comensal, clapham - review

The day I get tired of treating my palate to the sensational combination of lime, salt, beans, chilli, cheese, corn and coriander, will be the day I’m tired of life. There are few other cuisines that get me as animated, or can boast the same amount of vibrancy and energy within their dishes. Tease me with even a hint that a good Mexican might have opened in my neck of the woods, and I’ll be there before they’ve barely turned the gas on.

It’s something London lacks, I feel. Enough good Mexican restaurants. Lupita and Mestizo are certainly decent. I’ve given several chances to Wahaca and have left mostly underwhelmed, but with a matchbook of chilli seeds - silver linings. I’m yet to try Boho Mexica. La Bodegra Negra lost me at 'sex shop'. Few others have captured much of my attention.

The village-esque idyll of Abbeville Road lies at the heart of SW London’s “Nappy Valley” district - a handsome street to the east of Clapham Common, occupied by artisan producers, quaint cafés and restaurants, premium estate agents flaunting properties most can do little more than gaze wistfully at, and a lot of new mothers congregating at coffee mornings and lunches. It is here - alongside the likes of reputable butchers The Ginger Pig - that you’ll find London’s newest Mexican bar and restaurant, Comensal.

There are a lot of good things going for this place before the food even passes your lips. It’s independent and family run, the brainchild of John Sim and Cati Bego who met in Mexico City (and are due to marry); Cati has a background running successful restaurants there. Cati is Mexican, and her mother smashes up the guacamole to order out the back in a traditional molcajete (mortar) carved from exceptionally heavy volcanic rock - they get through 12 boxes of avocados a day. 

The well stocked bar has been paved with hand-painted tiles imported from Guadalajara. It has outdoor seating and those floor-to-ceiling folding doors. They open until midnight every day. The Head Chef, Eduardo Santiago, is from Mexico City and in the UK has worked at The Wolseley and The Reform Club. The bar man is from Mexico City. The staff converse in Spanish. Some clientele were on their second and third visits, and it already has regular solo diners propping up the bar, after being open for just two weeks.

The food - well, it was great. There was that mountain of zippy and chunky mama-made guacamole with thick tortilla chips that actually taste of corn (£10.50). The fish (salmon, cod, tialpia) in the tower of ceviche were almost completely opaque thanks to the denaturing lime - I’m used to it a little more raw but it’s ‘there take’ on the classic and it’s nothing short of fine with me, especially with the flourish of chipotle-infused oil (£9).

Cactus-filled tacos - with tomatoes, onions, coriander and lime - were excellent. Sharp and sour, the soft tortilla casings folded up and around the filling, half shoved in my mouth, sucking on the citrus juices with one eye closed, trickles burning a tiny cut in my hand. Give me twelve and watch me clear them (£6.45 - 3).

Braised pork-filled tacos, soft and spiced, with more hot salsa and lashings of lime, were very good (£6.95 - 3). A side of voluptuous black beans and kidney beans met the need for a pulse fix.

A chicken dish boasting breast meat will always carry with it the risk of lacking in flavour and the wrong texture. I tend to steer clear, but the promise of a green tomatillo sauce on the enchiladas suizas was not one to ignore, and from a plate less colourful than its predecessors, came some great eating. Soft and slightly chewy tortillas, with a sour and subtly hot sauce speckled with seeds from the fruit, tender white meat, crumbled and melted Oaxaca cheese. It was hugely pleasurable (£13.95).

I entertained dessert with little intention other than to sample a bite. But the Mexican rice pudding - thick and with cinnamon - was just a bit too good to leave alone (£3.75).

Then there are a whole host of spirits, 100% agave tequilas, mezcales, and cocktails that tart these up with things like pomegranate, bitters and hibiscus syrup (Mexican Cloud, very nice - £8). Special mention must be given to Manuel, the Spanish waiter owning front of house - compact, quick, warm, always smiling, and with a beautiful accent. I was close to putting him in my pocket and taking him home. When you hug your waiter on leaving a restaurant, you know you’ve received good service.

Mexican food should be fearless and seductive, demand your full attention and encourage you to succumb to the pleasures of life. I found this in Comensal, and I’m so pleased it’s here.

Liked lots: wonderful food and atmosphere, great welcome from John and Cati and sensational service from Manuel, vibrant interiors, being surrounded by customers fawning over the food
Liked less: I'll get back to you.
Good for: spending late sultry summer evenings at, squinting over glorious lime-soaked bites and too much mezcale

My rating: 4/5

Find the menu on Zomato.

Note: I was invited as a guest to review this restaurant.

Afiyet olsun.

 

zumbura, clapham - review

The first thing you’ll notice about Indian restaurant Zumbura - nestled in the well-to-do idyll of Clapham Old Town - is that in almost every way, it does not feel like an Indian restaurant. 

The interiors: no linen, leather bound menus, chandeliers, or sitar recordings. Instead, a vivid ceiling butterfly-and-birdscape, and deep turquoise and bare brick walls embellished with wild flowers in slim glass vases. 

There’s a wooden bar of organic form laden with ingredients used in the kitchen including the namesake fruit zumbura (pomelo in Urdu) and fresh tamarind. The crockery is beautiful, imperfect, handmade, and purchased from a local pottery. Brass light fittings with bare bulbs adorn the walls, chairs are seemingly salvaged classroom-style wood and metal, and there’s a presence of shabby chic nick-nacks.

It feels altogether South American to me, reinforced by the large and full-on Argentinian family force at the table one over having a rollicking time in Spanish, and another table of three Spanish friends. They even have tequila on the after-dinner digestif menu.

The agreeable interiors can no doubt be attributed to the trio behind the enterprise - co-founders of furniture retailer Dwell, Aamir Ahmad, Sean Galligan and David Garrett. The kitchen and the food cooked in it often make the heart of a home, so whilst sidestepping from the furniture business to restaurateur seems a little off-tangent, I suppose a (tenuous) link could be argued.

The staff: an absence of any sub-continental front-of-house. 

The food: clean, sprightly, fresh, vibrant; small plates intended for sharing, Indian-tapas style. There are no superfluous and sorry-looking lettuce plate adornments. There is no poppadom fodder to make you thirsty and order more alcohol. There are no layers of oil pooling on the surface of sauces (I know people who stick the edge of a serviette in to absorb the excess sin before eating).

Chef Raju Rawat (previously in the kitchens of Bombay Bicycle Club, The Cinnamon Club and Michelin-starred Benares) was drafted in to help achieve Ahmad’s vision: to create a British Indian restaurant authentic to the cooking found in traditional Punjab homes, without the customisation so often used to appease western palates at the detriment of dishes. 

If his intention is for the food to taste like no other found in Indian restaurants, then based on my restaurant repertoire, he’s nailed it.

Spinach and onion pakoras, battered in chickpea flour and lightly fried were entirely without grease, blisteringly hot straight from the oil, sporting a flourish of fresh coriander and nothing short of a delight dipped into the tart and sour imli (tamarind) and green chutneys (£4.50).

A nod to the Indian street-side favourite that is chaat - bread fried to a crisp and puffed rice, doused in a calming yoghurt and a piquant ginger tamarind sauce, and entertaining a mix of tangy, salty spices - one of my favourite plates and one for the teeth as much as the taste buds (£4.50).

Potato cakes were smooth and delicately spiced rounds, providing a further great medium for the zippy chutneys (£4.50)*, and the chapli kebabs were handsome, dark and slightly charred disks, soft patties of beef kneaded with garlic, ginger and spices (£7.50)*. Breaking either of these apart revealed the still-vibrant presence of component ingredients - coriander leaves, onions. It all feels like it was made moments before, and probably was.

Firm and nutty kala chana (black chickpeas - my favourite form of this pulse and incidentally, my preferred choice when making humous) braised over time with onion and mango powder was an earthy, wholesome bowl of texture and flavour (£4.50). A yellow daal cooked with curry leaves and garlic, was thick enough to hold its form when spooned onto a plate (£4), the bowl quickly excavated with the help of warm parathas and naan making up the bread selection (£4.50).

* these portions include three pieces - we were given two (as seen in the photos) as were sampling many dishes for the purpose of the review.

Opaque hunks of coley spiked with mustard seeds and fenugreek was great (£8.50), with basmati assisting the mopping of the sauce. The kullia stew of lamb and turnip was arrestingly aromatic, with sweet and slightly translucent hunks of root veg, flaking meat, bones to suck on, and the sort of gravy cleared so completely, kitchen staff may well have wondered if they had put anything in the bowl in the first place (£7.50).

For a sweet close, there are a handful of traditional desserts - chilled rice pudding with cardamom, buttery semolina, and gajar ka halwa - a very nicely done warm and creamy amalgamation of grated carrot, milk and sugar (not too much) topped with pistachios (£3.50). You won’t go far wrong with ice creams or sorbets either - pistachio intensely represented, mango fruity and refreshing (£3). 

I’m yet to mention I worked 30 seconds walk from Zumbura from the day it opened in November last year until I left that job in March this year. Colleagues tried it, but I never got round to paying a visit. Lost time, of which I will be making up for.

This is a great neighbourhood local offering something quite different to the rest of the Indian dining scene - finally the sort of Indian restaurant food you really could eat every day.

Liked lots: the completely different feel to other Indian restaurant in all aspects, wonderful staff
Liked less: I'll get back to you
Good for: eating great Indian without the associated ghee-laden self-loathing

My rating: 4/5

Afiyet olsun.

Note: I was invited as a guest to review this restaurant.

the dairy, clapham common - review

Clapham has played a big part in my adult life - I've worked there for seven years. I've danced on the sofas at Venn St. Records - and set my hair alight in the process. I've snuck into the office after nights out to ascend to the roof and gaze over our spectacular city. I've lived not too far away in recent times, making the transition from north of the river to south about four years ago - Clapham North, now Colliers Wood. And I (thankfully) managed to never make it to Infernos during that time.

But when it comes to Clapham's restaurant scene, there's not a huge amount to get excited about. There is Trinity - recognised as a high-end neighbourhood establishment doing great things with seasonal produce - it’s on my list. Mama Lan does a cracking spicy ribbon tofu ban mein with pickles, and The Rapscallion has served me a very good duck confit with puy lentils and pomegranate before. Down the high street - for couples with a carton of Waitrose wine for the common wearing matching Havaianas, in March (please don't) - a place with Dualit toasters on each table where you pay for the privilege of browning your own bread. And there’s a Byron Burgers opening soon.
Not a great deal of note then, until that was, the opening of The Dairy in March 2013.

Along with a number of other high-end restaurants in London and beyond, Chef Robin Gill and his wife Sarah (commandeering front-of-house) previously worked at Le Manoir aux Quat’ Saisons. They’re from Dublin, now living locally in Brixton, and with their team have created a destination dining experience. It’s put Clapham firmly on the culinary map with one of those flag-pins you stick in a cork-board print of the world to proudly display that you’ve visited somewhere. It's had a similar effect. Until two weeks ago, I worked a five minute walk from The Dairy. I’ve enjoyed brief and exceedingly pleasant weekday lunches there, but they were never the tasting menus and they were never with wine. It’s taken the removal of my daily existence in SW4 and me no longer walking past it each morning to finally secure a visit. The environment is that of conviviality and rustic charm - seating straight out of a 60’s school room, daffodils and rosemary sprigs in simple glass vases, the day’s menu printed on rough brown paper. The crockery is a shabby-chic mix of pretty porcelain, vintage metal, slate and heavy stoneware, with some plates requiring weight behind to shift - the waiters must have some impressive guns. The front half is occupied by bars and stools for off-the-cuff visits (if there’s space) and free-wheeling ordering - expect to fidget as the seats are not the most ergonomic. At the rear you’ll find reservations for more intimate and private groups at the seemingly salvaged tables. We began with a swathe of green - hisby cabbage, crisped cavolo nero, ripe Nocellara olives. House lardo with spring white truffle, wild garlic and crunchy puffed rice stole my nose before my stomach - I stuck it right in and took a long and heady sniff. Several shades of earthy carrot slithers grown in the roof garden came with aerated buttermilk, sweet carrot purée, a small but intense crumbling of pristine goat’s cheese and toasted honeyed nuggets of nutty granola - each mouthful was a thrill.

Bread was broken over the table with the assistance of a knife - a mound of hot-from-the-oven sourdough - the breached crust bellowing puffs of steam. On this bread we alternated between the slathering of house butter whipped up with smoked bone marrow, and the satiny chicken liver parfait. Leave me alone with this scene for the remainder of the evening and I would have left just as happy. The unrivalled savoury pleasure unique to crisped fat was found in the hunks of fried chicken skin with a still soft layer beneath, baby courgettes that had felt the briefest heat treatment, and slippery wild mushrooms. Then there was a compact package of well-cooked seabass, swiss chard and bonito butter, followed by a Pollock-esque arrangement of smoked cod with glossy mashed potato, sparkly orange roe, fresh nori leaves and some sorrel that, for some reason, was overpoweringly fishy and unwanted. 

The 32-day aged Irish onglet with firm cubes of squash and black cabbage had flirted with heat so momentarily that beyond the outermost half millimetre, the flesh was red raw. Not a problem, if the cutlery was adequate enough to tackle this. With nothing sharper in the vicinity than a curved butter knife with no hint of serration (I did ask), I used the tools I was given to tear the meat apart into manageable chunks. It was a challenge to masticate in this form - it needed half a minute longer in the pan. We still cleared it.

An extra £4.50 for a finger of truffled Brie on toast was a pungent, creamy and oozing delight. A clementine segment sporting char from a lick of flames along with a wonderful neutral brown butter ice cream and puffed up rice (like less sweet Sugar Puffs) was really very good. But the salted caramel, cacao and malted barley parfait was better - a dark and rich consortium of all things chocolate should be on a plate; crunchy bits, viscous melty bits, smooth truffly bits, sweet and salty bits. Totally stellar.

To bid us farewell, a vintage tin housing still-warm doughnut balls dredged with hibiscus-spiked sugar, fragile shards of buttery shortbread, and glittering little cubes of sour apple jelly.

The seven course tasting menu for £45 will in fact get you ten separate and perfectly portioned plates of food (including petit fours and other throw-ins received with much enthusiasm). I am yet to find elsewhere in London with this sort of price-point in exchange for the same finesse of kitchen skill, number of courses and quality of ingredients experienced. If you haven’t yet eaten at The Dairy, a visit should be high on your priority list. If you have, I suspect your next is already on the cards. Liked lots: excellent value tasting menu; quality of ingredients; creativity of courses; number of dishes; location - a great restaurant only four tube stops from my house - rejoice; staff; atmosphere and interiors; the bi-fold windows open fully and face the green of the common - perfect for languorous lunches on a warm day. Likes less: - We felt a little rushed towards the end of our meal but were handled very well - we were moved to the bar to make our table free for the next sitting and had to scoff the doughnuts whilst putting on our coats. It probably takes a little longer than 2 hours to work through so many dishes (particularly if the extra cheese course is ordered) and that needs to be taken into consideration. I do think we were there for 2.5 hours though - the perils of booking an early evening reservation.
- They need cutlery with which meat can be cut. - The building always seems to have a lot of condensation - I can imagine it getting a bit sticky towards the back on sultry summer evenings. Good for: romance; affordable tasting menus with no compromise on quality; a reason to venture to this part of town.

My rating: 4/5

Find the menu on Zomato.

Afiyet olsun.

roti joupa caribbean - review

  

'When de drink de rum, when de girl drink de rum
Dey only want roti, mix it up with some curry' 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sGMpr-quR7Q

Trinidadians love their curry and roti, it turns out. They even sing songs about it, which I highly approve of. Catchy ones too; I challenge you to listen to that and not move. Tonight, I was certainly drinking. Not rum, although it could have turned out that way if I had stayed out longer than I did. Mine's a vodka lime and soda if we're on the spirits. It was a good friends last day at work - he is moving to the country to start a new chapter in his life. It was his leaving drinks, and my stomach needed some lining.

While colleagues had noticed and even sampled the Caribbean Roti Joupa in Clapham North before, it only caught my attention when I saw it featured on Paul Hollywood's Bread series which is currently being aired. He paid Roti Joupa a visit to take a look at how they made a certain type of roti there called Bus-Up-Shut (here's a recipe for it I've found online if you're interested in having a go). There was a lot of technique involved of which Paul attempted and spectacularly failed at, followed by vigorous hitting with long sticks so the bread became crumpled and slightly shredded - hence the name sounding like 'bust up shirt'. This place is around a 10 minute walk from where I work and so was a perfect option for a, cheap, speedy and quality meal for the evening - roti and curry was exactly what I fancied.

Roti Joupa is mostly a take-away establishment but does have a few bar seats inside if you would rather eat before moving on, two of which Matt and I managed to secure. Wanting to see what we could get for £8 each (for the purposes of the blog), we probably over ordered and were presented with a huge amount of food. I ordered a portion of goat curry, bus-up-shot (roti), and a macaroni pie (baked macaroni). Matt ordered a chicken curry roti, poulourie (little balls of split pea flour fried and served in a thin sweet chutney sauce, usually mango or tamarind) and a hot double (fried bread filled with curried chickpeas - like a hot chickpea sandwich). We of course tried each others food for future reference.

chicken curry roti

hot double

pholouri

macaroni pie

bus-up-shut

The goat curry was my favourite - succulent chunky pieces of moist meat wonderfully spiced and eaten with the thick but light and soft bus-up-shot roti. A very pleasing combination. The chicken curry roti had generous amounts of meat and while it had a good flavour, I had definitely come out top with the goat as it wasn't quite on a par with it. The polourie balls would be quite dry and dense on their own but worked very well with the sweet sauce they were presented with. I expected the hot double to be in the form of two rounds of fried bread with the channa sandwiched in between, but the chickpeas seemed to be wrapped up in roti instead - I didn't mind as the bread here is excellent. The macaroni pie was a welcome mediation away from everything else and I happily dipped a fork in and out between mouthfuls of curry. We packed parts of what we couldn't finish tightly back into their foil wrapping, asked for a carrier bag and marched on back to the pub laden with doggy bags to consume when we would eventually get home.

This is a great choice in place of a filth-burger from the chicken shop when the stomach starts to rumble, and for the following reasons: it's truly authentically Caribbean and full of native regulars taking home good food reminding them of sunshine; while there's quite a bit of frying involved, the ingredients are of quality; the roti is truly excellent (if Paul Hollywood visited, you know it must be good); you can get serious bang for your buck; ; they play soca music while you wait. I'm going tomorrow at lunch time before another evening of drinks - I'm already looking forward to it.

Liked lots - bus-up-shut; goat curry; soca music playing; smiling staff
Liked less - lack of seats; homeless person sometimes staring at people eating through the glass
Good for - quick bite to eat; lining the stomach; sampling traditional Trinidadian cuisine

The bill

Me 

goat curry £5.00

macaroni pie £1.50

bus-up-shut £1.50

Total £8.00

Matt
curry chicken roti £5.00

hot double £1.50

poulouri £1.50

Total £8.00

Alfiyet olsun.