JAPAN: 10 things to eat in Tokyo

I can't imagine there is any one single resource that lists all the places to get food in Tokyo. If it did, it would break the internet. And if it didn't break the internet, it would break the human resolve, because reading it would be like counting the population of China in that you would never reach the end. Perhaps this should be the modern-day definition of infinity - the number of restaurants in Tokyo (incidentally, I have just Googled 'how many restaurants are there in Tokyo?' and estimations say 80k compared to 15k in New York and 6k in London. So like I said, infinite).

Tokyo's topography is like a psychedelic 3D game of Tetris. It's a city made from a bazillion building blocks stacked on top of each other with that efficiency the Japanese are so good at. It rises up and out, as well as below (there are vast subterranean floors running beneath stations) to create a mind-boggling, multi-layered, three dimensional environment able to satisfy every want ever conceived.

Every door, every window, every protruding neon sign or hanging banner, every alleyway, every floor in every single building, the top and bottom (and middle) of every flight of stairs, every nondescript frontage, every unassuming flicker of light, every gap between two planks of wood - is yet another dining establishment ready to serve. They range from standing-only holes-in-the-wall, thresholds marked by a simple curtain and able to accommodate no more than five pairs of feet, to yawning cafés for long languorous lunches. A lifetime might provide enough meals to eat your way across seven of its buildings.

In a city like this, deciding where to eat by throwing a chopstick into the air (don't actually do this - very rude), heading half a kilometre in the direction its pointing towards when it lands, spinning round with your eyes closed five times, and eating wherever is closest to the point where your vision stops dancing, will more often than not land you a very good meal. After all, this is a country where the quality of the most ordinary food offering is often on a par with the part of London's dining scene we would call 'pretty decent'. 

If you are reading this post, I can safely assume that you, intrepid explorer and/or fellow food-nut, are quite like me, in that you like to do a bit of pre-holiday eating research. You want the best food for the best price, you want to make sure you're not 'settling' when there is a superstar restaurant around the corner, you want to indulge in the finest eating your finite time and budget can possibly allow, and this requires some forward planning - I get that.
 

Mika from Tokyo Food Tour

But my advice to you is, when it comes to Tokyo, don't get bogged down in this. Because almost all of it is great. Even though the restaurant you ate at yesterday fed you "the best sushi you've ever had", you can't possibly know if the place seven doors down is better because, when a country consistently churns out excellence, what's "better" just becomes arbitrary. I mean, it's just all good - you know?

But because you are (still) reading this, you probably are like me, and demand some level of guidance, a list to follow, pointers about where to even begin. It's understandable, so I've created a little something.

What's good about this list is firstly, it covers a respectable portion of Japan's vast cuisine. Secondly, it's not comprised by me alone - who still knows next to nothing about Tokyo despite spending five days there - but by people who do.

One main source is Mika Takaki from Tokyo Food Tour who showed us a few great places around Ginza one evening. She's a cook and caterer, lived and worked in San Francisco for a few years, and is able to personalise food tours to whatever it is you're interested in; Mika doesn't come cheap, but does come highly recommended.

The other is Japanese chef, author, sommelier and shochu advisor Yukari Sakomoto. I came across a short interview in a travel magazine about her favourite spots in Tokyo and visited a few. I have then added a couple of cheap-and-cheerful entries I pre-holiday-researched myself when I was under the misguided impression that these would be lifesavers, as Tokyo was the most expensive city in the universe. Which I quickly realised after landing, is a massive misconception.

My final bit of advice when visiting Tokyo: surrender your senses to the onslaught of stimuli and just go with it, whatever 'it' turns out to be for you.


10 Things to Eat in Tokyo

1) Kushikatsu

What: aka kushiage - lightly breaded and fried skewers of - well, anything

Restaurant: Dengana Kushikatsu  

Where: 3-16-10 Shinbashi, Minato-ku, Tokyo Map 
Hours: Mon - Fri 11:30 - 14:00 / 16:30 - 23:30 Sat - Sun 12:00 - 23:30   
Price: the below plus one large beer = ¥2100 (appx. £12 / $20)

Give a good kushikatsu chef an old leather belt and he could probably breadcrumb and fry it up into something you would want to put into your mouth. Very fine crumbs are used in this coating, and the fry is quick and hot resulting in a crisp shell concealing briefly cooked ingredients beneath. We worked our way through a mixture of meat and vegetable skewers: pickled ginger, lotus root, smelt fish, shrimp, mochi (glutinous rice balls), onion, small green peppers (like Padron peppers), and a second round of pickled ginger because it was deep pink and gorgeous. As well as a plate of pork tripe cooked in a sweet viscous miso sauce and furnished with spring onions - why not. The dipping sauce for the skewers is dark, sweet and shared - you submerge them whole, before biting only. The sign above it roughly translates to "double-dip and prepare to be skewered". Rightly so. The menu is fully Japanese so I would advise pointing at the glass counter at what you fancy, learning the words for ingredients you particularly enjoy, or using that very useful phrase - 'nani ga osusume des ka?' (what do you recommend?).

Recommended by Mika.

2) Sashimi

What: thinly carved and spanking fresh raw meat (usually seafood)

Restaurant: Uokin Izakaya  

Where: 2-19-7 Shinbashi, Minato-ku, Tokyo (1 min walk East of Shinbashi Station) Map 

Hours: Only open in the evenings, 17.00 - 11.30  

Price: the below plus two glasses of sake = ¥3000 (appx. £17 / $29)
Uokin has a few outlets in Tokyo and we were informed by Mika that it's very much an izagaya (casual eatery) of-the-moment. Its specialities lie within seafood (hence the sign) and either has a bar at which to stand and eat at ground level, or you can go up a floor for table seating.

It's the first I've been on my feet whilst having my dinner in a restaurant (a common occurrence in Tokyo - good for space-saving I suspect) and you know, I barely noticed. It was probably all that sake.

An okomase (chef's selection of the best seafood of that day) sashimi platter presented us with some glistening produce: tairagai (like a giant scallop) with an iridescent shell; oysters with spring onions, daikon (Japanese radish) and a touch of chilli paste; sawara (Spanish mackerel); tai (snapper); shime saba (cured mackerel); aji (horse mackerel) and maguro (tuna).

Before bar-hopping to the next place, we finished with a soup (as Japanese cuisine so often dictates - contrary to the the west which generally starts with it) - of seaweed with tofu. Warm and comforting, full of calcium and righteousness.

Again, a fully Japanese menu. "Okomase sashimi, kudasai?" will get you a platter similar to what we had.

Recommended by Mika.

3) Tempura

What: seafood or vegetables battered and deep fried

Restaurant: Tendon Tenya Tempura

Where: 3-9-4 Ginza, Chuo-ku, Tokyo Map

Hours: Mon - Sun 11.00 - 23.30  

Price: the below two set meals with an extra side = ¥1600 (appx. £9 / $29)
If you haven’t already noticed, the Japanese quite like deep-frying things. Probably the most internationally recognised of this genre is tempura. If you want to - particularly in the upmarket district of Ginza - you can spend upwards of £150 a head for what is essentially a very simple concept (the best ones always are though, aren’t they). But don’t let that simplicity fool you. Good tempura should start with quality ingredients destined for the plunge, have a light and crisp batter, and not be greasy - I suspect it’s more difficult than it sounds. Tendon Tenya is a respectable and exedingly good value chain that manages to achieve this, and much-loved by locals. The menu is full of set meals (also available in English), with a choice of carbs to help bulk it out including rice and (hot or cold) udon, along with a range of extra toppings or additional sides, including a tasty little octopus and seaweed salad.

Filling the bellies of two big-eaters with good food for under a tenner in one of the poshest parts of town - credit where it's due.

4) Kushiyaki

What: things that are skewered and grilled over coals - aka yakitori (usually when it's chicken)

Restaurant: Mitsumasa

Where: 3-19-6, Shinbashi, Minato-ku, Tokyo (2 min walk from Shinbashi station) Map

Hours: Mon - Fri 17:00 - 23:00, Sat 17:00 - 22:00, Closed Sundays 

Price: the below plus some tea = ¥3000 (appx. £17 / $29)
If you’re the sort of person that is quite into the bits of the animal so often cast aside as waste, this is the place for you. Even if you’re not, I urge you to try it. Mitsumasa is a casual but well turned out offering that heaves with uniformly black-suited salary man kicking back after a long day in the office, with row after row of meaty skewers straight from the coals - and a beer, or four. The uncooked meat is displayed in the glass cabinet and is an ode to all things pig, for it is this animal they specialise in. We had pig skin (yum), pig tongue (ok then), pig heart (aren’t these going to be put into humans soon?), the less conquered parts of a chicken’s anatomy including the gizzard (crunchy) and knuckle (as pleasant as I assume chewing through a baby's finger to be), chicken meatballs (phew), pickles with boiled pig intestine (go on then), and pig liver (strong, bitter, iron). I am generally pretty ok with tripe from sheep and cows and chickens, but when it comes to eating the organs of something else that eats meat, I wince a little. But it’s a firm favourite with the Japanese and if you truly want to embrace the cuisine in it’s fullest form, I would give it a go.

Recommended by Mika.

5) Sake

What: Japan's national social lubricant - a clear and alcoholic beverage made from fermented rice

Restaurant: Kuri Sake Bar

Where: Tony Building, 2F, 6-4-15 Ginza, Chuo-ku, Tokyo Map

Hours: Mon - Thu 18:00 - 03:00, Fri 18:00 - 03:30, Sat 18:00 - 00:30, closed Sun and every third Sat 

Price: three tastings and some nibbles = ¥1000 (appx. £6 / $10)

For those prepared to knock elbows on the hunt for some of the country's best sake, Kuri is a bar specialising in just that, with a weekly changing menu of over 150 varieties behind the counter.

The offering here is junmai meaning made solely with rice and water, without any additional distilled alcohol. They range from the freshest, just-pressed, unfiltered namazake (unpasteurised sake - kept refrigerated) to aged bottles from all over the country. The patterns at the bottom of the cups are designed to induce coos over the clarity of the tipple.

Before I sampled these, I thought I didn’t like sake. Turns out, I do like sake - I in fact love it. Forget anything you’ve had outside Japan - you won't have had access to true namazake as its lack of pasteurisation means it doesn’t last long enough to reach overseas in a saleable condition. And let me tell you, it’s a taste revelation.

Go for a  flight of three tasters with some nibbles, perhaps opening with ‘nani ga osusume des ka?' (what do you recommend?). If the response is the Japanese for 'what do you like?', I'm afraid you're on your own. But I'm sure you'll be fine.

Recommended by Mika.

6) Japanese Breakfast

What: a combination of things you've probably not come across before

Restaurant: I have no idea of the name

Where: close to Yarakucho Station - look out for railway arches Map 

Hours: they seemed to start packing away the breakfast items around 10 - 10.30

Price: natto, rice, miso, nori, egg and tea for two = ¥550 (appx. £3 / $5) 

There is something to be said for a nation of people who can think of few better ways to start their day than with a stringy, stinking mess of natto - fermented soya bean. Pick some up with your chopsticks and marvel at the mucus-like stretchiness, with sticky strings that float suspended in mid-air still attached to your utensils; the need to bat them away after every mouthful can look like a violent tick to the uninitiated.

Into this, stir raw egg and chopped spring onions, mix with a bowl of rice, add some sheets of nori (seaweed), accompany with dried fish and life-affirming miso and you have the makings of a rather splendid breakfast.

There is no presence of this restaurant on the internet, and I usefully didn’t take a picture of its front. We found it by asking the Tourist Information office behind Yarakucho Station where we could enjoy a traditional Japanese breakfast - this would be a good place to start. What I can tell you is that it’s small, and for the remainder of the day is a conveyor belt sushi restaurant. 

The main point of this point is that you should experience a traditional Japanese breakfast in Tokyo, whether it’s here or somewhere else.

(The other half is convinced he recalls its precise location, which is what’s displayed on the map link above - I do think he’s pretty close if not spot on. Good luck.)

7) Sushi

What: the most internationally recognised part of Japanese cuisine

Restaurant: Kyubey

Where: 7-6, Ginza 8-chome, Chuo-ku, Tokyo Map

Hours: Mon - Sat 11:30 - 14:00 / 17:00 - 22:00, closed Sun and public holidays 

Price: two omakase lunches with tea = ¥11,800 (appx. £68 / $115)
Yes, you can eat a sushi breakfast in Tsukiji Market at six in the morning, the real crowd-pullers being Sushi Dai and Daiwa Sushi. And arguably, it probably is some of the freshest in the world, considering the meat has travelled a matter of yards from wholesale (mere hours before) to chopstick. But can that level of freshness really be so different from a quality sushi restaurant just a 15 minute walk away? The answer to that is of course, no. So forgo the three hour queues of tourists (no one wants too many of them first thing in the morning), and enjoy sushi at the countless number of other great restaurants in the area, nay, the city. Kyubey is one of these. Round the corner from Tsukiji (almost), you can marvel at the deft manipulation of rice and the precise preparation of seafood by the itamae (chefs), from the counter seating. And you want fresh? The legs of the prawns were moving and their mouths foaming little bubbles moments before their heads were ripped off and entrails removed before our very eyes. What theatre. We grinned maniacally through the following (from top left): buttery salmon, spotted mackerel, squid with salt and a momentary touch of lime, velvety sea urchin (my first time - I loved it), those prawns (crunchy), scallop, otoro (the fattiest part of tuna belly - picture missing), bonito with fresh ginger and the tiniest scrape of raw garlic (look at that colour), cooked and coated unagi (eel), thin and crisp daikon and shiso (perilla leaf) sandwiches, sweet egg custard, vegetable maki, and miso. 'Go chi so sama', indeed - it was glorious; nothing in this country has come close.

Recommended by Yukari.

8) Ramen

What: Chinese-style wheat noodles served in a meat or fish based broth, often flavoured with soy or miso, topped with all manner of tasty treats

Restaurant: Naokyu

Where: Toshiba Build. B2, 5-2-1, Ginza (Shinbashi station's underground shopping centre) Map
Hours: Mon - Fri 11:00 - 23:00, Sat - Sun and holidays 11:00 - 22:00
Price: two bowls of ramen and some gyoza = ¥1990 (appx. £12 / $20)
Whilst the best we can hope for in the UK is a Boots meal deal where they still have Innocent on the shelf, or if we're lucky, a Pret, station-eating in Japan is nothing to be scoffed at; it's synonymous with quality meals of excellent value.

The train stations in Tokyo have vast malls beneath, ready to breach the surface with the volume of shops and restaurants on offer (if ever in doubt in this city, head below ground or up some stairs and you're sure to stumble across something great); Naokyu is one of these. Established around 100 years ago (one of the oldest in Tokyo, they claim), it serves traditional ramen in pork and chicken broths in a typically casual noodle-joint environment. The tantan-men (a dish originating from Sichuan cuisine) was hot and spicy, a gathering of ground pork cooked in miso with sesame and some greens. It did wonders at blasting away the cold I was suffering from. Koku-uma ramen, with slices of pork belly, bamboo shoots, thin noodles and seasoned with soy was also very good, but the tamago (egg) should have had a runny yolk.

Dining on noodles tends to be a quick-fix affair in Tokyo - there are endless vending machine restaurants densely packed around station exits to - very speedily and cheaply - fill the bellies of salary-men (more often than not, inhaling their noodles whilst standing at a bar) on their way home. Naokyu is a good option to slow it down a bit - take a seat and savour the meal. Our bowls of bone-warming elixir were very well-received; the cacophony of sucking and slurping from the fully Japanese clientèle around us hinted towards the same.

9) Bread and Pastries

What: Tokyo has a lot of boulangeries and patisseries, and they're really good at them

Restaurant: Viron

Where: Tokia Building, 1F, 2-7-3 Marunouchi, Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo (near Tokyo station) Map
Hours: Mon - Sun: Bakery 10:00 - 21:00, Bar 10:00 - 23:00, Brasserie Lunch 11:30 - 14:00, Dinner 18:00 - 23:30. Closed 1st Jan and holidays
Price: the below = ¥3510 (appx. £20 / $35)
The Japanese don't half love their bread. More often than not, it will be pristine white and highly processed, rather than the rustic, malty loaves dusted with oats and speckled with seeds we're so good at producing here.

But there are quite a few skilled bakeries turning out all sorts of French pastries, boules and brioche with an expert hand. Viron is one of these, with a glass cabinet creaking under it's own weight of stuffed rolls and sticks, pastries and patisseries able to add a kilo to muffin-tops through a hard stare alone. They import flour from France (where they also have a presence) to make Viron’s signature baguette, of which they've won awards for.

We had an entirely brown but very good breakfast of coffee, two chocolate studded viennoise, a big pain au chocolate, a crunchy and sweet Kouing Aman (originally from Brittany - crisp caramelised shell with soft buttery layers within), and a sundried tomato fougasse. Pass the fibre bar.

There's outdoor seating and a lot of space inside, and it doubles up as a brasserie open for lunch and dinner if you fancy adding a bit more colour to your plate. Located right next to Tokyo station, it's a prime spot for a morning pick-me-up before heading on the Shinkansen (bullet train).

Word of warning, coffee that isn't standard filter or drip (always served with a pot of cream) is something that is a little pricey in Japan - a cappuccino and a latte came in at close to £8.

Recommended by Yukari.

10) Department Store Food Halls

What: the basement food halls of Tokyo's department stores have a global reputation for a reason

Restaurant: Mitsukoshi Department Store

Where: 1-4-1 Nihonbashimuromachi, Chūō, Tokyo Map
Hours: Daily 10–7, basements until 8
Price: varies considerably
This this branch of Tokyo's first depato (department store), also called hyakkaten (hundred-kinds-of-goods emporium), is the HQ of the international Mitsukoshi chain, and it's impressive.

Descend to the basement food hall and prepare to become disorientated by the scale, diversity and sheer sensory onslaught of nearly half an acre of the world's choicest comestibles. The space is filled with the noise from the drawn-out Japanese trader battle cries of 'IRRASHAIMASEEEEE!' (welcome!) and there are free samples of absolutely everything. From German wursts and confectionary moulded into chrysanthemums, to white triangle sandwiches filled with whipped cream and sliced strawberries and £120 muskmelons - if it can be consumed, you will find it here.

Grab some things to eat - perhaps a bento box followed by a decadent dessert - and enjoy up a few floors in the Mitsukoshi roof garden.

Dining observations I made in Tokyo

• A lot of restaurants are smoking, but ventilation systems tend to be so good that it's easy not to notice. Many have designated no-smoking areas.
• Your bill is often brought to the table with the food (or when you ask for it) and payment is usually made at the till they'll have near the entrance. It's rare the payment is made at the table.
• When you do go to pay (both in restaurants or any shop), there will usually be a small tray at the cash desk. You are to put your payment (cash or card) on this tray, but the change will usually be given to you directly.
• If you want to grab the attention of the waiter, use sumimasen (excuse me).
• There is no tipping in Japan - pay what's on the bill and nothing more.
• You will usually be given an oshibori (moist towel - often hot) once you're seated - use this to wipe your hands and as a serviette for your meal - a lot of restaurants seem to not have any on the table.
• It's good etiquette to pour a drink for your companion and not yourself.
• Never leave your chopsticks sticking out of a bowl of rice.
• It is perfectly acceptable - in fact encouraged - to slurp your noodles very noisily - it translates as you enjoying your food.
• If you're cool, you eat sushi with your fingers. Turn it upside down and only dip the topping into the soy, not the rice. Sashimi is with chopsticks though.
• People don't really eat while walking around in Japan - so street-food isn't common. If you've purchased something on the go, it's more polite to remain stationary or find somewhere to perch until you've finished it.

"If I had to eat one city's food for the rest of my life, every day, it would have to be Tokyo. And I think the majority of chefs you ask that question to would answer the same way" - Anthony Bourdain.

Related articles:
JAPAN: onsen etiquette - a guide to taking a traditional public (and naked) bath
JAPAN: Tsukiji fish market tuna auction - 10 FAQ's answered
JAPAN: tea ceremony in Kyoto

Afiyet olsun.

the rum kitchen, notting hill - review

It could be the Mauritian in me, but wave the prospect of rum, rotis, calypso music and sunshine vibes in front of my nose and I’m first in line. Situate these in Notting Hill - one of the epicentres of London’s vibrant Caribbean community - and you have a great next-best substitute when a flight to the Port of Spain is still a depleted bank balance away. The Rum Kitchen looks like the sort of place you could imagine on a white sandy shore, full of natives whiling away languorous hours over games of backgammon and tumblers of dark rum - but with a dose of London refinement. 
White and azure blue outside with colourful interiors, barmen in floral shirts with excellent accents, mis-matched and multicoloured seating, walls emblazoned with local patois phrases and a background of reggae beets. The laidback beach-shack setting beguiles the careful consideration given to the food and its presentation - there are even linen napkins.

Island spiced baby squid were great on their own drenched in lime, but the scotch bonnet mayo was difficult to ignore when it tickles the back of the throat with the kind of climbing heat that’s heading straight for the nose lining (£6.50) - excellent. Rotis were neatly cut into triangles resembling quesadillas - I would have preferred them whole and ready for me to tear through, flung into a stack on a side plate. But they tasted good, as did the smoked aubergine and burnt tomato with garlic dips for them.
The mutton curry was everything those two words together should be - yielding hunks of slow cooked meat wallowing in a rich, spiced gravy, served with slaw and rice and peas for mopping (£12.50). Jerk chicken supreme was full of juice and sitting atop a mound of sweet potato and yam mash and more jerkin' goodness (£13.50) For balance, a rainbow salad, with sweet and fibrous mango, roasted squash, creamy avocado, firm chickpeas, shaved coconut and a mild scotch bonnet and lime dressing - a heavier hand with the chillies and lime would have been preferred, but I understand not everyone has my palate (£7.50).

There was a pleasingly drunken but somewhat dry dark chocolate cake slashed with a viscous sauce. But then there was the banana cake which was entirely magnificent - soft and exquisite and boozy and heavy with the fruit. It reminded my of my mum’s Mauritian gateux banane. Find the room (can’t recall the prices - not on the website). It would be nothing but impolite to dine somewhere with a liquor above the door and not sample a tipple or three. On the note of rum, they have a cellar housing over 100 varieties, including some from Mauritius, which pleased me.
I was mixed a heady mug of something with a (I suspect, generous) dash of that night-wiper Wray and Nephew, and Kraken black spiced rum. It’s initial innocuity conceals the rum devil within that, after the first sip, clambers up the spinal cord and gives the brain a smack-around. The name - Rattle Skull Punch - is a does-what-it-says-on-the-tin fit. Just two of those, and something off-menu with a Mauritian rum (at my request), guava, lemon and laced with vanilla had my sleeves rolled up and arms swinging with inebriated satiety as I sing-song'd back to the tube station wearing a pretty warm rum-jacket for an early-April evening.

I arrived when it opened, and the place was heaving by the time we left. Less of a West Indian crowd, but later on that week I did meet someone from Trinidad and Tobago who said The Rum Kitchen is one of his favourite haunts. As is Roti Joupa in Clapham North, incidentally. Late nights downstairs host DJ’s pumping out summer vibes of anything from Latin and reggae to calypso and Afro-funk. I can think of few better ways to spend a sultry summer evening in London then flitting between swigging rum cocktails whilst scoffing fresh-from-the-fryer saltfish fritters out front and jammin’ to Caribbean tunes inside. My dining companion for the evening was Fiona MacLean from London Unattached - check out her account of our great meal.

Liked lots: summer vibes; staff accents; curry; the things with scotch bonnet in; that banana cake
Liked less: chocolate cake was a little dry, but you're not going for that
Good for: strong cocktails; rum nights; reggae jammin'; calypso moves; pretending you're in the West Indies; big groups and DJ's; jerkin' chicken

My rating: 3.5/5
Find the menu on Zomato.

Here's a handy blog entry sign-posting some of the great places to find Bajan food and drink in London and Barbados from the folks at Virgin Atlantic - they've been added to my list.

Note: I was invited to review this restaurant by Virgin Atlantic who funded the meal - many thanks, it was a good one.

Afiyet olsun.
 

tommi's burger joint, south kensington - event

To the person who said, ‘London can never have too many burger purveyors’ I say, ‘Be careful what you wish for’. Still, they continue to pop up everywhere like a teenage breakout. The burger trend - that feels like it’s been with us since BC times - shows little sign of abating. What’s nice about Tommi’s Burger Joint is that it’s anything but a bandwagon-jumper. The name above the door is that of Tomas Tómasson, the entrepreneur with a small five-strong chain in his homeland of Iceland (one of which I have eaten at - the country knows how to do fast food), an existing site in Marylebone and now this new opening on Kings Road.

The man knows a thing or two about burgers. The crowd at this launch were regaled both with food (tasty sliders, skinny salted fries, bubbles and all the posh homemade condiments you can pile on) and the story behind the deep-running relationship with this fast-food favourite (which outdates any recent trends) from Tómasson himself - he’s quite the raconteur. He joked about getting into the chef business because he could get away with being drunk on the job (I suspect there may be some truth in that), jested that flipping burgers was the only work he could get ‘after rehab’, and that he soon realised he loved eating them. He used to run The Hard Rock Café in Iceland, and claims to have eaten at least one burger every day for the past 10 years. That last nugget of insight was shared whilst the buttons to his shirt were undone in front of a room full of onlookers to reveal a very impressive 65 year old six-pack - his counterargument to ‘fast food is fattening’. One way to make a point.

Did I mention my business card got pulled out of a hat and I won flights and two nights for two in Reykjavik to eat at the original Tommi’s out there (again)? Oh, well I did. That was rather splendid. I’m really looking forward to it - the following they have in Iceland is huge and my visit (when I was there a year or so back) was secured through the high acclaims I came across during pre-holiday eating research. In the meantime, I’ll visit the Kings Road branch again to get my chops around a full sized beast, with extra homemade ketchup.

Afiyet olsun.

pacata, covent garden - event

Mention the words ‘fusion restaurant’ and I make that sound of inhaled air through pursed lips builders are so good at when you ask them what the damage is. The concept can be so hit and miss. Usually, miss. But whilst Pacata may market itself as an East-meets-West endeavour, I would describe it as Asian street-food with a dash of creativity. And one would expect nothing less from a menu designed by Yasuji Morizumi, the first Michelin starred ramen chef.

Morizumi was present the evening I attended a Pacata press launch, and via an interpreter was able to share a little more insight into the dishes on offer, ‘[Pacata] is bringing the essence of Asian street food to London - the menu needed to really grasp the palate of the discerning Londoner whilst adding an authentic Asian tang’. Owned by beer giants Singha, Pacata can already be found in Bangkok with a quite different format of casual dining and shorter visits. It’s new European counterpart is aimed at leisurely lounging with plenty of options for a drink or four and food to accompany them. The interiors are such that once you’re in, you won’t be in a hurry to leave - quaint mismatched chairs, untreated wood tables and cushions a-plenty in the subterranean den. It’s open from 8am until late each day with a menu that’s not too exhaustive, yet a decent proportion of Asia is represented. Expect breakfast entries of Vietnamese kai grata (eggs cooked and served in a pan with a choice of toppings - £6.95) and bahn mi baguettes (£5.95), to lunch and dinners of tofu miso soup with seaweed and black peppercorns (£4.50) and hot and sour tom yum ramen (£8.50 / £9.95).

The popcorn chicken is a no-brainer; anything bite-sized and savoury and covered in larb powder (lime, heat, fish sauce, herbs) that fingers grab without the brain being aware, are always winners (£6.95). The chicken in the satay was very soft, and the grilled prawns in their Thai chilli-paste-mayo marinade were huge (£9.95). At the table, diners are able to combine the DIY papaya salad themselves in a large pestle and mortar; it comes with soft-shell crab looking like pretty spiders, lightly battered and waiting for a dunk into lubrication before being devoured (£8.95). Beef yakiniku (grilled meat) is, as you can probably guess, a Japanese dish. Here served with naan, it needed a little more wet stuff present for the bread to mop up (£10.50). Seared seabass with Japanese curry was cooked very well with crisp skin, barely opaque flesh, and accompanying a choice of jasmine rice or fries (£14.95).

Chicken wings were lacquered in a bright hot sauce with sesame seeds, and the Thai style squid ink tagliatelle with spring onion, egg, bean sprout, Chinese tofu and prawns was made to taste like pad thai, but with a variation of noodle. Italian egg pasta replacing Asian noodles is not that uncommon, as seen in the sublime spaghetti with chilli-marinated cod roe and caviar sauce served at Luiz Hara’s Japanese Supper Club. The green tea brownie with thin slices of nuts and green tea ice cream was nothing but delightful.

Then there are the cocktails - the Amahata Rama is sour and strong and something I revisited at least twice more (and by twice, I mean thrice). There are many others and if cocktails are your thing, the barman at Pacata will be a good friend - venture off menu. This is a sound addition for the theatre-goers that fill out Covent Garden, and for those that fancy a classy drink and bite to eat to either start or end a night on London’s tiles. Afiyet olsun.

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

the dairy, clapham common - review

Clapham has played a big part in my adult life - I've worked there for seven years. I've danced on the sofas at Venn St. Records - and set my hair alight in the process. I've snuck into the office after nights out to ascend to the roof and gaze over our spectacular city. I've lived not too far away in recent times, making the transition from north of the river to south about four years ago - Clapham North, now Colliers Wood. And I (thankfully) managed to never make it to Infernos during that time.

But when it comes to Clapham's restaurant scene, there's not a huge amount to get excited about. There is Trinity - recognised as a high-end neighbourhood establishment doing great things with seasonal produce - it’s on my list. Mama Lan does a cracking spicy ribbon tofu ban mein with pickles, and The Rapscallion has served me a very good duck confit with puy lentils and pomegranate before. Down the high street - for couples with a carton of Waitrose wine for the common wearing matching Havaianas, in March (please don't) - a place with Dualit toasters on each table where you pay for the privilege of browning your own bread. And there’s a Byron Burgers opening soon.
Not a great deal of note then, until that was, the opening of The Dairy in March 2013.

Along with a number of other high-end restaurants in London and beyond, Chef Robin Gill and his wife Sarah (commandeering front-of-house) previously worked at Le Manoir aux Quat’ Saisons. They’re from Dublin, now living locally in Brixton, and with their team have created a destination dining experience. It’s put Clapham firmly on the culinary map with one of those flag-pins you stick in a cork-board print of the world to proudly display that you’ve visited somewhere. It's had a similar effect. Until two weeks ago, I worked a five minute walk from The Dairy. I’ve enjoyed brief and exceedingly pleasant weekday lunches there, but they were never the tasting menus and they were never with wine. It’s taken the removal of my daily existence in SW4 and me no longer walking past it each morning to finally secure a visit. The environment is that of conviviality and rustic charm - seating straight out of a 60’s school room, daffodils and rosemary sprigs in simple glass vases, the day’s menu printed on rough brown paper. The crockery is a shabby-chic mix of pretty porcelain, vintage metal, slate and heavy stoneware, with some plates requiring weight behind to shift - the waiters must have some impressive guns. The front half is occupied by bars and stools for off-the-cuff visits (if there’s space) and free-wheeling ordering - expect to fidget as the seats are not the most ergonomic. At the rear you’ll find reservations for more intimate and private groups at the seemingly salvaged tables. We began with a swathe of green - hisby cabbage, crisped cavolo nero, ripe Nocellara olives. House lardo with spring white truffle, wild garlic and crunchy puffed rice stole my nose before my stomach - I stuck it right in and took a long and heady sniff. Several shades of earthy carrot slithers grown in the roof garden came with aerated buttermilk, sweet carrot purée, a small but intense crumbling of pristine goat’s cheese and toasted honeyed nuggets of nutty granola - each mouthful was a thrill.

Bread was broken over the table with the assistance of a knife - a mound of hot-from-the-oven sourdough - the breached crust bellowing puffs of steam. On this bread we alternated between the slathering of house butter whipped up with smoked bone marrow, and the satiny chicken liver parfait. Leave me alone with this scene for the remainder of the evening and I would have left just as happy. The unrivalled savoury pleasure unique to crisped fat was found in the hunks of fried chicken skin with a still soft layer beneath, baby courgettes that had felt the briefest heat treatment, and slippery wild mushrooms. Then there was a compact package of well-cooked seabass, swiss chard and bonito butter, followed by a Pollock-esque arrangement of smoked cod with glossy mashed potato, sparkly orange roe, fresh nori leaves and some sorrel that, for some reason, was overpoweringly fishy and unwanted. 

The 32-day aged Irish onglet with firm cubes of squash and black cabbage had flirted with heat so momentarily that beyond the outermost half millimetre, the flesh was red raw. Not a problem, if the cutlery was adequate enough to tackle this. With nothing sharper in the vicinity than a curved butter knife with no hint of serration (I did ask), I used the tools I was given to tear the meat apart into manageable chunks. It was a challenge to masticate in this form - it needed half a minute longer in the pan. We still cleared it.

An extra £4.50 for a finger of truffled Brie on toast was a pungent, creamy and oozing delight. A clementine segment sporting char from a lick of flames along with a wonderful neutral brown butter ice cream and puffed up rice (like less sweet Sugar Puffs) was really very good. But the salted caramel, cacao and malted barley parfait was better - a dark and rich consortium of all things chocolate should be on a plate; crunchy bits, viscous melty bits, smooth truffly bits, sweet and salty bits. Totally stellar.

To bid us farewell, a vintage tin housing still-warm doughnut balls dredged with hibiscus-spiked sugar, fragile shards of buttery shortbread, and glittering little cubes of sour apple jelly.

The seven course tasting menu for £45 will in fact get you ten separate and perfectly portioned plates of food (including petit fours and other throw-ins received with much enthusiasm). I am yet to find elsewhere in London with this sort of price-point in exchange for the same finesse of kitchen skill, number of courses and quality of ingredients experienced. If you haven’t yet eaten at The Dairy, a visit should be high on your priority list. If you have, I suspect your next is already on the cards. Liked lots: excellent value tasting menu; quality of ingredients; creativity of courses; number of dishes; location - a great restaurant only four tube stops from my house - rejoice; staff; atmosphere and interiors; the bi-fold windows open fully and face the green of the common - perfect for languorous lunches on a warm day. Likes less: - We felt a little rushed towards the end of our meal but were handled very well - we were moved to the bar to make our table free for the next sitting and had to scoff the doughnuts whilst putting on our coats. It probably takes a little longer than 2 hours to work through so many dishes (particularly if the extra cheese course is ordered) and that needs to be taken into consideration. I do think we were there for 2.5 hours though - the perils of booking an early evening reservation.
- They need cutlery with which meat can be cut. - The building always seems to have a lot of condensation - I can imagine it getting a bit sticky towards the back on sultry summer evenings. Good for: romance; affordable tasting menus with no compromise on quality; a reason to venture to this part of town.

My rating: 4/5

Find the menu on Zomato.

Afiyet olsun.

pipsdish, covent garden - review

From where I’m seated, my surroundings are that of homely familiarity. I have a view into the kitchen with a duck-egg blue Smeg fridge, double porcelain sinks, coffee mugs dangling from hooks, and cookbooks stacked up by the window. There are rows of empty shelved kilner jars waiting for preserve, and the remaining half of a recently shattered crusty loaf left on a chopping board. Heavy hooked-back drapes keep out the chill, and a stately wardrobe stands fast in the corner. There are film posters on the wall and the general nick-nacks of life scattered about the room. Any other place and I’d be seated in the dining area of someone’s home. Not so here; I am in fact in a restaurant in Covent Garden.

PipsDish is a venture that has taken the supper club experience into a more commercial setting; its intention is to make you feel like you’re at home when you are in fact, out. The man behind the enterprise is Philip Dundas - food writer, author, cook, member of the Guild of Food Writers committee and all round culinary dynamo. The idea of PipsDish was conceived back in 2011, first starting in Philip’s apartment and then moving to a disused Citroen Garage in Upper Street where, along with his friend Mary Doherty, hungry patrons were fed from this pop-up for almost two years. When the garage closed, PipsDish moved to Hoxton Square running a small one-table restaurant from the basement of the British Standard kitchen designers showroom. That lasted for nine months and was followed by the opening of the Covent Garden dining experience in October 2013, all six quaint tables of it. The concept is different to other restaurants in almost every way. There is first the most obvious distinction of environment - effort is made to keep any evidence of commercial activity hidden so as not to effect the unique am-I-in-fact-in-someone’s-home experience. The real kitchen where the food is cooked is out the back and down the stairs and the till system is concealed in that massive wardrobe.

Then there is the food; it stays true to the honest, unfussed, home-cooked fare so often found in the homes of supper clubs (and I’ve been to a few). And like a supper club but unlike a restaurant, there is no menu. Food served during a day is based on what Philip and team procure that morning. Their meat is from Gill Wing Farm in Sussex, the fish is landed from day boats in Cornwall using sustainable methods, they use artisanal producers they know. They work with what is seasonal and fresh and essentially, available. So how was the food? Hot and generous and served in heavy Le Creuset vessels with astrantias (one of my favourite flowers) furnishing every table. A chunky piquant tapenade - fruity with olive oil and served on bread (which would have been better toasted) - started the evening. Heirloom tomatoes tossed with roasted onions, a touch of chilli and cooling goat's curd was simple and splendid. An oven dish of flaky slow-roast pork butt, brimming bowls of creamed greens with garlic and lemon, charred aubergine flesh with yoghurt and pine nuts, and roasted potatoes sprinkled with parmesan are the exact sort of things you want to be presented with to accompany the bottle of wine and raucous laughter shared between friends. Dessert were silky pots of tongue-tackingly tart lemon cream topped with fresh raspberries and crisp shortbread rounds that crumbled and then softened in the mouth. 

Every scrap of our dinner was cleared with great enthusiasm.

A plentiful three course meal in the evening as above is £32.50. Smaller seasonal plates are available from £6 - £10. A carafe of house wine is £12.50, a full litre £22, a glass £5. They open Tues - Sat from 12pm - close. There is little I don’t like about this place - the no-menu BMF concept that will always draw me (sit down, order something to drink, allow them to feed you), and that it feels like a secret bolt-hole in the middle of one of London’s busiest districts only you and the few others dining around you know of. My experience at PipsDish is a blueprint of how an evening would feel if a friend invited me over for dinner and asked me to bring the red. And there is little that can ever be wrong with that. Liked lots: the feeling of exclusivity with such few tables; unique at-home experience when dining out; the obvious effort made to achieve this; everything eaten; dog-friendly; despite its small size it still had the buzz of chat and conviviality familiar to any good restaurant
Liked less: a couple without a reservation did end up sharing a table with another - be aware of this possibility, or just book in advance
Good for: romantic date; small parties up to four - although there is an area for an additional eight at the back; an honest meal you can't be bothered to make at home; an oasis of calm in the tourist-crazed madness that can be London

My rating: 4/5

Afiyet olsun.

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

la mancha, chiswick - review

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



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

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

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

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



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

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

My rating: 3.5/5

Afiyet olsun.

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