Category: Lifestyle
Posted by
Kris on 05/06/2010 |
No commentsStarters
Asparagus and black pudding Scotch egg
Main Course
Beef cheeks and Hereford snails braised in stout with clotted cream mash, smoked bone marrow and parsley salad.
Warm smoked pork belly salad with raw celeriac, boiled Berkshire Pheasant eggs, Rarebit potatoes and piccalilli.
Dessert
Buttermilk pudding, English summer raspberries, lemon verbena jelly and shortbread.
Background
Harwood Arms is a raved about gastro-pub, with an unashamedly British menu owing much to St John Restaurant in Clerkenwell. Despite being located in a discreet road in Fulham and relatively new on the scene, it is far from being a well kept secret thanks to its renowned venison Scotch egg bar snack and the fact it’s the first London pub to earn a Michelin star. After various lazy and failed attempts to secure a weekend reservation, I finally find myself at 27 Walham Grove at 1:45 on a Friday.
Now, some gastro geeks view the word “gastro-pub” like normal folk the ‘c-word’ in everyday discourse. That is to say, some feel rather strongly that the blurring between the distinction of the humble pub and a fine dining restaurant should never manifest itself in such a manner. I, in all honesty, had been indifferent to the debate but I am, however, very enthusiastic about famous Scotch Eggs, which was my principal rationale for going. But, if the ‘genre’ of Gastro-pubs produces just one or a handful of gems like the Harwood Arms, then I am now wholly in favour.
Setting
The interior and décor for me is just perfect and the favourite of any dining establishment I’ve frequented this year. It evokes a simple French country house with its white and pastel blue/grey coloured walls and old vintage wooden tables. No fancy frills and makes a diner who is more prone to casual dress, like me, feel instantly at ease.
The youthful service was with a smile, but completely devoid of timeliness and attentiveness. I never enjoy having to loudly beckon my waitress/waiter and I like it even less when they do not look very rushed off their feet.
The menu read like a little British dream. It’s heart-warming to see a one-sided card with words like “Hereford Snails”, “Berkshire Pheasant”, “Cornish Cod”, “Bramley Apple”, “piccalilli”, “Marmalade”, “Rarebit”, “English Raspberries” and “Bara Brith” dotted all over the place. It screams of provenance and pride and doesn’t have a single nod or suggestion of deference (except on the wine list!) to certain supposedly superior Mediterranean neighbours. It was all very reasonably priced as well.
Starters
If the comforting décor and menu perusal was extremely effective gastro foreplay, then the warm soda bread provided built on this excellent beginning, and, if I hadn’t had to share it would have very nearly brought a premature end to proceedings…. It was absolutely divine and I resented my dining companion even looking at it. This is from someone who rarely gets excited by bread and doesn’t normally care for soda bread.
Now, anyone, who at the end of May, sees Asparagus on the menu and doesn’t order it when it is at its absolute peak, is a fool. For the individual who, at the end of May, sees asparagus on the menu married with a Black Pudding Scotch egg and chooses something else is quite frankly a pillock. You can see where this is going. My starter was an absolute triumph. The Scotch egg was an absolute revelation, perfectly crisp on the outside, the yolk devilishly runny and the black pudding filling moist and moreish. I can’t say enough nice things about it. I could have happily eaten the two components individually as stand-alone dishes. To put them together was just fiendish and the light mustard sauce had me cooing and rolling my eyes even further.
Mains
Alas, the gastro-porn had to come to an end eventually. It’s just a shame it did during the main course.
I opted for the component-heavy Beef cheeks dish. I knew I would like all the different parts of the dish: Braised beef cheeks and clotted cream mash? Yes please. Would sir care for some Bone marrow on toast with parsley salad? Don’t mind if I do. Snails? Hook a brother up! I have to admit I was dying to see how these three elements would come together as one concept. But, the truth is that it was all a bit of an unfortunate train wreck.
In all fairness, the cheeks were braised excellently so that they fell apart at the mercy of my fork. The stout based gravy was deep, dark and lush and the clotted cream mash was predictably superb. The Hereford snails, also braised in the stout, fantastic and, after some reservation, seemed to make sense with the beef cheeks.
The compatibility of the dish stopped there. I can’t deny that the smoked bone marrow spread over a sweet caramelised onion compote on toasts and fresh zingy parsley salad was tasty. It didn’t quite compare to the St John incarnation of the dish, but that is a tall order indeed. The main issue was the lack of connection between bone marrow and parsley salad and the beef cheeks. I did not know how to eat the dish or what to do with myself! Dishes should never logistically flummox the diner, but I was stumped! Tragically, I ended up eating the dishes separately.
The other pitfall was the unrelenting heaviness of the overall dish. At the beginning of summer, it did not sit prettily in my stomach for the rest of the day. This is, partly, my fault for poor selection. It is such a shame that such a delicious array of expertly cooked ingredients should form such an ill-conceived dish as a whole. I was, in truth, a bit heartbroken.
It was a similar, but less pronounced story with the other main. The warm smoked pork belly salad, on its own, was just the most perfect summer main. It was light, flavoursome, texturally complete and the smokiness of the pork and richness of the pheasant yolks adding just the right undertone of robustness. However, one can only assume a cocktail of tip-top hallucinogens influenced the chef to accompany this perfect salad with the rarebit potatoes and piccalilli. The rarebit topping was completely unpleasant and the piccalilli, fine if nothing special. But this is beside the point. There was no need whatsoever for the extra carbohydrates.
Dessert
Thankfully, the sweet brought our Gastro-Pub experience back into the realms of ecstasy. We opted for what was comfortably the most summery option in a sea of hearty puds. Sharing was a monumental error. The buttermilk pudding flecked with vanilla, was delish, smooth, creamy and the perfect amount of sweetness. To cut through the sweetness, there was a real treat in the shape of the first of the summer’s English raspberries. My only gripe was that there were not enough of these pinky-red beauties.
I have to admit it was my first experience of Lemon Verbena, which is a curious green, grass-like, herb that tastes like a very mild lemon. It was manifested here in jelly form and one solitary blade of the herb. Both were very pleasant and curious tasting and added an element of the unknown and a welcome splash of yellow and green to the dish. Finally, the accompanying shortbread was excellent, however, unfortunately I had just recently returned from Edinburgh and better versions were still lingering in the memory and on the tongue. Overall, though, a sublime and seasonal finish to the meal.
Summary
I don’t think I should let the incongruous pairings of the mains tarnish the experience too much since the soda bread, the starter and dessert were truly stellar. The rank rarebit potatoes were just the accompanying side on a separate dish to the main and to be honest I would have paid the £15.50 just for the warm pork belly salad, spectacular as it was. The wintery beef cheeks and bone marrow was a slightly less excusable episode, but I admit a certain degree of culpability and everything was cooked perfectly.
But let’s go back to the positives: British produce and dishes championed, seasonality, unpretentious, always well executed cooking and a comfortable dining atmosphere. Harwood Arms and any other Gastro-Pub of this calibre, for that matter, come highly recommended.
See:
http://www.harwoodarms.com/
http://www.stjohnrestaurant.co.uk/
http://www.thesyncmagazine.com/2010/04/03/patriotism_and_chips/
Posted by
Kris on 24/05/2010 |
No commentsSummary
An explosion of burnt sienna, vibrant greens, attractive greys, pale yellows and occasional splash of pink provide the backdrop to this stunning city steeped in tradition, history and local and national pride. A city made for walking and a range of activities to cater for all types of tourists. For the snap-happy, the Royal Mile (the tourist heart beat of the city) and the surrounding areas including Edinburgh Castle are what wet dreams are made of. Insatiable culture vultures will have their thirsts quenched by the independent cinemas and plethora of theatres. Those seeking tranquillity and nature are well served by the breathtaking Holyrood Park. Finally, for gourmands like myself, the range of fresh seafood, world renowned meat and class restaurants left me secretly praying that Eyjafjallajokull wreaked havoc with my return flight.
Edinburgh Highlights
1. The best value for money meal on the planet at The Kitchin
By a country mile, the finest meal I’ve had this year. Tom Kitchin, a very pleasant and young Scot, lets the ingredients do the talking at this relatively new and trendy Michelin-starred restaurant in Leith. An impossibly flavoursome pre-starter of Lettuce soup, an escabeche of red mullet with orange and fennel starter and a rhubarb themed dessert are just some of the dishes which made me weep with joy. Opt for the 3 course set lunch menu as this is unquestionably the best way to spend £25 in Edinburgh.
2. Take a leisurely stroll around Holyrood Park
At this royal park in the city centre, beautiful views, crisp air and the best way to appreciate the gorgeous colours of Edinburgh await you.
3. Be cultured and watch some thespians
This city is renowned for theatre, thanks to the success of the Edinburgh International and Fringe Festivals. We went to see an enjoyable student-run adaptation of the film Closer at the Churchill Theatre. There is plenty of choice on any given night so there are no excuses.
4. Eat haggis, venison and Aberdeen Angus beef at Dubh Prais Restaurant on the Royal Mile
Sample triumphant and minimalist Scottish classics done with typical hearty and often whiskey based sauces at this minute restaurant (warning: not for claustrophobes!).
5. Be blown away by a choir at St Giles Cathedral
Edinburgh seems to have an otherworldly and celestial feel to it and just 15 minutes listening to almighty and formidable renditions of Scottish pieces was enough to reinforce this.
6. Divine Shortbread and Tea at Clarinda’s Tea Room
A little gem at the Parliament end of the Royal Mile. Indulge in some sweet treats freshly baked on premises in a quaint, tiny and immaculate ‘Grandma’s living room’ style setting. Unfortunately, I was unable to sample all the goods on offer, but the date slice, shortbread and carrot cake were all stunning.
7. Catch a flick at the Filmhouse
Uber cool Indie cinema mainly attracting hipsters and students but also old timers and common folk. They all converge in the low key bar for a pre/post film discussion of the trendy, often foreign, films on offer. Serves a decent cup of coffee too.
8. Take a time-out in the little pocket of serenity in Dunbar’s Close Garden
A precious hidden treasure of a garden just off the Royal Mile. Perfect for an afternoon siesta to recharge the batteries after a knackering day of being touristy.
Edinburgh Lowlights
1. The rudest barbers on the planet
If abrupt service and inexplicable wrath are what you desire when going for a haircut, then look no further than an unnamed Polish barbers just off Royal Mile. It really should be a landmark. The haircut itself, to be fair, was okay. However, it lasted 4 minutes and the young lady was touching my hair like it was actual human faeces. We mutually couldn’t wait to be rid of the sight of each other. She’s got it sussed though: £7 for 4 minutes work is everyone’s dream right?
2. Dodgy streets around Leith
Stray too far from the beaten path in Leith and you will encounter young reprobates with BB guns, snarling dogs the size of bears, shady looking characters lurking outside pubs and grey and dour buildings.
3. Overpriced grub at the Fourth Floor Restaurant, Harvey Nichols
In spite of the pleasant views, the Orkney lamb gigot with roasted vegetable cous-cous and mozzarella salad with galette that we sampled didn’t have me willingly reaching for the wallet.
4. Waiting for Buses
Beckett was secretly writing about the bus service in Edinburgh, when condemning his two protagonists to a fruitless exercise of patience in Waiting for Godot. Ok, so this is perhaps a little harsh. I probably just had some bad luck in our five days, but from my experiences, I would characterise the service as infrequent to put it mildly. In Edinburgh’s defence, it’s a very walkable city and so it probably serves me right for even considering public transport.
5. Cookie Cutter Pubs/Bars on the Royal Mile
I’m really scraping the bottom of the barrel when it comes to negatives about Edinburgh. I just found the multitude of ‘samey’ looking pubs and bars on the Royal Mile terribly unappealing.
Posted by
Kris on 24/05/2010 |
No commentsStarters
Velouté of Peas with poached duck egg and bacon
Mains
Fillet of sea bream with piperade and olive tapenade
Confit of duck leg with boudin noir and salade lyonnaise
Dessert
Apple Tarte tatin with crème fraiche
Chocolate Marquise with Pistachio cream and vanilla ice cream
Background
Galvin Bistro de luxe is a highly rated and successful upmarket French Bistro run by two British brothers in Baker Street. Many go as far to say that they are beating the French at their own game. I had to see and taste the storm these siblings were cooking up with my own eyes and palatte.
Setting
Me: I’ll have the Pea Velouté please.
Waitress: Do you know this is a soup?
Me: Yes, yes I do thanks. And she’ll have the Fillet of Sea Bream.
Waitress: And you know Sea Bream is a kind of fish?
This was a truly woeful start to the meal. A patronising French waitress is never welcome at the best of times. I’m aware that in my casual summer garb and with my schoolboy youthful looks I don’t cut the figure of a knowledgeable gourmand. No doubt these characteristics coupled with the fact that I am an Englishman led this mademoiselle to believe that I was a gastronomically challenged ignoramus.
From start to finish I didn’t feel comfortable here. A far cry from an actual French bistro, it smacked of a less talented ugly sibling wearing designer labels and just trying too hard. A good French bistro, much like a handsome Frenchman, should be both stylish and unique without trying to be. Galvin over-exerts itself. I’m sure this is the point, but it didn’t work. It should market itself as a French fine dining restaurant but alas it calls itself a “bistro” so we shall refer to it so.
Uncomfortable and insulted, my first impression was that Galvin Bistrot de luxe is to Bistros, what Bisto is to fresh homemade gravy. Luckily for these two brothers, the menu reads very well with lots of the usual suspects prominent, such as confit of duck leg, escargots and steak tartare. Further, the food was largely excellent and is affordable, especially if you order off the 3 course prix-fixe menu.
Starter
My pea velouté arrives and lo and behold, it IS a soup ma chérie! It was tasty, refreshing and vibrant. The greenest green thing my eyes ever did see and the smattering of delightful peas and pea shoots did it no harm . I also enjoyed the mini-spectacle/double act of one waiter bringing the bowl with the duck egg and bacon and a second waiter pouring the soup out of a silver tureen. Unfortunately, the crispy bacon had a bitter and burnt acrid taste. For that necessary added crunchy texture I would have preferred some non-burnt bacon or simply some croutons. The poached duck egg, for that luxurious touch, was perfectly cooked but I’m undecided as to whether it was really necessary, which suggests that it wasn’t.
Mains
A litmus test of any bistro is its confit of duck leg. My dish was a sumptious platter of meaty goodness with the flavoursome and crisp skinned duck, the moreish boudin noir and welcome slices of saucisses dotted around the plate. A sweet reduction drizzled around the plate cut through the richness of the meats and some string beans and curly endive added the necessary green backdrop. A resounding thumbs up.
The sea bream (it’s a fish by the way) was also excellent if not very typically ‘bistro’. The piperade, a wonderful combination of softened sweet yellow and red peppers and caramelized onions married perfectly with the olive tapenade and screamed of the sunny Mediterranean. This perhaps was a flaw of the dish, as you couldn’t help but feel, as good as it was, that this should only be eaten in the sunshine and with a sea view.
Dessert
I was kicking myself for not ordering the Tarte Tatin. Note to self, when going to a “Bistro” one must order the classics! Luckily I got to sample it. It was beautiful and humungous. The apples the right mix of tartness, acidity and sugary sweetness and the pastry a fiendish flaky delight. My chocolate marquise, whilst perfectly decent and decadent, couldn’t match this big hitter.
Verdict
I am gutted I didn’t have the chance to sample some of the other bistro staples, particularly the steak tartare. I saw a couple of diners running a raw egg yolk around raw fillet steak and coaxing out garlicky snails from their shells and they looked perfectly happy.
Galvin is definitely worth a visit for the fairly priced and excellent grub. Just don’t pay heed to the snooty setting and ambience and pray you don’t get patronising service.
See: http://www.galvinrestaurants.com/section.php/4/1/galvin_bistrot_de_luxe
Posted by
Kris on 03/04/2010 |
No comments“Ze Engleesh food, eets er-bit ‘orrible non?”
Does that sound at all familiar to you? A Frenchman’s default response when asked what they think of England. It’s a run-of-the-mill unprovoked attack on our nation’s food. You probably weren’t even asking their opinion on our food; it was probably just some forced polite small talk you initiated. It’s not just the French. From the Spanish, you will likely hear: “Eh dis Ingleeeesh ehfood es ehbit ehcrap no?” From the Italians: “Eh! Dis-a Inglisha afooda, es abitta crappa no?” and so on and so on….
Do they have a point? There is no doubt that our food culture cannot compete with the likes of France, Spain and Italy. They hold food in much higher esteem and treat it with the respect and reverence it deserves at all levels of society. But when a foreigner produces that sort of outburst, I get offended. I want to come back with a measured, irrefutable and preferably witty, argument. Yet my mind goes blank. This is probably a telling sign.
Much has been written about why the situation with English food is so dire. Most trace it back to rationing from the war-time periods. Some, incorrectly, to the Puritanism of Victorian times which equated taking pleasure in food with sexual pleasure and therefore considered it a sin. If you are A.A Gill, you level much of the blame at Elizabeth David, the original Delia Smith, who first opened our eyes to the joys of Mediterranean cuisine and kick-started an obsession with international cuisine. All of this supposedly contributes to our national allergy to quality and delicious food and lack of a well defined national cuisine. I’m not convinced yet.
The dream is to one day defend the state of English food with a credible and valid response, if this is indeed possible…. To this end, I’ll be analysing and reviewing the beacons of hope within English cuisine whether that is a particular restaurant, dish or tradition. To kick-start the process I took a little trip to Clerkenwell.
Review: St. John Restaurant, Clerkenwell
Starters
Brown Crab meat on toast
Cold Middlewhite with quince
Roast bone marrow with parsley salad
Ox Tongue salad
Mains
Ox Heart and chips with aioli
Gloucester Old Spot Pot Roast with prunes
Smoked Eel, bacon and mash
Lemon sole with tartare sauce
Desserts
Bread and butter pudding
Rhubarb jelly
Bakewell Tart with jersey cream
Clementine sorbet with vodka
Background
Ever since Anthony Bourdain, the food writing maverick, described St John’s “Roast Bone Marrow with Parsley Salad” as his desert island dish I have wanted to eat there. Feargus Henderson, co-proprietor of St John, is widely regarded as godfather of “Nose-to-tail” eating. That is to say, a return to the indiscriminate approach to eating animal body parts widely regarded as unglamorous. He is also a true champion of British cooking and produce. Praise is regularly lavished on Henderson, his restaurant and what it stands for.
For such a back to basics, no frills restaurant, the Michelin star it holds and residence in the definitive S Pellegrino World’s 50 best restaurants list, No. 14 in 2009, are an impressive feat. Suffice to say that to eat in St John is to eat in probably England’s most important and influential restaurant.
Location/Setting
St John’s crusade to put offal and other meaty goodies back onto the dinner table means it’s location a stone’s throw away from Smithfield’s Market is an obvious and inherently inspiring choice. Walking past a symbol of great English butchery traditions not only gets a carnivore’s juices flowing, but also has the effect of seasoning the meal to come with some national pride.
Walking through the doors of the relatively modest façade, I am greeted by lots of merry city types with pint in one hand and a hog roast bap in the other. Beer + Hog Roast = an outstanding first impression and this was just the front bar. The praise for the setting stops there however. Walking into the dining area, the word “sterile” popped into my head. It was a little too bright and clean to fit in with Henderson’s rough and ready “pig scrotum and chips for breakfast” ethos. One of my dining companions correctly pointed out, the lighting reminded him of being in the office.
On the other hand, the service was excellent and another feature which made up for the lack of atmosphere was the beautiful simplicity of the menu. It is a one sided piece of card. The dish descriptions are simple and curt and there isn’t an overload of choices so as to put strain on the diner’s brain. There is no deception here and it screams confidence that a restaurant can put out such a restrained menu. It is also representative of English humility, a far cry from the verbose and exaggerated descriptions found on Mediterranean menus.
Starters
I was giddy with excitement waiting for the starter course. Even without Bourdain’s high praise, the Roast Bone Marrow with Parsley Salad is widely considered to be Henderson’s signature dish and therefore one is obliged to order it.
And so it arrived. Anthony Bourdain’s desert island dish just sitting there right in front of my very eyes. It was unintentionally but overwhelmingly sexy to look at. Five satisfyingly charred roasted veal bones with sultry pink gelatinous matter begging to peer out from the surface. A refreshing parsley, caper and white onion salad very simply dressed with lemon. Two doorstop-sized, charred white toasts and a coup de grace of grey salt on the side completed the dream-team.
It was incredibly moreish. The flavour of the marrow was subtle but sublime and the salad and sea salt elevated it to another level. The task of digging out the marrow with the provided utensil added to the enjoyment of the dish but it was the delicious grease surrounding my mouth and further afield on my face which reinforced in my mind that this was a special dish.
Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of the other starters. They were all fine, but lacked any sort of wow-factor in the taste department. If your dishes are going to be presented simply they really have to deliver on taste. The Brown Crab meat on toast had a deep flavour of the sea but was uninspiring. The Ox Tongue had a subtle flavour and deceptively buttery texture but ultimately a little bit boring. And the Middlewhite was….well it was cold roast pork. As delicious a cold roast pork dish as you are likely to eat. But it was just cold roast pork. The quince accompaniment was, however, beautiful and quintessentially English.
Main Courses
For the main course it had to be offal. The East End classic Ox heart with chips and aioli was the obvious choice and it did not disappoint one bit. The Ox heart, traditionally chewy, was impossibly tender and flavoursome. The chunky chips with a robust aioli were the perfect accompaniment. Too often aioli lacks balls. This aioli was no eunuch. It was pungent, tangy and still lingering on the breath the next day.
The Gloucester Old Spot pot roast with prunes was divine and I secretly had a bit of dish envy. Similarly, the oily, smoky eel was wonderful and the perfectly executed mash and bacon cut through it perfectly. It wasn’t a subtle dish and certainly not a dish for the faint hearted. The lemon sole however, was perhaps just a bit too subtle. Perfectly cooked and with an exquisite tartare sauce, but we were all agreed that it was just a bit bland for the type of food expected at St John.
Desserts
The dessert menu was chock full of English classics. We were all stuffed from St John’s grandma’s home-cooking sized portions but alas, just for you dear reader, we soldiered on. I couldn’t possibly write an article about the defence of English cooking without delving into the puddings.
Bread and Butter pudding was my weapon of choice, having suffered heartbreak upon hearing they had sold out of Henderson’s other signature dish: Eccles Cake and Lancashire cheese. It was top notch but exceptionally stodgy…which I guess is the point. The Bakewell Tart was truly special and would have Mr Kipling quivering in his boots. The rhubarb jelly was really intense, in an entirely positive fashion. The sorbets fulfilled their role as an effective palate cleanser and the strong Polish vodka provided that extra bit of courage for the biting January chill.
Verdict
All of the above reads positively. However, it does mask a certain feeling of disappointment that ever so slightly tarnished the experience. Make no mistake, the food was excellent (but not flawless) and showed off the best of English. It championed prized English produce (Middlewhite and Gloucester Old Spot pork, Jersey Cream and quince) and our love of hearty and delicious puddings with aplomb.
Ultimately, the culpability for my disappointment lies with Bourdain and my own romanticized expectations. I went in their hoping that I was about to experience total food mecca. I left satisfied and with a renewed sense of patriotism but conceding to myself that I was likely to have far better meals this year.
There is no doubt that St.John was a cracking starting point but I need more answers. Part. 2 of this quest will see me look at the sad decline of an East End legend: Pie and mash and jellied eels.
See: http://www.stjohnrestaurant.co.uk/
Tags: St John Restaurant Review