barrafina adelaide st, covent garden - review

I have a lot of love for the new Barrafina in Covent Garden. The sort of love that stems from envy. Envy that places like this are not the norm in this country, but are in ones I don’t live in.

I turned up a bit before opening time at 5pm, gazing longingly through the glass at the bar seating occupied by staff already in their kitchen whites, fuelling up on an early meal before a busy service. I pleaded with them, with palms and cheek pressed against the window, to let me in and let me have some of what they were having (in my mind, of course). 

I was eager and hungry, and the anticipation I had for eating their food had been mounting for days. I was really looking forward to it.

My pal and I walked around a while, returning at what seemed a more acceptable time to embark on an evening meal. Only a marginal improvement at 17.10, but there were already three people seated at the bar and into their first plate of tapas. 

We chose our two stools from the twenty-nine, anguished over a menu that is almost impossible to exercise much decision-making over (the additional specials board didn’t help), and were charmed by someone who talked us through the dishes and the wine. Fast forward little more than half an hour and the place was full, with people waiting in the wings for seats to become free by 6pm.

The affection I speak of is for the feel of the place, the atmosphere. The plancha sizzles and smokes and battle cries of whatever the Spanish equivalent of ‘Yes Chef!’ add to the cacophony. There’s a rippling excitement both behind and in front of the counter, from the love of what’s being cooked by the chefs, to the impatience to eat it all by the customers. 

It’s exciting, real and palpable, and a pleasure to be in the thick of. But let me tell you - in terms of the food, it didn’t blow me away. And I was expecting it to.

The pal in question is someone who’s lived and worked in different parts of Spain for some time. An ex of hers worked under Ferran Adrià; she knows her benchmark of excellent tapas, and spent most of her free time over there working her way through the best places to eat them. A good person to bring to the latest tapas edition in town that has everyone gushing. She too thought the food was ‘pretty good’, said with a voice of enthusiasm, ‘but it sort of ends there’.

Pan con tomate were fine, chunkier tomato than I’m used to (£2.80 each), but I’ve had better at La Mancha - a humble family-run Spanish restaurant all the way out in Chiswick with no PR fanfare. Pimientos de Padrón were also fine. I prefer more skin blistering, and too many of them were a little too hot for comfort, to the extent that the pal stopped eating them after three (£5).

Fried artichokes with alioli were pretty, brown and crisped up and fun to dunk into the mayo then drop whole into the mouth with head tilted back (£6.80). Suckling pig’s ears, served whole and fried, were fatty and rich and with more alioli (£6.50), but I prefer the cooking method at Duck & Waffle which essentially turn them into Frazzles, and who doesn’t love those. 

Prawn and bonito carpaccio could have been a lot lighter and brighter than it was. The quality ingredients were swamped by a pool of oil and citrus (which needed a hell of a lot more astringency), turning what should have been a zippy contrast to all the fatty pork elsewhere, to something heavier than it needed to be (£7). And a plate like that needs bread for mopping; you’ll need to order that extra (£2). But the raw prawns were wonderfully creamy, and the tuna firm and fresh.

Queen scallop ceviche fared better on the seafood front, zingy and delightful mouthfuls. They really are just mouthfuls though, and conservative ones at that (£3.50 each). Braised ox-tongue with crushed potatoes was another weighty plate. It needed something to lift the meat; perhaps winter greens instead of potato would have helped (£6.80).

We did attempt to pull ourselves out of the meat mire, with a tomato, fennel and avocado salad. It was much needed to help balance everything else, but not especially noticeable on its own merit (£7). 

Expect to find choice specials on the board, and to fork out for them. There are whole turbots, whole lobster - the lists are shared twice daily on the @BarrafinaADst twitter account. We indulged in a red "carabinero" prawn that can fetch up to £25 per critter, but on our visit were £16.50 size. 

Like I said, ‘a’ carabinero. We shared it between the two of us, however best a large gambas can be shared. After peeling away the shell, there was very little flesh to split (I did get the head though - result). I’d prefer to have a cheaper specimen on offer and get more of it with my meal. What was there was beautiful though, I’d expect nothing less at that price.

Also from the board, expertly fried little quail eggs atop good morcilla Iberica and piquillo peppers. A classic combination that doesn't fail, and easily replicated at home - once you’ve got the quality sausage. The best dish of the night was an exquisite flan with a coffee mousse, beautifully set, great flavours of vanilla and caramel; it was a positive note on which to close (£6.50).

I remembered towards the end of the meal -  before the flan but in the full aftermath of too many rich meats and not enough vegetables - that the crab croquettes had people singing their praises. So we got some - more cloying richness - and they were good (£4.50 for two). I’m sure I would have enjoyed them more if I’d eaten them earlier, but regardless, they were no match to the sensational ham croquettes at Fino.

And that’s where my summary of the evening comes to its conclusion; whilst I very much enjoyed the meal at Barrafina for the event that it was, I prefer Fino, the first enterprise from the same group. 

The idea of eating at a bar is fun and continental and makes us feel more European, but after three hours sitting on a backless stool, the spine gives in and it becomes uncomfortable. Of course, traditional tapas bars are not meant for lingering in for hours. You pop into one, savour a plate or two with a glass of sherry, throw your napkin on the floor, and move onto the next. So that discomfort is our own fault entirely. 

But it’s part of the reason I favour Fino; you get the tapas but in a bigger, more comfortable dining environment. That takes reservations. Sure, you miss out on all the action from the ktichen-table that Barrafina’s bar essentially is, but I’m willing to sacrifice that. 

More importantly, though, I think the food at Fino is better. I’ve been a number of times, and the simple aioli tortilla, their knock-out crab croquettes and that squid ink risotto never fail to make me swoon. There wasn't anything here that particularly stood out for me - except the flan. It’s worth noting I haven’t visited the first Barrafina, though, so I can't compare it with that.

I also need to mention my uncomfortable night’s sleep. I writhed in bed from 2am that night until well into the next day with a serious case of gurgle guts. I wasn’t ill, but my innards were far from right. I'm almost certain this wasn’t due to any fault of the restaurant, but instead our selection of a full range of dense protein and little fibre, that bubbled away in a toxic soup in my gut for most of the next day. The pal experienced a bit of the same.

I’m pretty sure I’d visit again, as there are still a lot of dishes I’d like to try. But I’d probably pop-in for just one or two plates and a glass of wine, and I suspect I’d enjoy it more because of it.

Liked lots: electric atmosphere, wonderful staff, great view into the open kitchen - it’s basically a chef’s table without the matching price tag
Liked less: there’s a lot of rich, heavy dishes on the menu - be careful not to over order on them
Good for: spontaneous and fleeting dining; going solo

My rating: 3.5/5

Find the menu on Zomato.

Afiyet olsun.

le restaurant de PAUL, covent garden - review

World domination can be achieved by the simple and time honoured act of baking, it turns out. Just take a look at PAUL bakery; few other brands are so synonymous with quality bread at such an international scale. 

From humble beginnings in 1889 as a small boulangerie in Croix near Lille, the business-turned-global-empire remains family-run, having passed through five generations in its 125 years, and can now be found in over 25 countries. I’ve witnessed first hand in Tokyo how the Japanese go mad for a crusty pain de campagne. But then, who doesn’t.

It is therefore probably safe to say the people behind PAUL know a thing or two about what goes with their daily-baked loaves. And so, at the back of the Covent Garden branch on Bedford Street, le restaurant de PAUL opened in July, serving traditional French cooking to compliment these breads. 

The space is a continuation of the bakery, styled with the theme of 'French antiques' complete with velvet chairs, marble-topped tables, ornate lighting fixtures and murals adorning the walls. You’ll find the classics that would be nothing less than sacrilege to omit on a menu traditionnel, including saucisses de Toulouse, soupe à l'oignon, baked Camembert, pâté de campagne, and andouillette for the adventurous. 

Then there are the likes of tomatoes stuffed with sausage and peppers stuffed with vegetables and rice, two weights of entrecôte, calves flank, roast chicken with tarragon, and baked salmon with vegetables.

No-cook plates such as the charcuterie ride on the success of the quality of ingredients. Here you’ll find a board laden with saucisson, jambon cru, coppa, rosette, terrine, pickled baby onions, cornichons and of course, PAUL bread. A joyous assembly. And the Camembert, relinquishing its molten innards at the de-robing of the milky white jacket, was as good as it always is straight from the oven (£5.95).

A cast-iron pot presented the coq au vin; fishing in its murky depths will reveal tender chicken and pancetta, served with a chunky buttery mash (£10.50). Confit de canard, with its crisp skin on the leg, had meat that was easy to shred, and came with more buttery potatoes, a red wine sauce with piquant black olives (£10.50).

For desserts, there are all manner of delights from their patisserie that are equally at home with a coffee in the pitstop between one shop and the next during a West End splurge. Think tartelettes, macarons, millefeuille, and éclairs.

The dark chocolate cake is made on site, like a great indulgent slice of very good brownie (£3.55). You can also get a decadent slice of brioche French bread (coated in sugared egg and fried), doused with a creme anglaise, apricot coulis or warm chocolate sauce. Bit hard to ignore, that one (£3.95).

Breakfast is served from 7am - noon and is essentially a list of oeufs every which way possible; brioche oeuf cocotte (baked with yoghurt), a la coque (boiled with soldiers), Bénédicte (bacon and hollandaise), Royale (smoked salmon and hollandaise), Florentine (spinach and hollandaise), pochés ou au plat (poached with tomatoes and bread), brouillés (scrambled), omelette. Along with entries from Croque Monsieur and Croque Madame, naturellement.

Le restaurant de PAUL is a new dining offering worthy of attention. When the hankering is for traditional French food and some vin rouge, at a reasonable price point in the thick of London’s tourist district, it’s good to know there’s a familiar name you can turn to.

Liked lots: the execution of French classics with un-fussed competence; the all French wine list
Liked less: there's little not to like when there's good bread around
Good for: relying on a familiar household name; solid and satisfying French food

My rating: 3.5/5

Afiyet olsun.

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

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lima floral, covent garden - review

So many restaurants, so little time / money / metabolism / willing dining partners [delete as appropriate] to tackle them all. Despite my interests placing me in them many times in a week, there are a number of key players I am yet to visit: The Clove Club, Morito, River Cafe, Antidote, Pizzaro, Tayyabs - the list is longer than the one to get into Chiltern Firehouse (don’t bother) and I’ve still barely made a dent. So if, from the endless London dining offerings all vying for my attention, I choose to eat at a new opening twice within a few days of each other, the place is doing something right.

Granted, both of these visits were within Lima Floral’s soft launch period; a common undertaking for new openings where 50% or so of the food bill is removed in exchange for the grace of customers to allow them to work through teething problems often only discovered in the throes of a busy service. It also already had it’s older, smaller, Michelin-starred sister - Lima in Fitzorovia - setting the bar high when it comes to Peruvian food; my first meal there in 2012 was my maiden encounter with the cuisine, and I fell for it and the the restaurant hard.

My expectations were high. I sidled up to the monastic building of this second site on Floral Street in Covent Garden, whilst at the same time recalling the sensation of aching jaw joints from the lime-hit in their unrivalled ceviche in Fitzrovia. The juice of citrus may as well run through my veins (that’s the Turk in me), and their liberal use of it - along with expert amounts of salt and chilli and onion and quality fish - gives me unbridled pleasure. They’re consistent, and the sea bream ceviche here is of equal distinction - joyous (£10).

For something similar but not quite the same, tiradito is akin to ceviche in that it’s raw fish in a sauce, but differs in the way the fish is cut, and that the liquor is spicy and lacks onions. It demonstrates the influence of Japanese immigrants on Peruvian cookery and here sports heat from rocoto pepper and an arresting green tiger’s milk, vibrant from coriander and parsley. Also great, my only gripe being there’s not enough of it on the plate (£9).

Then there was tuna tartare with a fat caterpillar of yellow potato sporting spines of root veg (£10), and an escabeche salad with crimson slithers of beef and an algarrobo syrup (made with pods from a carob tree) which made this a little too sweet for me (£10).

Dry Andean potato stew has an adjective misnomer; it is in fact a saucy, hearty bowl of food, the golden colour of good daal, with chunks of soft salty sheep’s cheese the texture of a sweaty Brie (£7).  There was a plate covered in glossy black roasted quinoa beads - that I’m pleased they avoided marketing as ‘soil’ - with fabulous bite between the teeth, topped with an egg that could have had a runnier yolk, a yacon (tuberous root) reduction and the apparent presence of avocado, although I couldn’t detect it. Regardless, very clever texture and flavour matching (£15).

Organic lamb rump, with both blue and yellow potato (Peru boasts a rainbow of potato colours), more quinoa, filaments of crisped onions, and queso fresco demonstrated skill in both execution and presentation. A striking dish with just-right meat, and despite the most conservative drizzle of a jus, not at all dry (£22).

I rarely order fish for mains (it’s hard to ignore red meat winking from a menu), but the grilled monkfish is superb. In a tiger’s milk broth with great depth, courgette and chilli peppers settling at the bottom, and hunks of meaty flesh bobbing about, I sunk the dregs direct with a throw back of the head. Too good not to, and it had a great back-of-the-throat climbing chilli heat (£20).

All the desserts are unusual, and good. Suspiro ardiente has shards of meringue speckled with chilli, powdered pink beetroot and a little dulce de leche that should have been a lot of dulce de leche. Café Peruano, with it’s coffee ice cream, a crumbling of purple potato and red kiwicha (amaranth seed) was great - just remember not to breathe as you’re eating or you’ll have something close to the cinnamon challenge as table entertainment. 

The chocolate mousse with oats and wood sorrel was thick and decadent and a glorious texture. I tried the fourth dessert on my second visit - with chirimoya (a fruit that tastes like an amalgamation of lots of other fruits), more potato, and maca root. It was also good (all £6).

South-American superstar of the moment, chef Virgilio Martinez, sources ingredients from the UK as well as introducing diners to new and unheard of Peruvian elements, which makes a reviewer like me more thankful than usual for Wikipedia. There is a real sense of the kitchen showcasing Peru’s vast biodiversity with what is indigenous and unique there.

The website describes Lima Floral, when comparing to Lima, as “nothing better nor worse but clearly distinct and in the same spirit: dynamic, bold and in a traditional kitchen”. I think it’s spot on. Like Lima, everything looks beautiful - both the food and the interiors, with the bright Inca patterned cushions and abstract art found at both sites. The capacity at Floral is far greater, with a basement dedicated to walk-ins and a ‘piqueos bar’ serving cocktails and a completely different menu of small plates, which I must return to try.

It’s worth noting that a pisco sour is my go-to cocktail. I order them wherever I drink that has pisco behind the bar. I’m yet to find one as good as those rustled up at the two Lima’s.

Liked lots: ceviche, ceviche, ceviche
Liked less: some of the starter portions could be deemed as on the small side
Good for: the best pisco sours in town, colourful potatoes, unusual ingredients, their great value set lunch menu - three courses and a glass of house wine for £19.50 and includes Saturdays - see you there

My rating: 4/5

Afiyet olsun.

 

pacata, covent garden - event

Mention the words ‘fusion restaurant’ and I make that sound of inhaled air through pursed lips builders are so good at when you ask them what the damage is. The concept can be so hit and miss. Usually, miss. But whilst Pacata may market itself as an East-meets-West endeavour, I would describe it as Asian street-food with a dash of creativity. And one would expect nothing less from a menu designed by Yasuji Morizumi, the first Michelin starred ramen chef.

Morizumi was present the evening I attended a Pacata press launch, and via an interpreter was able to share a little more insight into the dishes on offer, ‘[Pacata] is bringing the essence of Asian street food to London - the menu needed to really grasp the palate of the discerning Londoner whilst adding an authentic Asian tang’. Owned by beer giants Singha, Pacata can already be found in Bangkok with a quite different format of casual dining and shorter visits. It’s new European counterpart is aimed at leisurely lounging with plenty of options for a drink or four and food to accompany them. The interiors are such that once you’re in, you won’t be in a hurry to leave - quaint mismatched chairs, untreated wood tables and cushions a-plenty in the subterranean den. It’s open from 8am until late each day with a menu that’s not too exhaustive, yet a decent proportion of Asia is represented. Expect breakfast entries of Vietnamese kai grata (eggs cooked and served in a pan with a choice of toppings - £6.95) and bahn mi baguettes (£5.95), to lunch and dinners of tofu miso soup with seaweed and black peppercorns (£4.50) and hot and sour tom yum ramen (£8.50 / £9.95).

The popcorn chicken is a no-brainer; anything bite-sized and savoury and covered in larb powder (lime, heat, fish sauce, herbs) that fingers grab without the brain being aware, are always winners (£6.95). The chicken in the satay was very soft, and the grilled prawns in their Thai chilli-paste-mayo marinade were huge (£9.95). At the table, diners are able to combine the DIY papaya salad themselves in a large pestle and mortar; it comes with soft-shell crab looking like pretty spiders, lightly battered and waiting for a dunk into lubrication before being devoured (£8.95). Beef yakiniku (grilled meat) is, as you can probably guess, a Japanese dish. Here served with naan, it needed a little more wet stuff present for the bread to mop up (£10.50). Seared seabass with Japanese curry was cooked very well with crisp skin, barely opaque flesh, and accompanying a choice of jasmine rice or fries (£14.95).

Chicken wings were lacquered in a bright hot sauce with sesame seeds, and the Thai style squid ink tagliatelle with spring onion, egg, bean sprout, Chinese tofu and prawns was made to taste like pad thai, but with a variation of noodle. Italian egg pasta replacing Asian noodles is not that uncommon, as seen in the sublime spaghetti with chilli-marinated cod roe and caviar sauce served at Luiz Hara’s Japanese Supper Club. The green tea brownie with thin slices of nuts and green tea ice cream was nothing but delightful.

Then there are the cocktails - the Amahata Rama is sour and strong and something I revisited at least twice more (and by twice, I mean thrice). There are many others and if cocktails are your thing, the barman at Pacata will be a good friend - venture off menu. This is a sound addition for the theatre-goers that fill out Covent Garden, and for those that fancy a classy drink and bite to eat to either start or end a night on London’s tiles. Afiyet olsun.

Note: I was invited as a guest to this event.

pipsdish, covent garden - review

From where I’m seated, my surroundings are that of homely familiarity. I have a view into the kitchen with a duck-egg blue Smeg fridge, double porcelain sinks, coffee mugs dangling from hooks, and cookbooks stacked up by the window. There are rows of empty shelved kilner jars waiting for preserve, and the remaining half of a recently shattered crusty loaf left on a chopping board. Heavy hooked-back drapes keep out the chill, and a stately wardrobe stands fast in the corner. There are film posters on the wall and the general nick-nacks of life scattered about the room. Any other place and I’d be seated in the dining area of someone’s home. Not so here; I am in fact in a restaurant in Covent Garden.

PipsDish is a venture that has taken the supper club experience into a more commercial setting; its intention is to make you feel like you’re at home when you are in fact, out. The man behind the enterprise is Philip Dundas - food writer, author, cook, member of the Guild of Food Writers committee and all round culinary dynamo. The idea of PipsDish was conceived back in 2011, first starting in Philip’s apartment and then moving to a disused Citroen Garage in Upper Street where, along with his friend Mary Doherty, hungry patrons were fed from this pop-up for almost two years. When the garage closed, PipsDish moved to Hoxton Square running a small one-table restaurant from the basement of the British Standard kitchen designers showroom. That lasted for nine months and was followed by the opening of the Covent Garden dining experience in October 2013, all six quaint tables of it. The concept is different to other restaurants in almost every way. There is first the most obvious distinction of environment - effort is made to keep any evidence of commercial activity hidden so as not to effect the unique am-I-in-fact-in-someone’s-home experience. The real kitchen where the food is cooked is out the back and down the stairs and the till system is concealed in that massive wardrobe.

Then there is the food; it stays true to the honest, unfussed, home-cooked fare so often found in the homes of supper clubs (and I’ve been to a few). And like a supper club but unlike a restaurant, there is no menu. Food served during a day is based on what Philip and team procure that morning. Their meat is from Gill Wing Farm in Sussex, the fish is landed from day boats in Cornwall using sustainable methods, they use artisanal producers they know. They work with what is seasonal and fresh and essentially, available. So how was the food? Hot and generous and served in heavy Le Creuset vessels with astrantias (one of my favourite flowers) furnishing every table. A chunky piquant tapenade - fruity with olive oil and served on bread (which would have been better toasted) - started the evening. Heirloom tomatoes tossed with roasted onions, a touch of chilli and cooling goat's curd was simple and splendid. An oven dish of flaky slow-roast pork butt, brimming bowls of creamed greens with garlic and lemon, charred aubergine flesh with yoghurt and pine nuts, and roasted potatoes sprinkled with parmesan are the exact sort of things you want to be presented with to accompany the bottle of wine and raucous laughter shared between friends. Dessert were silky pots of tongue-tackingly tart lemon cream topped with fresh raspberries and crisp shortbread rounds that crumbled and then softened in the mouth. 

Every scrap of our dinner was cleared with great enthusiasm.

A plentiful three course meal in the evening as above is £32.50. Smaller seasonal plates are available from £6 - £10. A carafe of house wine is £12.50, a full litre £22, a glass £5. They open Tues - Sat from 12pm - close. There is little I don’t like about this place - the no-menu BMF concept that will always draw me (sit down, order something to drink, allow them to feed you), and that it feels like a secret bolt-hole in the middle of one of London’s busiest districts only you and the few others dining around you know of. My experience at PipsDish is a blueprint of how an evening would feel if a friend invited me over for dinner and asked me to bring the red. And there is little that can ever be wrong with that. Liked lots: the feeling of exclusivity with such few tables; unique at-home experience when dining out; the obvious effort made to achieve this; everything eaten; dog-friendly; despite its small size it still had the buzz of chat and conviviality familiar to any good restaurant
Liked less: a couple without a reservation did end up sharing a table with another - be aware of this possibility, or just book in advance
Good for: romantic date; small parties up to four - although there is an area for an additional eight at the back; an honest meal you can't be bothered to make at home; an oasis of calm in the tourist-crazed madness that can be London

My rating: 4/5

Afiyet olsun.

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

school of wok cookery school, covent garden - review

‘Teach a girl to make Chinese steamed buns..’ could be the start to so many great sentences. Pursuits that end in wowing friends with dim sum dinner parties, eating nothing but steamed buns for the rest of your life, and ditching the day job to buy a small cart and compete against the old timers selling them on Newport Court in Chinatown.

Many would argue only one of these to be a realistic aspiration (present company included). But on walking out of School of Wok after six hours of cooking, kneading, rolling, stuffing, pleating and folding, with aching feet, pumped forearms, flour in my hair, and a new appreciation for my favourite dim sum, it felt like they were all possible.

School of Wok is an Oriental and Asian cookery school situated in Covent Garden. Founded and commandeered by Head Chef Jeremy Pang, the school hosts a variety of hands-on classes and corporate events taught by a number of chefs, covering cuisines including Chinese, Vietnamese, Indian, Thai and Japanese. Classes range from one hour quick-fire wok lessons to multi-day intensive courses for professionals and topics involve a manner of subjects from knife skills to wine tasting, and street food to sushi making.

After obtaining a university degree in biochemical engineering, entertaining some years in marketing, studying at the world famous Le Cordon Bleu and a stint as a travel journalist around South East Asia, in 2009 Pang followed his dream of opening a cookery school. Initially starting out as lessons taught in people’s homes, School of Wok moved to the centrally located bricks and mortar complete with two state of the art kitchens 18 months ago. 

Lessons teaching skills and techniques that simply do not translate through the written word are of particular interest to me. Videos will go some way in achieving this, but there is no replacing an expert overseeing your work and the back-and-forth of questions and guidance. The full day ‘Steamed Bun Fun’ course taught me things I genuinely don’t believe I could have learnt to the same degree, off my own back.

The morning agenda ensured we worked up the appetite for lunch. Meats that required a long and low cook to enjoy with buns at the end of the day were addressed first following very simple recipes. Seven of us were split into two groups; rich and savoury braised pork belly in fermented tofu, and an Iranian influenced shoulder of lamb with pomegranate, quince and jasmine tea were both prepared and dispatched to the ovens.

Hirata buns (the type found at Yum Bun) are sandwich-like in design, folded in half and destined to be stuffed with a filling. Components consisted of a starter dough to which additional dough was formed and added. The mass was kneaded, rested, manipulated into cylinders, portioned into ping-pong sized balls, rolled into ovals, folded in half over oiled chopsticks, placed in bamboo steamers and left over hot water until they were risen and spongy.

To slather over them, mayonnaise was made in pairs and flavoured with sesame, lime, garlic and ginger. One half of each team gradually added oil to egg yolk while the other whisked with fever, the thought of an imminent lunch counteracting the lactic acid pain (alternation was imperative).

Jeremy pitched in by rustling up the meat component; slithers of chicken thigh marinated in liquid smoke, sesame oil and soy were coated in corn flour and deep fried. Excess oil was drained and they were then swiftly tossed in a hot wok with garlic and chillies. We eagerly stuffed them into our sweet buns and topped them with a cucumber and carrot pickle.

Post-lunch proceedings saw us taking the skill level up a deep notch. We were to make two closed buns requiring two types of fold, one more difficult than the other; custard buns and char siu bao (that puffed up pillow of porky goodness I adore). 

Fillings for both were ready to use to allow dedicated concentration to the rolling and folding techniques needed to make these a success. The char siu (barbecued pork) comprised of belly cooked in sugar, soy and spices had been finely chopped into a huge soupy bowl of dark and sticky meat. Custard choices were two: coconut, and a beetroot cocoa nib filling - both frozen to allow for easier handling.

We rustled up the dough for both and attempted mastering the precise circular rolling and intricate pleats required for the pork buns; several attempts were made with faux fillings before Jeremy let us lose on the pork. The custard buns were a lot easier; with some swift rotational hand movements the nuggets of frozen custard were soon encased in uniform smooth dough.

Most of us were still full from our lunchtime hiratas and after a well deserved glass of wine, departed with doggy bags crammed with our labours of love; the three types of buns, the slow cooked meats emerging from the oven soft and flaking from the bone, and a pack of all the recipes used that day.

The cost of this full day course which includes lunch and an early dinner is no small change at £150, the higher end of their offerings. But if thought of as an investment in culinary skills and expertise you would be hard pressed to come across elsewhere, it is certainly a treat to consider. 

On the tube home I found my fingers dancing on my lap as they manipulated an imaginary bao. My final thoughts before bed that evening were ‘how the hell do chefs works on their feet all hours of the day?’ and ‘I am determined to own those char siu pleats’. As Jeremy advised, I’ll be throwing together makeshift dough from flour and water and practising in front of the TV until I do.

A huge thanks to Jeremy for exercising such patience, sharing a wealth of knowledge and expertise and for making the day a great experience - it comes highly recommended.

Afiyet olsun.

Note: I was invited as a guest to School of Wok

shake shack, covent garden - review

I do a lot of things ‘as a matter of principle’. Often a guise for what is essentially my unequivocal stubbornness, wave a ‘principle counter’ over me and my reading is click-clicking off the chart. While this may initially sound like a virtuous trait, it really isn’t. 

For example, when driving, I will continue ahead in my correct lane even though I know the cretin next to me in the wrong lane also wants to carry on forwards. By neither of us dropping back, it is inevitable we will bump cars. But I am in the right, he is in the wrong. I am therefore exempt from any bolts of wrath and misfortune from above. And so I don’t move, as a matter of principle. Personal beliefs still upheld, but car bumped (true story). 

At few other points in life do I flex my muscles of principle more than when the latest fad is sweeping the nation. Fifty Shades of Grey, Angry Birds, Harlem shaking, planking are all examples of crap crazes I have refused to entertain, as a matter of principle. If it pleases the masses, the bitter cynic in me makes the immediate assumption it won’t please me. Turns out my theory doesn’t have a 100% success rate; who knew.


The American burger chain Shake Shack opened its first set of doors on UK soil earlier this month, specifically on Covent Garden soil and only a week apart from one of its largest American competitors, Five Guys.

They, and others, have been riding the crest of the wave that is the recent and all-encompassing UK burger resurgence. Even the vegans amongst us would have found it difficult to ignore burger joints springing up across the capital like rodents on a Whac-A-Mole arcade game - Dirty Burger, Honest Burgers, Mother Flipper, Meat Liquor, Patty & Bun, to name a few. And people are going crazy for them, rushing to sample with a fervour like they’re on commission. 

With PR machines and social media working overtime to create trending hashtags and an Instagram meltdown prior and during openings, launches of these fast-food-with-finesse joints have seen early adopters queuing for tens of minutes at a time to be one of the first to get their chops around the newest best burger in town.

As a matter of principle, I have refused to be swept up in these initial fanatical flurries of overzealous and disproportional activity, whilst at the same time reading reviews with the simultaneously furrowed and cocked brow of a sceptic. 

However, I did eat in a Shake Shack in NYC a couple of years back. And I do recall it being very good. And on that basis and that basis alone, in the name of objective comparison, I saw it my duty to see what this Covent Garden store had to offer. That was definitely my soul motivation..


Situated in the old Market Building at the centre of Covent Garden, Shake Shack comprises of the premises housing a band of cash registers backed by the kitchen and only al fresco seating (although dining areas are covered by the Market Building roof). 

Along with your name, you give your order to the well trained and smiling till staff and a buzzer you’re handed makes a racket once the food is ready to collect from the pick-up counter. We were a party of three, each ordering the double Smoke Shack - essentially a bacon cheeseburger with two beef patties. I also ordered the Union Shack concrete (ice cream) and there were a couple of portions of crinkle cut chips on the table.

Burgers I’m used to are an assembly of quite separate components. Two halves of a well structured bun with a pattie betwixt and toppings involved somewhere in the gathering. It is easy to separate each piece out to decorate your plate and systematically work your way round the constituent parts if that's your thing (I have actually witnessed this method of eating a burger). 

But at Shake Shack, you are presented with a single soft mass of yielding savoury and juicy wonder. The patties, cheese and bun unite into palate coating mushy magnificence rendering them impossible to dissect. 

In one mouthful you can enjoy an amalgamation of meaty grease from the smashed patty, slight sweetness from the toasted bun, a whisp of heat from chopped cherry pepper, oozing American-style cheese, saltiness from the crisp bacon and tang from the signature Shake Shack sauce (like a piquant mayonnaise); together they send the pleasure receptors into a manic frenzy.

Shake Shack are not quiet about all their ingredients (bar the buns which are flown in from America) being carefully sourced from UK farms and suppliers. The beef is 100% raised Aberdeen Angus, grass fed on Scottish pastures and they refrain from ever using hormones or antibiotics on their cows. 

The meat is ground daily and burgers are cooked to order rather than left drying out under a heat lamp. Each patty consists of 1/4lb of this beef smashed onto the grill for an intensely flavoured and slightly caramalised crust. Yes please.

Bacon is free-range Wiltshire cure smoked. The imported buns are typical of an American burger (as opposed to brioche or posh bread options often found in the UK) and similar to Martin’s potato rolls with the inclusion of potato flour - an excellent choice for absorbing dripping goodness. 

In a moment of madness and excited anticipation, we all completely forgot to request any toppings and in fact failed to even notice them on the menu. The one thing I felt was missing from the burger was only absent due to my lack of attention - pickles. A good enough reason to return for me.

Chips were sturdy and crisp on the outside with fluffy middles and essentially pretty good (I’m not the world’s biggest fries fan). The Union Shack concrete that rounded off my meal consisted of frozen chocolate custard, bites of chocolate and hazelnut brownies, fudge sauce, shrapnel of bitter dark chocolate and a touch of sea salt - a thick, dense and very chocolatey ice cream with lots to bite down on and served in a cardboard drink cup.

My verdict here is that despite the irritating initial fanfare, I really enjoyed this meal. Compared to other burgers I’ve eaten in this country, Shake Shack offers something quite unique - it’s just not like any other I’ve had. In all fairness, I haven’t eaten at enough of the competitors to form an entirely informed opinion based on adequate comparisons, but who the hell cares. 

Shake Shack burgers are so good I could easily eat one for breakfast. No doubt that says more about me than the burger.

Liked lots: burger, chopped cherry pepper, nice staff, location, covered al fresco dining, concretes, a short and quick queue 
Liked less: slightly confusing entrances and exits to the queue and ordering
Good for: a quick bite, al fresco dining, significantly exceeding your daily intake of saturated fat, jumping on the bandwagon

My rating: 5/5

Afiyet olsun.