Pedro Lemos (Porto, Portugal)

Three nights in Porto, three new restaurants to try. After reading some great reviews online, I decided to book Pedro Lemos for our first night out. This restaurant, which carries the name of its star chef, is somehow still without a first Michelin star. But by all reports, it should be on the shortlist to receive one soon. So we were curious to find out for ourselves if chef Lemos would live up to expectations.

The restaurant is located in the modern east side of town near the oceanside. We were seated at a quiet table downstairs, and quickly greeted by our waiter. Although most people we had dealt with so far in Port spoke enough English to get by, this gentleman spoke English exceptionally, well – in fact he was probably more well spoken than most waiters we would meet in England. In fact, it doesn’t seem quite correct to call him a waiter – he gave more of an air of a “host”, and he was assisted by other servers.

He also was apparently our expert sommelier for the evening, particularly specialising in the local wine of the Douro Valley region near Porto. We allowed him to choose a white dry port as an aperitif to start.

It then came time to order, and I explained that we wanted to try everything the chef had to offer, so we opted for the 7-course “Sete Momentos” for one of us, and the 5-course “Cinco Momentos” for the other. We also allowed our host to select wines to match each course, and soon learned that this would be not only a tour of culinary senses, but also a brilliant introduction to to the variety of wine the region has to offer.

Amuse bouche – canneloni, quail, white cream cheese sauce, green veg, watercress. This mini-canneloni was bite-size, but felt like so much more than a typical amuse bouche. Truly delicious and rich, and I could imagine having a satisfying meal of just this item.

“O Foie Gras de Pato Mullard” – the Mullard duck foie gras. Due to my allergy to certain shellfish, I had to request a substitution for the first dish in the 5 course menu (which was originally intended to be “Os moluscos, mariscos e bivalves” – The mollusc, seafood and shellfood. The chef quickly sent this dish out instead – actually a later item from the 7 course menu. The foie gras was served beautifully, with a seared, almost caramelized top of the duck fat, and on top of a crumb crust, with a spoonful of sweet honey and a sweet macaroon. This concept of serving a sweet macaroon with foie gras seems to be a trend at the moment – perhaps it accentuates the “french-ness” of the foie gras dish. It was sweet, but it definitely worked, and every component of this dish was delicious and expertly prepared. I noted that in particular the Douro late harvest 2006 port, a white, sweet, and very rich wine, was an excellent pair for the foie gras and tied the sweet elements of the dish together. An excellent start to the meal, and really set the stage for a performance of the chef and the sommelier working together in absolute harmony.

“O Lavagante Azul” – The Blue Lobster. The 7 course meal started with this pretty lobster dish. A couple of perfect chunks of lobster meat, topped with truffle caviar, and swimming in a foam that I guessed might be celeriac – light and a bit potato-like. A fresh, light dish to start this meal, quite different from the start for the 5 courses. Already we were seeing the breadth the chef had to offer.

The lobster was served with a sparkling white pinot blanc.

“A Alheira de Mirandela” – The Traditional White Portuguese Sausage. This sausage was served in something like a fried scotch egg, with an onion foam and topped with the truffle caviar. Accompanied with some mushrooms that looked so fresh they could have been picked straight from the forest, and some other fibrous vegetable, I couldn’t quite work it out, possibly eggplant, but more chewy than usual. I noted it was a very nice combination of something fried and something fresh, one of my favorites from the meal. This was accompanied by a Doura Craca Vinhas Antigas Riservas, a wood fermented wine.

“O Salmonete de Setubal” – The Red Mullet. This was served as a soup with prawn, squid, mussel, and cuttlefish. The soup had coriander and finely diced sweet red pepper. A broth was poured on at the table to complete the soup, and the result tasted of the freshness of the sea. This dish was served with a particularly interesting choice of wine, a dry jasmine rose muscatel from Da Fonseca.

Next for the 7 course meal, the foie gras was served again, but this time accompanied with a Douro Aneto sweet port from the ocean side of the region, as opposed to the wine from the central area served before. This wine was a bit more special, and hence reserved for the 7 course meal.

“O Bacalhau de Cura Portuguesa” – The Portuguese Cured Codfish. This complex dish consisted of cod served two ways, along with olive tapenade, and a small portion of the chef’s interpretation of portuguese migas, which were cooked in the codfish broth. I noted that I could eat those migas all day, and the leftover broth on the table was so good I had to soak it up with some bread. This dish was served with a Syrah red, smooth and dry, grown in the south of portugal, in Alagarve, and bottled by Hans Christian Andersen. An excellent wine, but I noted that it was a strange pairing for the cod – although the migas were so rich it did kind of work.

“O Pexe de Anzol” – Fish from the hook. This dish was basically the chef’s preparation of the fresh fish of the day, and clearly the most whimsical part of the meal conceptually. The selection for the day was “Galhina do mar” – chicken of the sea. Although in English we usually refer to tuna as the chicken of the sea, apparently in Portuguese, the chicken of the sea is a kind of Torpedinidae, a type of electric ray fish. The chef went with a play on words, and wrapped the fish in chicken skin, and then served it in a chicken broth, with cauliflower. I found this to be the most dissapointing dish of the night – although conceptually interesting, the result was to cancel out most of the fresh fish flavor of the torpedo ray (which apparently is a great fish for stews), and converted this into basically a bland chicken dish. We noted that the dish might go well in scandanavian cuisine. Too much gimmick and not enough focus on flavor here. And to top it off, there was a bone in the fish. This was served with a Douro Valley fermented white blended wine from the hotter (harsher) region of the valley, which produces richer and more unique quality of wine. It had a full minerality, with some oaky creaminess – a very special wine with a smell similar to a white port, and a creamy melting sensation on the tongue, not unsimilar of the sensation of a good red wine. I noted that the wine did accompany the chicken flavor of the dish quite well – so once again perhaps our expert sommelier had saved the day.

“O Cabrito das Terras Altas” – The Kid Goat. This was my favorite dish of the night. The presentation was lovely and colorful. The goat meat was served on a bed of couscous with parsnip, smoked bits of bacon, liver, and kidneys, and onions – this all gave that green sliced vegetable an amazing taste that complemented the cabrito. This was just amazing cooking, and simple, rich flavors that I can still recall a craving for.

“A Vitela Mirandesa” – The Mirandesa Veal. This was a selection of hearty portuguese meat dishes on a single plate. The veal filet was served quite pink and tasty, and the perfect 100g size of beef for someone like me, not being a huge steak lover, to get my fill of beef for the night. Served with a typical portuguese chourizo sausage and potatoes. I noted that for me the chourizo reminded me of a mix between mexican dishes carne guisada and barbacoa, and was “exactly what you always wished carne guisada could be”. This is what makes a meal special, things that bring you back to the good old days. Both of the meat dishes were served with an Old Vinyard Douro, which turned out to be an excellent wine pairing for beef in particular, but good for the capretto as well.

It’s not a huge suprise that dessert is when the wines truly got interesting, this being the home of port wine afterall. For the 7 course meal, an Alambre Moscatel Douro 20 years aged, which was evident in the mix of color, somwhere between dark rose and brown. For the 5 course meal, a Blandys Madeira Island Varamel, aged 10 years. We learned from our sommelier that the “stuffado” storage system of intense heat during the wine production process aims to recreate the environment of the old ships that were used to transport these wines long ago. My madeira was produced from a grape called Malmsey (or Malvasia) from Madeira island, which is “only” 19-20pct alcohol – but the taste was still very strong. The Moscatel had a lighter color and consistency, and lighter taste as well, but quite a bit of nasal fumes – while the Malmsey was deep, dark, and rich.

“Os Citrinos” – The Citrus. For the 7 course menu, the first dessert was a fruit terrine with citrus fruit sauce, orange sorbet, and fruit mousse. All very light and fresh, something like shortbread underneath. More sour than sweet.

A small pre-dessert was offered for the 5 course meal, a proftterol with chocolate sauce.

“A Banana da Madeira” – The Banana from Madeira. The 5 course meal finished with this banana brownie dessert, with a madeira reduction. Some caramel, a sugar disc on top of the banana, also a banana foam/smoothie/mousse thing. Served with a lemon sorbet on some chocolate pieces. The banana mousse was the best part of this one.

“O Chocolate” – The Chocolat. Of course, as is the trend today, the 7 course meal was served with the chef’s version of Chocolate Royale. This was very rich, chocolate/hazlenut mousse, very soft in 3 layers. Topped with a rasberry and some rasberry powder, and of course some edible silver/platinum bits.

The 7 course menu was also finished with a glass of Taylor’s vintage port. The only problem with saving the best for last in a meal like this, is after so many glasses of wine of course you’re too tipsy to fully appreciate the quality of this port. But it was very appreciated nevertheless.

If we were pressed to come up with a negative note for the restaurant, it would be that we were not impressed with the espresso coffee at the end – it was too long and lacking taste, and at that point I was really craving a nice strong espresso. Of course I’m a coffee snob, so it’s probably hard to impress me. But if they could improve their coffee, I think they would really be on to something!

We were lucky enough to be greeted by Pedro himself at the end of the meal. I’m always suprised to see how young some of these chefs are, and how much they’ve already accomplished. This is a rising star to keep an eye on.

I hate to give away the ending early, but I have to go ahead and say that Pedro Lemos was the most memorable experience of our trip to Porto, and was much more special (and delicious) than the other more acclaimed restaurants. I would make another trip to Porto just to visit this restaurant again.

Pedro Lemos Restaurante
Rua do Padre Luís Cabral, 974
Foz do Douro
4150-459 Porto
Portugal
+351 220 115 986
http://www.pedrolemos.net

The original set of high-res photos is here.

Budín de Elote

Anyone who has visited the Sunday brunch buffet at my favorite restaurant in the world, Fonda San Miguel, will immediately recognize this dish and the intense cravings it produces. It is amazing that of all the delicious, intricate, authentic dishes prepared labouriously with hand-prepared ingredients and traditional recipies, this simple dish of corn, flour, and butter is the thing that stands out at the end of the meal.

Although the name means “corn pudding”, when done properly this dish will come out like a soufflé, light and fluffy, a cross between sweet and salty, and melting in your mouth while filling your appetite at the same time.

One note for preparation of the ingredients – you may have a tough time finding poblano chile peppers outside of the Tex-Mex region. Luckily, this is more of a garnish than a core component of the dish, and hence can be substituted by other comparable types of peppers, for example a green bell pepper. Or if you happen to be in London, go down to Whole Foods and grab some spanish Pimiento de Padrón. A bit spicier than poblano, and quite a unique taste, I found that it adds a nice Spanish flair to this Mexican classic.

To get started, we will prepare our ingredients. I started from the recipe I found in the official Fonda San Miguel cook book.

2 pounds frozen corn kernels, thawed (about 900g)
1 cup whole milk
6 eggs
1/2 cup sugar
6 tablespoons butter, softened
3/4 cup flour
1 teaspoon sea salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 cup (4 ounces) shredded cheese – Monterey Jack or Cheddar
1 poblano chile pepper
1/2 red bell pepper

There is a bit of prep work to do. First, preheat the oven to 350 degrees F (177 degrees C). Lightly grease a baking pan, approx 13-by-9 inch.

The first thing we need to take care of is our peppers. As I mentioned above, I am using pimientos de Padrón, because I couldn’t find a good source for poblanos.

Ideally we want to pre-roast our peppers – especially the green ones. Since I’m using Padróns, I covered them in olive oil and a good amount of sea salt, to reproduce the typical effect you get with a plate of Padróns in a tapas restaurant. Then I stuck them on a tray in the oven as it was warming up. Keep an eye on this as you don’t want to burn them! But I think I left them in a good 10 minutes or so. The downside of these peppers is you can’t really peel them, so they aren’t quite ideal – after baking with the budín they are going to be a bit too hard for what we want, and not easy to cut through with a spoon. But still, they do the job.

As for the red pepper, I’m also using a different variation here – one of those sweeter long red peppers, instead of the normal red bell pepper. Fortunately, this one can be peeled, although I don’t think I bothered to do it this time. If you want to do this properly, put them in some boiling water for about 10 minutes, then get them out and cool them down and then you should be able to peel them with ease.

Both sets of peppers need to be chopped into slices, which we are going to use as a kind of garnish on top of our budín before it goes in the oven.

Now for the fun part. We need a lot of corn here – I found a nice 1kg bag from Waitrose, and just kept about a 10th in the bag. The rest needs to be thawed out to room temperature to be soft enough to purée.

I don’t have a nice food processor, but I do have a decent blender, which can do the same job, with a bit more work. So we start with a bit of corn, maybe a cup or two, and about half of the milk. Preparing this for the first time, I started to think this was going to be an impossible feat. But have faith – it will purée if you keep at it. My initial technique was to use the ice-pulse mode. Then I got into the slowest continuously rotating speed, while using a butter knife to push corn kernels down along the sides, but very carefully as to not obstruct the blade.

After much persistence you can start to actually see a pulp forming. Once you’ve gotten this far you can go ahead and start adding more corn. The recipe states to use only the minimum amount of milk to get the mixture to purée. I think in this attempt I used even more than the full cup of milk, and I don’t think had any very bad effect on the outcome. But with the right technique, it should be possible to finish the purée with very little milk.

Once we have all the corn in, and have produced a reasonably mushy purée, with no big kernels remaining, we can add the egg yolks. The recipe states to add them one at a time, with about 30 seconds of mixing between them. And then we also add the sugar. After this is all mixed up we can transfer the corn-sugar-yolks mix to a bowl.

In a separate bowl we can prepare the flower, salt, and baking powder mixture, and then mix this into the corn purée.

And in one more bowl we have to prepare the egg whites. Having never done this before, I had no idea how much work it takes. The recipe states that we should beat the egg whites until soft peaks form. This basically means to beat the egg whites for ages, until they turn from clear cloudy liquidy form into a thick white airy foam. I’m sure there is a better way to do this, but done by hand it seems to take 20-30 minutes of hard work.

So once the egg whites are ready, we can fold this foam into our corn mixture, along with the shredded cheese. The recipe calls for “Chihuahua” cheese, whatever that is, or alternatively, Monterrey Jack, or alternatively to that, Cheddar. Luckily I found some decent Monterrey Jack at Waitrose.

We want this to really be the last step before our budín goes in the oven, so it will stay light and fluffy and turn into a proper soufflé. So as soon as the egg whites are ready and folded in, get that mixture into the baking pan and lay the peppers on top.

Stick the tray in the oven and keep an eye on it. The recipe says to cook for 45 minutes. I think it could have gone a bit longer still. But I think it’s done when it’s just starting to turn golden brown around the edges.

You can try to serve with a knife and spatula, but it’s not exactly solid. When it’s fresh out of the oven it’s particularly soft so you may want to let it set a bit. Honestly this dish is about as good cold as it is hot. Generally I think the one at Fonda is served quite warm, and they just give you a big spoon to serve yourself from the buffet tray, so I don’t think it’s really meant to be cleanly “sliced”. But of course we can make an attempt for our presentation…

The original set of high-res photos is here.

Lucky Seven Diner – American Brunch in Westbourne Grove

Since I came to London from the States years ago, I spent ages searching for a decent place for brunch. I managed to find a few nice french pattiserie-style places that serve dainty omlettes and watery french-press coffees; and the lovely Balans, which serves English breakfast food with a slight American-style twist; and the Four Seasons brunch buffet, which can pretty much satisfy any craving you could possibly have within their vast buffet offering and made to order kitchen; but alas, I still woke up slightly empty inside, longing for what I always took for granted as one of those simple pleasures, something resembling a true American-style brunch.

In the States it is so easy, you wake up late and head to the nearest IHOP, they are nearly as ubiquitous as Starbucks. And open 24 hours. And insanely cheap. Or for a more special, more unique experience, there are places such as Fonda San Miguel or BreadWinners.

And then once I started to get into the know of the London foodie world, I discovered Lucky Seven. After reading about it, I had to go that next weekend. And since then I’ve been back on several occasions – afterall it’s not too far to travel for a special breakfast.

Despite the high rankings of Hache and Byron on many a burger-shootout, Lucky Seven is a strong contender for best burger in town, and really does a better job of replicating the American burger experience. However, we came for brunch this time.

The way it works is a bit different to other restaurants. Because it is a rather busy place on the weekends, there is usually a bit of a wait. And the restaurant is tiny, so there is really no place to wait inside. So they send everyone next door to the sister restaurant, Crazy Homies. Being a Mexican restaurant, this sometimes ends up with a funny result – morning margaritas. To kill the 15 minutes we usually have to wait for our table next door, we go ahead and order some margaritas (they have a wide selection) and also perhaps some chips and salsa. We invariably are only halfway through this when we are called over for breakfast. So we end up bringing our margaritas next door with us, and finishing them up as we order our breakfast. Very odd, but not bad as a hangover cure.

But for the first time ever, somehow we were seated straight away this time – so no need for the morning margaritas ritual. My liver was thanking me already.

There are truly few decent places in London for a decent offering for brunch on weekends, even fewer who are able to execute a meal that comes close to the authentic American style. Breakfast menu served here until 5pm on weekends. Sweet.

The ambiance is a bit noisy, some old Elvis or Buddy Holly music playing a bit loudly, everyone seems to be sort of yelling across the tables to make their conversation heard. The vibe in this place is a bit swinging.

No menus at the table – one big menu is presented high on the wall above the kitchen, turn around, squint, and make your choices quick! In true American service style, the waiters are at your table to take an order before you’ve even realized where the menu is!

Milkshakes – Chocolate malt extra thick, and bananana malt medium thick. I have seen a number of places that purport to offer a “milkshake” in London, but really I think this might be the only place that does it properly. If you come to Lucky 7, don’t you dare forget to order one, and for goodness sake please make it extra thick. Malt flavoring is optional. If you are not familiar with this, it is the same flavor you get in Maltesers sweets, so if you like those, you will love a malt milkshake.

Guacamole and fries. I think this was ordered by the couple sitting next to us at our table. But the guac looked so good I wanted to get a shot in there. This reminds me to mention one of the funny things about Lucky Seven. The entire restaurant is about 6 or 8 big diner-style booths, reminiscent of what we used to have at the House of Pancakes or something like that. Since this place is always in such high demand on the weekends, and since many of the patrons come in couples (ourselves included), you often end up basically sharing the booth with another couple. Now, in offstandish London, this may sound like a rather uncomfortable situation, and yes it can be if you’re not the social type, so beware. But the booths are really big, so don’t worry, it’s not as if you are actually sharing the meal with the couple next to you. Oh, and there was also some guac served with my breakfast burrito, keep reading…

Fresh squeezed orange juice. Plenty of drinks on our table, we might have also had some coffees. The orange juice is very nice, fresh, chilled, even served the American way with the straws still covered with the wrapper on the top bit.

Breakfast burrito – filled with black beans, chorizo, eggs, etc., with sour cream, guacamole, fresh salsa, and lettuce salad on the side. Ok, I’m not going to go all out and say this was truly “American”, or perhaps it was if you go to Boston and order a burrito I guess. But it certainly wouldn’t qualify in Texas. The black beans are a nice touch for authenticity, although they probably wouldn’t appeal to everyone. But the chorizo is really more in that “Spanish” chorizo category, which is basically like a more paprika-heavy version of an italian salsiccia, and nothing like a Mexican chorizo. The eggs were cooked ok but not fluffy or anything. And the salsa – what is that? basically a bunch of diced up veg including bell peppers of 3 colors and onions? No cilantro (corriander for you anglophites), parsley, cumin, lime juice, tomato juice, oil, salt, pepper, or anything else that would make this resemble any real kind of Mexican salsa or pico de gallo. This is especially distressing since Lucky Seven is the next door companion of a supposedly Mexican restaurant, “Crazy Homies”. Being honest I would probably rate the breakfast burrito at Balans higher than this one.

Pancakes, blueberry I think. Now these were nice, very thick and fluffy, even buttermilky, and almost a true American-style breakfast portion (4 big ones, where IHOP serves 5 big ones). But for London, you definitely can’t beat these pancakes. I remember when I first moved here and spent ages searching for anywhere to have pancakes, and “My Old Dutch” was the best substitute I could find. It’s nice for what it is, but you really have to stretch your imagination to call those “pancakes” from the American point of view.

Of course I’m a big fan of Lucky Seven. If it was in my neighborhood I would probably be there at least once every weekend. It’s the kind of place that you take into consideration as a potential “local spot” when you think about moving home. Service is mostly quick and no-nonsense, although when it gets very busy there does seem to be a shortage of waiters so it gets tougher to grab someone’s attention. The decor will really give you that back home feeling, although maybe moreso for someone who considers “home” Austin or San Francisco, rather than Houston or Dallas.

On this visit we paid £43 including service for two, which is excellent considering we both had fresh OJ and malt milkshakes, plus all our food, and a side of bacon. No doubt we’ll be back soon for the upteenth time, but I might not go for the breakfast burrito next time. I’ll save that for Balans, which is just a short walk down the road from me.

Lucky Seven Diner
http://www.lucky7london.co.uk
127 Westbourne Park Road
London
W2 5QL
0207 727 6771

The original set of high-res photos is here.

Sushi of Shiori

Following in the footsteps of my mentor, Kang, I decided to pay a visit to the Sushi restaurant he has declared his new favorite, since I never did manage to make it out to his old favorite Sushi Hiro. I still hold Sake no Hana on a pedestal as my gold standard for sushi, and fair or not, that’s the guideline I use for comparison. Of course for a fraction of the cost I’m not expecting to meet the same level of amazing service and surroundings, or the bar’s arsenal of sake selections, but I do hope to find at least something comparable in the quality of the fish.

My first mistake was to ignore Kang’s suggestion of pre-booking the entire meal and ordering the special set meal. But knowing that my companion might not be able to handle as much raw fish as would be on offer, I was compelled to go a la carte. But I did want to make sure I touched on at least a few of the top recommended items from the menu.

Octopus tako wasabi. Although we weren’t doing the set meal, I still wanted to venture out from the typical sushi mold and try something special this chef had to offer. But this turned out a bit weird and not as tasty as I expected. Small chopped pieces of octopus, still fairly chewy texture, some lemon and a bit of wasabi and red pepper. This really required my top skills as a chopsticks expert. It was quite syrupy, well that’s how I described it. I guess I was expecting something more akin to the “Aji sashimi with mooli” in one of Kang’s reviews, but this wasn’t it.

Miso soup. Normally I skip the soup at sushi restaurants – having had broth with tofu and seaweed more than enough times, it usually just seems like a waste. But given this was my companion’s first real sushi experience, I wanted to make sure we had this for completeness. The soup actually did turn out to be pretty nice. Very salty, brothy, and I noted “smoky” flavors. However, no toasted rice bits as in Kang’s version..

Mixed nigiri platter. We ordered 14 pieces from the menu, including 3 varieties of tuna, unagi eel, egg, scallop, and aubergine. Note the presentation with little dollops of wasabi on top of radish slices – nice touch!

Scallop with truffle nigiri. I have to admit I think I have probably not had raw scallop before, as seared in butter always seemed like the more appropriate way to eat that particular item. But this was not a bad idea, and Kang was right, with the addition of the truffle oil on top, this piece pretty much stole the show! Really delicious and elegant.

Tuna nigiri. Check. I think this is a standard requirement and you can either get it right or wrong, and this was good. Note the sinewey tissue. Nice. Also note the “tuna tartar” pieces in the back – different from what I am used to, and also good but not great.

Chu-toro fatty tuna. Very nice. Not sure what the garnishes were about here, and (shame on me) I admit I scraped them to the side before popping these into my mouth. Didn’t particularly like the topping on this one though, but don’t recall what it was now.

Wagyu seared beef nigiri. Another hit, absolutely delicious and tender, with a tasty topping of I can’t remember what.

Maki, salmon, tuna, and california I think – standard and forgettable, but not bad. Note again the wasabi on top of raddish piece for that extra touch.

Homemade plum-wine sorbet. Very nice, my companion had never even had plum wine, so it was interesting to see her reaction. But she liked it. And for me it definitely brought back memories of the last plum wine I had, and dare I say this is probably a better way to serve that flavor than as a glass to drink, given how sweet it is?

The bill came out to £75 and change, including service, which if I recall correctly was actually discretionary? That in itself is a nice touch, I am just so sick of seeing the pre-included “optional” service charges every time I dine out in London. Not exactly cheap considering I didn’t go all out at all on this occasion as I had done in the past – we only had a couple of rolls and a medium plate of nigiri pieces, and a small sake. I would have been happier with a charge around £60 for all that. But I guess miso soup and dessert makes a big difference..!

I could imagine returning for a few select pieces, possibly the scallop and the beef. But it’s a bit of a trek for me, and I’m still happy with Feng as a cheap local alternative, and then of course Sake no Hana when I get my next big bonus. Overall I think what we had was a fairly average Sushi meal for a slightly over average price, whereas I was expecting something a bit more extraordinary along the lines of Kang’s two meals. Maybe I should really go for the pre-ordered set meal next time and try my luck again..

Sushi of Shiori
http://www.sushiofshiori.co.uk
144 Drummond St
London
NW1 2PA
United Kingdom
020 7388 9962

The original set of high-res photos is here.

Rodizio Rico – Churrascaria in West London

The churrascaria is an intriguing example of how food culture changes across different regions, even when the actual food can stay more or less consistent. For the unitiated, a churrascaria is a Brazilian steakhouse serving all sorts of meat cuts, mostly smoked barbecue-style over charcoal. Of course for the most authentic, cost-effective, and delicious experience, one must travel to Brazil and see how it is really done. But there are fair immitations elsewhere. My first experience with churrasco was at Fogo de Chão, possibly the best known of the upscale churrascarias in the States. This place was amazing, and has been one of the restaurants I miss the most since coming over to Europe.

Later I had the opportunity to go down to Brazil and sample a churrasco the authentic way. I was surprised to learn that Churrascaria need not be excessively overpriced, and that all you can eat, amazingly cooked meat of all imaginable cuts, could be had for not much more than the cost of a normal meal. Now that’s not to say that Brazilians go out and gorge themselves on Churrasco every night of the week – but for about 20 dollars a person, I imagine many Brazilians can afford to make it a weekly or bi-weekly family occasion. Oh, and of course, the meat in Brazil…amazing!

So it’s strange that it took me so many years to venture out in London to try a local churrasco here, but I guess the explanation would be that I was already a bit aware that Churrascarias here are more in the food chain category of restaurants, not many notches up from Nandos. Ok I’m exaggerating a bit, but that was my impression. It turns out Rodizio Rico has 3 locations – Westbourne Grove, Islington, and North Greenwich. On this occasion we made a rather unplanned visit to the Westbourne Grove branch, upon realizing we happened to be in the neighborhood and hungry enough to go for an endless eating fest. I’ll just generally note that I visited one other Churrasco in London some time back, close to Bond Street if I recall, and while it was not bad, it did not compare to Rodizio – don’t have much more detail than that.

If you haven’t been to a churrascaria before, let me try to illustrate the experience for you, as it is a bit different from any other restaurant I’ve experienced. There are 2 components (well, 3 if you count the Caipirinhas beforehand). First, you make a quick trip to the salad bar to load up on salads, veggies, and rice. The trick here is really to get enough to balance out the insane amount of protein and fat you are about to consume, but not too much that you don’t have room on your plate! But the problem is, some of this stuff is so good you have got to have a bit of it, and so of course you end up getting too much, as I did:

I can’t really describe everything on this plate, but I’ll highlight a few items – note on the left side, a green chimichurri type sauce, and also I think a red chutney, indian style – these are sauces that can accompany some of the meat cuts, although most don’t really need them. The green sauce would be particularly good for lamb or perhaps chicken. On the right there is a bit of mushrooms and meat (chicken?) in creamy gravy, really nice. There are some marinated aubergines and mushrooms in the middle, a veg medely mix, marinated olives, some Brazilian lasagna dish, and others. There is also white rice somewhere I hope, or maybe I just waited until I had enough room on the plate to get the rice on after. It’s not a precise science.

So, once we are ready for the meat, we have a small disk on the table in front of us, red side up at this point. We flip it over to the green side. Interesting to note that this is the same whether we are in the chain restaurants in the UK, the more upscale ones in the US, or even the authentic ones in Brazil. So it seems that universally, green is accepted as force-feed me absurd amounts of meat. Because that is what they do – a good churrascaria should have so many Brazilian boys running around offering you meat that it pretty much never stops coming, and the best will also somehow make you feel guilty every time you refuse what they are offering, as if somehow you have offended the barbecue dish that was passed down from their own great grandmother’s family recipe. You want to have this feeling of guilt and being force-fed – it’s all part of the experience, I think.

The cuts of meat are presented on skewers – each garçom comes around with a particular cut, hopefully tells you what it is, and barely gives you time to accept or refuse before they start chopping off a couple of more than bite-size slices with an alarmingly huge carving knife. You take the meat with a small pair of tongs that are part of your place setting along with fork and knife.

Not sure what cut this is, but it was not too memorable.

This particular one is a bit too dry, like roast beef.

The best cut – juicy inside, crispy charcoal smoked flavor outside. Next time I’ll just load up on this!

Chicken hearts. I remember having these before at another churrascaria and being fairly impressed, but these did not really do much for me. I took several of them but didn’t finish them.

Now this is where I might note a few differences with the Rodizio experience, based on what I’ve become used to. First, the restaurant is simply not big enough for the scale necessary to keep every possible cut in constant play throughout the restaurant. At Fogo you pretty much have every cut somewhere on the floor at all times, and it’s just a matter of waiting for them to make their way over to you. But at Rodizio, the place is only really big enough for 3 or 4 waiters, and so they have a rapid-fire routine where the chef is always preparing the next skewers and rotating them to the waiters. But this did result in quite a bit of lag time, and a lot of dissapointment as we watched the cuts that we really wanted get finished off the skewer on the other side of the room before the waiter ever circled over to our side. This is particularly distressing towards the end of the meal, because you end up sitting there waiting and waiting for that one last piece that you really want before you decide to call it quits. Of course you can make special requests if you know what cut you want.

Pork ribs? Some kind of ribs, I enjoyed them, my companion did not.

So to summarize the experience, it was better than my initially low expectations, but still a bit hit and miss. There weren’t quite enough meat cuts that really blew your socks off, and you really had to wade through a number of mediocre ones to find them. But the meat was still pretty decent, and those couple of exceptional cuts were really amazing, and you really can’t beat all-you-can-eat meat for sunday lunch, so I’m not going to complain too much. I was not particularly impressed by the service though. For 2 adult buffets, a large bottle of water, and 2 drinks, plus service, the bill came to just under £70. A bit pricey for a Sunday lunch, but if you make the most of the meat and buffet you can get your money’s worth. I might go back when the craving becomes unbearable again, or I might just hold off until my next trip home for a Friday night dinner at Fogo.

Rodizio Rico
http://www.rodiziorico.com
111 Westbourne Grove
London
W2 4UW
020 7792 4035

The original set of high-res photos is here.

Pasta Bolognese

Ingredients:

400g ground (minced) beef
500g fresh tomatoes
1 spicy chili pepper, chopped
4-5 cloves of garlic
2-3 slices of onion, chopped
500g tomato passata sauce
1 cup water
some salt for the meat and sauce
some italian spices, basil, oregano, etc.
some extra virgin olive oil

500g penne pasta
some salt for cooking the pasta, preferably sea salt

This is a home-grown recipe based on some family tradition and just common sense. Pasta Bolognese is a pasta dish with a type of ragù sauce that comes from Bologna. Many recipes for bolognese call for other ingredients such as carrots, celery, mushrooms, etc. – but I tend to keep it simple unless I happen to have those things on hand anyway. The key here is the fresh tomatoes, which add such a rich fruity flavor to the sauce that you really don’t need all of that extra fluff. But by all means feel free to experiment – every family does it a different way, and there is no one set fast rule for a bolognese sauce. One thing I have noticed is that every time I try to add celery the sauce comes out with a flavor that is almost too sweet, or just doesn’t taste right – so I would advise to use extra ingredients in moderation.

Also note that many recipies call for both ground beef and ground pork – in Italy this is done traditionally because both meats are available in the kitchen, and you can dilute the beef with pork to keep costs down. But I don’t really think there is any reason you have to have pork in the sauce, and certainly you will want the beef as it will give you a richer meatiness. So again unless you happen to have the pork on hand, don’t worry if you just stick with beef.

So let’s get started. The first ingredients we want to prepare will be our chopped onion, chopped chili pepper, and cloves of garlic. I like to slice the garlic pieces in half length-wise.

Now, I’m going to take about half of the chili pepper and half of the chopped onion, along with some salt, and put that straight into a pan with the beef.

You can put a little bit of oil but it’s not really necessary as the beef is going to render some fat pretty quickly anyways. I’m a health nut so I generally stick to the lowest-fat beef I can find, usually like 8% or 10%. But this is still going to render plenty of fat, so keep an eye on it and drain the fat out once the pan starts filling up with it.

Now we are going to let this sizzle on medium-high heat until it gets nicely browned but not burnt. As soon as it’s browned, we can take this all off the heat and put it to the side, or empty in a bowl if you want to reuse that pan.

Generally I like to multi-task here, so while I’ve got the meat started, I go ahead and start working on the sauce. So for this we start with the freshest nicest tomatoes we can find. I prefer to buy tomatoes on the vine if possible, or even better grown them yourself and pick them out of your garden when you’re ready to start cooking.

I like to chop these tomatoes up into basically byte-size pieces – that is just going to aid in ensuring the sauce starts off right cooking very evenly.

Now I go ahead and put the rest of my onion and chili pepper, along with the garlic, into another pan with some extra virgin olive oil and start that off on medium-low heat – really we are just trying to flavor up the oil and soften the onions a bit.

After a minute or two the oil is infused with those flavors and everything is nice and hot, so we can go ahead and scoop in our fresh chopped tomatoes.

Now we let that sauce cook well over medium heat for about 10-20 minutes or however long it takes to break down the tomatoes and make a nice base for the sauce. I usually cover the pan for a while to let some of the flavors dig deep into the sauce. Some of the skins will remain and make a nice texture, but otherwise we want this sauce nicely broken down and runny.

At this point we can go ahead and add the tomato passata, along with the extra basil and oregano, some salt, and maybe another teaspoon of olive oil drizzled into the mix. I mix this together and cover it again to let it cook for 5-10 minutes.

When we take the cover back off we should find that the sauce is starting to bubble a bit, and so we want to add our cup of water to the mix. We mix this in and by now we have doubled the size of our original base of fresh ingredients. So we want to cook this uncovered for a good while and let the sauce really reduce so the flavors have a chance to pack in as the sauce thickens. This can be another 10-20 minutes, or much longer – basically the longer we cook the more flavor we get. We need to remember to stir frequently throughout this entire process, to make sure the sauce doesn’t stick to the bottom and cooks evenly. We can also be testing the sauce throughout the process for flavor, adding more salt and/or spices as needed – this is really an art, not a science. Every tomato is different, and so the amount of salt and spice you need to balance it out is not an exact measurement. This is also the phase where you might add some red wine to reduce into the sauce, according to some recipes. Again feel free to experiment!

Finally our sauce is reduced and ready so we can add the beef and stir it in. This will be the final stage of cooking the sauce, as we just need to let it simmer on low heat with the beef for maybe 10-12 minutes.

While that’s finishing up nicely, we go ahead and cook the pasta. Remember to keep it al-dente and not overcooked – this is very important!

Penne or perhaps rigatoni is the best compliment to a ragù sauce, because the sauce will stick to it inside and out and if we’ve done a good job of finely mincing up our meat, the meat bits will hide nicely inside the tubes of pasta and produce flavor-packed sensation in every bite.

Once we’ve cooled the pasta down under some running water, we’re ready to mix everything together. I like to put the pasta back into my big pasta pan without the water, and then pour the sauce over the top and stir it in.

Finally, serve while it’s hot, with some freshly grated parmesean cheese on top.

The full set of high-quality photos for this recipe are here.

Buon appetito!

Bar Boulud, London

Once again taking a bit of inspiration from LondonEater, and then following up with a couple of the earliest reviews here and here since it’s opening a few weeks ago, we rushed to make a booking at the new Bar Boulud in London. We were hoping to catch a glimpse of star chef Daniel Boulud before he heads back home to his already well-established restaurants in New York, including the 3-starred ‘Daniel’ restaurant, and we were not disappointed.

Having enjoyed food and drink in close proximity to a number of well known celebrities, I’ve never found myself easily star-struck. But I suppose for a foodie, there is just something special about being in the presence of culinary greatness. Perhaps because it is something we can aspire to, in a more real way than, say a sports reporter might dream to dunk like Jordan or putt like Tiger. And if you can grasp for a moment that shared appreciation and love of good food, it becomes personal.

The service at Bar Boulud is outstanding, and it is clear that there are still a number of the staff visiting from the New York branch – familiar American accents compliment french ones. The hostess finds our appointment and takes us to our table in the second room, in the back half of the restaurant. We pass the first room, which is seemingly a bit more lively and shares a space with the cocktail bar. On this Tuesday evening, the bar in particular, and the restaurant more generally, is decorated with a mix of 3-piece suited businessmen, intermingled with a bit more casually dressed couples, perhaps guests of the 5-star hotel to which the restaurant is attached. We have arrived relatively casual, but the environment is relaxed, so we don’t feel particularly out-of-place, even wielding the camera in bag. Looking back, I do not recall a particular genre of music, or whether there even was music, or perhaps simply quiet voices carrying on private discussions. We are seated in between two other sets of patrons: to the right, lovers with a slight head start in front of us on the meal, and to the left a pair of businessmen discussing the syndication of a well-known fashion magazine. The second room is quieter, and includes the spectacle of the open kitchen. We gazed throughout the evening at this heavily staffed, yet immaculately clean and tightly run workshop.

It was not clear which waiter was principally responsible for our table, as several different waiters (and others who were apparently managers in suits as well) were all very attentive to our table throughout the night. We were brought a wine list, but not a cocktail list. The wines were well presented, with a proper table of contents organizing wines by colors, regions, and tastes, and I regret not having been able to order at least a glass, as I was just recovering from a cold and didn’t want to do anything to prolong the recovery. Without access to the cocktail list, and only having heard the description of the one ‘special’ cocktail of the day, my companion ventured to give it a try.

Cucumber martini

The drink had a very fresh and intense flavour of cucumber, and I suppose to a big fan of cucumber (which sadly I am not) this drink might go over quite well. It was sipped but never actually finished. So if we would have to highlight a single disappointment of the night, it would probably be this cocktail, which simply didn’t suit our tastes, and well, objectively I would say it did not seem to offer much more complexity than the overpowering taste of fresh cucumber juice. But we were aware of the risky gamble when we took it.

The menu is organized in a unique way – or perhaps this is the normal way for real country-style french bistros, I’m not sure – but we enjoyed the fact that it seemed to offer several different alternatives for the entire path of the meal. It’s not just “choose your starter, then choose your main” – it’s more like “which Boulud’s do you feel like this evening? Soup and burger? Pâte and fish? Sausage and braised meat?” There are many ways to put together a combination to suit your mood, and between two people those combinations multiply. Or of course you could skip past all the options and go with the set menu. We opted for a la carte, first for a couple of starters from different parts of the menu.

Tourte De canard

The tourte de canard is found on the Charcuterie de Gilles Verot section of the menu, where we find other pâtes and meats. It is served as a single thin slice from a large tourte, in which I counted about 8 or 9 layers, which consist of duck, foie gras, figs, and pastry crust. I tried eating it both ways – first by getting a nice thin vertical stripe across all the layers – and these complimented each other well; and then by tasting individual layers and combinations of layers. The foie gras on its own was spectacular, and I couldn’t resist grabbing a piece of bread and spreading it on. The fig layer was sweet and fruity, and made a nice complement to the fatty duck layer. I’m afraid I haven’t sampled enough tourtes from the charcuterie in my lifetime to have a good base for comparison here, but I will certainly be thinking of this one the next time I visit the patrie-mère. This was served with a spoonful of coarse mustard, which I hadn’t had for a while – I suppose it’s not that common in London?

Rillons croustillants au poivre

The crispy and tender pork belly with cracked pepper, as this dish is subtitled, is listed in the “Warm Specialties” section. This is the most memorable of the savory dishes of the meal for me, and the “cracked pepper” aspect of it did not leave as much of an impression as the accompanying Dijon mustard – a bit too strong for my companion, and really only the slightest dab was necessary to add a bit of kick to the chunks of pork belly. I particularly enjoyed the way this dish was served – on a piece of chef’s paper, really giving the dish that “country-style” feel. The four slices of pork belly each had about 5 distinct layers, a couple very meaty, one white and leaner, and one of just pure fat. It was a whole new dimension on pork for me, and quite delicious.

Coq au vin

On to the mains, my companion ordered what I probably would have otherwise selected, described as red wine braised chicken legs, with lardons, mushrooms, and onions, served with spätzle. Now, I knew I had heard the word before, but we weren’t quite sure what spätzle was – but we were pleasantly surprised when we tasted the gnocchi-like egg pasta served separately in a little pot on the side – very nice.

I’ve only really had the coq au vin from Bluebird as a comparison, but I feel secure in saying this one was equally amazing, and my only complaint might be that we were able to finish it in one sitting, while the Bluebird one was at the same time so filling and so good that we requested a doggie bag (yes, a doggie bag) so I could have it for lunch the next day. But I suppose serving correctly sized portions is not a bad thing, and admittedly I did have to finish half of it off for my companion, which I was happy to do, after finishing my own dish.

Gigot a la cuillère (?)

Well, this was a daily special, and we were really only told in English that it was a dish of “slow-cooked lamb” – so I’m only guessing that the actual French title might be Gigot a la cuillère. The name means “a joint that can be carved with a spoon”, presumably referring to how tender the meat is and how it falls off the bone after cooking for up to 7 hours. I’m going to try to describe what this dish did while I was eating it, but I’m afraid I won’t do it justice, so use your imagination. When the dish first arrived, there were a number of distinct components, as you can see in the photo. Although they were all in the same dish, it was almost as if it were served “decomposed” such that you could sample each ingredient individually, and reconstruct the combination of flavours by getting each bit on your fork. Even the sauce underlying the lamb was deconstructed into a creamy almost bechamel-like portion, and a separate brothy, meaty portion. The cherry tomatoes were cooked but still intact, and the other flavoring components – artichokes, olives, legumes, etc. all layered on top. The lamb itself was tender and delicious. Now, as the consumption of this dish proceeded, and we mix the ingredients and burst the cherry tomatoes into the creamy brothy sauce, it transforms into something like a thick soup. At this point I was tempted to beg the waiter for a big spoon, in order to get all of the ingredients in to my mouth along with the soupy sauce and the chunks of lamb. The combination was just brilliant. After finishing the dish I did what any polite foodie should do to show gratitude and appreciation in a fancy restaurant – I wiped the plate clean and soaked up any of that last remaining soupy sauce with a piece of bread, so as not to let it go to waste!

Halfway through the meal we began to study the movements of the kitchen staff, and no sooner had we started asking ourselves where Chef Boulud might be hiding, than he was approaching our table to introduce himself. Having noticed the camera, he asked if we were writers, and when it was revealed that we dabble in food blogging, he mentioned that just the evening before he had received a visit from a table of food bloggers. This has been evidenced by their reviews, promptly posted the same day we made our visit, here and here. It was an amazing experience to meet such an accomplished chef, and even better to sense the confidence and pride he has in his product – he has no fear of publicity. He did not wait for the waiter to bring around the dessert menu, and indicated that he would send a few things for us to try. Now, I assume for foodies that have been in the business for a while this happens all the time – but this was a first for me, so it was a very special gesture indeed.

We had indicated that we were both fans of chocolate, and so after the departure of the chef, and upon arrival of the menus, we were contemplating which one of the three different chocolate desserts we might want to try. Before we had a chance to choose one of the three, the waiter took our menus and presented us with three different desserts, selected by Chef Boulud himself. One was of course a chocolate selection, while the other two would tempt us into unexpected territory. At this point I’ll have to excuse myself for the poor job I’ve done at capturing the appropriate lighting for the dessert photos – but with three desserts being prepared in front of us in rapid succession, I really had no time for experimentation.

Coupe peppermint

Well, I should save the best for last, but as we must do with dessert, we indulge and do not hold back. And to say this dessert is the “best” might not actually be accurate – it is really the most interesting of the desserts. The description of flourless chocolate sponge, hot chocolate sauce, mint ice cream, and chocolate sorbet does not really do justice to this creation. I have always loved mint ice cream – as a child, a scoop of mint chocolate chip and a scoop of coffee was one of my favorite duos. So, on seeing the familiar green-shaded ice cream at the bottom of this cup, I was prepared for something familiar, and not prepared at all for the sensation that hit my tongue. Instead of the overly sweet, childlike thing that we grew up learning to call mint, something much more “adult” hit my palate. My first thought was of the mint tea you have in a Lebanese restaurant, and then of picking fresh mint from my father’s garden as a child. This mint ice cream tasted of actual fresh mint. Now, this might be completely obvious to a chef, but it was an amazing revelation to me and my preconceived notions about mint ice cream. I was so fascinated by this that I barely noticed the triple-layers of hot and cold chocolate on top and surrounding the mint, and I found myself digging to the bottom to get more spoonfuls of the glorious ice cream. This is one of the most unique and special desserts I can remember in a long time or maybe ever, and it is a must have.

Soufflé grand mariner

This was what I would guess a traditional soufflé is, which is then broken in the middle in front of you at the table and then warm crème anglaise is poured into the middle. The amazing thing about this one was the taste of the soufflé itself. I personally could have done without the cream, as it simply diluted and hid the amazing taste of the soufflé, which was buttery and rich and sweet, and certainly moist enough on its own to be eaten without more cream poured into it. But in any case, very good. If I were a soufflé person, I imagine this would rank as one of the best.

Gâteau basque

This was a custard cake with brandied cherries, with a spoonful of crème anglaise. It seemed almost boring and forgettable in comparison to the other two desserts, but on its own was of course quite yummy and notably light and fluffy for a slice of gâteau. It is much more subtle than the other two desserts.

Amidst this fanfare about dessert, I note that we may have missed out on a masterpiece which was described in another review, the Gâteau Chocolat-Framboise. Along with the Boudin Blanc sausage and the burgers, this will certainly warrant a return to what must be the best new French country bistrot restaurant in London.

There is no doubt we will be returning to Bar Boulud in the near future, and the other Boulud establishments will be on the top of my list for my next visit to New York as well. The combination of stellar service and brilliant food make this one a winner. Clearly desserts are one of the shining points here, and I would say go just to sample some desserts, but honestly you really need to try the full package. And I must say, the prices are amazing, considering the quality of food – this has got to be one of the best values in london for higher-echelon cooking. My total bill came out to 70 pounds including service, for the two of us. If you consider that 10 pounds of that was for the risky cocktail we would have done better without, then 60 pounds for a dinner of this caliber is just exceptional.

Bar Boulud
Mandarin Oriental Hyde Park
66 Knightsbridge
London SW1X 7LA
http://www.barboulud.com/barbouludLondon.html
Tel: +44 (0)2072013899

The original set of high-res photos is here.

The Gun

I recently attended a dinner with a group of work colleagues to celebrate a project milestone. The Gun was chosen as the venue, and with several private dining rooms, a set menu, and situated just a ten-minute walk from the Canary Wharf offices, it seemed like an ideal spot for this team get-together. Knowing that this would be a well-lubricated, slow-moving event I brought my camera along, in the expectation that I would have plenty of time to get some nice shots.

We arrived direct from the office, with the sunlight still beaming in to the upstairs dining room, which afforded me plenty of natural light to begin with. This was an interesting photography exercise for me, as the sun would slowly set throughout the dinner, and we would reach sundown before the desserts arrived. My challenge was to continuously adjust exposure to capture light consistently throughout the dinner. Although a good deal of Photoshop was still required to get the finished product, I’m fairly happy with the results.

The Gun is a pub with several elegant, yet classically styled dining rooms. The theme of rifles and hunting is consistent throughout, conveyed by both paintings of rifles and by actual antique rifles hung on the walls in some rooms. The furniture is gorgeous mahogany wood, and the decor is warm and charming. The restaurant sports a very decent-looking wine list with good international selection. However, my first three choices (all Italian reds, including one of my favourites, the Primitivo di Puglia) were all out of stock. This was dissapointing, as I realized I had wasted the time I had spent preparing beforehand to research the particular producers and years on offer. We selected a few french and australian wines, more or less at random, and with some prodding by the waiter, perahps simply because those were the bottles that were actually available in stock, if for no other reason.

So for wines, we did end up with several contenders. Being an office function, the proper libation was of course an essential element of the dinner. First, we sampled a Cotes Du Rhone from Chateau Trignon (2007). Although not the favourite for everyone, I found this to be an ideal wine to start the meal off – quite full and yet still very fruity and plummy. I would have been happy to continue on with this one.

Secondly, a Shiraz from Grant Burge Filsell in Barossa Valley, Australian (2007). This was the big hit across the table. Very complex, deep earthy flavours with a spiciness that reminded me of certain Riojas that I had found a bit offputting on their own, but quite adequate when accompanied by some mature cheeses.

Next, Barbera D’Alba from Marco Porello (2008). I think I may have been alone in enjoying this one, but it came in stark contrast to the Shiraz. While the Shiraz offered a spicy shockwave with every sip, the Barbera D’Alba brought a deep but subtle complexity, and I noted that it required a more refined and mature pallete to appreciate. It required a pause for silent reflection and study to allow the layered sensations to seep through. I found it to be an ideal wine to end the night.

On to the food. The set menu offered four choices for each, starters, entrees, and desserts. For the starter, as usual I chose the foie gras.

Foie gras and prune terrine, fruit and nut bread

I’ve had foie gras served in many forms, cold, cooked, on a burger, or even as a hot soup-slash-salad dressing. But this was new to me. I described it in my notes as “chunky”. I’m not even sure whether this way of serving it was intentional, or if it may have been some odd attempt in the kitchen to salvage the last remains of some foie gras that they were able to scrape up off the kitchen floor or something. It was like several mismatched chunks of what could be described as foie gras, perhaps, if it were left sitting out for several hours or days in a dry heat; all pressed together back into the form of a single slick of a foie gras log, and then instead of being incapsulated in the natural fat around the circumference, it was encapsulated in a slice of what I think was bacon. Ok, admittedly on the menu it was labelled as a “terrine” of foie gras…so now I’ll always wonder if that is just a word that means you can get away with any kind of reconstruction of chunky bits to make a pâté that is not really a pâté. The taste was not bad, and I did eat most or all of it, but it wasn’t anything as satisfying as the usual foie gras, and the whole time I was suspiciously finishing off the oddly constructed chunky mess, trying to imagine how it could have ended up that way.

White onion soup, garlic croutons

Black Périgord truffle macaroni cheese

Grilled Cornish mackerel, config shallot tart, beetroot and horseradish cream

As for the other starters, I was told that the soup and the mackarel were both decent or good. My gut had told me to skip the foie gras and go for the truffle macaroni and cheese instead, and I am certain I should have listened. The reports from this dish were that it was very good, and I am certain that it was the best of the starters.

Organic Scottish salmon fillet, crushed new potatoes, creamed leeks, spring onions and chive butter sauce

Welsh salt marsh lamb saddle stuffed with leeks and served with lamb’s kidneys, braised red cabbage and fondant potatoes

On to the mains, I had the lamb saddle. I guess I just have high expectations for my lamb dishes, or I expect that any lamb served in the English style is going to come with enough juicy gravy to provide the necessary moisture to cover any error in cooking. But alas this dish was a failure for me. The actual lamb meat was a bit tough, but more to the point, I found it quite dry. So basically I had a plate of 3 dry, tough lamb medallions, wrapped in fat, and served with no gravy other than the light splash of juice around the edge. The livers were slightly more tasty, but also could have benefitted from a nice gravy.

Given that we had thirteen independent minds at the table, I was certain that I would have a chance to shoot at least one example of each dish. And yet that did not happen – at least one of the entrees was missed (the beef), and possibly two if my photos are not lying. It turned out that a good majority went for the lamb. In the end I concluded that the best thing I had eaten during the meal was the side of carrots and thyme with orange glaze – I didn’t snap a photo of that one, but trust me, it was delicious. The salmon dish looked nicer, and I’m betting that the dish that would have really stolen the show would have been the braised rib of Dexter beef, which no one decided to try.

Crème brûlée

Chocolate and clementine tart

Roast pineapple, coconut mousse, star anise

British cheeses, chutney, oatcakes, and grapes

Since several of my colleagues were having the chocolate and clementine tart, I opted for the cheese plate. The cheeses were good, but I wasn’t a huge fan of the buscuits that were served with them. I did particularly like the quince that was served with the cheeses, and that at least one of the English cheeses was similar to a Spanish Manchego, and so went nicely with the quince. I had a taste of the choclate tart, and I would say, first that I did not actually taste any sort of orange flavour in the chocolate itself, so I’m guessing the clementine was referring only to the fact that slices of orange were served on the side. Also, although the chocolate in this tart was not bad, I was not a fan of the crust – it was as if it were missing a key ingredient, salt or sugar or something, and so the crust almost took away from the taste of the tart, rather than complimenting it.

In conclusion, the service was polite and attentive, and the location is nice with some handsome riverside views, that is if you don’t mind looking at the hideous north greenwich water tanks to the side. But there were numerous disappoinments with the wine list and then with the food, both in terms of fundamental selection and preparation of recipies, and also in terms of cooking preparation. If I would have started with the macaroni and cheese, I suspect I would have an entirely different critique of the rest of the night.

The Gun
27 Coldharbour
Docklands, London E14 9NS
http://www.thegundocklands.com
Tel: 02075155222

The original set of high-res photos is here.

Sketch

After reading about Sketch in a few blogs, here, here, and here, I had been thinking of making a visit for some time now. This week, with my birthday coming up, seemed like a good time to start the spending spree and treat myself and a companion to this Michellin-starred art-exhibition-cum-restaurant, featuring the culinary theatrics of master chef Pierre Gagnaire.

Rather than regurgitating all of the gory details of the visit, I would first refer the reader to Kang’s review, which does an excellent job of setting the scene. My initial impressions were just as he described – overwhelming creativity and artistic inspiration radiating throughout from the moment you walk in the door. Also, in keeping with the theme, we were greeted upon arrival by name (“Good evening, Mister Glaze, welcome to Sketch…”) followed by a quick rundown of the restaurant’s plaudits as we made our way up the stairs to the lecture room. At the time I thought, ah that’s no big deal, it’s Tuesday and the place is hardly busy, and we had even called ahead to mention we were running a few minutes late, so they could have simply deduced based on the timing who we were. But I was a bit more dazzled upon leaving when we were thanked for our custom, again by name – because at this point the entrance had become quite busy with patrons heading to the trendy bar areas for some nightlife. So, in short, the restaurant design is breathtaking, and the service up to this point is brilliant.

Upon being seated at a nice corner table with full view of the room, I noted that the restaurant was indeed quiet – only a few other tables seated at that point. But we appreciated the tranquility, and it was almost like having the kitchen to ourselves, as the other tables were mostly just sipping wine at this point. Noting that I had arrived with camera in hand, my usual trepidation was immediately relieved, as our helpful French garçon informed me that I may feel free to take any photos I like, as long as I promise to not use flash, which would disturb the other patrons. I was armed with my Nikon 55mm f/1.4 AF-S, and so this suited me fine, as my intention was to conquer the dimly lit room and capture my shots in natural light. The wait staff were all very courteous and helpful, yet young enough and relaxed in appearance to set those of us at ease, who aren’t exactly frequent diners in Michelin restaurants. Even somewhat under-dressed (it is Regent’s street after all, on a Tuesday!) and certainly not sporting the same accessories (such as the Armani suit or £20k Breitling wrapped around my neighbor’s wrist), the waiters put us completely at ease and honestly we didn’t feel uncomfortable for a second. There were a couple of poignantly humorous moments, such as when the waiter asked whether we had come from far, and we replied, “well…Chelsea”… and then towards the end of the meal, when the waiter asked the purpose of the photographs, and I explained that I was critiquing the restaurant for my food blog – but hey, I’m sure they’ve seen it all before.

So we were seated, side tables were brought for her purse and my camera bag, and we were immediately served a big selection of amuse bouches, canapes, or hors’d’oeuvres – not sure which one this qualifies as. But it was a lot. I didn’t have time to jot down everything the waiter was saying about each item, and with my lens I couldn’t quite get a wide shot of all the items on the table at once. But I have some nice shots of the individual plates. So look at all of these, and then reconstruct the picture in your head, of the table practically covered with fun little dishes to taste.

One was what has been described as a powder-version of hummous or maybe cassava powder, served with something like strips of flatbread or biscuit sticks – I guess that’s about right.

Two small pieces of what appeared to be cucumber were served chilled on a block of ice. However these were not cucumber at all – but rather either a grape or a combination of grape and other fresh fruit tastes perhaps. Surprising.

While waiting for starters, we were served a selection of bread, mostly fresh apparently, from a nice bread basket. I had the “italian” bread, which was something like a light airy foccaccia, while my companion had the white bread, which was almost like a sourdough roll. Two sorts of butter were served, one ordinary and yellow, and possibly unsalted. The other, heavily salted, and green and infused with what is apparently seaweed – it had a very distinctly seafoody if not possibly fishy taste. Interesting.

For starters, we decided to share something called Perfume of the Earth, which was a selection of small starter dishes, again served to cover the table in choices. This selection is apparently named for its inspiration from the chef’s favourite perfume. The flavor combinations were unique and intriguing – nothing was quite what you were expecting. Some dishes seemed to be deconstructions, others more like unexpected amalgamations of tastes. It was truly a theme park for the taste buds. And I suppose this is where we really see the difference from the set lunch menu. Here I could really feel the chef pouring out heart and soul into a symphony of flavours to dazzle us.

White beetroot purée with redcurrant, red beetroot syrup, purslane salad, foie gras soup with sarawak pepper

The beetroot and pursalane salad was doused by the waiter in what appeared to be a cold brown vinagrette, but on taste surprised us as it turned out to be the warm foie gras soup. It took a few tastes before I could put my finger on what it actually was. The foie gras taste was very nice, but hard to recognize straight away in liquid form. I felt just slightly decadent as I slopped up spoonfuls of the foie gras with bits of salad and beetroot.

Cocotte of vegetables, smoked orange peel and bay laurel

Goat’s cheese and black olives from Nyon

Almond tart

The almond tart had a sweet marzipan taste to it, and it was slightly odd to have what was essentially a small dessert in the middle between the other starter dishes and the main course.

Moving on to the mains, I opted for the Challans Duck, which came as one of the waiters recommendations.

Duck fillet with cinnamon and cumin

The duck meat itself was served in a small hot covered pot, and was sliced to bite size pieces in a rich brown sauce. Following the waiter’s suggestion, we left the meat covered to keep it warm, and spooned out small bits onto the bigger plate to eat together with the accompanying sautée.

Sautéed crosnes, salsify and grapes with sauternes

The sautée dish was something like a chutney, but not as bitter or savoury. Crosnes are apparently something known as chinese artichokes. Salsify is a sort of flower, and sauternes is a sweet French dessert wine. The combination of these flavours made an odd and tasty accompaniment to the duck. But really, where do they come up with this stuff?!

Sologne stuffing on toast

Sologne is a place in France, and so I assume Sologne stuffing is a colloquial way of saying foie gras, and it was delicious.

Kimchi and lamb’s lettuce

For me personally this was one of the most memorable parts of the meal. I suppose I hadn’t read the menu enough to be expecting it, and I probably didn’t pay enough attention to the waiter when he explained it – but when I bit in to the kimchi, I was immediately transported somewhere else, to memories of the last time I ate Korean barbeque. And, well I’m no expert, but I would dare say this was the best Kimchi I had ever had. Mixed in with what I think were a few pieces of tangerine or apricot, it was just an awesome flavour, and I gobbled it all down quickly.

Pear sorbet with Beaujolais jelly

Once again we had a sort of sweet dessert type of dish served alongside the savory dishes. And I’m certain I tasted more here than just pear and wine flavour. I believe there was a hint of rhubarb in there as well.

My companion decided on the Quercy Lamb.

Unlike my main, which was once again a selection of unrelated but perhaps complimentary dishes, the lamb was just that – lamb, served every which way, and how!

Roast leg with Indian spices, aubergine, sorrel, dried tomatoes

First, we had the tender lamb bites, served in a covered warm bowl, similar to the duck. This was certainly my favorite dish of the entire night. Although the waiter had recommended the duck, I found this dish to be more outstanding in terms of flavour explosion. The spices and the taste of the lamb meat were just amazing and so delicious, and I couldn’t get enough. I finished off the last bits my companion couldn’t fit.

Ewe cheese and spinach velouté, Granny Smith apple julienne

Grilled rack and saddle

Shoulder dumpling, white horseradish velouté

For dessert, we decided to share something that was being called either the Chocolate Soup or the Chocolate Puddle, depending on who you talked to. But it was a great chocolate dish in any case.

Chocolate soup: bitter chocolate ganache with ginger, crunchy samana chocolate leaf, cocoa spun sugar

Although not mentioned on the menu, there was a definite orange-chocolate tint going on here, and I swear I found a chunk of orange buried in the moist chocolate fondant part in the middle. The cocoa spun sugar was very different, and made eating this dish interesting. I liked this dessert a lot, because unlike what you get at many restaurants, there was no mistaking this for something that could easily be store-bought and re-plated. This was an in-house concoction, and it was prepared fresh to order. And it was super chocolatey, which we loved.

Some petit fours chocolates and other sweets were served at the end with the bill.

Now, I have to say something about the bill. First, note the ingenious presentation of the bill itself – served in a carved out void inside a literary classic. We did not order any wine or other beverages, and opted only for some (still and sparkling) water. Also note we only went for one shared starter, and one shared dessert. Despite that, it was a good amount of food, and we certainly weren’t left hungry at any point the rest of the evening. In particular I would note that the amount of meat served with each main in the principal warmed bowl was abundant, and defied the theme of the rest of the meal with small tasting dishes. I should also note that, although I probably had it printed out and laying around somewhere, I failed to bring in the well-known £50 off voucher, or to check if it would have still been valid. And despite the possibility of a tasting menu (which would cost more actually) we did decide to go for the a la carte option, so we could pick and choose exactly what we wanted. And so, our bill came out to £160, or £80 per person. Considering we had loads of food and that still came out cheaper than the tasting menu, I suppose we did ok. But it also probably comes out to one of my biggest bills ever, per person without having ordered wine or drinks to go with the meal. So I’m still debating whether it was worth it, and whether I would go again. Certainly as a one-time experience, you should do it if you can afford it.

Sketch
9 Conduit Street
London
W1S 2XG
http://www.sketch.uk.com
Phone: 02076594500

The original set of high-res photos is here.

What I got for Christmas: Tamales!

I guess I’m a strange sort of traveler. I’ve never been much for doing the typical touristy things. When I go to visit a new place for the first time, rather than going to see the famous landmarks and “must-see” destinations, I spend most of my time trying to get a feel for the local culture of the people that actually live there. I remember shocking some of my colleagues when, after 2 years in London, I explained that I had just seen Tower Bridge for the first time. I had spent most of my time searching for the best espresso, the best pizza, the best whisky, etc. I guess I’ve always just had a more practical approach to getting to know a place.

So it’s no surprise that whenever I come back from a trip, my bag is packed with a different kind of souveneirs. Typically this means local food and/or drinks that you just can’t get back in London – or in some cases that you could get but at an obscene markup. Case in point: the Aunt Jemima Pancake Syrup I mentioned back in my post about French Toast costs about 3 times as much as the same thing I could buy back in the States.

Like most people I guess, Christmas is one of my favorite times of year. But for me, besides getting to go back home and see my family, and besides the presents, there is another very special reason. Every time I go back home to Texas, I bring back a bag loaded with goodies that you can really only get in the Lone Star State. And even if I don’t have room for anything else, the number one thing on my list is: TAMALES!

I took this wonderful food for granted growing up in Texas, because it was easy to have several times a week and not even think about it. But as soon as you move out of Texas, you find that this one thing, above all else (well, of course excepting Rudy’s barbeque) is something you just can’t find anywhere else. I mean, of course I guess if you go to Mexico you’ll find tamales, and even in a few other states nearby, such as Nevada and Arizona – but even there it’s just not the same.

I remember trying to explain Tamales to my colleagues when I lived in Italy. It was a very humorous episode, because just the name “Los Tamales” is almost a play on words in Italy – it sounds a lot like “Lo Sta’Males”, which could mean something like “The food that makes you feel bad afterwards”, but in a good way, like when you have just had too much of a good thing. So of course everyone in Italy was looking forward to my return after Christmas that year with a bag full of sta’males to try…

According to some sources, tamales are even part of “one of the oldest Mexican culinary traditions…at Christmas”…”many Texans think Tamales are as much a sign of the holidays as turkey and cranberries.” Well I’ll admit I didn’t know that, but hey it fits right in with my theme so I’ll take it!

Last year I even broke down and bought myself a high quality pressure cooker pot, and brought over a big supply of corn husks and masa de harina, to make them myself. They came out well, but this turned out to be one of the most involved and laborious cooking processes I have had to work through. But it was worth it, so I’m sure I’ll be revisiting that recipe later this year when I’ve run out of the supply I brought back with me.

So this year I brought back a few packs of pork tamales. They also come in chicken, beef, and even cheese and vegetable. But pork is really the best, and this year I just didn’t want to fool around.

Tamales are great because often they are already sold frozen, and can just be kept frozen for a long time until you’re ready to defrost and eat. I bring a cooling bag back with me to keep them cold all the way home. They are cooked and kept individually wrapped in corn husks. The best way to warm them up to eat is to keep them in the husk, and stick them in the oven or microwave to defrost, and then heat up in the microwave for a minute or so. When heating in the microwave I think it’s generally good to wrap these up well in some wet paper towels – that keeps them moist and heats them up more evenly. Then discard the paper towels and the corn husks, and serve the tamale, perhaps with some mexican rice and some refried beans.

Tamales are delicious naked without any topping, or you can top them with any number of salsas. I find green tomatillo salsa to be a nice and more authentically Mexican way to eat them. Alternatively, you could eat them with the typical Tex-Mex style chili-con-carne enchilada sauce and some cheese. Or you could use red salsa, sour cream, pico de gallo, or guacamole – really whatever works for you I guess.

In Texas you can often find tamales served as part of a combo meal, along with enchiladas and/or tacos. But the best tamales come from dedicated tamale houses such as this one or this one. Mmm my defrosted tamales are pretty good, but I’m already looking forward to next year’s Christmas!

The full set of high-quality photos for this recipe are here.

Buen Provecho!