tonkotsu - review

Soho Ramen

I’m not one to tempt fate from the sky-dwelling powers that be, but I think it may just about be safe to say that we are finally shrugging off the clinging cloak of winter. And by that I mean it is no longer snowing in April; about time. The daffs have picked up their drooping heads to point towards the source of the unfamiliar and hazy light from the sky, the birds are in full song and pimping out nests ready to lay, and blossom is breaking through buds on the trees. But this was not the case two weeks ago, for when this post applies. The temperature was biting and the wind was bitter, a combination of the two providing the perfect environment for very few activities other than eating ramen.

I shared my desire for a good hot slurping with Mel in the hope that she’d know of somewhere to satisfy these urges and prevent me from going into full hibernation – she always seems to know the best places to eat. And Mel of course did not disappoint – Tonkotsu in Soho had been recommended to her by her Japanese hairdresser and described as ‘excellent’. If you find natives eating in any restaurant, you know it’s going to be good.

Ramen makes up a large part of the Japanese offering when it comes to their excellent cuisine (one of my favourites in the world). It is comprised of a life-giving and deeply flavoursome stock, noodles, a ‘base’ (a concentrated liquor of soy, miso or salt) and toppings. Tonkotsu make no bones (pun intended) about the quality of their stock and the effort they put into making it. The website reveals: ‘Our restaurant Tonkotsu is named after the lip-smacking, creamy ramen typical in Kyushu, Japan’s southern-most island, but found all over Japan.  Tonkotsu ramen’s smooth, silky consistency is created by cooking pork bones for up to 18 hours, which allows collagen and other porky goodness to be emulsified into the stock.’ More of all of that please.

Tonkotsu interiors
- from The Guardian website

 
The result is a milky and life affirming bowl of liquid providing the perfect medium for their incredible homemade noodles to swim about in and compete for centre stage. There’s a great bit of insight plastered on the wall inside the restaurant, about how a noodle machine was shipped all the way from Japan for Tonkotsu to make theirs fresh each day, and how some of the front wall had to be demolished in order to get it through the door. A small amount of destruction a fair exchange for the promise of daily and impeccable fresh noodles, I think.

After an eventually successful but overly drawn out attempt to realise a misguided vision of trying to park in what seemed to be an entirely ‘parking suspended’ Soho (who knows what I was thinking) and joining Mel and Lea at the table half an hour late, I was more than ready to hang my head over a steaming bowl of nectar to ease away the aches and pains of a cold day in the office, also after having to leave my car on the other side of Soho and brave the arctic elements to reach this well-deserved broth. The restaurant does not take bookings and when Lea and Mel arrived (18.30), there was a short queue they had to wait in before being seated. By the time I arrived (19.00) the queue had disappeared and fortunately, there was space available next to my already seated friends. Even if there wasn’t I would have happily sat on my own as the anticipation to eat all of the ramen was almost overwhelming by this stage.

Mel and Lea’s batteries had almost reached full power by the time I joined, having made good headway with their bowls of bounty.  I speedily ordered without much thought as I just wanted something in front of me as soon as possible – ‘I’ll have what Mel’s having’ which turned out to be the Soho Ramen (£11) – a salt base, pork and chicken stock with medium think noodles topped with smoked haddock, pak choi, half an egg, menma (fermented bamboo shoots) and spring onions. After having previously read that the gyoza dumplings were made by hand on the premises fresh each day, leaving without sampling these in addition was not an option – a portion of pork gyozas too please.

pork gyoza

Both dishes arrived swiftly and there was no person in Soho happier than I at the moment they were presented to me (possibly exclude those involved in any ‘happy-ending’ massages). The dumplings were wonderful – fat, slippery, savoury, fresh, flavoursome and like some sort of magical Siamese quintuplet, joined at the base by a crisp layer of casing that had melted and merged when they hit the hot pan. The ramen was served with a large flat wooden spoon and chopsticks – a combination of both tools allowing for maximum slurping opportunity. The portion was generous and the flavours able to elevate even the most melancholy of souls – deep and warming and meaty and completely wonderful with still crunchy greens floating on the surface. 

After having placed my order in haste, I realised it was likely I would have preferred what Lea had chosen , the Tonkotsu Ramen (£11) where the choice of meat was pork belly. My bowl instead contained smoked haddock and while I was expecting a lack of meaty flavour, I was thankfully proved entirely wrong. All of the ramens on offer also contain half a soft boiled egg – this was almost my most favourite thing in the bowl. I believe they were marinated and were just so savoury. Few things go better with eggs than salt.

mochi ice cream

With a large bowl of broth, a pot of green tea and also water being consumed over the course of the meal, top buttons were discretely undone and my belly was swishing about with all of the fabulous liquid it had devoured. To wrap up the meal we each ordered a pretty trio of ice cream encased in a layer of mochi (glutinous rice). This lends to an almost rubbery outer texture with ice cream within and is certainly a novel dessert for me and quite fun to eat. The flavours if I recall correctly were black sesame, green tea and a third I can’t remember.

When next in town, be sure to pay this place a visit. If it’s a wet, cold or miserable day (often more likely than not), then all the better for it. There’s nothing like a quality ramen to help banish any lingering winter blues.

Liked lots - the outstanding egg; ramen broth; noodles; dumplings; location
Liked less - may need to wait for a table
Good for - catch-ups with friends; solitary meals; kicking out a cold; warming the cockles

Alfiyet olsun.

Dinner by Heston Blumenthal at The Mandarin Oriental, Hyde Park - Review

Dressed Snails (c.1884)

Parsley, beetroot, salty fingers & red wine juice

There's been a lot of anticipation around the table we had reserved at Dinner by Heston Blumenthal - a one star Michelin restaurant located in the Mandarin Oriental Hotel adjacent to Knightsbridge tube station.

I think a lot of this stemmed from the contestants from Masterchef: The Professionals having the kitchen doors of The Fat Duck welcome them in to both witness and replicate the wonders that take place in its vicinity - this is another of Heston's restaurants located in Bray, Berkshire and opened in 1995 (that long ago? I know). Its three Michelin stars has also seen it voted the best restaurant in the world in 2005. I was transfixed to the box and social media was rife with both gushing adoration over the molecular gastronomy on display, and outright disdain at what many view as a pretentious concept with science having no place in the kitchen. 

And I'll admit, a few moons ago I used to think along similar lines. However, his ever increasing TV presence and feedback from friends of colleagues who have met the man himself, he actually seems like a nice guy - not pretentious at all. And this Masterchef episode got me very excited about the experience that both he and his establishments are looking to give their clients.

Contrary to its name, Dinner serves both dinner and lunch and is viewed as the larger, more accessible, centrally located little sister of The Fat Duck. The menu is inspired by historic British gastronomy and this is represented by every item on it being accompanied by the year that the dish first came to be. 

I was fortunate enough to have the week off work and my two lovely acquaintances, Mel and Lea, were able to wangle a free afternoon, so we decided to opt for a slightly boozy and extended girlie lunch on Thursday. 

There is an a la carte available but the set menu is a good deal - three courses at £36. Set lunch menus at high-end restaurants are a fantastic way to sample the delights the establishment has on offer, without having to fork out for the higher prices that come with an evening meal. However, quite often the lunch will only be available during weekdays as is the case at Dinner. If you happen to work centrally then it's something that is well worth making a regular treat - as EatLikeaGirl does very well in her Posh Lunch Club.

The restaurant is spacious and in fact quite larger than I expected, able to accommodate 126 covers at any one time. There are floor to ceiling glass walls with one side providing a wonderful view into Hyde Park and another providing full view of the kitchen and the unique pulley system they have in place which serves to rotate the spit on an open fire. We were seated next to the kitchen allowing us to periodically glance at the numerous chefs during their stages of preparation and cooking.

Our very warm and approachable waiter explained the concept of the restaurant, talked us through the menus and with the most minimal of arm twisting enticed us to begin with an aperitif in the form of a glass of sparkling wine which came recommended and was in fact delicious - a first for me as I usually don't care for liqueur from white grapes. We placed our orders from the two options for each course from the set lunch menu, and between the three of us covered everything on it. Always a great excuse to dip the fork into the plate of your companions.

Our sourdough bread was delivered with some lightly salted butter - this was in our opinion far too hard and crunchy to eat without having to hide the mess your mouth was making in an attempt to masticate it. A passable situation to be in when with good friends, but I can't imagine this to be the case if your visit is part of a business lunch, which many were clearly there for. 

Regardless, our starters soon arrived and mine was the Lemon Salad (c. 1730) - smoked artichoke, goats curd and candy beetroot. Beautiful on the plate and the freshness from the citrus hit the nose before even bringing the fork to my mouth. The sharp complimented the creamy cool goats curd wonderfully, with regular interjections of bitterness from the leaves on the plate. For any that know me, citrus and sourness in general is one of my most favourite flavours so my starter went down a treat, even if it didn't quite have a 'wow' factor.

Lemon Salad (c. 1730)
Smoked artichoke, goats curd and candy beetroot

Mel and Lea opted for the Dressed Snails (c. 1884) as their starter - a notably beautiful and autumnal looking dish quite arresting in the quality of natural colours presented on the plate. Both burgandy and golden yellow beetroot against the vibrant greens from the parsley sauce and samphire, it was quite the picture.

There is only one flavour in the world that I find very hard to embrace and I actively avoid - it is that of aniseed. Liquorice, fennel, fennel seeds, sambuka, Ouzo, Raki and anything else along those lines is a glaring and flashing no no. It's a huge shame though as fennel looks so incredibly appetising - I just cannot stomach the flavour of aniseed. The mains on offer were duck and fish. 

When eating out, I will more often than not opt for the option I am least likely to cook at home and this is usually red meat - I try to regard it as more of a treat than a regular consumable. So in any other situation, I would have immediately opted for the duck. However, it was delivered with smoked confit fennel and so I swiftly avoided and instead opted for the Roast Ray Wing. As soon as our mains arrived and I sampled some of the duck that both Lea and Mel ordered, I realised this was a mistake. 

Out of the list of aniseed flavour bearing goods mentioned above, fennel is probably the least offensive and I really should have given it a go in such a reputable establishment - it was subtle and crunchy and the duck meat was beautifully sweet. Immediate bout of food envy at the table - dammit. Served with a silky potato mash, rich jus and complete with duck heart (umbles), I'm still kicking myself.

Powdered Duck Breast (c. 1670)
Smoked confit fennel, potato purée & umbles

The fish dish was - ok. Whilst looking very attractive on the plate, I feel most of the flesh was slightly over cooked - more chewy rather than flaky. Working my way across from one side of the fillet to the other, the last forkful was undercooked - while the flesh was opaque there were strings of red blood in it which I'm almost certain shouldn't have been there. 

I pointed it out to the waiter who apologised and said he didn't know why that was there - to be honest I did expect him to return after showing it to the kitchen with a further apology or gesture of good will, but it wasn't mentioned again. 

For a Michelin star restaurant, I don't think this was acceptable. Despite this, the parsnip and butter milk purée was almost unrecognisable, it was that smooth. My brain was tasting parsnip but I was still trying to understand the journey it took to end up as this texture - very pleasing. The voluptuous brown butter sauce dotted with fat and juicy capers was also well received and did not over-power the fish.

Roast Ray Wing (c. 1954)
Parsnip & butter milk purée, sea beet, brown butter & capers

My first dessert (yes first) was much more of a success. Once again, I am immediately drawn to the promise of fresh citrus on a menu and this did not disappoint. A fantastic combination of textures - crunchy sugar crystals topped with a quinelle (I learnt that from Masterchef) of mandarin and thyme sorbet - oh I can still smell it as I type. 

This was alongside a type of sticky and soft orange flavoured bread, with wafer thin crispy segments of mandarin perching on top. It was very good indeed, looked wonderful and a fantastic way to clean the palette.

Orange Buttered Loaf (c. 1630)
Mandarin and thyme sorbet

Mel chose the prune and tamarind tart of which I of course sampled. Whilst a simple looking dish, the skill in obtaining perfection and elegance in a tart is no mean feat and was executed very well, with perfect pastry, smooth set custard and a caramelised top. And again proving to me that whilst flavour combinations may not immediately entice in print, they can and often do pleasantly surprise as was the case here - prune and tamarind not being something I would immediately opt for but it was in fact delightful.

Prune and tamarind tart (c. 1720)

The same waiter that persuaded us to treat ourselves to sparkling wine as well as the usual bottle of red, also enticed us to opt for a second dessert and final course of ice cream made at the table. We had spotted the spectacle taking place at other tables and I think had already made up our minds that we wanted it at ours. This is the sort of molecular gastronomy you expect from a Heston restaurant so it was difficult to turn away. 

It consisted of a manual hand-turned mixer being wheeled up to the table with liquid nitrogen being poured into some vanilla custard and churned by the machine. After a few seconds and evaporated nitrogen bellowing out from the mixing bowl, the ice cream was complete. We had a scoop in an ice cream cone with freeze dried raspberries and popping candy as our toppings. At £12 each it was probably a bit pricey for what it was, but you of course also pay for the theatre.

All in, the lunch was a very pleasant experience and I would recommend it. This was down to a combination of the service which was excellent, my companionship which was of its usual very high standard, and the dishes that were good. 

I feel I was a little unlucky with my main choice in that I missed out on the better dish, and the issue with my fish fillet. It's also worth noting that the options available for vegetarians are decidedly mediocre according to a colleague who visited for an evening meal with his vegetarian wife. But that aside, it was a very good lunch. Very good, but certainly not mind-blowing (and still not as good as Lima which is my most favourite restaurant I've eaten at of recent months), but that's something I certainly would expect from somewhere like The Fat Duck. I just need to find the funds and try to secure a table there first - both easier said than done.

Alfiyet olsun.

Lima in London - Review

braised lamb shoulder / coriander & pisco jus
/ black quinoa & white grape

I’ll be the first to admit there isn’t a huge amount I know about Peruvian cuisine, other than what the odd Facebook holiday snap has taught me from friends who have undertaken the obligatory year of travelling before starting any real work (pangs of envy fully acknowledged), opting for South America rather than the equally well-trodden Far East. Which is that they eat guinea pigs (what a philistine).  But what I did know was that I certainly would not turn down the opportunity to learn more, an offer in the form of an invite to visit Lima (alas, not the actual city) in London with two very good friends.

Our table was booked for 7pm and on arrival, I was greeted by a young woman very pleasing to the eye who directed me through the narrow channel running along the length of the bar at the front of the restaurant.  It lead to about 15 tables at the rear against an understated but sophisticated neutral backdrop, interrupted by a burst of colour from a piece of abstract art on the back wall and a scattering of bright Inca patterned cushions.

Lea & I

The menu was brief – a telling sign in the confidence of its content.  Yet it still managed to result in many minutes of painfully toying between the offerings - their highly appraised sea bream ceviche or duck crudo to start? The crab or confit of suckling pig for main? They were fighting it out on the page and in the end I ordered none of the aforementioned, instead succumbing to the octopus and the lamb. Along with one of Peru’s signature cocktails of which we all indulged in – a pisco sour.  These were served light and frothy, depositing the remnants of a milky moustache from the whisked egg whites whilst leaving the mouth reeling from an invigorating, lip-puckering sourness with every sip. I could very easily start every morning with one of these.

The meal began with a presentation of a delightful amuse-bouche along with our bread basket, in the form of a shot glass sized serving of wonderfully creamy and coating pale yoghurt with the characteristic tang of acidity from one of quality, shocked with a bright green coriander sauce.

The starters soon arrived and were quite glorious in their presentation – my octopus was braised and served on a bed of white quinoa alongside lilac polka dots of an incredibly intense olive sauce.  The charred edges of the meat that caught the pan were crisp and concentrated in their flavour, marrying very well with the fruity familiarity of the olives.

braised octopus al olivo / white quinoa
/ botija olive bubbles

duck crudo / algarrobo tree honey /
shaved fois gras / ghoa cress

Lea was keen to sample the ceviche of which there had been many favourable references to in various reviews. Whilst looking delicate and dainty in the bowl, I knew nothing about what it contained and immediately assumed a bout of food envy on Lea’s part when compared to the presence of Mel’s silky duck slithers, or the chunky charred tentacles on my plate.  

I duly and politely dipped in a spoon to sample the unassuming milky liquid housing pieces of barely opaque fish. And, well – the mere half teaspoon of this nectar was enough to nearly blow me right out the front door with its chop-walloping splendour.  The barrel gun impact of sourness and salt with an allium and chilli presence exploded on the palette, the tongue smacking the roof of the mouth in reflex to such a taste sensation.  Coupled with the spanking fresh sea breem it contained and the crunch of the salty corn kernals for texture, it was really something else - a whole paragraph dedicated to a dish I didn’t even order says something. 

I subsequently found out post-meal what a ceviche is – at its most basic it is raw fish marinated in citrus, salt and seasonings with the acid in the juice denaturing the protein in the meat in a similar way that cooking does. Or in other words, something I need much more of in my life.

All hail the mighty ceviche
- with sweet onion skin & inka corn

Plates were cleared and our mains were delivered while I was still preoccupied with thoughts about the dish that got away. However, I had a new task to address sitting under my nose and in need of attention – a neat hunk of braised lamb shoulder lavished with a coriander and pisco jus, alongside black quinoa and white grape. 

The meat was beautiful - a concentrated and slightly sticky crust encasing soft and moist flesh providing almost no resistance against the fork. The snippets of sweet from the grape worked very well in contrast to the deep flavours from the lamb. 

Mel’s confit of suckling pig was generous in its portion size with a sticky richness and a perfect amount of bite from the puy lentils, and Lea’s crab was an absolute riot of natural fresh colours, almost arresting in their iridescent quality.

crab / purple corn reduction
/ huayo potato / red kiwicha

Lea ordered the dulche de leche ice cream which was pleasant when I sampled it, particularly with a touch of the set Amazonian maca root honey smeared onto the side of the bowl. I had the cacao porcelana which is essentially very similar to chocolate fudge – the crunch and teeth-sticking quality of the blue potato wafers worked well with the silky texture of the chocolate, along with the hint of sharp sweetness from the mango. 

Mel ordered the Andean kiwicha (another South American super grain like quinoa) with sheep’s milk, purple corn and pineapple jelly, and a cinnamon crust. Contrary to all the other dishes, this one didn’t look as appetising on the plate.

dulche de leche ice cream / beetroot emulsion
/ amazonian maca root honey

cacao porcelana 75% / mango & hierbabuena granita
/ blue potato crystal

Whilst still good, I felt the desserts were the weakest of the courses. However, the sheer unadulterated joy provided from the previous dishes was so all-encompassing that it really didn’t matter. The meal, my company, and the whole evening was a full on pleasure steam train ploughing through the Peruivian landscape and absorbing all it had to offer. It was a sublime way to spend a cold Monday evening, and I shall without a doubt be returning.

Afiyet olsun.