bourne & hollingsworth buildings, clerkenwell - review

We’ve done a pretty good job clinging onto the last of summer this year. And by we, I mean the great British weather. 

I write this on Sunday 28th September, a mere three days from the month of October. It’s almost Halloween (which means it’s practically Christmas) and today I not only dared to leave the house without a jacket, but also without sleeves. Thorpe Parked reached a sizzling 26C (LOG FUME!), and tourists dressed for England’s brisk autumnal weather could be found slowly melting in jumpers and boots across the city.

New all day brasserie Bourne & Hollingsworth Buildings in Clerkenwell is attempting its own last hurrah for summer with its choice of interiors. Or at least, half of it. Described as having the ‘faded grandeur of a stately home’, the design is more of an odd marriage between two quite different halves; one with a becoming and moodily-lit cocktail bar complete with piano, low tables and a lot of suede sofas to recline and sup tipples upon, and one labelled the greenhouse.

The latter is where we were seated for dinner. It’s a cross between a John Lewis living room display and the set for a summer garden party. There are soft furnishings upholstered in bold floral prints, salvaged and weathered white iron and cane garden furniture, and ferns and ivy creeping around the fireplace and out of hanging baskets, all in an entirely closed space.

It’s a nice idea. But I can’t help but think that if it was indeed a glorious summer's day, I’d rather be seated in the real outdoors. And if it was a blustering winter’s day, I’d prefer to hunker down with a toddy out the front rather than sit in a pretend garden, without the grass. I didn’t dislike the greenhouse theme, I’m just unsure as to its point. We moved to the other half for post-dinner cocktails; I preferred it.

The kitchen is commandeered by Head Chef Alex Visciano, with a CV that includes stints at two Michelin-starred Michel Rostang in France and Sous Chef at the Connaught. The things coming from it were mostly agreeable, bar a couple of initial wrong foots.

Bread (very standard, at that) was served in a brown paper bag. Now, I know Duck & Waffle deliver their pigs ears in a brown paper bag, but that bag has a fun faux-wax seal of the restaurant’s logo on it. That bag also provides a medium via which the ears can flirt with you - with speckles of inviting piggy fat seeping through the paper - before you even see them. When the bag reaches the table, you instantly know you want in your mouth whatever is inside. There is a point to this bag.

There is no point to the bog-standard, corner-shop brown paper bread bag at B&H other than to irritate. I can think of no reason as to why this presentation was chosen, except that whoever made that decision is under the misguided pretence that it is in some way, cool. It is not. The bag became a makeshift plate on which to place the bread so we could see it. An actual plate would have been preferred.

The second questionable foot was the marinated squid with potato and fennel salad, which according to my dining partner, tasted ‘just like chicken tikka picnic bites you get from Waitrose’. Not necessarily a bad thing, just a little unexpected and it could have been better. It was also a cold dish (hence ‘salad’); I think it would have come across better hot (£9).

Onwards and pleasingly, mostly upwards. A rabbit and hazelnut terrine, wrapped in bacon, and served with a pickled apple slaw was cool and creamy, with great hits of pepper (£7). The lamb cannon with minted crust was full of the taste of iron, like a rare steak but with better texture and without the blood. We cooed over it a fair bit. It came with a well-seasoned ratatouille stuffed courgette flower, a nice alternative to the more commonplace goat’s cheese filling (£20).

Four scallops with good texture came with a parsnip puree and hazelnut gravy, a clever combination and pleasant plate, if not a little steep at £23. Sides were unfortunately, wholly uninspiring. Carrots, orange segments and cumin achieved two out of three in that there were carrots (£4). Seasonal vegetables were bland and boiled generic roots (£4).

On a high note it did finish. The insides of a caramel fondant oozed into a pool of pleasure around the sponge, served with peanut brittle and chocolate ice cream. I’ve never come across a fondant that wasn’t chocolate before; I think I’ll need to make this one at home. Big fondant fan, me (£5).

The cocktail bar and the guys behind it served us some great concoctions. Don’t ask me for details, but I can just about decipher in my (by this stage, inebriated) notebook scrawl the words: ‘West Indian Gimlet’, ‘navy strength gin’ and ‘homemade felerneeeum’ which I believe should say  ‘homemade falernum’. All terms conducive to good drinking, which was certainly entertained. And I liked the bar stools. Black padded and velvet; plush and comfortable.   

The accessories to the experience let it down: gimmicky paper bags, poor sides, a lack of attention to detail in some design aspects such as cheapo brown plastic Homebase plant pots on the table. But the core components are there: good plates of food, good service, good cocktails, good ambience and the potential for some spontaneous drunken serenading at the piano, I'm sure.

The B&H Buildings is not a bad place to while away some time and eat decent food. It's certainly nothing less than fair to mention I visited during their soft launch period, and the whole point of those is to iron out any teething problems in time for the full launch, which for them was the 22nd September. 

Certainly worth poking your head around the door.

Liked lots: great tasting lamb, caramel fondant, cocktail bar, staff
Liked less: sides, squid, outside-inside interiors
Good for: I suspect the greenhouse is better enjoyed during the day, perhaps for a lazy Saturday lunch; potent cocktails, after work drinks

My rating: 3/5

Afiyet olsun. 

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

picture restaurant, fitzrovia - review

I am not a fan of Oxford Street. I’m not sure anyone who lives in London is really a fan of Oxford Street. It’s a strip of commonplace retailers and awful eateries. It’s full of slack-jawed teenagers, disorientated tourists, and families of four, five, six who feel the need to walk side by side, sweeping the breadth of the pavement with their impenetrable linear formation. How do you propose I get past you? Oh ok, I’ll just step into oncoming traffic. 

Oxford Street harbours the highest readings of pedestrian rage in London (according to the Leyla Kazim School of Science), and along with the evil sibling that is Leicester Square, it is a place for tourists, out-of-towners and where patience goes to die.

So praise be and let us raise our hands in joyous celebration, for the really good eating establishments dotted around this arterial route of misery, that provide respite and shelter from the aimlessly wandering hordes, along with some pretty great eating to go with it. 

Next time you find yourself in Oxford Circus with a grumbling stomach and a waning will to live, face north, walk 5 minutes until you get to Picture Restaurant on Great Portland Street, and feel the stresses and strains of West End shopping slide off your shoulders as you’re greeted by some of the most spot-on service I’ve received in some time, from co-owner and chief of front of house, Tom Slegg.

There are a number of good things going for this place. I’ve already mentioned the handy location and Tom. Then there’s the bargain deal of £35 for a six course tasting menu, with the opportunity to BYO on Monday’s (I’m making my reservation for this as we speak). And if you have a vegetarian in your group that always seems to miss out when the table goes for tasting (there’s always one), fear not. They also have a vegetarian tasting menu, the type even a meat-eater would be happy with.

There’s also an a la carte of plates small enough to permit you ordering four without sounding like a pig (and in fact, it’s what they recommend: from vegetable, fish, meat and desserts), but large enough for one or two to more than suffice for a light lunch should that be the requirement. 

They’re not sharing plates - unless you’re that way inclined - and they don’t come out in whichever freewheeling order the kitchen damn well fancies, but the logical order in which they appear on the menu. These range from £7 to £9 and desserts hover around £4 / £5.

The other good thing about Picture, is what’s going on in the kitchen. Because the food coming from it is more than pleasing.

Grilled and crunchy tenderstem broccoli with cooling goat’s curd, chopped plum tomatoes and the briney piquancy of capers was expertly seasoned (£7). White beans cooked in an almond porridge, with wedges of soft, sweet and slightly tart greengage, slithers of radish, and dollops of herbaceous parsley made for a great combination (£7).

Then there was cod with girolle mushrooms, slightly charred leeks, the firm and sweet crunch from sweetcorn, dressed with a cobnut crust (£9). Sea bream came pan-fried, best friends with firm puy lentils, little cubes of fennel and white turnip, and lifted by dill (£9).

You know a kitchen knows a thing or two when it can present wild boar sausage in a light and summery format. Here, with toasted bulgar wheat, beetroot, endive, and with a lick of very complimentary sweet plum chutney in every forkful (£8). 

And then there was the lamb, good grief. Cooked for hours - who knows how many. An exquisite texture, breaking away in flakes from little more than a hard stare. With merguez sausage, white coco beans and a stuffed tomato. One of those dishes the heart gets a little heavy over when all that remains is the empty plate (£9).

And to dessert. We thought we couldn’t handle one each after three previous plates. But quelle surprise, we managed. A chocolate mousse with blackberries and a scoop of splendid peanut butter ice cream and brittle (£4). And a vanilla panna cotta with an almost ethereal silken texture, with strawberries and gingerbread shards (£4). Neither heavy nor too sweet, both wonderful. 

I like Picture, a lot. It has a whiff of The Dairy about it, with it’s light and bright dishes, seasonality, presentation and execution. And my fan-girl crush on that place is no secret. 

With price points like this, consistent and high dish-quality thanks to chefs Alan Christie and Colin Kelly, a central location and laudable service, there is little, if nothing, to argue with.

Liked lots: service, price points; BYO on Monday’s; all wines available by the glass, carafe or bottle; bread is not made on sight but bought in from Boulangerie de Paris, which is very good
Liked less: if you’re not a fan of perching on bar seating, request a table at the back. Although we were at the bar and it was comfortable
Good for: taking vegetarians, taking your own wine, taking pleasure in a very good meal indeed

My rating: 4/5

Find the menu on Zomato.

Afiyet olsun.

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

zucca, bermondsey - review

Pardon me for doing so, but I can’t help but make an instant judgement of a restaurant if it chooses to furnish its floor with - carpet. 

Carpet. In a restaurant. In this decade? It just doesn't sit right with me.

I thought carpets in drinking and dining establishments were exclusive to pubs from the set of Coronation Street that hit you with a face full of eau de stale-beer, and godawful clubs like Infernos in Clapham where the carpet smells of VK Apple and bears the stains and odours of years worth of desperate grinding. 

Like bathrooms, carpet does not belong in a restaurant. Why on earth would one choose to have carpet? Ok, for noise absorption. But there must be another way. I’ll make the assumption most restaurants mop their floors at the end of each day. So what happens at Zucca - a daily shampoo?

No doubt this is the clean-freak germ-phobe in me, but as I walked over the threshold and noticed the floor, my nose curled up in a micro expression of ‘ick’.

Let’s raise the eye level and look at the rest of the room. It’s almost identical to the lobby area of my old office building, just with the addition of water glasses, cutlery and the open kitchen. Muted greys and blues, plastic white office-type tables, office-type blinds, grey office-like chairs with the same black mesh at the back we used to have, and of course that carpet. 

And as it was a Thursday lunch time, it was full of men in pastel shirts with suit blazers slung on the back of their chair, and women in smart work attire - so, people from offices. 

I suppose it makes sense. A restaurant that looks like an office is the perfect setting for a lunch meeting, but if I wanted to eat in a corporate environment I would have dined in The City.

I'll stop myself now before I get too sidetracked with something that will always be secondary to the food. Questionable interiors can be overlooked, even entirely disregarded, if what’s coming from the kitchen is very good (poshed-up-prison-canteen Lyle’s is a great example of this). Except, I’d probably remove the word ‘very’ here.

I like the fact the menu changes frequently in line with what is available and seasonal from Borough Market, and that there are works from featured artists adorning the walls. I also very much favoured the bread which was particularly good - made on site and from scratch, a couple of cubes of pillowy focaccia, a thin slice of something brown, a slice of something white, and a grissini. Perhaps a little meagre for two; I only wish there were more.

‘Zucca’ fritti was a generous pile of deep-fried butternut squash batons which, if were not shared with my dining partner, would be too much of the same thing for one person to clear. The salt crystals were appreciated, but it needed a lick of dip for some lubrication (£6).

Vitello tonnato saw three slices of veal and tuna, both expertly cooked, each nestled atop a mound of mayonnaise featuring the other meat. The tuna mayonnaise was like the fish paste found in those little bottles in Sainsbury’s that I tried in my sandwiches when I was 11, because I felt I needed an alternative for my lunchbox rotation. That's no criticism; I rather liked those sandwiches (£10).

Duck came pink and in long slithers, bisected by an arrangement of pine nuts and parsley - a light and zippy plate (£9). Well-textured pappardelle with bite was coated in the ragu of sweet veal meat (£11 / £16) and the lumache (lumaca is the word for snail in Italian, and so these pasta shapes resemble their shells) with cuttlefish and tomatoes was ok, if not a little ‘fishy’ for want of a better word (£11 / £16).

The remaining gut space was reserved for dolci over secondi, and the chocolate semifreddo with pecan ice cream and caramel sauce was all kinds of right. Parting the slab of frozen mousse with the fork, scooping from the pool of poured-over sauce and finishing with ice cream and a crunchy pecan half was hugely pleasurable on the palate.

There was also a passion fruit cheesecake in a cup which was fine, but it was no semifreddo.

My lunch at Zucca was perfectly adequate, just not especially noteworthy. I felt little of the warmth I associate with the cuisine from both the food and the space. Although, I do feel I need to eat more of their dishes to fully determine if it gets ostracised to the ‘perhaps, if I happen to be in the area’ list.

The restaurant has been a successful stalwart on the Bermondsey Street scene since 2010 and I know a lot of people whose opinion I respect, who wax lyrical about the place. So perhaps, I missed something.

It’s worth noting, the main problem Zucca has is no fault of theirs. They can thank the lofty benchmark for casual Italian dining set by Café Murano, which fed me one of the best lunches I’ve had in forever. Comparison to this unattainable ideal that is now etched in my mind is probably unfair, but I can't help it. I left Café Murano in protest (let me stay until the evening service?) and with a severe case of mentionitis - I couldn’t stop telling everyone about my meal and their blinding cacciuccio. 

So, will I eat at Zucca again any time soon? Perhaps, if I happen to be in the area.

Liked lots: cracking bread, great semifreddo dessert, service
Likes less: the office interior design theme
Good for: business lunches, I suspect

My rating: 3/5

Afiyet olsun.

FRANCE: a postcard from brittany

A few pictures from a weekend spent in Brittany, including the towns of Dinan and Plouagat.

And a lot of rather fabulous food.

ICELAND: mountain and hot spring hiking

If you've always fancied hiking through an active volcanic system, bathing in geothermally heated rivers in the valleys between great mountain ranges, and marvelling at the alien landscape of lava fields covered in nothing but vibrant green bouncy moss, then doing so in Innstidalur Hengill could be for you. 

Hengill is a volcanic system in the southwest of Iceland containing three active volcanoes, extending for over 100km, and located a fifty minute drive from Reykjavik. We went on a hiking tour with Iceland Activities which took us up and through this spectacular landscape, covering 17km in around eight hours. 

The tour includes a pick up and drop off from your hotel in Reykjavik, a very substantial lunch you'll be carrying with you, a private guide, and any kit you might not already have such as rain pants, ruck sacks, gloves, waterproof coats, hiking poles (if you need them). The price is 16,900 ISK per person (around £88). What's particularly appealing about these guys, is it's a family run business based on outdoor adventures parents Andrés and Steinunn would take their kids on when they were younger.

They also do bike, driving, surf and overnight camping tours. Getting out and about with Iceland Activities is available all year round. As our excellent guide Úlfar (the son) informed us, 'there's no such thing as bad weather, just bad preparation.'

Get your hiking boots on, take a deep breath of that pristine air, and embrace the great outdoors.

(And here's a little about what to eat in Reykjavik.)

And here's a video of me with a face full of sulphuric steam - basically very hot boiled-egg gas.

'Breathe it in!', says Úlfar..

le restaurant de PAUL, covent garden - review

World domination can be achieved by the simple and time honoured act of baking, it turns out. Just take a look at PAUL bakery; few other brands are so synonymous with quality bread at such an international scale. 

From humble beginnings in 1889 as a small boulangerie in Croix near Lille, the business-turned-global-empire remains family-run, having passed through five generations in its 125 years, and can now be found in over 25 countries. I’ve witnessed first hand in Tokyo how the Japanese go mad for a crusty pain de campagne. But then, who doesn’t.

It is therefore probably safe to say the people behind PAUL know a thing or two about what goes with their daily-baked loaves. And so, at the back of the Covent Garden branch on Bedford Street, le restaurant de PAUL opened in July, serving traditional French cooking to compliment these breads. 

The space is a continuation of the bakery, styled with the theme of 'French antiques' complete with velvet chairs, marble-topped tables, ornate lighting fixtures and murals adorning the walls. You’ll find the classics that would be nothing less than sacrilege to omit on a menu traditionnel, including saucisses de Toulouse, soupe à l'oignon, baked Camembert, pâté de campagne, and andouillette for the adventurous. 

Then there are the likes of tomatoes stuffed with sausage and peppers stuffed with vegetables and rice, two weights of entrecôte, calves flank, roast chicken with tarragon, and baked salmon with vegetables.

No-cook plates such as the charcuterie ride on the success of the quality of ingredients. Here you’ll find a board laden with saucisson, jambon cru, coppa, rosette, terrine, pickled baby onions, cornichons and of course, PAUL bread. A joyous assembly. And the Camembert, relinquishing its molten innards at the de-robing of the milky white jacket, was as good as it always is straight from the oven (£5.95).

A cast-iron pot presented the coq au vin; fishing in its murky depths will reveal tender chicken and pancetta, served with a chunky buttery mash (£10.50). Confit de canard, with its crisp skin on the leg, had meat that was easy to shred, and came with more buttery potatoes, a red wine sauce with piquant black olives (£10.50).

For desserts, there are all manner of delights from their patisserie that are equally at home with a coffee in the pitstop between one shop and the next during a West End splurge. Think tartelettes, macarons, millefeuille, and éclairs.

The dark chocolate cake is made on site, like a great indulgent slice of very good brownie (£3.55). You can also get a decadent slice of brioche French bread (coated in sugared egg and fried), doused with a creme anglaise, apricot coulis or warm chocolate sauce. Bit hard to ignore, that one (£3.95).

Breakfast is served from 7am - noon and is essentially a list of oeufs every which way possible; brioche oeuf cocotte (baked with yoghurt), a la coque (boiled with soldiers), Bénédicte (bacon and hollandaise), Royale (smoked salmon and hollandaise), Florentine (spinach and hollandaise), pochés ou au plat (poached with tomatoes and bread), brouillés (scrambled), omelette. Along with entries from Croque Monsieur and Croque Madame, naturellement.

Le restaurant de PAUL is a new dining offering worthy of attention. When the hankering is for traditional French food and some vin rouge, at a reasonable price point in the thick of London’s tourist district, it’s good to know there’s a familiar name you can turn to.

Liked lots: the execution of French classics with un-fussed competence; the all French wine list
Liked less: there's little not to like when there's good bread around
Good for: relying on a familiar household name; solid and satisfying French food

My rating: 3.5/5

Afiyet olsun.

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

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lyle's, shoreditch - review

It’s been a while since a maiden trip to a restaurant has greatly surpassed what I anticipated from it. Maybe I should set expectations around the same pegging as a Friday night in Church Street Croydon KFC, so as to always guarantee feeling thoroughly impressed with my dinner. But that seems a bit cynical. Regardless, I’m not sure quite what I was expecting from lunch at Lyle’s, but I wasn’t expecting it to be as good as it was.

Not that I had set my expectations low for it, mind. It was chosen thanks to the usual social media buzz that so often dictates where I should try next, so I had an idea it might be good. But in my experience, these aren’t always to be trusted (think Chiltern Firehouse, Kurobuta). 

And I’m never quite sure what to expect from east London. I sometimes wonder if the Shoreditch creatives are simply riding the wave of their location association, facial fuzz and sockless feet, rather than truly being measured on their skill. This is really just a symptom of me being quite ignorant to this part of town and needing to get better acquainted. So, shame on me.

The man behind it is Chef James Lowe who made a name for himself as one of The Young Turks at supperclubs and pop-ups around town, and Lyle’s is his first solo foray, found in Shoreditch High Street’s Tea Building.

First impressions were mixed, leaning towards unimpressed. We had an early booking, so the whole room was empty when we arrived (it filled to full capacity shortly after). “You know what this reminds me of,” I queried my dining companion. “A prison,” came the instant and assertive response, echoing my exact thoughts.

The welcome was exemplary as was the service throughout, but to put it bluntly, the space looks like a poshed up prison canteen. I get the whole pared down, clean-lined Scandi look that so many restaurants go for these days and often execute well, but it doesn’t seem to work here. My interior designer companion - who knows her load bearing walls from her butt joints - thinks it’s the light wood beech against the bare steel of the open kitchen and the polished concrete floor. It’s a harsh look. 

Mercifully, they haven’t entertained those long communal tables otherwise I would have had to ask if this was in fact a social enterprise employing those on temporary release and did I need a CRB check before eating here. And to add to the penitentiary theme, whilst the staff were all glorious, the uniforms of dark blue trousers with tucked in light blue shirts made them look like extras from The Shawshank Redemption. 

But who really cares about any of that when what’s coming from the kitchen is this good.

I’ll start with the least striking dish, and there was one, of beetroot, walnuts and Ticklemore cheese. Order it for the cheese-name novelty, by all means. But the root veg had the same texture as the ones you can buy vac packed, and the cheese was a little too inoffensive for my palate (£7.50).

Onwards with the rest of the spread, which was all effortlessly splendid. Scottish chanterelles sat in a little pool of thin savoury broth, scattered over and concealing a gooey egg, with onions and wild fennel blossom. A spectacular umami bowl I’d scoff any time of day (£7.30).

Then there was a ‘blood cake’, essentially the glorious soft innards of a high-end black pudding, gently spiced, an exquisite texture, with a smattering of pork scratching nuggets, dark purple pickled chicory and blackcurrants. It was stellar (£6.30). 

A great hunk of Dexter rump with a beautiful crust, the flesh surrendering its juices with a little pressure, was a complete joy between the teeth. I have found myself wondering why the hell I ordered the beef whilst masticating one mouthful for a full five minutes many times before, even at high end restaurants. But not here; it was the nicest bit of bovine I’ve had in ages (£16.50).

Then there was the grouse liver, sweetcorn and hazelnuts. Despite it looking exactly like something a cleaner would throw sawdust over on Platform 4 of Leicester Square station on a Friday night, it was sensational, and not at all what I was expecting. 

A sort of liquidised liver, distinct with the unique flavour of game but not yet too strong as it was just the start of the grouse season, with crisp sweet kernels of corn and crunchy nuts. There are few things that please me more then when something reads scary and looks worse, but tastes incredible. Fortune favours the brave; always try to order at least one thing you think you won’t like - you might be just as pleasantly surprised (£5.90).

Treacle tart was a neat cuboid of sublimely spiced pleasure, with a big ginger hit and a neutral and delicate milk ice cream (£5.90). Then there were cherries with a cherry granita, crumble and an ice cream made from cherry stones (who even knew you could do such a thing), which lent some nuttiness to the dessert. It was totally great (£6.50).

A point to note, the wine list focuses on natural tipples which seems to translate to them being a bit pricier than I’m use to seeing so close to the start of the list. But there’s plenty available by the glass and carafe, so do gambol through it by all means. 

Lyle’s was a surprise and a revelation. Things aren’t quite as they seem here, but what they turn out to be are all the superior for it. There’s a sense of excitement around what you’ll get presented in front of you, as the menu gives little away and the kitchen is clearly bursting with creativity. There isn’t a better opportunity to experience this than in the evenings with their set eight course daily-changing menu that offers no freedom of choice; I bloody love being told what to eat. 

I’ve already secured my return visit for dinner. I might don some bright orange overalls.

Liked lots: kitchen innovation; exciting dishes; exemplary service from our Antipodean waitress - she was great; the no-choice evening menus - I know it's a divisive topic but I really like them (when the cooking is this good)
Liked less: those staff uniforms..
Good for: interesting Scandi-influenced dishes big on British ingredients

My rating: 4.5/5

Find the menu on Zomato.

Afiyet olsun.