Chinese restaurants get a lot of stick. At least, they do from me. This is because most of them are appalling.
Greasy piles of substandard meat and carbs swimming in radioactive sauces, slopped onto plates or stuffed into tin vessels, with a side of self-loathing big enough to make you want to drain the MSG directly from your veins. Menus read of generic fried vegetables with a stock protein in a thick sauce, dozens of chow mein options, and a selection of sweet and sour dishes and fried rices; plates of fodder adapted to be blander, thicker and sweeter for the Western palate. This is not what Chinese people eat.
These routine menu items do nothing to accurately represent the full repertoire of Chinese cuisine: the country is enormous, as is the range of cooking that goes on there. Food is regional and style is distinctive, with influences taken from resources, climate, geography, history, cooking techniques and lifestyle.
The province of Hunan is located in the south-central part of China; a little piece of it can also be found in Soho with the name of Ba Shan above the door. Owned by the people who run the Szechuan sister, Barshu, over the road, it boasts an all Hunanese menu developed with Chinese food expert Fuchsia Dunlop. If your idea of a great meal is having your chops whalloped with fire and flavour, there is little need to entertain the thought of dining anywhere else in town.
Piquant preserved yard-long beans chopped into chewy segments provided an unusual but stellar texture for the vegetable. Stir-fried with stiff boards of salty Chinese bacon and slithers of preserved crisp garlic, it was a piled high plate of spicy and savoury splendour.
Square slabs of crispy fried tofu with soft middles saturated with black bean sauce squelched between the teeth, the dark viscous extract coating the inside of the mouth with its sloppy fermented pungency. Both plates were furnished with festive chunks of hot green chillies and even hotter red and both had me at their complete mercy - these are precisely the sort of flavour sensations my palate craves for on a daily basis.
A heap of aubergine mush pounded into submission with garlic and sesame presented still in its mortar, and a plate of slippery wood ear fungus, did wonders at pacifying blistering tongues. The glistening quivering dark mushrooms looked freshly hauled from a sea bed; dressed with vinegar, garlic and chillies they were cool, tangy, crunchy and slipped down barely touching the sides.
The restaurant decoration keeps with tradition, with Chinese lanterns, dark wood and walls adorned with images of Chairman Mao. Service was perfectly acceptable; whilst perplexity flashed across the faces of several waiters at the request of additional coriander (a request left unfulfilled - ‘it’s just for decoration, we don’t have any more’), tea was topped up, words were said smiling and despite advance warning of a 1.5hr time limit for the table, we were there for two with no problem. In other words, for a Chinese restaurant, the service was excellent.
The heat from Hunanese cuisine, whilst almost ubiquitous in its presence, is less of the type that leaves a fat tongue hanging out of your mouth in a desperate search for cold lactose. It’s more penetrating than that, permeating through to your core and the very marrow of your bones, leaving a subtle tingling sensation at the corners of your mouth on the way in. I don’t know how they do this, but it’s excellent.
This is food that doesn’t just pay a visit to your taste buds, it conquers them outright. Planting the flag of flavour firmly into its new found territory to mark its occupation, the food from Ba Shan will leave an impression deep enough that you won’t be able to hold off your next visit for too long.
Liked lots: all of the food; the location
Liked less: was a little quiet at the start, but background music played later on; the menu link on their website is broken (prevents pre-dining anticipation build up)
Good for: authentic, fresh, real, regional Chinese food at good prices; blasting away a cold
My rating: 4/5
Afiyet olsun.
The amount of words on a menu are directly proportional to how long it takes to place an order. Too much and blinking eyes struggle to digest what’s on offer while stomach rumblings grow stronger.
With no less than fourteen ways of ramen to choose from at Shoryu each with lines of text beneath, the first minutes of my maiden visit were filled with the internal anguish of attempting to decipher the differences. It turns out they are mostly the same with one or two additional or held back ingredients to distinguish them; I’m sure this could have been articulated in fewer words.
In a restaurant proud of its Hakata-born Executive Chef cooking up ramen dishes from the region, the inclusion of a ‘Piri Piri Tonkotsu’ in these offerings had the dial on my gimmick-radar twitching. I believe I am correct in thinking Hakata is in Japan, and not Portugal.
Despite these initial shortcomings, the karaka tan tan tonkotsu was presented with all the appeal you would expect from a spicy bowl of hot broth and noodles on a chilly evening. It looked great - cloudy thick white miso stock vibrant from the chiu chow chilli oil, fried mince pork (rather than barbecue pork in most of the others), lemon and garlic. And in fact even more garlic as the bulb fiend within me made full use of the well received pot of cloves complete with crusher at the table.
The stock was fierce and with a level of depth, and with the added cloves would do wonders at blasting any cold into next winter. While I’m the first to appreciate fire in my food, this love wanes when the heat is at the expense of any other flavour: the character from the mushrooms, bean sprouts, spring onion and ginger were suppressed to whimpers, the nitamago egg was lost in the chilli, the nori may as well have been absent, and the pork was at least visually present if little else.
Satisfying a rumbling stomach it achieved with success, as one would expect a large amount of liquid and noodles to do. But provide insight into the intricate balance of textures and flavours accustomed to a bowl of very good ramen, it did not.
I ate it though, and it certainly wasn’t unpleasant. For what I physically required in that moment (a quick and filling bite pre-theatre), it met my needs. But happiness in the present is shattered by comparison with the past and it was impossible not to do so with my only other ramen venture to date, Tonkotsu.
They make their noodles fresh each day with a machine on sight shipped from Japan. Their marinated nitamago egg halves are spectacularly savoury with soft middles. The broth is heavy with the flavour of pig and its disintegrated fat. The menu is brief and clear with just five ramen offerings done very well. Their waiters don’t wear hachimaki headbands. And orders don’t get ‘lost in the kitchen’ arriving 15 minutes later than the rest.
Fire and ice tsukemen had ramen sitting on ice topped with hot smoked salmon, some pork and the halved egg, served with a side bowl of warm wasabi-tonkotsu dipping sauce. Which you know, looked nice.
While the barbeque pork belly on its own had merit, in the hirata buns it was served with a mayonnaise and an uninspiring pairing of iceberg lettuce and a slice of cucumber. On paper the side of shoryu genki don flirted with its enticing list of components: rice, bbq pork, mentaiko caviar, onsen tamago (first sampled not long ago at Luiz Hara’s excellent Japanese supper club), pickles and seaweed. In reality it was 90% rice, the egg white was undercooked, the caviar was mostly a mass of skin, and the pickles were barely sour. I left most of it.
Part of me wishes I had stuck to the signature shoryu ganso tonkotsu ramen to understand if they get the basics right. To appease this curiosity, and because there are a few people I respect who really quite like this place, I would give it another chance.
When I next fancy ramen, and Tonkotsu is too far.
Liked lots: crushed garlic cloves on tap
Liked less: seated on small stools; nowhere to hang bulky coats; the 'lost order'; too much chilli oil in broth;
Good for: dinner if you're an Asian student as most of the clientèle seemed to be
My rating: 3/5
Afiyet olsun.
The dark cold nights of the end of October usually bring with them stories of ghosts and ghouls and kids dressed up in bed sheets knocking on your door for treats. But there is an alternative Mexican way to celebrate the dead, with a little less fear and a little more cheer (and possibly some tequila).
Present to me an excuse to eat good food in celebration of an interesting subject matter in the name of a national holiday, and I’m happy to temporarily entertain religion and even feign an alternative nationality in order to take part in the frivolities.
The autumnal occurrence in the UK of the much celebrated Mexican holiday of Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) presents the perfect opportunity to sample an entry from the international world of public holidays and the way in which food almost universally plays a significant role in them.
Between 31st October and 2nd November each year, the living dedicate three days to remembering those close who have passed, celebrating their lives and rejoicing in the memories they have left. A unique version of the Roman Catholic feasts of All Saints’ and All Souls’ Days, the premise of this fiesta is to give the departed the opportunity and means to visit and provisionally party on with those they left behind.
Despite the macabre connotations, this multi-day event traditionally centres around elaborate festivities complete with jubilant music and dancing, decorative costumes and face paint, and plentiful food and drink.
Altars are built in remembrance and graves are spruced up for the fleeting visitors. Satirical short poems and stories are written and recited, often affectionately ribbing those who have passed in the way only a close friend or relative could. Soft furnishings are set out in homes for souls to rest after arduous journeys from the after world. Warm-blooded participants are entertained by storytelling, dancing and mariachi bands with the noise intended to ‘wake the dead’ and encourage them to swing on by.
The characteristics of the modern festival emerge in the 18th century with original roots reaching as far back as the Aztec era. And as the Aztecs presented gifts of food and drink to sustain their visiting ancestors, Mexicans make ofrendas (offerings) of similar culinary delights. Along with music, flowers and keepsakes, they are used to furnish the home, altars and graves of the deceased to entice them back to earth whilst also providing fuel for their return journey to the afterlife.
It seems the dead have a sweet tooth - that or the still terrestrial Mexicans don’t pass up an opportunity to indulge theirs.
The offerings include a range of candied items including the well recognised calaveras de azúcar (sugar skulls). Often purchased ready made and decorated by the whole family with coloured frosting, they can also be made from scratch by combining granulated sugar, icing sugar, water, and setting in a mould overnight.
Pumpkin also makes an appearance on this menu for los muertos, handy as there tends to be a lot of it around at this time of year. Simmered in piloncillo (Mexican unrefined brown sugar), cinnamon and orange zest until tender, they add to the tooth-aching and colourful spread. Pan de muerto (bread of the dead) is a sweet eggy loaf baked into various shapes and often decorated with white frosting to imitate twisted bones.
Atole is a hot masa (corn flour) based drink, spiced with cinnamon and vanilla and sweetened with more piloncillo - further sugary delights to help wash the rest of them down.
Whilst you may (somewhat unsurprisingly) find your offerings untouched by your guests, it's often believed they consume the "spiritual essence" of the food whilst leaving the physical forms intact. This loosely translates to us mortals indulging in a sugar rush once the festivities come to a close. Well, someone’s got to do it.
Let the well-worn Halloween take a backseat this year - instead get your fiesta on and join in some of the Día de los Muertos celebrations taking place about town - olé!
Mestizo
A special ofrenda altar will be displayed in the restaurant to welcome back the ‘dear departed’, of which you can add photos of those you wish to remember. This coincides with their fifth ‘Festival del Mole’ featuring a special menu of 12 mole sauces and authentic recipes to tuck into.
Available until Saturday 2nd.
Wahaca
Complimentary tequila for diners visiting on Friday 1st and Saturday 2nd and a special edition Blood Orange Day of the Dead Margarita on offer for £5. Enjoy them amongst the traditional decorations and ofrenda altars in remembrance of famous Mexicans, and you can also get your face painted to embrace the spirit.
Rich Mix
Screening Mexican horror movies on Saturday 2nd to help get your scream on, along with ‘undead’ DJs and dancers in zombie attire to help get your groove on. Helps if you understand Spanish.
£8/£6, prebook,7.30pm
Day of the Dead Festival
This four day celebration takes over the Dalston Department Store pop-up venue starting with a good old fashioned party on Friday and following with three days of traditional craft workshops. Learn how to make Aztec flowers, sugar skulls, masks and watch the March of the Dead through London’s streets on Saturday 2nd.
£7/£5.95 per day, prebook
Silent Disco
Help raise money for next year’s New Cross & Deptford free film festival by attending their Day of the Dead Silent Disco fundraising event. Celebrate at Hill Station Cafe with music, dancing and cocktails in eerie silence. Fitting.
£15.00, prebook, 1 November from 7.30pm
Horniman Museum & Gardens
Head over to this south London museum on the evening of Thursday 7th for carnival processions, film, puppet theatre performances, dance and a tour of the Natural History collection with a focus on bones.
£3, prebook, 7 November from 6-9pm
Afiyet olsun.
‘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
The world’s largest event dedicated to chocolate came to London this weekend for the first time, connecting producing countries, chocolatiers, consumers, and hosting over 60 British and international participants including some well known brands such as Lindt and Godiva.
Salon du chocolat marked the grand finale of Chocolate Week launching with a gala evening on 18th October. It included their renowned chocolate fashion show, associating fashion designers and talented chocolatiers to create couture masterpieces made of the sweet stuff and modelled down a catwalk runway to a backdrop of flash photography.
Throughout the weekend, visitors were treated to activities including demonstrations, talks and interactive workshops from acclaimed chocolatiers and chefs, along with sculptures such as Hotel Chocolat’s life size chocolate cocoa tree and a bathtub full of melted chocolate (occupied by a scantily clad female at one point).
The festival is touring the world so if you missed it in town and happen to be globe trotting over the next few months, here are the dates. It's certainly worth checking out:
Paris Professionnel (Trade Show): 28-30 October 2013, Porte de Versailles, Pavilion 4
Paris Grand Public (Consumer Show): 30 October - 3 November 2013, Porte de Versailles, Pavilion 5
Lyon: 8-11 November 2013, Centre de Congrès - Cité Internationale
Cannes: 23-25 November 2013, Palais des Festivals et des Congrès
Seoul: 16-19 January 2014, Coex
Tokyo: 22-27 January, Isetan-Mitsukoshi & 6 Japanese cities
Brussels: 7-9 February 2014, Tour & Taxis
Marseille: 28 February - 2 March 2014, Parc Chanot
Nantes: February/March 2014, Parc des Expositions de Nantes
Bordeaux: March 2014, Hangar 14
Zurich: 4-6 April 2014, Messe Zürich
Lima: July 2014
New York: November 2014
Lille: November 2014, Lille Grand Palais
I got pretty snap happy as there was a lot of good looking material to photograph - collages below.
Afiyet olsun.
Japanese soy sauce is an ingredient best served dark caramel in colour (any darker and it’s had colourings added), only made with four natural ingredients (water, salt, soybean, wheat), and subject to a slow brew over a period of months.
All qualities Kikkoman achieve, so I learnt from Mr Bing, CEO of Kikkoman UK at their press dinner held at sushi and teppan-yaki restaurant Matsuri St. James in Mayfair.
It’s a brand synonymous with quality soy sauce and the only one I’ve ever used for it. The purpose of the evening was to promote the use of this ingredient as a seasoning in dishes outside of oriental cuisine - it turns out there’s quite a lot it can work with.
To help us understand the range of its versatility, Michelin star Head Chef Simon Hulstone (usually found at The Elephant in Torquay) donned his apron and got to work on a teppan. Tenderstem broccoli (harvested from his 30+ acre Devonshire farm) and caramelised scallops dressed in a soy, mirin, olive oil and sesame oil sauce were shared amongst all. Appetising and savoury and of course, no need to add salt.
Simon spoke of other dishes he cooks often featuring soy as the savoury component, some of which can be found at The Elephant: with chocolate, in soy salted caramel, tarte tatins, cider brandy, even with vodka and beetroot as a marinade for monkfish - I’d eat all of these.
The remainder of the evening involved a lot of rather good food cooked up by the restaurant chefs and Simon attempting to enjoy his meal whilst receiving a grilling from those seated near him (we couldn’t not, really):
What does a Michelin starred chef eat at home? - anything I can find in the fridge and with minimal washing up - I’ll eat out the pan if I can
What hours do you work as a Head Chef? - around 8am - 11.30pm
Are there any ingredients even chefs hate? - I can’t abide fish eggs or kidneys
What do you think of bloggers? - I have friends who are bloggers - they’re fine as long as they don’t contact me ahead of a visit telling me they’re a blogger and expecting something for it. I hate TripAdvisor
What do you think of people that take pictures of food in your restaurant? - it’s fine if it doesn’t affect other customers, and I’d prefer it with a good camera to at least do the dish justice
Where do you eat when you’re in London? - Hawksmoor, Pitt Cue
What’s big on the restaurant scene at the moment? - learning from the Scandinavians and how they work with vegetables so well
(Thank you Simon, for being so accommodating and such a gent - apologies if we were a handful..)
Starters consisted of seafood and vegetable tempura, along with assorted sushi rolls of tuna, fat orange salmon roe (bet Simon loved that), white fish and scallops, all prepared fresh before us during a sushi making demonstration by Head Chef Hiroshi Sudo.
Huge hunks of marbled dry Angus fillet steak were briefly introduced to the searing heat yielding middles to our specification - rare was duly red, soft and very easy to devour. Ginger marinated Alaskan black cod was the alternative; equally satisfying I soon discovered, as I dipped a pair of chopsticks into a friendly neighbour’s plate.
A spectacle of theatre concluded the courses as large blocks of vanilla ice cream were doused in Grand Marnier and set alight on the teppan with flames nearly licking the ceiling. Served warm and melting on the outside with still frozen middles, they were presented alongside thin crêpe suzette pancakes and caramelised pineapple chunks.
The moral of this story is, Kikkoman is pretty much the only way to go for your soy sauce needs and works a treat as a savoury umami hit in any dish.
Many thanks to those involved hosting such a wonderful evening.
Afiyet olsun.
Note: I was invited as a guest to this event.
It’s rarely too early to start with one, so let us begin with a cocktail.
Take a man with a passion for great food, travel and wine. Add to this far-reaching culinary influences courtesy of Japanese and Italian parents. Have him born and raised in São Paulo and living in London for the past 20 years. Throw in classical training from a diploma at the Cordon Bleu cookery school along with an advanced certificate from the Wine and Spirit Education Trust. Shake up with a history in investment banking and a swish Islington pad, and finish off with a strong desire to share the food of his yesteryears home cooked by his Japanese family in Brazil; decant, serve over ice and savour the very memorable experience that is Luiz Hara's (aka The London Foodie) Japanese supper club.
This is a no holds barred event of gratification, the level of which has guests ‘wow’-ing from the moment they are greeted at the door to their departure.
Think of the best dinner party you’ve attended. Triple the number of attendees and add another four courses. Include a handful of volunteers to help plate up, clear down and serve drinks and involve ingredients like lumpfish caviar and Clarence Court duck eggs. Execute this in a generous open plan dining area complete with two full length tables and a breakfast bar to accommodate all 28 guests, with full view of the maestro toiling over a hot AGA. You will then have something close to the well-oiled machine that is this epicurean event.
The menu spoke of dishes mostly unfamiliar to a Westerner unaccustomed to Japanese food created outside of restaurants; apart from a token plate of salmon sashimi (incidentally very good and with a South American twist of avocado and crème fraîche), there was not a sushi roll, yakitori stick or bowl of ramen in sight.
Spaghetti (not noodles - real Italian spaghetti and entirely authentic to this specific dish, Luiz informed us) coated in a luxurious chilli-marinated cod roe and caviar sauce yielded all the comfort and textural characteristics of a carbonara, but singing of seafood, speckled with black fish eggs and delivering a punch of heat to the back of the throat.
The duck egg received a slow cook sous-vide treatment to replicate the cooking method of the dish ‘tamago onsen’ where they are traditionally submerged in Japanese hot springs. With delicate silken tofu and a mixture of dashi, soy and mirin, the yolk was served at the precise moment just before setting takes place; a sublime physical state of buttery viscosity.
The flesh of the tempura aubergine had broken down to that characteristic and irresistible mush it does so well, lightly battered and served with umami mirin, as were broccoli florets and splayed oyster mushrooms.
Large tabletop hotpots on individual gas burners were crammed full of fresh sea dwellers: firm squid and fat prawns, sweet clams and meaty cod, along with slippery and transparent glass noodles, yielding tofu, mushrooms and greens. Over the vessels great jugs of miso, soya milk and dashi broth were poured to allow a brief and gentle simmer of the contents before guests dipped in a ladle to fill their bowls. The mild sweetness from the milky brew worked with the seafood particularly well.
‘Buta Kakuni’ consisted of generous hunks of pork belly striped through with inviting layers of fat, slow-braised in brown rice and caramelised in a mix of brown sugar, soy sauce and ginger, resulting in sweet flaking lean and fat that slipped down with ease. Glutinous chestnut rice, crunchy sugar snaps and green beans provided fitting companionship for the meat.
Then there was the flourless chocolate cake with Armagnac soaked prunes. This may well have been one of the best derivatives of the cocoa plant I’ve consumed; the pleasure receptor reader, had there been one, would have blown a fuse. Along with refreshing green tea ice cream and a cool glass of superb Muscat, this course was in my top three.
I can only imagine the level of knowledge, skill, precision and professionalism demonstrated through the food, the encompassing bon vivant atmosphere, and the diners in full flow of a truly splendid evening are things most supper club hosts (and a lot of restaurants no doubt) could only hope to aspire too.
It is also entirely appropriate to reference the cost per person for this evening (I’ll always grab an opportunity to induce a simultaneous raising of eyebrows amongst my readers): £40 + service which included all of the aforementioned, plus canapes and a gin and tonic to begin. I’ll reiterate what many have said before: seek this level and quantity of cooking in the high-end restaurant it would be at home in, and you would pay at the very least double that. At the very least.
To say I would recommend attending would be an understatement - it’s an essential visit for anyone seeking out great food for outstanding value and who wouldn’t say no to a wonderful evening out. So I make that, almost everyone*.
Be sure to take a look at upcoming dates for Luiz's supper clubs that cover both Japanese and French cuisine, as well as Japanese cookery lessons.
Bravo Luiz, you were the perfect host - I anticipate I won’t be able to hold off my next visit for much longer.
My rating: 4.5/5
Afiyet olsun.
*it goes without saying that if you don't eat seafood, a supper club with a Japanese menu perhaps shouldn't be your first choice, as one misguided diner averse to eating things that swim quickly came to realise..
