity kitchens. We really liked this, really fun palate cleanser, just what you need for summer.

Course 5: Frozen Yoghurt

Served with a yoghurt mousse, honeycomb, lemon curd and dried bee’s pollen. Such an innocent pre-desert, it looked fabulous to begin with, even better to taste. The lemon curd was razor sharp and excellent. The quickly melting vanilla flavoured frozen yoghurt was also very good, the honeycomb was just a nice touch. The mousse was light as snow, in fact everything on the plate were drops of honeyed snow. Clean, room had been made in my tummy for the chocolate finish!

Course 6: Chocolate Delice, Coconut Sorbet, Almond Praline

More of this seamless textured ice cream – this time as a milky coconut sorbet. I am certain that they have a Pacojet in the kitchen now, no other machine can break up ice crystals like it. Moreover, I had a similar coconut sorbet made with a Pacojet just a few weeks earlier in Norway.

70% Valhorna I’m told, the tart is a rectangular wedge of unadulterated, sinful, wobbly dark chocolate ganache resting over a soaked almond base. But it’s those toasted almond crumbs (which were also present in the scallop dish) that left a lasting impression for me.

We paid £133.37 for two with coffee, a carafe of white wine (£19) , £2pp cover charge and service.

This is a genuinely fantastic restaurant that has definitely become better with age.

Like Bryn Williams, I think Adam Byatt belongs to a group of well-trained chefs, who have passed the promising talent phase and are now maturing into their chef-owner roles. I feel that Adam’s recipes are just on the cusp winning the elusive star. Personally, there was enough ‘emotion’ to suggest that Trinity is at one star level. But importantly, I think a measure of a good restaurant should lie in its ability to keep its neighbourhood as its core (returning) customer base. Evolving over time to become a dependable restaurant that has a running relationship with local residents. Adam’s recipes offer precise big-bang flavours in grounded guises. He certainly likes salty dishes, but I’m glad to see that the seasoning is controlled on this showing, with dishes that are well balanced.

Trinity is somewhere between classic, classy and modern. It offers value for money (very generous portions for ALC/Set menus) with a canvas of dishes that feature intensity and honesty. It is already a firm Clapham classic, but I think it will become a true London institution someday. If I was local, I would visit every month, as I did with my (former) local, Cambio de Tercio, or at least make enough return visits to develop stronger sentimental feelings for this restaurant. Adulation and return business – That is surely all restaurants set out to achieve.

The Gist of It

Trinity
£65pp British
4 The Polygon Clapham Old Town SW4 0JG
Tel: 020 7622 1199
Tube: Clapham Common

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“..surrounded by the greatest wines of the world..”

The dining room is relatively small but is as intimidatingly as it is posh, as the website’s official photographs suggest. Built around the ‘wine salon’, the restaurant’s private room takes up to 8 people and is encased by temperature-controlled glass walls filled with some of the sommelier’s (Alex Gilbert) most prized bottles. All completely out of my spend range for this solo Friday lunch (or any meal for that matter). Indeed, all of the world’s most storied labels grace Alyn Williams’ wine list, and I feel it only apt to dedicate the following paragraph to this exceptionally procured cellar:

All the 1st growth clarets feature, from average to exceptional years, including a ’90 Lafite. Beyond the formidable Pauillac region, an ’85 Haut-Brion (the sole non-pauillac 1st growth) is listed with a centurion ’82 vintage of La Mission as the proud emissaries of the great wines of Graves – arguably the most romantic of all Bordeaux wines. Cos, Palmer, Petrus represent St Estephe, Margaux and Pomerol. Glaring omissions may be the popular Pontet, the age-worthy monster Montrose and Graves underdog Chevalier Rouge, all three producing consistently fabulous wines in recent years. Personally, I was drawn to the millennium Figeac, the 2nd tier GCC from St Emillion …for £400, easily a 3x mark-up (Liv-Ex trading at £90-110/bottle in bond prices) and only just within a sensible spend (maybe for my birthday)! You know this is a proud British restaurant when it features such a complete set of Lynch-Bages. They hold all the legendary vintages which the chateau has produced in the last century including the ’89 and ’90 at the £650-£700 mark – also 3x mark-up here, but I suppose within the bounds of fine dining restaurants. Outside of the Bordelais bubble, Dujac, Rousseau and Robert Chevillon stand out from the Cote de Nuits list and there are 3 bottles from the mythical Domaine de la Romanee-Conti: Romanee St Vivant, Richebourge and Echezeaux. The top of the line La Tache or Romanee-Conti don’t feature. The two biggest names of Barossa: Grange and Hills of Grace are also on the list; Stag’s Leap ‘Fay’ (no Cask 23) and Ridge’s ‘Monte Bello’ represent the Napa and Sonoma …and beyond that my knowledge of great labels decline.

In comparison, I drank a very modest glass of ’09 St.Laurent by Heinrich (£11.50). An Austrian red and a varietal which I’ve never had before. On the palate, I mistook it as a pinot noir, silky but somewhat spicy, with a sweet finish, like longan.

Alyn Williams spent 5 years as Head Chef for Marcus Wareing, and many more before that in across Gordon Ramsay restaurants in its heyday, as well as stages in The Greenhouse, Zafferano and Chez Bruce: All of London’s long time institutions. Like his predecessors at GR, Alyn has finally put his name above the door. It opened to glorious reviews late last year.

As trends push us away from ‘fine dining’, it’s rare to come across new restaurants which have a dress code. I called 2 hours ahead and was a little surprised to secure a table. I was even more surprised to arrive at an empty restaurant on a Friday afternoon. Only a further 3 tables were occupied later on. The eerie silence was very deafening. This room was crying out for some background music to make up for the lack of chatter.

In spite of the similar positive reception, it is in stark contrast to the runaway success of Dabbous which opened a few months after Alyn. A restaurant which you’d be lucky to nab a table for in October.

Fashion aside, Alyn Williams is still a 2 star chef who has a track record in producing brilliant cooking. His promise to keep the superb value pricing (for at least a few more months) is still held. The 7 course taster a ‘mere’ £55 (also rivaling Dabbous) and £115 for paired wines. The 3 course set lunch is a recession beating £24, ALC at £45 for 3 courses.

Amuse Bouche: Truffle risotto balls, crackers with pickled broccoli, and prawns.

These were all very wow amuses, showing beautiful concentration of flavour. Especially the fried truffle-laced risotto balls – yummy. Not pictured were his brilliantly light as feather gougeres stuffed with stinging Fourme d’Ambert.

Course 1: French onion consomme/crab/gruyere/potato wafer

The menu kicked off with a classy rejuvenation of french onion soup. Served cold, as both a liquid and as a jelly, in a martini glass. The jelly was like a concentrated reduction of beef and onion, dissolving with the liquid in the same glass. A tiny ‘log’ of what appears to be beef cheek with picked crab meat was also present. For a cold soup, I was surprised the smell of onions were still so present. A spoonful of everything produced a precise hit of beef and onion flavours. A cheese wafer on the side served as the cheese crouton. Naturally, the balance of flavours were admirable. What finesse, it reminded me of Jason Atherton’s BLT at Maze.

Course 2: Orkney scallop/cucumber/smoked roes/sea urchin

Another cold starter, but this time with the cutting mineral smell of cucumber fighting against the fishiness of smoked roe. The single scallop remained beautifully translucent in the centre. I didn’t quite get the ‘milk’, was it made from the sea urchin perhaps? Delicious, but too subtle for me, and the least memorable dish of all.

Course 3: Smoked egg/celeriac/truffle soldiers

I know, I know, slow cooked eggs are cliche these days, but I am still intrigued with the many variations the capital’s best chefs has created. I actually swapped out the foie gras semi-freddo for this dish.

Served in a tea cup, the smoked yolk was dizzyingly satisfying. It was perfumed, to me, it smelled sweet, like vanilla for some reason. The custard-like texture was as expected. I’m quite certain the yolk rested on some sort of yoghurt or sour cream, making this either a variation of a Turkish recipe or a variation of a French recipe or me completely wrong-footed, once again. I dug around the cup, but couldn’t find the celeriac – might it have been shredded into the yoghurt? I don’t know.

The truffle soldiers were simply that, toast with truffle. It was absolutely sublime in primal way, buttery with earthy funk. I could have this truffle spread for breakfast everyday. As he cleared the plate away, I told the restaurant manager – whom I assumed was Giancarlo Princigalli, also ex-MW – that the soldiers were to die for …and pleaded for more! He smiled, nodded and scurried away…

Course 4: Sweetbread/chicken wing/chervil pappardelle/pea puree with ramsons

…but instead of returning with more of the truffle soldiers I yearned for, he brought out an additional dish which he explained, that the chef was still tinkering with. Thin layers of pasta sandwiched with chervil with pan-fried sweetbread and chicken wings, both intensely seasoned. Over it, he poured a reassuring warm pea puree scented with ramsons, a sort of wild garlic. Such elegance, control of flavours and delicate texture. The dish was a absolute pleasure to eat.

Course 5: Mackerel/seaweed cracker/miso/cockles

The smell of smoked fish, this is nearly Wales on a plate. The mackerel was nearly transculent, tremendous texture, oily flakes easily sliding off one another. Like the 1st dish, there was a commanding purity of flavours about this. A very intense hit of sweet miso, such a lovely compliment to white fish, the cockles and the nori, reminding me of this was a dish from and of the sea. I suppose this dish is Japanese in inspiration, and my favourite of whole afternoon. I think it was good because it looked completely innocuous, and yet it tasted so completely powerful. It probably summed up the theme, a set of dishes which displayed excellent control of flavour, intense without being overpowering. It seemed like something that may appear on Dabbous or even Hedone’s menu.

Course 6: Devon red beef sirloin/jersey royals/leafy turnip/capers

The beef was cooked to a perfect rare, as requested. This would be my 2nd time eating Devon beef in as many months (the other time was at Michael Caines’ restaurat at Abode Hotel, Exeter) and it exhibited glorious beefiness that I’ve generally come to expect from English beef. Juicy, leading me to believe that it was well-rested before serving. The plate was very hot, as it should be to keep the steak warm, so top marks for the attention to detail. A wedge of the beef’s own fat was laid over the meat – it was all guns blazing with intense blue cheese notes. This was good beef presented in an effective manner to highlight its strengths. Tender for a sirloin with all signs pointing to it being well hung.

For a beef dish, it was delicate, juice-filled turnips just cut away all of the heaviness of the dish, they were sweet like sugarcane. The potatoes were gloriously fluffy, something that may rival Rogan’s vintage potatoes. I always expect beef to be extravagant in high end restaurants – nothing wrong with epic dishes – but I think the lightness was a nice surprise. Eerily precise cooking.

Course 7: Cornish cows curd cheesecake/passion fruit/honeycomb with ’03 Castelnau de Suduiraut.

It was suggested to finish my meal with a glass of this sauternes (£13.00), so I did. Not quite the power and lusciousness of a good d’Yquem, but this wine was supple without being in your face. The 2nd wine of Ch Sudairaut, a first growth.

It was well matched with this minute cheesecake pudding.

Course 8: Baked apple/rolos/hazelnut

However, the wine really sizzled when paired with the baked apple, for which it was designed to do. Rolled-up cooked sliced apple, exhibiting bold sharp flavour. It required this medium sweet pudding wine to find harmony. The hazelnut ice cream was very good, but I didn’t enjoy the caramel-centre rolos. It was very hard to bite into, and after I’d manage to crack my jaws over it, it stuck to my teeth like solidifying cement. Maybe it was too cold, but only part of this pudding I didn’t enjoy.

Reflecting on the meal, I am reminded of restaurants which strive to showcase a sort of distilled elegance. Menus that are designed with precision and poise. If I could use one word to sum up the meal, it would be : control. It’s not surprising, after all, Alyn has spent much of his career cooking ‘perfect’ food, albeit within the bounds of the classic fine dining restaurant likely to charm the bib. And within those parameters, Alyn Williams (the restaurant) is certainly worthy of one, perhaps two macaroons. It is clear that he has got to the very top of his craft because he understands how flavours are supposed to work together.

I paid for £95.06 for the whole nine yards and coffee – justified value considering the level I reckon. But most importantly, I thought food was delicious.

I think the major challenge for the restaurant is probably the intimate yet intimidating setting. There is no doubt that the immaculate design of solid rose wood, sparkling carpets and glass booths that pulsate with fancy lighting, is stunning. But with no windows and those imposing wine fridges, it also feels like an immaculately decorated resting place for a Pharaoh. I just think the room needs a little livening up, starting with some background music. Maybe that’s why Dabbous is doing so well, it’s so airy and open, so too the majesty of HB’s Dinner with the centrally installed kitchen and rear facing tables that overlook Hyde Park. As I stepped out, I wondered about the hotel’s front bar (the Polo Bar?) and thought if Alyn could perhaps migrate his lunch menu (or part of his restaurant) there, it may attract a bigger audience, for which his food thoroughly deserves.

I have no idea how they do at evening service, at the level of cooking (and price) it should be completely booked up, but I didn’t call to check. Having said that, the booths in the restaurant seem very private, which is what you want. It’s just I think that the decor makes it feel like its a once-a-lifetime restaurant, which it doesn’t have to be. I’ve seen much seasonal change across reviews, which suggests that it might be worth multiple visits.

Service was top-notch, everybody was hardworking, a little nervous but genuine, down to earth and human. They even managed to dig out the daily copy of the Times for the lonely diner that was me. I probably sat for 3 hours, long enough for Alyn himself to come out to greet all of his patrons, at the end of afternoon service. I was flabbergasted, I stood up to shake his hand nervously, told him he should win the 2 stars for himself soon and that my favourite dish was the mackerel. The conversation culminated with a discussion of Marcus’ perfect egg custard pudding. A lovely recipe indeed.

He claimed his restaurant was still in its beginning days, fighting to compete for the public’s affection and far from being the complete product he envisions – what admirable spirit. Very affable fella, incredibly modest for someone as accomplished as he is.

I remain intrigued as I write this, especially with these bespoke menus which the staff were telling me about through the meal. You will probably see another post about Alyn Williams soon, and I suspect dishes are still being fine-tuned, even though they are already quite high calibre as it stands. It’s definitely worth considering a visit to Alyn Williams, especially while prices remain as they are.

The Gist of It

Alyn Williams at the Westbury
British £80-130pp.
The Westbury Hotel 37 Conduit Street, W1S 2YF
Tel : +44 (0)207 078 957
Tube : Oxford Circus

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A Prologue

The first of a new series of posts I intend to write on a weekly basis. Not reviews per say and a ‘side project’ to to the restaurant stuff. Rather these are personal tasting notes, and an open diary about my wine exploits.

Wine has slowly but surely taken a backseat to my food blogging, even though I had always been fascinated with ‘discovering’ them. Though admittedly, I know very little about the world of wine. I cannot discern all the known discern-able flavours which may present itself in a glass, and I do believe it is entirely subjective. For me however, I think the measure of a good wine is how memorable the experience was, be it fabulous or terrible, moving you to feel some sort of emotion.

Very recently I poured a good proportion of my savings into starting a cellar, primarily for investment, partly as a ‘romantic’ hobby to amass a collection of wines suitable for drinking when I look mature enough to not be ID-ed at a Sainsbury.

This has naturally upgraded my fascination and caused me to steadily resume this habit of popping a new bottle every week to decide on putting away young vintages for my cellar (hence this series of posts). True to the stereotype, my first twelve bottle case were Lafites. One of the noble five 1st Growths in Bordeaux, from a very good vintage, 2005.

For this inaugural post, I have chosen a classic claret from the famous Pauillac region in Bordeaux.

Origins

Ch Lynch-Bages is affectionately referred to as ‘Lunch Bags’. It has an excellent reputation among wine collectors, especially in Britain. Officially, the Chateau is a mere 5th Growth, the lowest ‘division’ in the Bordeaux classification system (almost entirely unchanged since 1855, save for the Mouton upgrade in ’73) , but in current times, the quality of the wines are spoken in the same breathe as the super-seconds (namely Cos and Montrose).

The best Lynch vintages (1989,1990) will set you back a cool £250 – £300 a bottle, good years hover around the £120 mark. No doubt you will have heard much of Bordeaux wines being considered as an investment vehicle these days, with prices for 1st growths escalated (north of £1000 a bottle for good, relatively young vintages) to levels that has priced it out of many drinking budgets. As much as I’d like to, LB just a little out of the spend zone for a non-occasion drinking wine.

Fortunately, chateaux often produce a 2nd wine, sometimes made with fruit not deemed good enough for the grand vin, or other times, from entire plots dedicated to making the 2nd wine. Meant to serve as an introduction to the style and general expression of grand vin, these wines usually become ready to drink much earlier, and crucially at a fraction of the price.

Why this bottle?

As alluded, the HB-Averous is 2nd wine of the Lynch portfolio. Historically, it was once a neighbouring chateau to LB, but has since been absorbed into the fold, after the Andre Cazes (Father to current owner Jean-Michel) bought it in the 70s. In 2008, the Averous was renamed as Echo de Lynch Bages.

I picked this up from Robersons Wine for a cool £46. 1998 is largely seen to be good but not exceptional vintage. At 13 years of age, this should be just coming into right drinking window.

I poured half the bottle into a decanter, and the other half saved with a wine stopper in the fridge for the next day.

Notes

The nose: Instant gratification, very opulent, like an assorted basket of freshly picked berries, the aromas were rushing out of the bottle, the freshness of the fruit was immediately apparent and nearly overwhelming. Lovely stuff.

On the palate: Medium bodied, subtle acidity, bright minerality, generally silky. Fresh, fleshy and sweet berries, maybe like ripe plums as well. This was underscored by a touch of bitterness, maybe oak. Tannins appear to grab hold of the tongue.

Decanting: There was some sediment, but minimal. Breathing for 2 hours did not appear to affect noticeable change, wine stayed pretty much the same. After 3 hours or so, I felt the initial rush of fruit slowly fizzle out, the oak started becoming more noticeable, which I didn’t enjoy. After 5 hours, it really felt like the life had been slowly squeezed out of the wine.

The next day: The remaining wine I had held back in the fridge tasted better than the previous day. The fruit was a little sweeter and more intense. The oakiness was lesser than the day before. Maybe oxidation in the bottle overnight did it some good.

Final thoughts: Solid and not challenging. Certainly a delicious wine which I enjoyed to the very last drop.

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This is my 3rd visit to the fabulous Admiral Codrington in as many months. By now, you’ll have heard about Fred Smith’s near obsessive detailed experiments in continuously honing his version of the perfect cheeseburger. In the last few weeks, he’s been causing tidal waves of instagram drool with diners tweeting his elusive specials: the double patty burger code named ‘The Double Stack’ and the other elusive animal : ‘The Chilli Burger’. Ironically, on both previous visits, I missed all the specials for dinner as depending on how busy the kitchen is, specials are (mostly) a lunch only option.

Away from his Ad Cod stove, you might have already eaten the Fred Smith x Tom Byng collab on the latest Byron special called ‘The Chilli Queen’, set to run till early June. With green chilli, chipotle mayo, American cheese and a glazed bun (first debuted for the Uncle Sam) ; The burger is a sort of condensed version (for the 22 Byrons across town) of Fred’s original chilli burger. I was fortunate enough to be invited to a preview by Tom and thought it was great. The spice kick was a nice compliment to the already perfect everyman – around nearly every corner – hamburger, all of which rested on a bed of shredded lettuce – another signature Fred Smith move. I had promised Tom that I would resume my run-to-a-byron routine now that he has opened one in Camden, a 30 minute run from Queen’s Park. I haven’t done it yet, but with the Chilli Queen’s closing date drawing near, it provides the motivation to do so.

I’ve tried all but one Byron special, by my estimations, the only non-beef burger, the lamb burger which only ran for National Butcher’s Week last year. While we’re on the topic of 2011 Byron specials, I must mention the beloved Big D (after its creator Darragh O’Shea). Yes, the various Byron restaurants had trouble maintaining cooking consistency for it being such a massive patty, but when they got it right, it was a burger of sheer elegance. It needed the strength of the gruyvere, but the result was neither gourmet nor cult, but just a damn good burger. Sadly (for me), it won’t ever be seen on a Byron menu every again.

The first time I sank my teeth into the Ad Cod Burger, my eyes widened. Beef sourced from Darragh, a blend of rib & chuck, but smoother and more intense …gasp, could this be …the son of the Big D?

(The original patty is actually available to buy at Darragh’s Knightsbridge shop, so you could still try it at home, if you’ve missed it all. )

Since that visit, I’ve craved mid-week returns to the Chelsea pub to erase mid-week blues. I followed up the 2nd visit in April, and was surprised to find the american cheese had been upgraded to Fred’s own concoction of a bacon infused in-house cheese ‘blend’ with american, parmesan, and – correct me if I’m wrong – a sort of chopped onion reduction.

Honest, Meat and Lucky are all very good but a mission to get to, and the overall experience can become a little chaotic during busy times. Maybe I’m just fussy you know, I think the Ad Cods’ dining area is a welcoming change. It’s civilised and comfortable. With the impending long summer days, the skylight roof which runs the length of the room just slices open the ambiance completely. And you can book tables!

Actually a full fledged gastropub, with a hardworking chef, dedicated kitchen and committed front of house (3 visits, still won’t let me into the room until 6.30, and after they set all the tables according to spec), they continue to remind diners that they have the capability to deliver reasonable non-burger food. It’s difficult to come here and not order the burger, but I think everyone is intrigued by the other things Fred can cook. For this meal, we went only as far as the starters, as Fred had invited the missus and I down to sample the latest version of his chilli burger. Food on Fred, drinks & tips on us.

Salmon, jalapeños, lime.

So we began with a zesty ceviche to kick things off. Very fresh, wiped the palate clean, stinging jalapenos.

Diver caught scallops, cauliflower, lime.

I went to Alyn Williams’ (I’ll post the write-up after this obviously) for lunch on the same day as this evening visit to Ad Cod, and also had a similar single scallop dish. Alyn’s version was served with cucumber, smoked shaved roe, sea urchin and a sort of ‘milk’. Both I gather were diver caught Orkneys.

Not to take away from Alyn’s version (which was obviously very exciting) , but I preferred Fred’s classic take. The scallop looks pan-fried, I would have liked to have seen more heat on the outside, but on the inside, beautifully transculent, juicy like lychees. However it was the cauliflower whip, lifted by a dash of lime that took the scallop to the clouds. I only just detected a hint of curry, maybe caraway seeds, on the fringes. I can’t see it on his current menu, so I’m not sure if it’s a dish in late beta testing or otherwise. As it stands, it’s delicious.

Foie gras creme brulee with brioche soldiers.

This was still a work in progress, Fred had brought it out to test on us guinea pigs. He says that it’s made just like a creme brulee, except with foie gras dissolved into the custard. A crack of the flamed demerara roof revealed a runny custard. According to Fred, he admitted that he hadn’t given it enough time to set.

Though the missus and I both thought the runny texture actually worked well, especially since it’s meant as a dipping for the soldiers. Of course, the distinctive flavour of foie gras was ever present, just aligning with the sweetness of the custard. This is a tricky dish to pull off since both sets of flavours can easily become sickly if balance is not sought. But I thought Fred’s version was well executed. It was mellower than anticipated, but I think potent enough to overwhelm if you quaffed large spoonfuls. It’s better with the sweet wine we were served it with (South African Late Harvest Semillon, judging from the wine list is my best guess) , but really shines as a bread dipping. Visually, it’s like egg yolk gelling on the brioche soldier. Buttery, syrupy, savoury flavours which all hang together very well. Again, I think it’s a successful dish, at least to me, it certainly demonstrates Fred’s ability as a chef, and importantly, his attention to balanced flavours. Now he just needs to decide if this is a pudding or a starter.

I once had something similar at Le Petit Normand, a tiny French bistro in Wimbledon, where they served it as a starter, with foie gras and apple. That was a little overcooked and probably too tart.

The Chilli Burger with chips.

What do you think? Looks good yes? The cheese still melting around the patty, like hot yellow lava flowing down the sides of a volcano.

Here it is from another angle:

Phew. When I saw it last on the table, my jaw dropped. Is there such a thing as a beautiful burger? The burger is larger than it looks, stacked very high.

Bear with me for this, Fred ran through the details very quickly, and hopefully I didn’t make too many mistakes here. But do correct me.

Starting from bottom up:

1. Glazed brioche bun, Millers.
2. Chopped iceberg lettuce.
3. Chopped red onion, red & green chilli slaw.
4. Mustard Mayo with Chipotle Cheese.
5. 5 or 6 oz O’Sheas Rib & Chuck Patty, aged & prepared in house.
6. Fred’s in-house made cheese with crispy bacon bits, american cheese, raclette, parmesan.
7. Jalapenos??
9. Braised short rib chilli.
10. Fred’s in-house tomato spread??
11. Glazed brioche bun, Millers.

Here is the cross section, medium rare, too pink for some, but for me, juicy and perfect.

It’s a breathtaking burger. Surprisingly restraint, no knock out blow of chilli. In its place, a subtle gradation of spice, of discernible chilli flavours. I felt a warming crescendo that just kept building and building as I worked my way through the burger. The 5 or 6oz patty is much smaller than the standard 8oz Ad Cod cheese, but with so many layers, it seemed it could be slimmed down just a tad. I was not complaining however, the more patty the merrier, though it did slip out of the bun barely able to hold itself together after four or five bites.

I think the most profound ‘layer’ may be the braised rib chilli. It tasted like the best chilli con carne I’d ever had, melted over arguably one of the best burger patties in town. One that was so imbued with hefty flavour (perhaps from ageing) that it was more than a match for all the spices. Fred still follows the Heston method of uniformly lining up the mince to prepare his patties, so the patty is surprisingly smooth when biting into it. I don’t know if it’s simply because I know of the technique, but it certainly does come across as such. Though Fred says that these days, he spends less time making it uniform, and rather prefers a patty that is ‘less tidy’.

As I finished the last bite of this amazing burger, I noticed a faint, warm fizzle at the back of my throat, the smell of the chilli and grilled beef still hanging around in the olfactory. So far, the best burger experience I have had are the Lucky Chip’s Bill Murray burger and the MeatEasy cheeseburgers. But I think this tops both.

I asked the missus if she thought this is the best burger she’s ever had. She replied “Yeah. Maybe.”

For £15 with chips, it certainly isn’t cheap, but it is such a stunner. Fred limits the fleeting appearance of these monsters because he thinks the rest of the menu will suffer if he devotes the time required to prep them to his exacting standards if he had to do it everyday.

The missus and I deliberated and we certainly felt like this burger had an air of a well-thought out, complete dish. Rather than stylish junk-food. The burger is certainly a chef’s burger, one in which it is apparent that copious work following serious thought, has gone into ensuring that each detail isn’t just perfect, but that each building block works in tandem with the other ingredients in the same sandwich.

I was joking with Fred that I thought the complex gamut of flavours this burger displayed versus his standard cheeseburger was akin to comparing the 1st and 2nd wines of a Bordeaux 1st growth.

On the topic of wine, they offer clarets from good 2th growth chateaux (Palmer and Leoville Barton) from drinking vintages (as opposed to ‘collector’ years) but I did note their top selection is a venerable Hills of Grace, and I suspect they are also BYO as a nearby table were had brought their own bottles. Unconfirmed though. If this is the case , then the next time I go there, I’m bringing a bottle of First Drop’s The Cream to savour the burger with. Arguably, the rising star of the Barossa Valley which may one day share the same status as the noble Grange.

I think Fred thoroughly deserves his reputation as an excellent burger constructor, but I also think he deserves to be seen as a talented chef. I googled his background and found this interview on King’s Road Rocks. He has stinted in Wales and Australia, and one of his (Chelsea) favourites is Medlar, incidentally, one of my favourites too. Amazingly, he manages very edible dishes from a kitchen no larger than those you see in the beloved food trucks which have been trending the past year.

I think the market is completely saturated with very good burgers, it’s startling how high the standard is these days, but I think the competition is only good news for end consumers. From what I’ve heard, there might a few other variant off-menu specials in the near future, but I think the only way to keep track (and to find out when what special is on) is actually to follow Fred’s twitterstream @fredsmith_.

There’s so much I haven’t tried myself and I am far from being the burger expert, so it’s only apt that I end this over-written gush fest by directing you to the burger-erudite for more detailed and accurate reports: Burgerac , Hamburger-Me.

The Gist of It

Admiral Codrington
Pub, with a great burger £35pp.
17 Mossop Street, London SW3 2LY
Tel : 0207 581 0005
Tube : South Kensington

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No doubt you’ve already heard about Ceviche, the first of a trio of Peruvian restaurants to open in London this year. Started by Martin Morales, Brit with half a Peruvian heritage, he gave up a notable music career (According to Xanthe, he signed KT Tursntall and launched iTunes in Europe!) to plug a gaping hole in the market. Which he reckons will be nicely filled with an introduction to raw seafood cold cooked in tiger’s milk.

Apart from the fusion dishes at Nobu, I’ve never eaten Peruvian food. This cuisine has always been written about as the next big thing (Monocle did a nice spread last year), partly given its unique history of diverse cultural influences, one can argue that Peruvian is a true expression of fusion food. Given the decades the Nobu restaurants have spent in the (international) limelight , Peru hasn’t really taken off as a must visit destination for gastro-tourist.

The cuisine’s foremost ambassador is Gastón Acurio. By wikipedia’s account, he is a bit of a legend in his native Peru. His name is attached to No.35 on the 2012 World Best 50 , but it diffuses down to a diverse portfolio of operations which include a hamburger bar, a Peruvian-Chinese restaurant, a hotel and even a ‘gastronomic’ university. I’m most intrigued by the mention of his roast chicken franchise, La Pollada. Might it come on British shores and threaten Nandos’ monopoly on the market? That’s for another blog post.

Where was I? Ah yes, The Morales tiger’s milk: an acidic marinade consisting of a closely guarded recipe centered around salt, lime and chilli. Poured over a variety of seafood, the concoction is the very soul of the ceviche. The ceviche in turn, according to Martin represents “Everything you need to know about Peruvian food is in it”.

Alianza Lima, £7.50

With one prawn, chopped squid, octopus, giant cholo corn, seabass (as the fish on that day), beansprouts, coriander.

So it’s like a sashimi salad. Personally, I felt like all the citrus killed the texture of the seabass. It just didn’t taste fresh. In fact it tasted like a soaked sponge. I was annoyed to have to share a single prawn with the missus. Does this imply that the plate is a single person portion?

The sensation of chewing on soggy raw fish wasn’t what I had hoped for. Could it have been doused with too much tiger’s milk? I had expected sharpness, freshness and vibrancy. Maybe like a freshly shucked oyster – seawater spewing all over my top – with lashings of freshly squeezed lemon and tabasco, but alas this wasn’t it. I thought the spice and zest of the tiger’s milk was interesting, but overall, the dish lacked excitement. It was muted. At £7.50, it’s not exactly cheap.

Granted it’s an unfair comparison given the Nobu’s high prices and use of premium ingredients, but really Nobu(s) is rather good with the Peruvian dishes. Ok, so my last visit to Berkeley was over 3 years ago, over 6 to Park Lane, but if you can afford it, Nobu is still a very dependable restaurant. I still hold the view that only Nobu restaurants can do justice to Black Cod Miso. Remember that dish? Oh man, nostalgia.

Anyway, I digress. I expected that Ceviche’s star billing to be at the very least addictive and fun. I really tried to like it, but I just didn’t.

Sakura Maru, £6.25

Salmon carpaccio, tiger’s milk with mirin, soyo, satsuma and what appears to be spring onion. AKA ‘new style’ salmon sashimi. The sauce tastes exactly like the Alianza Lima. It was ok.

I am reminded of the spicy sashimi salad at Sakura, Oxford Circus , usually a dinner-only item, which uses a variety of ‘discarded’ bits from sashimi / nigiri. Salmon, seabass, hamachi, thin prawn carpaccio, seaweed usually feature, and a spicy, zesty, fresh and vibrant sauce is poured over it. It’s very addictive (they’ve got a bit stingy with the spicy sauce over the years) but I had it a few weeks ago and it’s still very good as always. Not Peruvian obviously, but at £6 or thereabouts, it’s far superior as an experience of raw fish + spicy citrus sauce than this.

Given the generally positive reviews and Martin’s largely successful PR, I really, really tried to like it but I just couldn’t. Not to say there was anything particularly wrong with it, but I just felt like there are comparably better things to eat in London at similar price points.

Ensalda de Quinoa, £3.75

With white quinoa, tomatoes, avocado, butter beans, coriander and rocoto chilli vinaigrette. Ah! We really liked this dish. It was fresh, zesty, lively and everything I perceived Peruvian cuisine to be. And it was affordable.

Arroz con Pato, £11.50

Confit duck in coriander, dark beer rice with aji amarillo chilli.

For £11.50 …it’s more expensive that the tiny tapas plates at Copita. When this arrived, I thought ‘Opera Tavern! Salt Yard! Tapas!’ , and truthfully I didn’t expect it to shine.

We took our first forkful (no spoons provided) and we both lit up. The duck was moist and tender, really concentrated in flavour and had a nicely crisped skin. However, it was the green rice that had me salivating for more. It had amazing intensity of flavour, like it was made with a very concentrated stock, perhaps with the duck fat?? Herby, fluffy, creamy, very moist, almost like a dry risotto.

I couldn’t really tell what it was, maybe it was the reducing sauce the rice was cooked it (dark beer??), but whatever it was, it was fantastic. This was something I could keep topping up bowl after bowl after bowl with. This may seem left-field (maybe because of the colour) , but it brought up similar warm feelings after I tried Heston’s snail porridge. Or for 2012 era, the cod cheeks porridge at Dinner.

For me, this dish was a winner, I never knew confit duck could be interpreted like this, I can still smell all the spices, herbs and the rice as I write it.

Chicken Anticuchos, £6.75.

Chicken cubes on a skewer. For £6.75? Better off heading to Bincho Yakitori for chicken oysters or chicken skin for the same money.

We paid £45.62 for food plus two beers. No pudding. A full meal here will probably average £25-30pp. Not overly expensive, but a little dearer than expected.

I dislike the dining room in the back. Save for a small skylight, there are no windows, and it’s stuffy like a cellar – dead fish, lime and dust. I couldn’t wait to get out the minute I got in. I know decrepit Soho spaces are trendy, but personally I’m getting tired of trying to have a meal surrounded by barely adequate furniture. More to the point, I think the kind of food Ceviche sell, requires a room with plenty of light to emphasize freshness and fragrance. I cannot imagine how stuffy it would get on hot summer nights, candles only, all the while trying to negotiate raw fish cooked in lime juice. On my visit, the music was definitely too loud, or maybe it’s just that the room was so small. If you’re there, you should avoid the dead spots in the furthest corners of the room (that’s where the missus and I sat) , and the ideal seats appear to be at the bar.

In spite of my wayward criticism, I think it’s a (mostly) good effort, though I feel it is destined to become nothing more than a convenient meeting point for after work drinks or casual group dinners. Martin has certainly paved a largely smooth road for Peruvian to enter the market, but it does feel like this is merely a dress rehearsal for something more polished on the horizon. But hey what do I know right? After all, this is only the first time I’ve eaten Peruvian food.

Next up Tierra Peru.

The Gist of It

Ceviche
Peruvian £25pp.
17 Frith Street W1D 4RG
Tel : 020 72922040
Tube : Leicester Square

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Ah Norway. Good times. I spent some time in Haugesund a couple of years ago, for work, and I will always remember the amazing Norwegian rice puddings I stuffed myself with nearly everyday.

When I first met Njål Solland and Arild Bringeland in January last year, their plans for sushi domination in Norway were still limited to studying packaging. They hail from a conurbation at the heart of the Norwegian oil capital – Stavanger and Sandnes – embedded within the southern most fjordes of Norway. They’d been conducting these extended sushi binge tours to European cities with ‘mature’ appetites for Japanese food, and as fate would have it, got in touch with me when they arrived in London. I soon discovered that we shared a fervent passion for raw seafood and vinegar-ed rice, and I was impressed with their enthusiasm of wanting to bring quality sushi to Norway.

They opened their first Sabi Sushi in April last year, primarily a takeaway, with their third partner and head chef Roger Joya. Unlike us lot, Stavangerians prefer to eat in the comfort of their home. Success followed and before long, they’d open their 2nd outlet in Forus, outside a gas station, this time with a seating area (decor not unlike a Little Chef) and dubbed it a Japanese diner. It’s the KISS philosophy, super-fresh fish in a minimalist environment.

To digress a little: In addition to the oil rush, this region of Norway has produced a legacy of Bocuse D’Or winners. Yes, the ‘Chef Olympics’ for aspiring young chefs (under 22) which takes place every other year in Lyon. Not quite the glamour of the annual World Best 50 back-slapping exercise that just received its 2012 update (which Noma still tops, but blasphemous that Sukiyabashi Jiro and The Sportsman didn’t even make Top 100) , but it is perhaps a more honest kind of gastronomical boast.

Njål had tried (and failed) to invite me to his last two openings, but with the 3rd one in Sandnes ready to rock, I thought I’d make a concerted effort to drop in. BMI flights were relatively cheap this time of year, it was the better half’s first time in Norway, so we booked our flights and off we went.

Our first lunch stop wasn’t for sushi, rather it was for a spot of traditional Norwegian grub at Lura Turistheim. Or as it was explained to me – Original Norwegian fast food. Pre-cooked, simmering in buffet vats, the Viking equivalent of the British chippy.

On the plate was kumle, or potata balls, with crackling chips, Norwegian sausage and salted pork ribs. I had a choice of either a butter sauce or fat. I chose the latter.

It’s almost like a sport for Norwegians to jest at foreigners attempting the ‘challenge’ of wolfing down the traditional dish. To Njål surprise, I actually quite enjoyed it, it wasn’t as stogy as it looked! Probably because it was redolent of some dim sum dishes I grew up with like lo mai gai (steamed & stuffed glutinous rice wrapped in lotus leaves) and pan-fried turnip cake. I suppose the other European cousin is the gnocchi.

I ate kumle with recommended lashings of syrup and with mustard. I washed everything down with a glass of soured milk called Tine Mjölk, like a very thin lassi. I know it all sounds odd, but oddly enough, this combo worked well together. I can almost glimpse a version of this dish being considered for re-invention as part of the New Nordic movement.

I’ve been to my fair share of launch parties, but this is the first one where I fulfilled my stereotype of the Chinese guy fresh off the boat, who didn’t speak the language. I laughed when the room laughed (presumably when Njål cracked a joke in his speech) and I raised mine when everybody else raise their glasses and belted ‘skål!’ – presumably to drink to the opening of the Sandnes branch of Sabi Sushi.

Norway is near enough an ideal location to start a sushi restaurant. Firstly, harnessing all that wonderfully fresh Norwegian seafood is almost a no-brainer. Then, there’s all the oil money Rogaland is awash with (lowest unemployment rate in the nation), and thirdly, there’s hardly any competition (yet) as the eating out culture is only just catching up to the economy boom in the area. The only unknown is whether raw fish will integrate into Norwegian palates as they have done over here in London.

Pan-fried Norwegian scallops, black tobiko on a salad of marinated crab and seaweed – North Sea on a plate, perhaps?

It may be a biased sample size – comprised mostly of local movers and shakers – but it did appear that Norwegians have a huge appetite for sushi. I didn’t meet any Stavanger food bloggers, though it was a pleasure to speak with one of the founders of Stavanger Expats.

Look at the colour of the tuna and salmon – striking yes?

This is what the missus and I managed to muster from the buffet. Considering it was a buffet, the food was pumped out to a high spec. Though I did feel that the rice while good was turning so cold that the inherent stickiness had the individual grains starting to agglomerate into a ball of glue (they did serve 2000 pieces of nigiri that night..). However it was accurately seasoned.

The fish were notably fresh, particularly the salmon. Really smooth, silky and fragrant, perhaps some of the best raw salmon ever to grace vinegared balls of rice. The hamachi, halibut (by Sterling) , scallop, seaweed were all bursting with sweetness. I also loved the over-sized shrimp tempura doused with a spicy cream sauce, not disimilar to Nobu’s signature (but tiny) rock shrimp tempura.

The Sabi owners have obviously capitalised on the fact that they have such easy access to the abundance of high quality fish which come to shore literally minutes away from their restaurants. Norway after all, is an early pioneer of aquaculture, and the quality of the industry’s handiwork is apparent.

I also tried whale sashimi for the first time. Pan-fried (I think) and marinated (with a sort of soy-based sauce) but served rare in the centre. It was incredibly tender, very similar to venison or even ostrich. Yes, my conscience does feel guilty (feel free to bash me with your comments) , but honestly, my curiosity compelled me to give it a try. I didn’t regret it and I won’t lie, I did enjoy it.

The evening ending with a curious comedian singing a bunch of cheesy american classics.

The next day, we went off to PastaPasta for some Italian pizza. This one made with pesto marinated scampi, onions, artichokes, mushrooms, parmesan and mozzarella was pretty incredible. I chatted with the owner, Ståle Johnsen, who was speaking about his admiration for Pizza East’s fabulously rustic decor (and Mozza-style pizzas, ohh that semolina base..). He was real stoked when I told him the warehouse-like building was once used by Lipton to process and package tea in the 30s.

Anyway, his pizzas use 00 flour, and are given ample time for the dough to rise. They spend about 4 minutes in the oven – a tad long but there’s no wood fire oven here. Not quite Franco Manca or Pizza East, but still the base was thin, crispy and pretty good. The scampi topping was amazingly good however. A little spicy too. It’s that Norwegian seafood again, simply awesome. He tells me that pizza in Norway is difficult to get off the ground, since all the Italian imports from the mozzarella to the salami have ridiculously high import taxes slapped across it. That translates to 169 NOK for this pizza. Roughly £18. Then again, the cost of living in Norway (and much of Scandinavia) is incredibly high relative to Britain anyway.

Norwegian ‘Gourmet’ pizza is probably still in the infant stages, but while we’re on the topic of rapidly gourmet-rised fast food, burger-fever does not appear to have penetrated this part of Europe yet.

In the evening, we headed back for round two at Sabi Sushi. Yup, clean Scandinavian furnishings in this diner. In fact, I met the carpenter who had put together most of the furniture for the restaurant – he’s very young, grew up in the area. The group’s head chef, Roger and the Sandnes general manager Ole had teamed up to create a one-off Japanese-Norwegian fusion dinner. A prototype for their future expansion plans. Suggestions of a small 20-cover ‘premium’ version of Sabi, not geared toward take-away.

Ain’t this cute? The menu was printed on a chopstick holder – 8 courses.

Amuse: Fried salmon skin, cucumber.

Oddly, this reminded me of the tempura shrimp amuse/non-starter at Le Chateaubriand.

Course 1: Sterling white halibut, lime, wasabi cream, black tobiko, bean sprouts.

Shredded from fresh wasabi too. Cutting acid of the lime, a cooling spiciness of the wasabi, along with ultra smooth halibut. Wow.

Course 2: Cold smoked Salmon (over apple wood), egg cream, asparagus, ponzu sauce.

Reminiscent of tsar-cut salmon – this is what edible silk tastes like. The gentle smoking gave it a very faint whiff of fruity wood. Powerful citrus from the ponzu and what appears to be a half-baked bearnaise. A wedge of asparagus for texture. If anything, this dish illustrated the sheer quality of Norwegian salmon. Aside from the liquorice salmon dish at Fat Duck, I don’t think I’ve quite eaten such amazing salmon.

Course 3: Seared scallops, oyster foam, broad beans, wasabi mayo, daikon.

Sensational salmon was followed by phenomenal scallops. So sweet, I could have eaten it raw. Some felt the wasabi mayonnaise was a little too much, but I quite liked it. It was spicy and really eggy.

Course 4: Norwegian Langoustines, wasabi butter sauce.

This was the OMG dish. I was told that they were caught in the mid afternoon and delivered to the restaurant at 5pm, just three hours before dinner. Served with a sort of clarified butter sauce made with something zesty and some wasabi. It looked like it was blanched to just the right side of cooked. The inherent sweetness was breathtaking, clearly these were the juiciest crustaceans to swim in Norwegian waters. I was told by neighboring guests that the key to the sweetness was the timing between cooking and being fished out of the water, before the death toxins take its toll on breaking down the muscles. Relatively cheap in Norway, readily available …I cried for one more, the missus cried for two more, but to no avail!

Course 5: Nigiri of otoro, salmon, maguro.

At half-way point, we were treated to a selection of Sabi Sushi’s bread and butter dishes. Or nigiri and maki I should say. Tuna – maguro and toro – and salmon pre-slathered with soya sauce (so I didn’t have to, but could if I wanted to – a homage to a certain London sushi bar). The otoro was flab-tastic, cut up the day before from a 19kg tuna caught off the Sri Lankan coast. Like all good otoro, the experience was a mesmerizing mouthful of oozing buttery flavour – so good that it is this very sensation that is enough to threaten the very existence of the fish itself. The rice was warmer on the 2nd day, clearly more pampered than during the launch party, resulting in a loose texture and exhibiting the usual melt in the mouth textures I associate good sushi with.

Course 6: Maki of salmon toro, salmon with tempura and cucumber, soft shell crab with avocado.

I really enjoyed the salmon belly tartare – so well mashed and fatty, it was nearing the texture of a smoothie. Full of flavour. Tempura batter rolled into maki is always a genuinely addictive proposition.

Course 7: Ginger sorbet.

As opposed to pickled ginger. Interesting twist.

Course 8: Reduction of chicken jus, spring onion, carrot.

Not sure if this actually qualifies as a course per say, but it was eye-opening. A KO punch of chicken jus.

Course 9: Dutch Wagyu, foie gras, pastry of pickled oyster mushrooms with Sabi sauce, shiso leaf.

1st impression – Japanese Tournedos Rossini!

Dutch wagyu – this was a first for me. Sirloin was used, cooked to medium rare and sliced thinly like a carpaccio, unfortunately a little too thin for me to tell tell how tender it was. The teriyaki based sauce and the foie gras masked rather than enhanced the natural beef flavours completely, so I couldn’t really tell what it tasted like either. Personally, I would have preferred if it was served as a cube, or at least cut just a little thicker. Frankly though I really wished there was more of it. I think this could have worked better if it were served a little more rare (or even raw).

It was nice enough, but I felt it could have been better. I couldn’t help comparing it to the excellent Wolfgang Puck wagyu steak sashimi recipe. The oyster mushroom pastry/spring roll on the other hand was quite nice.

Course 10: Banana, chocolate ‘tray’ with melted chocolate, banana, passionfruit and coconut ice cream.

Aka: The Pacojet course. I was mocked for not knowing what this gizmo was! Heston has one in his kitchens. Basically a pacoject is a really powerful mixer, with a sharp blade that spins at 2000rpm. For making ice cream, this cuts up all the rough ice chips into a superiorly smooth frozen mouse.

Indeed, this was a superiorly silken coconut ice cream. No ice crystals as promised. The chocolate was made by a Chocolatier local to the area, but I failed to get the name. Both were very good. Fruit, chocolate and ice cream reminded me of Le Chateaubriand yet again. Personally, I would have preferred to see a slice of grilled banana instead of it being served with either a pastry or battered wrap – The smell of cooked bananas always makes for a thriller – , but otherwise it was a pleasant end to the lengthy meal.

Of course, this menu is still work in progress, but I think the restaurant certainly has got all the necessary building blocks to mold into something special. If anything, it’s certainly an interesting glimpse into the future of Stavanger’s fusion dining scene. For me, it was pleasant (if short) gastro-getaway to a region which is just developing a taste for quality international cuisines. A little surreal to see what was a conversational topic a year earlier now fully realised as a thriving group of restaurants. It will be interesting to see how it evolves over the next couple of years.

In some ways, the minimalist-high quality approach (See Wabi-Sabi for Japanese Aesthetic) is reminiscent of Tom Byng’s no-bullshit ethos in building his ever expanding Byron empire. I still tell people how I had once sampled their now defunct (but original) Byron sliders way back in ’08 (my writing was as cringe-worthy as it is today) when there were only 2 branches. Hard to imagine that back then, Byron came behind GBK and Hache. Now they’re up to 22 branches and still growing.

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I have asserted in the past that Bryn Williams is the most underrated chef in Britain, and that I’ve wanted to return to his restaurant, Odette’s to delve deeper in his cooking, beyond the GBM dish that sent his career into overdrive.

Perhaps it is because his restaurant is in a tucked away location (in Primrose Hill) , and that it’s a little old fashion which is probably why it doesn’t receive the same kind of attention which centrally located counterparts may enjoy.

Odette’s has also been in the same spot since ’78, albeit changing ownership many times over the years, before Vince Power took over the reigns in 2006 and lured the young chef away from the clutches of the Galvin Brothers. Bryn has since bought the restaurant out, and has been Chef Patron since late 2008. If those walls could speak. I just think there such romance to Odette’s. You can’t beat heritage (no matter how patchy) and I think history is embodies the ideals of a neighbourhood restaurant. Food is part skill, but also part nostalgia. White bread, ketchup and bashed fillet steak with black pepper might not be ‘gourmet’ but the smell of pan-fried steak always takes me back to my childhood Sunday lunches.

The ambiance (and by extension the leafy neighbourhood locale of sleepy cafes & pet shops) is cocooned and cosy but most of all, the cooking is slick as snails. My first visit to Odette’s was in 2010, after trying Bryn’s lamb and mint at the 2010 Taste of London. I revisited late last year for one of his Sunday Supperclubs , which Bryn personally hosts. During both visits, I loved the cooking.

Curiously, it is also one of the most reasonably priced ‘fine dining’ menus on the circuit. The 6 course taster is £50. Set lunches menus could be had for as low as £17. Granted Bryn has been cooking at Odette’s for nearly six years now, the bib has yet to bestow any macaroons, but maybe its a good thing. After all, this is a small-scale restaurant which would have been worthy of keeping as a secret in the good old days before blogs.

I had returned to try the full tasting menu, expecting something extra-ordinary. But like all restaurants I hype up, I was a little nervous that my own over-excitement may lead to inevitable disappointment…! Thankfully – pre-empting the following waffle- all fears were utterly unfounded, as the meal was completely enjoyable.

Unlike the first 2 visits, Bryn wasn’t in the kitchen for this meal. I was told he was on vacation in St Lucia, and front of house noted that ‘the guy [in chef robes] who just walked past is head chef today’. Don’t know his name, can’t find it online, but if you do, please let me know.

I drank a glass of 2008 Munoz de Toro by Bonarda. Argentinian. It was ok, fruity, medium bodied, sweet, got the job done at £6.50 for the glass.

Now that I’ve suddenly become ‘wine-aware’ (or Bordeaux-aware to be exact) ever since I started my BBR cellar plan, I’m studying wine lists in more detail. I feel that I have more meaningful things to say about it these days. (As opposed to nothing at all in the past.)

For me, the wine list appears to favour light & fruity styles. The (red wine) list is short features a number of Beaujolais, Old World and New World Pinots. Ch Musar, a Lebanese wine, is always a good pick. Their 1st wines are affordable if you consider the price of top Bordeaux these days and usually are a good pick (I do recall usually paying no more than £30 for a bottle, for most vintages). Though I’ve never tried the ‘Jeune’ range, which appears to be the estate’s 2nd wine.

At the top end is the ’98 Haut-Bages Averous. A lovely wine from a well reputed Chateau. I actually drank a bottle of this exact wine a few weeks ago. The 2nd wine (now renamed as ECHO) of the famous Bordeaux 5th Growth, the Lynch-Bages estate. Affectionately the ‘lunch-bags’ which are notably popular in Britain, and in the 1st class cabin of Cathay Pacific flights. For me, the wine has a wonderfully opulent nose that fills the room immediately after opening. Decanting does not appear to enhance the wine (as if writing), as I would imagine that at 14 years of age, it is drinking well right now. Berry fruits, just a tad of acidity and just a touch of pencil lead. Very grippy tannins even after 2 hour decant (and I think I did it correctly), but for some reason, I felt the wine was more ‘invigorating’ straight out of the bottle.

At £121, that’s almost a 3x mark-up from retail. I paid £45 at Robersons.

Course 1: Crispy duck egg, baked celeriac, truffle salad

I swapped the mackerel course for this one, because the duck egg sounded more exciting. Plus, who can turn down truffle.

The styling was very minimal, a crisped crusted duck egg with a yolk that’s just starting to gel to a creamy custard. Immediately, the lovely smoky perfume of truffle was evident.

I’m guessing that the egg was sitting on a salad of chopped celeraic, it’s sharp like mustard seeds and lemon juice, just beautiful balanced against the creamy yolk. Extremely appetising. I think the lingering flavour of truffle was what did it for me. I know, egg and truffle, not a new combo, but this one was executed so well.

Shall I go for it? Yeah it’s go for it – Like an elegantly deconstructed scotch egg built for the most delicate of palates. Ohh…

This rivaled the excellent Copitas version of Duck egg and truffle.

Course 2: Pig’s head & black pudding terrine, crackling, pickled mushroom

Fabulous depth of flavour! Like brawn rubbed in rock salt, I detect just a tinge of spice within the layers of black pudding. Like curry powder. The terrine was in total contrast to the sharp apple puree. Clean, crisp, precision bombing of intense flavours. Very focused stuff.

Course 3: Roast turbot, braised oxtail, cockles & samphire

Ah yes, the mythical Great British Menu winner … appears to have been tweaked! The cockle foam gone and replaced with a rich sticky sauce. Very salty, very intense, a little mineral, sandy and like seawater, perhaps this reduction was also made from cockles. Also redolent of Chinese abalone and oyster sauce. The turbot was fried with a perfectly crispy shell, but just wonderfully under-cooked in the middle for extra flakiness. The samphire and cockles gave the illusion like I was dragging my mouth along a sandy beach. Lovely reminder of the Welsh seaside. Oh Tenby, I miss you so.

Course 4: Roast mutton, pickled salsify & mint …

… and Shepherd’s pie on the side. Correction, the best shepherd’s pie on the side. Very mellow flavours, a light mash and a beautiful mince soaking in rich roasting juices.

The mutton exuded a stealthy gaminess, but really it was the mint sauce that lifted this dish. It tickled the tongue and just distracted from the natural strength of the mutton.

My only dislike were the pickled salsify. Much too sweet, nearly sugary and just threatening to derail the overall zen of the dish.

At some point, I felt this was like mutton dancing with different flavour partners as I moved from one end of the dish to the next. Almost I do feel the shepherds pie is very special. Just a good roast. Colourful. Could be a contender for a perfect Sunday afternoon roast.

Course 5: Selection of Welsh cheese, fruit chutney & bara brith

Correct me if I’m wrong, blue was Perl Las, the semi-hard was Caerphilly and the soft was Perl Wen. I liked the soft one the best, very creamy like a good camembert, but with jersey milk richness. Very sharp for a soft cheese. The fruit chutney was honey sweet, made with cranberries I think. Bara brith, or speckled bread, was very dense, not quite fruitcake, but more fruit bread. A generous cheese platter, considering it was rolled into the price of the taster.

Course 6: Pistachio cake, caramelised apples, calvados cream

Look at that. Isn’t it lovely? It looks like a spaceship! Such vibrant colours, matching the decor too. The cake was crumbly and rich in pistachio, the browed apple slices provided a lovely sharp contrast, but it was the well-whipped, spiked cream that made this pudding such a joy. A re-imagined rum-baba perhaps?

I paid £66.94 for the meal, plus an espresso. Good value considering the length of meal.

I will say though, out of 3 meals, I think service – while friendly – can be a little stiff and a bit of a mood killer. Maybe it’s the old fashioned ‘fine dining’ sensibilities kicking in, but considering its a neighbourhood restaurant, I think they can more than afford to loosen up a bit. Maybe a green shirt as opposed to the black uniform? In shiny green silk.

Short of laverbread, the menu is a lovely representative of Wales. Whoever the chef was on the day, I tip my hat, I thought he did a fine job. To sum up: I think Odette’s is elegant. I think the level of cooking is high enough to rival the capital’s trendiest restaurant, but it flies well below the radar with an admirable reticence. I think the cooking is rooted in classic styles, and it appears completely disinterested in chasing trends (eg: no shaved ice, ceviche raw fish, or beetroot cream). A refreshing change.

It does appear that Bryn knows exactly the kind of food he is comfortable cooking. Honing a signature style, to chip away at the identity of a body of work, in search for the perfect expression of an aforementioned style, is for me, the primary reason in visiting restaurants (ok, hyperbole over). Precise cooking, inspired by Welsh heritage. It’s almost nostalgic. So easy to love this kind of cooking, a kind of restaurant you could easily revisit, and most importantly, take friends to.

PS Bryn if you happen to read this: Please consider laverbread, cockles and bacon as a weekend brunch option.

The Gist of It

Odette’s
British, £65pp
130 Regent’s Park Road NW1 8XL
Tel: 020 7586 5486
Tube: Chalk Farm

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Rob & David’s eponymous restaurant has only just toasted its ten year anniversary. A decade and a bit, largely recognised as one of a handful of institutions of Iberian cooking in the business. Not forgetting the Eyre Brother’s first effort, The Eagle, which has already entered the annals of culinary legend. It predates the rise of the Brindisas and – in certain respects – is seen to have nurtured its growth. After all, Jose Pizarro did spend his first years in London with this fine establishment. The restaurant celebrates cooking from the Iberian peninsula, with the roots established in Portuguese cooking. Perhaps due in no small part to David’s upbringing in Mozambique, a former Portuguese colony.

Today, there are many luminous representatives of Iberian cooking in the city, dare I say, that Spanish cooking has hit a high level of consistency. Whatever formula that may be applied to running successful Spanish restaurants which appeal to Londoners, has been perfected. Copita, Salt Yard, Jose/Pizarro and even the post-Pizarro Brindisas just to name a few of the current crop of small plate leaders all produce lovely food. Progress is inevitable, but I believe there’s always a sense of romance when visiting restaurants with a bit of history.

The Alpine cabin ambiance does remind me a little of Pizarro – Slick yet down to earth, with a long bar which entertains a more familiar menu of tapas. One which is adamantly self-proclaimed to be set apart from the ‘ersatz’ competition for its ‘gutsy flavours’. Croquetas, gambas, prego and tinned sardines. Here, tapas certainly do read more like bar snacks than full meals.

At the dinner table, the civilised ALC is laid out as three course meals. Starters include Spatchcocked quail cooked in sherry vinegar; Pressed Madeira and Porto-marinated foie gras. For mains Portuguese baked spiced rice with duck, chourico and smoked touchino; Globe artichoke with sauteed wild garlic, swiss chard and peas on a spinach pancake; Grilled Mozambique tiger prawns piri-piri, pilaf rice, cucumber, coriander and sherry vinegar.

Anchovies, pimientos, olives, capers toast and a soft boiled egg, £7.00.

I started with something easy, opting for what essentially is anchovies on a bit of toast. The anchovies were certainly gutsy. So salty I washed down each bite with half a glass of tap water. I have to confess, the dish is a little boring, one could say it feels home-made, but with so many preserved ingredients on the same plate, I was yearning for something warm and freshly cooked (like clams).

Grilled fillet of acorn-fed Iberico Pig, marinated with smoked paprika, thyme and garlic. Patatas probres – Oven potatoes with green peppers, onions, garlic and white wine, £21.00.

This sort of pink pork was novel and bold at one time, but now its nearly commonplace. A regular fixture at Parle’s Dock Kitchen, and unsurprisingly, there’s a cut down version of simply grilled ruby red dollops of iberico fillet at Jose’s sherry bar.

I could be wrong, but this particular dish – in essence a David Eyre signature – may have kicked it all off. The pork had a wonderful fragrance about it, it certainly is not innocent like the rest of its non-acorn fed brethren, and ultimately its accompanying flavour profile is much more intense.

After all, these are cut from the prized pigs with body fat that ooze like the most complex of olive oils. Sizzling, hearty and rustic. With a buttery tenderness that melts on the fork. I noted the lovely colours of the potatoes and the juices it were bathed in. A creamy beige akin to a flowing wedding dress. Like a blushing black pig wrapped in satin. The residual heat of the potatoes were fabulous. Heavily seasoned and I hazard a guess, that it is only made more complex by absorbing some of the lovely juices from the pork. A wonder to eat.

It’s terribly elegant, classic and a sterling example of meat and potatoes. There were so many flavours swirling around the plate, but perhaps just one too many. My palate was slowly overcome with spiciness, which eventually drowned out the natural flavour of the pork. Only just approaching the wrong of queasy as I finished the plate.

Perhaps I have grown accustomed with Jose’s version served simply with a few sprinkles of paprika, and much more daringly rare than this. Then there is Nuno Mendes’ addictive version served with a savoury Portuguese bread pudding. Both in my opinion do a better job of reigning in just enough to highlight the natural awesomeness of iberico pork. I think David’s signature dish is almost too rich, by comparison.

Burnt cooked cream, £6.00

To finish, a classic cooked cream fit for St Joseph’s day! Smooth cold vanilla custard encased in a caramelised sugary roof.

I paid £45 for food and a glass of Graciano. Eyre Brothers is a certainly a solid restaurant, food is mostly good, if a touch rich, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing, for those of you who still enjoy a kip after a big meal. There is an unshakable sense of nostalgia, or more accurately, a sense that I have visited a precursor to the current state of affairs. I feel that its younger counterparts have eclipsed its classic offerings with lighter and more playful interpretations of Iberian cooking. However, it doesn’t change the fact it is still a classic.

The Gist of It

Eyre Brothers
Iberian £50pp.
70 Leonard St. EC2A 4QX
Tel : 02076135346
Tube : Old Street

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Ah …Easter weekend. We drove all the way to the Sidmouth coast, to marvel at the bronze cliffs, seagulls and took in other bits of Devon (like Beer) while we were there too. Aside from M.Caines’ iron grip on Exeter dining (We did eat at his restaurant at ABode Exeter, but not worthy of a write-up imho) , we were on the look out for something decidedly local.

I couldn’t secure a last minute booking at La Petite Maison nor did we try a Rick Stein chippy, but instead we made time for this well-regarded humble fish & chip shop located on premises at Darts Farm in Topsham.

Curiously the farm is a set of modern looking buildings which hosts an Cotswold outdoors shop as well as an AGA outlet. It certainly looks more like the facade of a leisure centre than a traditional farm. Started initially by Roland Dart 40 odd years ago as a small hut selling produce to the locals, it’s now morphed into a major food hub in Devon.

I suppose if Wholefoods were to expand their influence, Darts Farm would be the ideal candidate to mount a take-over. Inside, the main shop floor sells local produce, a local (award-winning) butcher and a cider & ale corner. I do regret not picking up a bottle of aged cider brandy!

The Fish Shed is very modest, literally run from a shed extended out from the main shop building. There’s an al fresco area, but there were also tables right inside the food shop looking out to the shed.

The owner is Dave Kerley, a one-time scallop diver and so has insight into securing the best available fish for his chippy. They claim to only ever cook fish which is caught & landed from nearby Lyme bay on the same day (or within 12 hours) , ensuring freshness and quality.

Naturally his daily prepped beer batter (finished in a fryer filled with beef dripping) has been lauded and ultimately led to whispers as one of the best fish & chip shops in the country. In addition to the greasy option, all fish can be served grilled.

On the day we visited, the option for lobster & chips wasn’t available (perhaps Devon Lobsters weren’t yet in season), but there was a pretty wide range of fish available including cod, brill, haddock, monkfish, lemon sole and john dory.

Fish cakes and sausage (with chips) was also on the menu, but we avoided. Everything came served in sturdy take away boxes labelled “The Great British Take Away”. Nice.

Beer Battered Cod (£7.15) , chips (£2.75) & mushy peas (£0.80).

The bubbling and crispy golden batter was very light and immediately appealing. Already well-seasoned so only the lightest dabble of salt was necessary. The batter certainly tasted quality (and clean) , not overly greasy and on the lighter side.

The fish was tremendously moist and flaky, it certainly was eye-openingly fresh! I’m no fisherman, so have no idea about the likelihood of cod caught off Devon (maybe deeper seas?). But whatever the case, 3 out of 4 of us had the battered cod and we were all cooing with delight. Certainly one of the best fried fish to my tastes.

The other half decided against deep fried fish, and opted for her John Dory to be grilled. We also noted the supple freshness of the fish. Incredible stuff.

Chips were thick cut, fluffy and golden. They were alright. Mushy peas were a bit of a let down I thought, a little deflated and dry.

Scallops, £7.70.

Devon scallops are tiny …but god were these good! Not over-grilled, and just perfection! Really fresh, and amazingly sweet. Could have had two more boxes of them.

I don’t want to turn this into an opera, but I did really like The Fish Shed. Regret not making a return visit the next day. London restaurants blog posts may saturate the internet these days, but it’s slim pickings when it comes to finding decent places outside of the M25.

Anyway, if you’re headed to Exeter anytime soon, I think it’s worth dropping by Darts Farm for lunch. I’m not a chippy expert but I will say that for me personally, the visit to the Fish Shed was certainly worth the 3 hour drive.

The Gist of It

The Fish Shed
Fish & Chips £15pp.
Darts Farm, Topsham, Exeter EX3 0QH
Tel : 01392 878200

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