la sophia, notting hill - review

I know first hand how difficult it can be indulging in particular cuisines when dining out with someone who does not consume alcohol.

My partner does not drink. Not that unusual, and power to him for getting by all these years without the lubricant so many of us feel we need in social situations. But for no reason other than I think he enjoys being a bit of a diva, he will also not eat anything that contains it.

I can't put wine in the ragu, he's never had tiramisu, we've never 'gone for a drink'. He follows no religion, he has no allergies, there were no issues with alcohol in his upbringing. It's just the decision he made many years ago as a child and not a drop has knowingly ever passed his lips.

I actually have little, if any problem with this. The sheer stubbornness alone has its merits and he has no issues with me drinking (and I'm rather skilled at enjoying a few glasses of wine). The only area that sometimes poses difficulties is dining out; at French, Italian and Spanish restaurants he has to check if a dish contains alcohol and request if it can be made without. Often, it's already included and so he misses out. Indian and Middle Eastern food tend to be the safer bets.

For all of the above reasons, a French restaurant claiming to be the only in London with a fully halal menu is unique enough for me to journey to neighbourhood restaurant La Sophia in Notting Hill to investigate. I asked two friends to join me me; a big-eater Muslim along with a lactose-intolerant vegetarian, just to help up their game.

A stone's throw from Portobello Road, the restaurant opened in the summer of 2010 and presents a Mediterranean and French menu with classics from the latter cooked with no presence of alcohol (think confit de canard and escargots de Bourgogne). Not to mention all the meat is halal (which includes what can be eaten and how it is sacrificed and prepared). Halal snails and foie gras? Who even knew there were such things.

It’s certainly the first time I’ve had a response of, “Would you like the real wine?” when asking for the wine list in a restaurant. They have non-alcoholic options sourced from Kevser Tabak and whilst I struggle with the concept of non-alcoholic wine, I wish I had tried some - they look like they know what they’re about.

Lamb shoulder croquettes with herbs and fat slices of garlic within were soft and appealing, if a touch dry. Sweet cherry tomatoes, buttery lambs lettuce and slashes of garlic aioli contrasting against the slate made for a pretty plate. Slices of grilled aubergine wrapped around golden halloumi sported a flourish of sprightly chilli and tomato salsa and a pecan and parsley pesto. The exact sort of thing you would want with a rough dry white at the tail end of a day under Mediterranean sunshine.
The poached smoked haddock main was very competent. Well cooked fish breaking off into meaty flakes topped by a perfectly poached egg lacquered in Benedict sauce, with a cascading yolk pooling around ratatouille and batons of savoury and deep red beef chorizo. Someone should get this on a brunch menu. The wild mushroom risotto with shaved artichokes and truffle oil had a good consistency and depth of earthy flavour.

Bright yellow miniature pansies brightened the plates of well-presented chocolate fondants with surfaces ready to breech at any sudden movement of the plate. They were decadent and dark, although needed a minute longer in the oven for a greater sponge-to-gooey-middle ratio.

La Sophia is a very capable local restaurant with merits beyond their unique halal-French offering. Our Friday night visit included an acoustic guitarist strumming by the entrance and a full restaurant of around 28 jubilant (if not a tad loud) diners. A la carte might seem a little pricey, but the three courses for £25 set-menu is a good deal. Whether you require a halal menu or not, it’s certainly worth a visit if you’re in the area. If it didn’t take so long for me to get to, this would likely become a regular that the other half would also approve of.

Liked lots: beef chorizo with runny yolk Likes less: nothing was unpleasant Good for: those with halal requirements getting the chance to sample French food; a local regular; trying non-alcoholic wine if that takes your fancy

My rating: 3.5/5

Afiyet olsun.

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.

bocca di lupo, soho - review

‘Ah yes! You must have the sanguinaccio. I’ll give it to you to try and if you don’t like it that’s fine. Please, follow me’.

Not the usual response I get after giving my reservation details in a restaurant. Have I already met this lady? Has she confused me with someone? The sang-which-one-now? 

The context of the situation made itself apparent in the short walk to the table; the previous conversation the welcome hinted towards had taken place over Twitter a few weeks back. 

Someone had mentioned their dislike for blood-based dishes. I said something along the lines of, ‘What about the pig’s blood and chocolate pâté at Bocca di Lupo - I love blood sausages but I’m not sure I could have it as a dessert’ (I‘d read about the dish in Jay Rayner’s review). The restaurant Twitter account challenged me to try it one day when I visit. It turns out they monitored this and held me to it; I was seated whilst smirking over an impressive example of customer engagement.

Bocca di lupo ("the mouth of the wolf") is a spruced-up Soho trattoria, more stylish and better dressed than one would usually associate with an informal Italian dining experience. It’s too easygoing and friendly to call itself a high-end ristorante, but it certainly looks the part with a front half dominated by an impressive marble bar overlooking an open kitchen for off-the-cuff grazing and home to a busy prosciutto slicer, and the rear occupied by tables and statuesque paintings with the feel of a living room in a stately home.

Established in 2008, it could easily be regarded as a senior representative of the Soho dining scene when compared to the unending list of recent openings within the area. Victor Hugo (what a name) and Head Chef Jacob Kennedy (formerly at Moro) present an almost daily-changing menu of honest and uncomplicated regional Italian cuisine, the sort of food you would like to think your mamma would make if she was Italian. Where they can make ingredients themselves, they do - pasta, gelati, breads, sausages, salame, pickles.

The really clever thing here is the option for tapas-sized or larger portions for almost every offering on the menu. They have recognised many diners prefer to sample a range of dishes rather than being confined to the traditional three that fill a standard meal, perhaps accompanied by a clandestine dip of the fork into your companions plate to try a fourth. It’s a great format that allows for free-wheeling ordering, ‘we’ll start with those and see how we go’.
 

It's also a restaurant that has an anchovy menu - a side menu of anchovies every which way you could want. Believe it or not, these critters are in the top ten most hated foods of the nation and to these people who don't care for them I say, tu sei pazzo! I can't get enough. The bagna caoda was a very agreeable warm and salty bath of blitzed up fish, garlic and fruity olive oil served with bread and bitter puntarelle, a type of chicory trying to look like asparagus, and a new one for me. 

More anchovy sandwiched between large sage leaves, lightly battered and deep fried were both substantial and excellent, like biting into a crisp and savoury ham toastie. A great big dome of creamy burrata (and this was the small portion) with it’s gorgeous fat and milky backside sitting atop a bed of oily roasted vegetables was about as good and soft as fresh burrata can be. Slices of buristo blood sausage made in-house with flecks of vibrant green pistachio was subtle and delicate and served with grilled red peppers.

The long and curled sausage (luganega) of foie gras with its well balanced and powerful but not overwhelming flavour had a touch of sweetness, accompanied by farro with bite and earthy porcini. The venison ragu tagliatelle was pleasing but the sauce could have been richer - I still cleared it.

Caffè alla nocciola read very much like a cà phê trung, a Vietnamese coffee made with condensed milk and egg yolk I had recently seen on television - this Italian version with just coffee, yolk and hazelnut. Like aerated and frothed up Nutella with a shot of strong espresso, there is little about it not to love.

The milk-free espresso gelato (made across the road in Gelupo along with the rest of the frozen desserts) is the result of the chef putting a batch of caffè allo zabaione (coffee with just the egg yolk - also on the menu as a beverage) into an ice cream machine; the end product an intense hit of frozen voluptuous coffee. It made best friends with the light and delicate ‘Grandpa’s balls’ of deep-fried ricotta and chocolate.

And the pig’s blood and chocolate pâté? It was fine. Actually, good. It’s really just set chocolate spread with a slightly grainy texture and a detectable layer of unfamiliar flavour that would be hard to identify if you weren’t informed. 

Our waitress was utterly charming. The table next to us was the only to remain empty for most of our visit - it was reserved and waiting for a WWII veteran who visits every Saturday lunchtime without fail. Frail but smartly turned out, he revelled in her attention as she seated herself next to him on the leather banquette to take his order. They didn’t charge him for dessert, rightly so.

This lady also informed us about a recent visit by Alan Carr who had the ‘Grandpa’s balls’; when she asked how they were he replied with ‘melting in my mouth like usual darling’. Good waitress banter - I really should have noted her name.

With a frequently changing menu full of things I want to eat, a sprightly atmosphere, wonderful service and the opportunity to pop-in unannounced and prop up the bar with a small dish or three, I suspect it's not the last they've seen of me.

Liked lots: the homely food, the menu format, an anchovy menu, ingredients made in-house, excellent service, Jacob also opened Gelupo across the road that provides all the frozen desserts and is widely regarded as the best gelato experience in town
Liked less: the paintings at the back aren’t my cup of tea, but who the hell cares
Good for: spontaneous dining plans at the chef’s counter, welcoming service, social media interaction, getting to know the staff

My rating: 4/5

Find the menu on Zomato.

Afiyet olsun.

gaylord, soho - event

I like to think when it comes to putting it away, I can run with the best of them. I’m no Black Widow but for my stature, I put in a commendable effort. Tasting menus are a good test of stamina. Seven, sometimes nine courses with an amuse-bouche and petits fours often leave diners steeping in their own digestive juices, torsos stretched and floor walks made to redistribute the contents of convex abdomens in an attempt to find room for dessert; top trouser buttons discreetly undone two hours ago and only three courses in.

You can imagine my wide-eyed expression then, of both anticipation and fear of death, when faced with an evening menu involving no less than: three amuse-bouches, six starters, five mains, five sides, two desserts and endless wine - I make that 21 separate dishes. I should have worn my elastic pants.

Gaylord is a smartly furnished (in that princely old-school handsomeness long-serving Indian restaurants often do) and established West End fixture of the dining scene focussing on Mughlai and North Indian cuisine. Established in 1966, it is part of a large group with a sister Gaylord in Mumbai and was the first to house a tandoor oven in the UK. It was also the chosen venue for a dinner organised by the restaurant review platform Zomato for some of their most prolific contributors - they know how to put on a good show. 

Crisp puri spheres containing a little potato and chickpea and filled at the table with flavoured water and tamarind chutney were demolished whole in the mouth, just before the liquid made a break for the table linen. Cones of fluffed up and chewy rice, vegetables and a tangy tamarind sauce (bhel puri) were tasty nods to the classic Mumbai beach snack. The flavours and textures of crunchy, aromatic, hot and sweet aloo papdi chaat came together very well in one mouth-swoop over the spoons they were presented on.   

Meaty prawns marinated in saffron and tandoori masala provided good resistance against the molars. The burnished-orange tilapia fillets fried in a paprika gram flour batter were less interesting, but the mint chutney side-kick worked wonders at lifting. Murg gilafi clove smoked minced chicken manipulated around skewers and presented alongside mild tandoor roasted chicken tikkas were delicately flavoured, but the stellar meat was the lamb in the form of expertly cooked Anardana chops and minced patties.
 

The former marinated in ginger and grilled, still a deep pink at the centre with charred corners and a splendid amount of fat disintegrating on the tongue, with seasoning good enough to call for teeth-stripping of any remaining flesh from the bones. The latter soft and yielding to the point of it unrecognisable as animal based, but with all the depth of flavour you could hope from it.

The butter chicken was very good, an unmistakable smokiness from the presence of fenugreek. Prawn coconut curry, delicately spiced and aromatic from kaffir lime leaf and mustard seeds, provided a perfect medium via which to absorb the saffron basmati . A fiery garlic, onion and tomato masala in which hunks of lamb had been stewed until flaky represented the corner for rogan josh rather well (even if with a little too much oil), with puréed spinach elevated by a lot of ginger representing the corner for paneer.

Slow-cooked (overnight) dal bukhara and chickpeas with a secret spice mix were both bowls of hearty and comforting pulses, providing much needed fibre amongst a table creaking under it’s own weight of sauced-up protein. Naans and rice and puris filled with scalding steam helped to mop-up and a number of chutneys - including a great homemade lime pickle - complimented the spread.

The malai kulfi was very agreeable - dense and solid from the reduction of milk and sporting a twist of cardamom and a flourish of chopped pistachio. And it was my first encounter of gulab jamun (made from milk solids) flambéed in dark rum; the sort of dessert you should run round the block to make room for between courses. It was celestial, despite me fighting unconsciousness by this point.

We had it all, and it was laid on thick. A constant flow of wine and cocktails, a magnum of posh 5-grape South African something-or-other which I know nothing about other than it tasted really great, attentive service from Sameer (the General Manager) and his team with explanations of each of the unending conveyor belt of dishes, and the remaining doggy-bagged for some good eating the following day. 

The restaurant takes a lot of pride in what it does - it shows. There’s tough competition from the likes of Gymkhana and Trishna, and the very accessible and more contemporary Dishoom these days. But Gaylord has survived on its own merits with a loyal following and good food coming from the kitchen, all contributing to a restaurant that continues to fill seats.

I’ve had more comfortable sleeps than I did that evening, but it was worth it. As always, a huge thank you to Zomato for the blowout - you don’t half do them well.

Liked lots: lamb chops, lamb patties, kulfi, gulab jamun, service, location, atmosphere
Liked less: fried tilapia, I expect bills can quite easily creep up when entertaining alcohol
Good for: a big Indian blow-out

My rating: 3.5/5

Find the menu on Zomato.

Afiyet olsun.

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

 

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.