a.wong, victoria - review

‘Oh, you’re joking. You are joking. Why didn’t you tell me?’; cue the accompanying dramatic fall of head into hands. This was the response I received from Zeren Wilson of Bitten and Written when I informed him that, upon recently finding myself in the barren culinary landscape that is Victoria, I was stumped as to where I could go for a good lunch.

A quandry easy in which to find yourself in this part of town. During lunch and the commute the streets ripple with pressed-for-time suits, fading to an equally boring lull for the remainder of the day. It has a big train station, a massive bus garage, a few huge glass-fronted offices, seemingly unending runs of Wicked and Billy Elliot at the Victoria Palace and Apollo Victoria theatres, and some not-too-terrible fashion stores. 

By way of places to eat, it’s about as dry as the eastern Sahara: ubiquitous sandwich and coffee chains, Giraffe, Dim T, Yo! Sushi, a Sainsbury’s ‘Market’ (whatever that is) - it’s all underwhelmingly meh. Except, that is, for A. Wong on Wilton Street.

‘A. Wong. A. Wong! You should have gone to A. Wong; it has some of the most innovative modern Chinese cooking in the city. You need to go for lunch, for the dim sum lunch.’ As Zeren continued to lament over my missed opportunity, I feverishly finger-swiped my way through my Google calendar to find a free lunch spot. To reinforce the decision, and by some well-placed coincidence, both Richard Vines and Andy Hayler tweeted about visits in the following days. Bumped to the top of my restaurant hit-list, it was.

The name above the door is that of London-born Andrew Wong, a chef that has travelled and worked in China, and responsible for transforming the old family restaurant (known as Kyms) into the slick, double-fronted, bright-eyed offering it is today. 

The kitchen has moved away from well-represented British-Cantonese cuisine, now focussing on creative dim sum and regional dishes. It is both open and fenced in by a bar propped up mostly by solo diners in for a quick dim sum fix, with the tabled-seating available generously spaced. Each morsel from the 25(-ish) dim sum plates offered at lunch are individually priced allowing for relaxed and unfettered finger-pointing at whatever dumpling takes your fancy. And most, if not all of them, will.

Pork and prawn were delicate siu mai embellished with a light and crispy pig skin hat. Scallop puffs on a beach of pearly tapioca powder looked like burnished-orange flowers mid-bloom, drizzled with potent XO sauce, revealing succulent meat within. Balls of sticky sesame foie gras were so near-perfectly round that on delivery, one duly rolled off onto the table; quickly administering the 3-second rule for fear of a waiter meltdown, they had a pleasing chew but there was little detection of fattened liver. 

Quail egg croquette puffs on scattered crispy seaweed concealed still-runny yolks beneath golden quiffs of light batter, accompanied by a really good and salty ginger and spring onion dipping sauce; one of my favourites. Shanghai steamed dumplings placed on spoons were consumed whole, the thimble of ginger infused vinegar within released in the confines of the mouth - also very good, although the Taiwanese has had them with slightly thinner skins (in Hong Kong).

The unmistakable aroma of a truffle dumpling registered with our olfactory bulbs before the basket reached the table - Yunnan mushroom and pork sporting generous gratings of the black stuff - a touch of earthy and very well-received dim sum indulgence. Crab, seafood and beancurd cannelloni with pickled cockles, whilst a picture, didn’t match the rest of the offerings.

The dandan noodle dish with striking egg-yolk colouring was like an Asian bolognese with a rich minced beef sauce and pickled vegetables; the type of food where, anything less than bringing the bowl up to your lips to sink the last bits of gravy, would be an insult.

Then there was a chocolate sphere concealing tobacco smoked banana, revealed with theatre as the shell disintegrated under the hot soy caramel sauce poured over it; accompanied by a nutty scattering of crumble, it’s just about everything I look for in a dessert. A playful plate of coconut ice cream, glutinous dumpling, apple, pandan jelly and peanut cream came furnished with some candy floss and was too, very agreeable.

I now understand the flurry of recognition associated with A.Wong - not only are the things coming out of the kitchen very good indeed, they’re different. I haven’t had dim sum like this before, and the Taiwanese (who has had a great deal in her time) declared it as ‘possibly some of the best I’ve ever had’. Not to mention that during our visit a photographer from Tatler Magazine was snapping away for their 2014 restaurant guide. With accolades piling up all around, Andrew and his team are set to go places. I’ll be returning for the few remaining dim sum I didn't gobble on my first visit, and that 10-course tasting menu.

Liked lots: dim sum, dandan noodles, desserts, full view of Andrew and team in the kitchen, individual and very reasonable pricing of dumplings, more unusual ingredients, waiting staff, a corker in an otherwise quagmire of poor eateries
Liked less: seafood cannelloni
Good for: great takes on classic dim sum, venturing to Victoria for, business lunches, lunch on a whim (sit at the bar), great bites before embarking on a long train journey, dates, view of the kitchen (sit at the bar)

My rating: 4/5

Find the menu on Zomato.

Afiyet olsun.

topolski bar, southbank - review

‘We’re going for a drink - are you coming?’. The response to this - a question often posed as the working week draws to a close (and if it’s going to be a tough one, sometimes when it’s only just begun) - often depends on whether or not food will be involved. Those who find it a challenge to just go for a drink if doing so is the single consumptive activity destined for the occasion are those I can relate to. I’m a rubbish pub-pal.

Without trying to come across all continental, a drink is difficult for me to enjoy unless it’s alongside good food (lots of it) or following a well-received meal. Wine, cocktails, beer, straight up spirits - I can entertain the lot if there is adequate sustenance to support them. It is probably unsurprising then, that my knowledge of what’s hot and what’s good on the London bar scene is somewhat lacking; give me a restaurant with an attractive wine list or hot sake any day.

The concept of Topolski Bar was interesting enough to make me wander into the culinary void that is the immediate area surrounding Waterloo station and pay a visit. Recently launched in collaboration with the artist Feliks Topolski’s family, it fills a cavernous yet warm, high-ceilinged space (once the artist’s studio) comprising of three distinct rooms and with some of his vibrant pieces furnishing the walls.

Staying true to Topolski’s heritage, the food here is Polish and the vodka is potent. It’s also house-infused with such novel flavourings as horseradish (served with tomato juice and spices - so a Bloody Mary), pink grapefruit (slightly bitter - good), blueberry (with cloudy apple juice - sweet - good to finish up on), and tarragon (not tried - there are only so many vodka cocktails I can justify on a Monday). 

Savoury piggy bites like kabanos and Kracovian dry pork sausage are the exact things you want to pop into your mouth between swigs of beer or cocktails, and along with beetroot cured and smoked salmon, wedges and small mounds of British cheeses with piccalilli, and a lot of quality bread and butter to bulk it up, the sharing platters make for very good grazing.

This is not a place for a dinner accompanied by some drinks - there’s not enough choice and portions are too small to qualify them as meals. But if you’re after a drinking den with qualities often lacking in London bars - ample space, the ability to hear conversation, quality snacks to accompany your drinks - then Topolski is a solid offering. It also hosts a regular programme of curated events from musicians, cabaret artists and DJ’s to present ‘a selection of upbeat entertainment’, so I have little doubt it gets a lot livelier when it’s not a Monday evening. Their Eastern European acid jazz nights are calling me.

Liked lots: art-adorned walls, how they've used the space, novel house-infused vodka flavours, Eastern European food, ample seating, lots of space (I'm sure it comes in handy when the place fills up), location
Liked less: portion sizes could be a little larger
Good for: very tasty food to accompany your drinking, the curated events sound interesting

My rating: 3.5

Afiyet olsun.

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

uyen luu's vietnamese supper club - review

It’s Chinese New Year today. An observation difficult to miss what with the press coverage, fireworks, liberal references to ‘galloping’ over the year’s threshold (it’s that of the horse), and a heightened buzz about all the Chinatowns of the world as preparations for festivities and feasting are in full swing. 

Whilst Chinese New Year is well-represented across the globe, it is probably less commonly known (at least, I didn’t know) that today is also Tết, Vietnamese New Year. It’s the most important of the country’s annual festivities and falls on the same day as the Chinese celebrations as it is based on their calendar. 

By a very well-placed coincidence and with no prior knowledge of what Tết was, myself and some friends happened to have long-overdue spaces secured at Uyen Luu’s Vietnamese Supper Club for this very evening - happy new year indeed.

With around 29 guests packed into the long and narrow living room of Uyen’s East London home and with the help of an assistant, the evening saw our tables furnished with signature light and fragrant plates - slow-cooked meats, fresh vegetables and some bites packing powerful chilli punches. 

Summer rolls were large, fat and firm; the taught translucent rice paper skin partially concealing plump prawns. A crisp and vibrant cross-section - green from cockscombe, perilla, garlic chives, mint and coriander - revealed itself after the first bite. One of these dipped into the pineapple and chilli sauce was light enough to sit very eloquently atop my meat-heavy lunch, and I was very grateful for it.

If it being Tết meant this was my annual opportunity to get my chops around some Vietnamese New Year sticky rice cake (banh chung), then thank crikey for the timing, because whilst it didn’t look especially promising, this was my favourite plate. Served with mung bean, pork belly, thick soy, Vietnamese sausage and pickled leeks, the flavours were strong and unafraid to give you a shake by the jowls. Not to mention the glutinous rice, soft meat and crunchy pickles providing a great texture combination.

Tender slithers of rump steak cooked with lemongrass and tightly wrapped in betal leaves with a peanut sauce were slender fingers of savoury satisfaction, and the zesty salad platters of carrot, cucumber, mint, poached prawns and pork belly were vibrant, vivid and full of vitality.

A combination of soft pork and prawn manipulated around the end of a stick of sugar cane had all the novelty (to those not already acquainted with these) of a grown up lollipop. The meat is eaten first, followed by mastication (but not consumption) of the cane to extract the sweet juices. My Taiwanese companion has tried a lot of these and declared at the table with full conviction, ‘these are the best I’ve ever had’.  

The meat of the slow-cooked pork belly in coconut water was a little tough, but the fat was buttery and rich, served with pickled lotus stems with a pixie-like beauty in their miniature seven-holed cross sections. Their fibre can be pulled into strings as fine as spider silk with your teeth, as demonstrated by the Taiwanese in the know (the rest of us were squealing like the kids with lollipops we were).

A chicken and bamboo noodle soup had wonderful soft meat and a delicate, refreshing broth - the tiny slices of red chillies served on a side plate were fruity and hot enough to blow the top of your head off and melt the contents, like a soft boiled egg.

To cool the tongue, an avocado and coconut sorbet. A novel flavour and one that grows with every spoonful - at first interpreted as frozen salad. But the fatty creaminess of avocado is in fact a great medium for a dessert expected to have similar qualities. It worked really well - I’d like to have this again. The little ginger biscuits were excellent and I shoved another three in my mouth that were sitting in a bowl by the front door on my way out.

The full throes of friends enjoying good food and wine was enjoyed at a high decibel and with temperatures a tad too toasty - that many people in a standard-sized living space next to a kitchen that’s been flat out all day will do that. 

Whilst portion sizes need to be more consistent (both my banh chung and pork belly were much smaller than my companions) and perhaps two summer rolls and lollipops served each rather than one (to fill any remaining space in the gut on departure), every course was thoroughly enjoyable and very well received.

The donation for this supper club is £35 plus a little extra suggested for the helper - so £40. The value is good, but doesn’t quite match others that have either had more food, included welcome drinks and canapés, used some luxury ingredients, or all of the above, for the same or similar price. That said, it’s a great introduction to the supper club scene and we had a riot. You’ll find future dates of Uyen’s supper club on her website.

A huge thanks to Uyen’s hard work and for dishing out some very good food.

Liked lots: all of the food, but particularly the banh chung Vietnamese New Year cake and avocado sorbet 
Liked less: it was a little too toasty and noisy - could perhaps do with a few less people; without sounding like a pig, one more course would have gone down well 
Good for: an introduction to the London supper club scene

My rating: 3.5

Afiyet olsun.

chef franck raymond masterclass at augustine kitchen - event

January can be a bleak month. Meals are dry, Mondays are blue, the need for an ark seems more pressing, and it’s an eternity until payday. When thinking of dinner options during this dreary time of year, salads tend to feature low on the list - after macaroni cheese, roast chicken, linguine carbonara, dauphinois and cake.

When the wet and grey has us following our noses towards every hot carb-based dish wafting past like a police bloodhound at an abandoned warehouse rave, the revitalising qualities a fresh and vibrant salad can provide is a welcome interjection against a sorry month of overeating, 5:2 fasting or paleo preoccupation. 

An evening hosted by Chef Franck Raymond at his recently-opened French restaurant Augustine Kitchen in Battersea shared the secrets to a handful of salad recipes with a group of snap-happy food bloggers eager to sample the results. Cast aside preconceptions of limp lettuce and dull dressings, these were salads I would consider over a hunk of flaky slow-cooked meat (maybe), with recipes involving scallop ceviche, duck, puy lentils, Thai flavours, and more.

Franck talked us through anecdotal stories from his yesteryears whilst demonstrating some leafy handiwork; children always make salad dressings in French households, a true Nicoise only has raw vegetables, and his mother used a wooden spoon to combine her dressings and therefore, so does Franck. 

Life is all about balance, and what better way to highlight the light and rejuvenating qualities of a vitamin-packed salad than by contrasting it against glasses of bubbly and an oven dish heavy with gooey cheese-covered potatoes and bacon - the Alpine wonder that is a tartiflette. The sort of dish a day of hard exertion on the slopes would earn; I had been strenuously sitting at a desk. 

Served piping-hot, it is savoury and hearty and utterly comforting - the type of food tongues are burnt on because it is just too much to ask to wait for it to cool. 

Augustine understand the need for such plated pleasures for when the nights are dark and long - luckily for us they’re running Tartiflette Tuesday’s during the month of February which includes a hefty helping of this ski resort classic along with a green salad and the house aperitif of sparkling rosé for £14.95.

In the meantime and if Tuesday is just too far away, you'll find the recipe below to have a go yourself.

Chef Franck Raymond's Tartiflette

Serves 6

450g potatoes, cubed
160g smoked bacon, diced
200g onions, diced
300ml dry white wine
30g butter 
220g Reblochon cheese, rind removed and cubed
250ml crème fraîche
750ml semi-skimmed milk
2g chicken bouillon granules
Salt and pepper 

Keep the chopped potatoes in water until you're ready to cook them to prevent discolouration. Boil in fresh water until al dente, and drain. Add a pinch of salt during their last 2 minutes of cooking.

In the meantime, sauté the onions in the butter in a frying pan until softened. Add the white whine and cook further until the liquid has reduced to a syrupy consistency.

In a separate pan, fry the bacon - there is no need to add any fat. When it's cooked, slowly add it to the onions, combine well and allow to rest.

Preheat the oven to 200C.

Heat the milk and crème fraîche in a saucepan and add the cheese - keep some of the cheese aside to use later. Continue to heat until the cheese has melted and the liquid has reduced by half. Add a pinch of salt and the bouillon.

In the same frying pan you cooked the bacon, sauté the potatoes in a little butter or oil until lightly browned. Add to this the onions and bacon and combine well. Pour this mix into a baking dish, and pour the cheese sauce over the top to cover evenly. Top with the remaining cheese you kept aside. 

Cook in the oven for 10 minutes until golden brown.

Be prepared for the onset of hibernation almost certain to follow.

Afiyet olsun.

great british chefs supperclub by selina periampillai - review

There are few things more attractive on a Saturday afternoon than the prospect of an extended multi-course lunch in the comfort of a friend's home, with fellow food-nut obsessives and menu items devised by some of the UK’s top chefs. It has all the necessary elements to guarantee a good story - wonderful food and raucous company, not to mention no washing up (for the guests at least).




Such was the invitation I found myself RSVP-ing to with great enthusiasm last week; a meal hosted and cooked by Selina Periampillai from Yummy Choo Eats was the format of the afternoon. All we had to do to earn such a treat was share a little about the evening and the recipes through our blogs; I know a good deal when I see one.

I am well acquainted with Selina’s tasty handiwork, from the Mauritian pop-up I scoffed my way through with all the fervour of a bullmastif on a new chew toy, to the food stall Selina has commandeered at several events I’ve attended, to an educational dhal puri making class taught in Balham - the girl can cook.

All dishes on the agenda were chosen from the vast database of recipes found on the Great British Chefs website - a well-known digital publisher providing those who are partial to cooking up a storm with an unrivalled collection of over 1500 recipes and tips from the best chefs in the country. Staying close to where Selina’s cooking expertise lie, the plates selected were mostly of Indian and tropical heritage, fanning our appetites with bold, fresh flavours and vibrant colours.

A bottle of wine to compliment each course was kindly selected and provided by Corney & Barrow, independent wine merchants since 1780. Entertainment came in the form of wonderful dining companions and fellow food-fanatics of the London food scene: @Clerkenwell_boy, Katy from @Feelgd_Foodbk, Laura from @digestmag, and Sally from @thecafecat.  

Here's the running order of the feast we devoured over several hours, the recipes on the Great British Chefs website, and the chef who invented it:

Starters

• Salumi 'nduja bhajis (adapted by Selina with Iberico chorizo) by Marcello Tully - savoury crisp bites with chicken and pork and flavoured with seeds and spices 
• Wine - Marsannay Domaine Joseph Roty 2008 - raspberry and strawberry flavours; very elegant and almost feminine

• Grilled aubergine rolls by Alfred Prasad - grilled slices wrapped around a spiced quinoa and paneer filling
• Lightly curried chicken with mango mayonnaise by Galton Blackiston - succulent and mild chunks of meat with a fruity mayonnaise jazzed up with lime
• Indian potato cakes by Alfred Prasad (and Selina's coriander chutney) - chickpeas and spices pad out these well-flavoured bites with a lively chutney
• Wine - Puligny-Montrachet Domaine Francois Carillon 2011 - warm fruit and biscuit flavours

Mains

• Peshwari lamb kebab by Alfred Prasad - marinated with raw papaya to tenderise, garlic, ground chilli, fennel, cream and grilled until tender
• Wine - Gevrey-Chambertin Clos des Varoilles 1er Cru Domaine des Varoilles 2007 - black fruits and gentle spices
• Zaffrani pulao by Alfred Prasad - braised basmati rice with cumin, whole spices and saffron for a simple yet flavoursome and hearty side
• Mango salad by Alfred Prasad - light and zingy with cress, tomatoes, coconut, walnuts and lime
• Seared bream with roasted aubergine, tomato and potato crush and kachumber by Vivek Singh - best-friend flavours and textures along with a fresh Indian salsa; the onion seeds make it
• Wine - Chablis 1er Cru Vaillons Domaine Vincent Dampt 2011 - good acidity cutting through the plate

Dessert

• Pineapple upside-down cake, spiced rum caramel, and Devonshire clotted cream by Marcus Wareing - quite the finish, sweet and boozy with an outstanding crust, works wonders with the clotted cream
• Wine - L'Effronte Moelleux Domaine Matrot 2007 - sweet wine so smaller pours, serve from the fridge and open before the kebab course

A huge thanks to Selina for putting in the hard work to host and feed us for the day, to Great British Chefs for the recipes and ingredients, and for Corney & Barrow for the very quaffable lubrication.

Until next time.

Afiyet olsun.

RECIPE: chicken saag and coriander chapatis

chicken saag and coriander chapatis

As the ever-perceptive Homer Simpson once sang whilst shaking his backside in a conga line during an archetypal The Simpsons moment, “You don’t win friends with salad”.

Unless, you can transform a load of greens into something everyone wants to eat - a curry. A great tasting one at that and likely to be healthier than most ‘salads’ on the market.

I've come across a fantastic 7,000 word article covering the 34 science-backed health benefits of spinach written by Helen Nichols over on Well-Being Secrets. Awesome bedtime reading, should you still needed convincing about spinach.

A chicken saag is a curry consisting of the meat cooked in a spiced sauce made from some type of leafy green - mustard leaves, finely chopped broccoli, fenugreek (methi) or in this case, spinach. There is a lot of good in this dish and it’s low in fat. So it’s a good option for all the self-restraint we’re (supposed to be) exercising at this time of year. Serve with rice to mop up the sauce, or some warm and freshly made coriander chapatis (below).


Chicken Saag 

Serves 4

260g fresh spinach leaves
1 thumb sized piece of fresh ginger, chopped
3 green chillies
2 garlic cloves
30ml rapeseed oil
8 whole black peppercorns
3 bay leaves
1 tsp cumin seeds, ground (or ready ground cumin)
1 tsp coriander seeds, ground (or ready ground cumin)
2 small white onions, chopped
4 tomatoes, chopped
2 tsp mild madras curry powder
1 tsp garam masala
4 skinless chicken thighs with bone, flesh scored
4 skinless chicken legs with bone, flesh scored
5 tbsp low fat yoghurt
Sea salt
Coriander leaves (optional)


Cook the spinach in a pan with a tight fitting lid on a medium heat until wilted - there is no need to add water or oil. Push it about a bit with a wooden spoon. Once wilted, transfer the spinach to a food processor. Add the ginger, chillies (de-seed them if you want to remove some of the heat), garlic and 50ml of water. Blitz until smooth.

Pour the oil into the same pan and on a medium heat, fry the peppercorns and bay leaves until the former begin to pop. Add the cumin and coriander, stir, and cook for a further minute. Add the onions and a pinch of salt, stir and cover. Cook until soft and brown, about 10 minutes - give the onions a nudge now and again with the spoon to prevent any sticking.

Tip Retain any water that condenses in the lid when you lift it to stir - allow it to fall back into the onions.

Add the tomatoes, stir and cook for another 3 minutes. Add the garam masala and curry powder and cook for further 3 minutes.

To this pan add the spinach mix, combine well and cook for another 5 minutes. Stir in the yoghurt, a tablespoon at a time. When fully mixed, add the chicken and combine until they're well coated. Simmer with the lid on until the chicken is cooked through, about 20 minutes. Remove the lid and raise the heat so the sauce begins to boil. Keep stirring and turn off the heat once you’re happy with the consistency of the sauce. Taste for seasoning and feel free to add more yoghurt if it has too much chilli heat.

Serve in warmed bowls with a sprinkle of fresh coriander leaves, a drizzle of yoghurt and some coriander chapatis (below). And by the way, this tastes even better the next day.

288 kcal per serving*

Coriander Chapatis

Makes 15

300g chapati flour
1 tsp rapeseed oil
80g coriander leaves, finely chopped
5g sea salt
2 tbsp low fat natural yoghurt

Sift the flour into a large bowl and add the coriander, salt and oil. To this add 3/4 cup of warm water and the yoghurt. Combine in the bowl with a wooden spoon until it creates one mass and then turn out onto a floured surface. Knead for 10 minutes or until smooth, no longer sticky and it springs back if you poke it. Place the dough into an oiled bowl, cover with a tea towel and leave to rest in a warm place for 15 minutes.

Divide the mass into 15 equal pieces. To do this weigh the whole mass and divide by 15 - the result is how much each piece should weigh, around 45g. Roll each piece into a ball between the palms of floured hands. With a rolling pin and on a floured surface, roll each ball out into the shape of a rough circle with the thickness of a 50p coin (around 2mm).

Heat a non-stick frying pan or tawa over a high heat for a minute. Put a chapati in the pan - when it begins to puff up and bubble, turn it over. You want each side to have browned and blistered a bit. Repeat with the rest of the chapatis. Don't over cook these or they will become hard.

Tip As each chapati is cooked, place it in a pile with the rest and keep the pile wrapped in a clean tea towel, rather than on a cold plate for example. This will prevent any condensation gathering under the bread.

These are wonderful eaten warm and fresh. Alternatively, keep them in an airtight container and consume within a day or so. Or you can wrap them in cling film and freeze them. If you do, place them in a warm oven to thoroughly heat up before serving.

71 kcal per chapati*

Afiyet olsun.

*calories are a close approximation calculated using My Fitness Pal.

the quality chop house, clerkenwell - review

Life is full of decisions we would rather not make. Do the dishes or eat off paper plates indefinitely? Devise a long term career plan or just make it into work each morning and hope for the best? Accept my mother’s friend invite on Facebook or actively avoid the issue?

None more so than the daily dilemma of what to eat that evening. Whether at home and faced with the meagre offerings from the tail end of the week’s shop, or in a restaurant toying between the duck or pork whilst tagging the tweet about your plight with #firstworldproblems (please don’t), deciding what to eat can be a challenge.

Take this fickle element out of the equation and I am thrown back to the simpler days of my childhood; ‘you will eat what I give you and you will finish it’. Thankfully, my parent’s cooking was and still is great, so I always did. When a restaurant plays mum for the evening (albeit one that lets me drink a lot more wine), I am both grateful and drawn to it. ‘Finish it!’, you say? ‘Enjoy it!’, you demand? Well, MAYBE I WILL.

Both of which happened at The Quality Chop House on Farringdon Road, where the chefs write three menus each day based on the produce delivered that morning. In the evening you’ll find a set menu in the Dining Room for £35 with four starters, a main and a dessert, all for the table to share. There is no picking, no choosing - you receive it all and you ultimately enjoy it all.

It’s full of old-world charm and that type of shabby chic floral bijoux crockery that in the hands of the wrong host and along with a room full of kitsch chintz can be utterly nauseating. But against the stalwart-Grandad masculinity of dark wood panelling, a handsome check floor and the creaking booths of a Grade-II listed establishment in its 145th year (opened in 1869), it is thoroughly charming.

Great textures were found in the smooth, delicate mounds of goat curd on bitter chicory, topped with toasted hazelnuts and a drizzle of fruity oil. Smoked salmon, horseradish crème fraîche and dense rye linked pinkies and promised to be best friends forever. Soft and gamey slow-cooked partridge leg meat was re-shaped and breaded around the bone into pleasing spheres.

A bed of salty smoked cod’s roe expertly seasoned the purple sprouting broccoli, still with good resistance between the teeth. And the plate of earthy wild mushrooms with an effortlessly glossy chicken liver parfait had a few sails of crisp chicken skin at the centre and tasted even better than that reads.

A huge platter of silverside and smoked brisket, celeriac purée and golden beetroot, breaded bone marrow and roasted carrots flounced its way onto our table, all showy and attention seeking, with a great sense of celebration and sharing that family Sunday lunches do so well (even though it was Wednesday). The meat was either pink or flakey, both desirable adjectives for beef. The side of kale was vibrant and well seasoned. And the plates were cleared in their entirety.

Tart rhubarb with meringue, flaked almonds and ice cream was the sort of dessert you could have three of. The cheeses were bold and British, seducing with their first whiff and crumbly oatcake comrades; that day Tunworth, Montgomery, Colston, Innes Brick. Petit fours were dark chocolate covered honeycomb bites, essentially high-end Crunchie and what the hell is not to love about that.

For those who prefer to exercise their freedom of choice, the Wine Bar (the room next door) has a daily-changing a la carte of which I hear very good things. Next door to that is their Food Shop and Butchers selling all manner of stock from British cheeses and charcuterie to their own produce; think conserves, preserves, smoked fish, terrines, parfait, pies, sweet treats, a daily roast meat sandwich or hot sausage roll, and more.

The Quality Chop House is a rare breed: self-assured and unfussed cooking without pretence, showcasing quality ingredients and with good wine. It’s the sort of reliable, honest food you can imagine eating every day, if you had a larger bank balance and higher metabolism. It's just as well I don’t live any closer. 

Liked lots: interiors, wholesome hearty food, wonderful warm welcome, relaxed atmosphere, the illusion I could quite easily eat this stuff every day; value for money, kindly substituting two portions of rhubarb for cheese and including it as part of the menu, the wine
Liked less: the kale was a little too seasoned but who the hell cares, we finished it
Good for: everyday eating, unfussy great food, buying produce

My rating: 4/5

Find the menu on Zomato

Afiyet olsun.