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.

 

la mancha, chiswick - review

No neighbourhood can ever have too many good restaurants. When the fridge is bare, when the working day has been too long or when the prospect of facing a pile of washing up makes you wince, the salvation a reliable eatery can provide - a casual jaunt down the road or around the corner - is a cherished convenience. I am fully aware of the sometimes-forgotten fact that there are countless numbers of off-the-beaten-track, independent, family-run businesses throughout London that serve food people enjoy eating. They need recognition too - it’s not all about the showy, centrally-located openings, with their fanfare, chef pedigree and marketing budgets. Whilst I do cover the latter (and there are a lot of them), I like to devote some of my time trying out local places about town, such as Bibo in Putney, Sorabol in New Malden and Makiyaki in Wimbledon.



Most recent has been a glorious and unseasonably warm Saturday afternoon spent grazing on tapas and a glass of prickly cava in La Mancha on Chiswick High Road. Whilst Chiswick isn’t my own neighbourhood, I’d heard promising things about this Spanish restaurant and concluded the District line hike would be a fair price to pay for the prospect of a good lunch.

Whilst La Mancha might be a relatively new kid on this particular block, it was previously located on Putney High Street where it fed local patrons for more than 20 years. Proprietor, Mr Salvatore, upped sticks and re-located to this smaller and more manageable (but still substantial) site in the past year. 

With a south-facing bi-fold glass shop front allowing the unobstructed flooding of natural light, al fresco seating fully occupied at the first hint of sunshine, gentle Spanish guitars playing in the background and Spanish diners in the full flow of conversation to the right of me, it could almost have been Seville.

Tomatoes, bread, cheese and sweet quince felt like the perfect way to begin a brunch whilst basking in the sun’s warmth - intensified by the glass - like a lizard on a rock. These components form the base of most breakfasts I eat during summertime visits to Turkey, and it’s one of my favourites. Pan con tomate was generous (three large slices) with soft bread that was crisped on the outside and a superbly seasoned mash-up of fresh tomatoes, garlic and olive oil. They were probably the best I’ve had - a winning balance of texture, flavour and top seasoning, with no way for them to be improved (£3). The cheeses were nutty Manchego and mild Galician tetilla - both as good as you would expect from Spanish queso (£8). The tortilla was, again, seasoned well with a fabulous concentration of garlic. However, it is served as slices from a bigger pie, the remainder of which I suspect is left in the pan until needed, allowing the cooking process to continue. A desired texture of a runny-centre it had not, but the flavour was certainly not lacking (£5.20). Padron peppers reached the table direct from the plancha and finger-scalding hot, seasoned with fat flakes of sea salt, lightly blistered from the quick and high heat (£5.50). Soft, steamed octopus (a texture so often not achieved with this meat) with tentacles displaying their handsome suckers, were nestled with potatoes and heavy with olive oil, the whole plate burnished orange from smoked paprika (£9.95). Chicken and Ibérico ham croquetas were little packages of childhood Findas pancake memories - alas, I suspect none will ever match those found in Fino (£5.50).



Fabada asturiana (white bean casserole with pancetta and black pudding) looked a little insipid on receipt, like it needed more cooking or more oomph. It was a look that was entirely beguiling of its flavour - a hearty and savoury plate, sauce thickened from disintegrated pork fat and mashed up pulses - don’t allow a lick of it to remain (£5.95). The crème caramel wobbled audaciously at every nudge of the table. Smooth and delicate with a hint of orange, I spent a good few minutes attempting to spoon up the final dregs of the deep caramel sauce from a flat plate (£5). The Tarta di Santiago - a traditional Galician almond cake, made here with Amaretto - had a very pleasing open crumble and was a fitting companion to a closing coffee (£5.50). The quickly-formed impression of La Mancha soon after being seated is one of homely familiarity and ease. Mr. Salvatore makes a point to welcome everyone that walks through the door, new visitors and regulars alike (the majority seemingly the latter), ever-present yet in no way overbearing; I felt as though I'd been coming here for years after just 15 minutes. The offer of a light hazelnut liqueur was made to each table at the end of meals, along with what seemed to be an overdue catch-up with many. The food here is not revolutionary - don’t expect veloutés or foams or popping candy; what you can expect is good, honest, competent Spanish cooking. When it’s too much effort to replicate at home, let a well-versed local kitchen like La Mancha take the reigns - you’ll be pleased you did.

Liked lots: the menu says their tapas portions are generous - they’re not kidding; pan con tomate; polpo; dessert; Mr Salvatore; staff; the cava - rough and dry; location - it’s a nicer-than-usual-high street with a Franco Manca next door 
Liked less: would have liked a runny centre for the tortilla
Good for: whiling away a languorous weekend lunch; private parties - there’s a whole separate area downstairs with its own bar that’s free to hire

My rating: 3.5/5

Afiyet olsun.

NB I was invited as a guest to review this restaurant.

 

cava and tapas at copa de cava, blackfriars - event

I like a glass of fizz as much as the next person. But I’ll be the first to admit I know little about the intricacies and variations of wines - oenology (yes, I had to look that up) isn’t quite my bag. That said, when it comes to bubbly I know what I like the taste of and I’m always willing to learn. Couple this with a deep-set appreciation for a plate (or nine) of quality tapas, and the opportunity to attend a cava tasting evening with complimentary Spanish bites reads as a perfect way to spend an evening.

A handsome bare-bricked subterranean haunt situated just a minute’s inebriated stumble from Blackfriars and brought to us from the team behind Comino (upstairs), Copa de Cava is the UK’s first restaurant and bar dedicated to that very quaffable Spanish sparkler. They stock an impressive range of 29 types of cava and have devised a menu (different to Comino) to compliment each one. I’m very drawn to the idea of whiling away a few hours over their tasting menu with a different glass for each dish; "here is my money, bring me everything that is good". 

Here’s that learning bit. All cava is made using a traditional method of fermentation in deep underground caves and tunnels (similar to the process for making champagne). It’s not a quick job, but does result in the range of complexities that can be found in this wine. There are ten grapes from which cava can be made, all of which are indigenous to Spain (apart from the Champagne grapes Chardonnay and Pinot Noir), and 95% of cava comes from Penedès in Catalunya in the North East. 

Then there’s the aging; a Brut has done so for a minimum of 9 months and will be fresh and light, a Reserva has laid patient for at least 15 months resulting in richer and more structured aromas, and a Gran Reservera is the mature Grandaddy of the lot with a minimum of 30 months under its belt.

Behind the science lies the proof in the eating (and drinking) - how did it all taste? The overwhelming response to which is, good. Very.

Gobstopper-sized Gordal olives dressed with lemon zest, rosemary and a splash of cava vinegar came paired with the Vatua Colets Brut; crisp and balanced, this glass works well as an aperitif and with light dishes. 

The dry and delicate qualities of the pink Raventós í Blanc de nit Reserva 2010 (a combination of red and white grapes) made best friends with the plates of pan con tomate (toasted rubbed with roasted garlic and spread with tomatoes, olive oil and salt) and cured meats that busied our searching fingers.  

Glasses topped up with the smooth and rich Conde de Haro Brut (Rioja) coincided with three tapas dishes. Abalone mushrooms that looked like fat slabs of foie gras were substantial and earthy and elevated with garlic and chilli. The tortilla was deconstructed, playfully served in a glass with a bottom layer of fluffy crushed potato topped with an egg mixture similar to a Benedict sauce - I had two. The patatas bravas were also in a novel format, potato-roll bites filled with the spicy tomato brava sauce - I had many.

Then there were hunks of stonebass and prawns denaturing in a bath of lime, chilli, onions, coriander, and with a flourish of corn kernals. A stellar dish, the juice of which I sunk from two bowls after the meat had gone, the salt burning winter-chapped lips and the sourness aching the gum line. God, I love ceviche. With this, a creamy and zesty Raimat Gran Brut Dominant.

Roasted peppers and aubergines with anchovies and onions perched on crisp sheets of pastry accompanied a dry and grown-up glass of Mont Marcal Reserva, and alien-looking octopus tentacles covered in suckers and paprika and as thick as a baby’s arm looked a picture but could have been softer. But it did marry with the olive oil mash and a fresh and tangy glass of Albariño (Mar de Frades Brut Nature) extraordinarily well.

Iberico pork shoulder was tender and still glistening pink at the centre, the creamy pearl barley a touch too al dente. And then there was one of my favourite steak tartare encounters - unveiled beneath a glass dome with captured smoke, the flavour imparted onto the meat. With the crisp shreds of fried potatoes and a sip or four of an intense and elegant Reserve de la Familia Gran Reserva, this was a winning course.

Little dark chocolate truffles filled with white chocolate mousse accompanied La Rosita Brut and as if we hadn’t been swigging quite enough cava, Richard the owner generously cracked open a stunning bottle of rather special Kripta, Gran Reserva Brut Nature.

If my maths serves me correctly - and let me tell you it’s difficult to count beyond the fingers of one hand after this many bubbles - we sampled ten different cavas that evening, with top-ups for each. I make that a lot of glasses. Inebriation aside, this is just the sort of place that appeals to me; somewhere that focuses on one thing very well, with a lot of good food to go with it. Do visit.

Here are some blogger pals who also attended, check them out: Matt - The List, Wilkes888, The Faerietale Foodie, The Cafe Cat.

Liked lots: location, interiors, specialising in one very lovely type of lubrication, novel takes on traditional tapas
Liked less: the headache the following morning
Good for: letting experts guide you on what to enjoy with what

My rating: 3.5/5

Find the menu on Zomato

Afiyet olsun.

Note: I was invited as a guest to attend this event. Many thanks to Sauce Communications and Copa de Cava for organising.

a tapas feast - recipes

Surprises in the fridge are almost always exciting. Unless they’re in the form of disintegrating lettuce-slush at the bottom of a salad bag - is there anything more gross? Probably.

Returning home from work the other day and making a beeline for the fridge, I opened it to find a bag of Padrón peppers beaming up at me. Not something I had purchased, but produce Matt had found in the supermarket near his work.

Any tapas lover worth the salt on their Padrón peppers will know all about the dish pimientos de Padrón, the only real way to treat these little green bites of delight.

It is blessed with simplicity as is so much of Spanish cooking, in that the dish in its entirety are these peppers fried whole with olive oil and then sprinkled with coarse sea salt. They’re the first things I request when placing my order in a tapas restaurant (without even needing to locate them on the menu) and Fino in Fitzrovia do them deserved justice. 

But it’s only in restaurants I’ve ever eaten them, as until now I’ve been unsuccessful in sourcing these little Galician peppers. And the purist in me will be damned if I was going to attempt the dish with anything but. 

A solitary tapa consumed in isolation goes against the very essence of what it means to eat tapas - tasting many different flavours, sampling small amounts of a wide range, enjoying and sharing with others. And so from this little bag of capsicums an entire Spanish feast was born.

A Spanish Tapas Feast

The below dishes all served in one sitting will feed two hungry people generously. If you're cooking for more, just scale up the ingredients. I've ordered them according to how long they take to cook, starting with the longest. They are all incredibly simple to make with very few ingredients. Some (such as the above pimientos de Padrón) require nothing more than a quick fry.

For almost all the dishes you will need olive oil so do ensure you have a good amount to hand before you begin. Salt and pepper goes without saying.

At any one time you will need four hob rings on the go - one for the chickpeas and chorizo, one for a griddle or saucepan for the seafood, a small saucepan for the tortilla, a final pan to first cook the potatoes and then fry the peppers.

Timings

My suggestion in terms of timing to serve everything hot and simultaneously (or as close as one can get to that) is as follows:

Earlier in the day

1. Marinate the prawns and keep in the fridge
2. Toast the almonds and set aside
3. Create your topping for the mushrooms
4. Prepare your squid, asparagus and peppers so they're ready to be cooked and keep in separate bowls in the fridge

Start cooking

1. Get the chickpeas and chorizo on first as they'll need half an hour. Pre-heat the oven and grill
2. Finely slice the potatoes for the tortilla and get those cooking
3. Plate up any of the no-cook tapas and take to the table
4. When the potatoes are done, remove and set aside. Drain the oil from the pan ready for the peppers later
5. Put the mushrooms and asparagus in the oven to cook. When they have done so, leave the asparagus in there to stay warm but turn the oven off. Top the mushrooms with the cheese mixture and place under a hot grill. When complete, leave under the grill to stay warm but turn the grill off
6. Now give your full attention to the tortilla. Leave in the pan when cooked until ready to serve. If the chickpeas are now soft, turn the heat off but leave the lid on to keep them warm.
7. Whack the prawns and squid on the griddle right at the end, which will take a couple of minutes to cook. Fry your peppers in the previous potato pan at the same time.
8. Plate everything up, relax and enjoy

Garbanzos con Chorizo - Chickpeas with Chorizo

100g of cooking chorizo 
200g canned chickpeas 
2 tbsp tomato puree
100ml passata
Pimentón (Spanish smoked paprika) 

• If a paper skin comes off easily from the meat then remove it. If it doesn’t, don’t bother
• Chop the chorizo into 2cm chunks
• Add to a dry pan on medium heat and cook until form to bite and slightly crisp
• Add drained chickpeas and stir for a couple of minutes
• Add the tomato puree and enough good quality passata to just cover the chickpeas
• Season with salt, pepper and a good pinch of paprika. Taste and adjust seasoning accordingly
• Cover and cook for 30 minutes on a low heat 
• Pour any condensed water that has formed on the lid back into the pan and stir
• Cook until the chickpeas are soft and the passasta has reduced to a thick sauce
• Serve hot

Tortilla - Spanish Omelette

1 small King Edward / Maris Piper potato
¼ small white onion
3 eggs 
Olive oil

• Peel the potato and slice finely (approximately 5mm) - a V-slicer will do this wonderfully and in seconds. Thinly slice the onion aswell
• Lightly fry the slices of potato in enough extra virgin olive oil to just cover them and season with salt. Move them about regularly so they don’t stick to the bottom of the pan
• When the potato is soft, remove with a slotted spoon and drain on kitchen paper
• Add the onions to the oil and fry gently until caramalised, soft and golden. Remove with the slotted spoon and also drain on kitchen paper
• Remove most of the oil from the pan but leave a little, enough to coat the base.
• Using a fork, lightly whisk the eggs and then gently mix in the cooked potato and onions, and add a little salt
• Pour the mixture into a hot pan set on low - medium heat and spread the onions and potato out evenly. Keep scraping the egg away from sides and into the centre whilst cooking, to stop it sticking and to create room for raw egg to occupy and cook
• After a few minutes the bottom will be brown and the whole tortilla almost set, but still with uncooked egg on top. At this stage, get a spatula under the tortilla and carefully flip it over so the uncooked side is now face down 
• Tip This is a little tricky and if the bottom isn’t brown, it will break up and become a mess. To aid the flip, tip your saucepan on its side while you gently ease the tortilla out onto your spatula to flip
• Cook for further 10 secs to ensure a runny middle and serve immediately

This recipe makes a mean tortilla. Who knew eggs, potato and onions could make something so entirely delicious - no doubt something to do with all the wonderful frying.. Either way, this was one of my favourite things on the table.

Gambas a la Plancha - Grilled Prawns

160g pack of fresh prawns in shell
1-2 cloves garlic, crushed
Extra virgin olive oil

Tip you can purchase the prawns either already cooked (pink) or raw (grey) - it makes little difference to the cooking time.

• Thoroughly rinse the prawns, drain and place in a bowl
• Add the garlic, a glug of olive oil, salt and pepper and mix so the prawns are well coated. Cover the bowl and leave in the fridge for a few hours
• Tip If you fancy a bit of heat, you can also add some finely chopped red chilli to this mix
• When ready to cook, heat a frying pan or griddle on medium heat and place the prawns on the base so they sizzle
• Cook each side 1-2 minutes until they turn pink (if cooking raw prawns) and then brown.
• Serve with a squeeze of lemon and chopped parsley

Pimientos de Padrón - Fried Padrón Peppers

130g pack of Padrón peppers
Coarse sea salt
Olive oil (you can use the leftover oil from the tortilla)

• Put the peppers in a bowl and coat with a little oil
• Fry in a hot pan until blistered black and soft
• Sprinkle with good quality sea salt to serve and eat while hot

Champiñones Rellenos - Stuffed Mushrooms

2 x portabello mushrooms
100g Manchego cheese, grated
Small handful of fresh parsley, finely chopped (including stalks)
1/2 clove of garlic, crushed

• Place the mushrooms on a baking tray, drizzle with a little olive oil and season with salt and pepper 
• Bake in hot oven for 10 minutes until brown and soft
• In the meantime, combine the parsley, cheese and garlic in a bowl
• Top each mushroom with this mixture and put under a hot grill until bubbling
• Serve immediately

Calamares a la Plancha - Grilled Squid

2 x prepared squid bodies (approximately 200g)
Juice and zest from one unwaxed lemon
Capers (optional)
Salt and pepper

• Thoroughly rinse the squid and pat dry
• Butterfly to open up the body into one large piece and score diagonally on one side with a sharp knife to create a diamond pattern, but make sure you don’t go all the way through the flesh
• After scoring, cut each body into quarters
• Place the squid into a bowl and coat with a little olive oil, lemon juice, lemon zest and generous helpings of salt and pepper
• On a hot griddle or frying pan, place the squid scored side up and cook for a minute. Turn them over and cook for another minute.
• Turn them back to scored side up again and they will begin to curl up - squeeze with tongs to encourage them to do so
• Cook for further minute until lightly browned
• Serve immediately with a sprinkling of capers and more lemon

  
Espárragos con almendras tostadas - Asparagus with toasted almonds

100g young asparagus spears
50g skinned and blanched whole almonds
Olive oil

• Gently toast the almonds in a dry pan on medium heat, constantly tossing them so they don’t burn 
• When they have taken on a golden colour, remove and set aside
• In the meantime, coat the asparagus in a little olive oil and season with salt and pepper
• Place into a hot oven for five minutes or griddle until soft and cooked.
• Serve the almonds and asparagus together 

In addition to the above, we decorated the table with a few other no-cook tapas dishes including: roasted artichokes, fresh anchovies, mild noceralla olives, ripe tomatoes, sliced Manchego, and jamón ibérico de bellota.

Altogether, an entirely heavenly Spanish spread. And a huge thanks to Matt who cooked it all this evening.

Afiyet olsun.