So proud

Last week my friends and I threw our annual Christmas soiree. It was very jolly indeed. We all contributed something to the party, and amongst other things I made (no exaggeration!) the best cheesecake in the world. THE WORLD!

It was a 10" peanut butter and chocolate cheesecake, with crushed honey roast peanuts in the base and pretty chocolate drizzles on the top. And GLITTER! It was so beautiful, and I nearly cried when I had to leave a bit of it at the host's house and not take it home for indulgent breakfasts. I would give you the recipe, but I am quite protective, so I'm going to keep it to myself. If you want to try the cake yourself then you'll have to throw a party and invite me. Above is a picture of festive me and my baby.

Panto and a lucky escape.

This weekend I went to Worthing to see the panto. The panto itself is worth mention, including as it did Cheryl Cole's 'Fight For This Love,' a trippy under-the-sea sequence featuring disembodied neon sea creatures, and a gorilla costume from the pound shop. All very Mighty Boosh, but not knowingly. Wimbledon it was not. Instead of Pammie we had an ex-corrie 'star' playing Robinson Crusoe (I was confused as to how they would turn this harrowing tale of desert island life into a pantomime too, but they managed it.) But it was all in good fun, and I left feeling pretty festive.

My feelings of festivity faded when my mum said we'd be having dinner in Pizza Express. I don't mind PE, but I can think of about 15 places I'd rather eat, and that's just in Worthing, not noted for its culinary panoply. I'm just always a little bit disappointed by whatever I order, it's always a little bit insipid or underplayed, it always feels a bit cynical and grasping.

Sadly it was fully booked out for a children's party, so we went literally two doors down and found a lovely family-run Italian restaurant where 7 of us gorged on platefuls of nosh, two bottles of wine and gallons of brandy (and an icecream for the child) for little under £20 a head. I had pollo alla rustica from the specials menu which was a massive piece of chicken blanketed in dolce latte and pancetta. Served with garlic potatoes and mixed vegetables, it made a very pleasing meal.

Sadly I cannot remember the name of the place, but if you happen to be in Worthing, then go to Pizza Express, turn left and head to this place. Oh and Louise from Hollyoaks was in there too, which may please any teenage boys in your party.

Red Door

The Red Door in Greenwich is the nicest cafe-slash-gift-shop I've been in for a long time, possibly ever. It made me want to start my own tiny tea room with a sideline in charming jewellery, ceramics and drawings by local artists.

I cannot fault it. We happened across the shop in the afternoon having been attracted in by some stunning feathered fascinators in the window. We were immediately charmed by the quirky necklaces and vowed to return later to try one of the hefty chocolate brownies in the window. I'm so glad we did.

We sat in a little sitting room at the back of the shop on magenta velvet sofas. This area is available to hire free-of-charge for meetings, interviews and book clubs. The brownie was almost too big to manage (I say almost, as it would take a pretty large brownie to beat me) crisp on the ouside and chewy and delicious on the inside, studded with massive chunks of chocolate. It was a king amongst brownies for sure. Everything was served on pretty mismatched vintage china. Sigh. With a pot of Earl Grey for two, we were charged a massive three pounds forty each. I told you there's no faulting this place didn't I?

A range of gluten free items, fairtrade coffee and toys to keep children amused further recommend this place as one of the best local gems in South London. I left with a really pretty bumblebee necklace too, but could happily have bought everything. I would tell you to go yourself, but that would mean I wouldn't be able to get a table, and that would be very sad indeed.

Charlotte Blues

The £5 chicken club sandwich from the "express lunchtime menu" is consistently excellent (and I'm a club sandwich snob) but 40 minutes for a sandwich and chips? Not very express is it Charlotte Blues? Please try harder, because you have the potential to be excellent. Next time I will try the pulled pork stack with home made BBQ sauce and coleslaw, but I'll make sure I have at least 2 hours to spare.

Pun Kum (yes really)

Work lunch at Pun Kum, 31 Windmill Street W1T 2JM. Two courses for £7.50 is undoubtedly excellent value, but my pad Thai wasn't very good. It was too sweet, with a discernible lack of any ingredients apart from noodles. Pun Kum is good for the price (not to mention a laugh at the suggestive name) but won't be high up on my lunchtime champions list.

I know it's not food but...

This is so funny, I had to put it somewhere. Just read it

Cheryl Kerl

Lovely Ballet

On Saturday I went to the ballet with my Mum for her birthday. Even with a hangover gained from drinking illegal quantities of Wray and Nephews and on just 2 paltry hours of sleep it was the best 3 hours of the last 6 months. Sparkly dresses, sculpted bottoms, men in suits and ladies in chic black dresses playing Tchaikovsky's magical score added up to a memorable experience for me, and hopefully for my Mum.

The Sleeping Beauty, first performed in 1890 in St. Petersburg was an 'example of Russian Imperial style at it's zenith' and the lavish sets and opulent costumes designed by Oliver Messel for the 1946 performance remain breathtaking to this day. Twirling like a phantasmagoria of sherbet sweeties, the fairies in the prologue contrast with the vampish Carabosse who arrives with an army of mice to cast her evil spell on the Princess Aurora. Maybe it's because it's nearly Christmas (yay!) but the ballet seemed to have a touch of the pantomime about it, with audience members booing and hissing at the evil fairy, which I have to say I guiltily enjoyed.

Sarah Lamb and Ivan Putrov were charming as the Prince and Princess, perfectly evoking the fairytale atmosphere and the tentative nature of first love. The supporting dancers brought massive exhuberance to the christening and wedding scenes, particularly Hikaru Kobayashi as The Blue Bird.

Watch a trailer here.

Everybody should go to the ballet at Christmas, it's pure joy.

Graphic FAIL

I was pleased to be invited to an evening of cocktails and canapés at Graphic on Golden Square last Tuesday, since those are two of my most favourite things. The invitation said 6pm-late, so I gathered up a few friends and turned up at around 6:45pm to this 'limited' and invitation only event.

We were thrown when there was nobody on the door taking names, more so when we shuffled through the bar and had to ASK whether there was an event even happening. We were told that someone would come over, a lady appeared and offered us a drink. There was no space to sit, and no canapés to speak of. I think one of my friends might have had a cod goujon. I had nothing.

We asked if there were any more promotional drinks available, only to be informed that no, they had run out of gin. Graphic claims to have the biggest selection of gin in the UK, and markets itself as a gin bar. I could see gin behind the bar. They just wouldn't give it to us. We left. PR fail. Graphic went from being a bar that I was keen to make my regular post-work haunt, to somewhere that I would be very reluctant to return to.

It's a shame, because it looks like a nice bar, good décor and seemingly good cocktails (need to try a dry martini in there before making a decision) some of which are served in a paint tin. Trendy. But they are disorganised, and I don't have time for bars that can't get their act together enough to bring you a few cocktails and put some mini burgers on the tables. Poor show.

Viet Baguette

Further adventures in the lunch hour have thrown up Viet Baguette off Goodge St on Charlotte Place. On the recommendation of my Asian food-obsessed boss, a colleague and I took a stroll down Charlotte St to check out this new lunch option.

I'm always excited to find a new place to cheer up the relentless monotony of my working day, and Viet-Baguette is perfect. My pork and pate baguette ticked the meat craving box, as well as the yen for a little spice of a Thursday afternoon.

The teeny shop does a roaring trade in Banh Mi - Vietnamese street food which combines the French ingredients of the colonialists with the indigenous specialities of the Vietnamese people. Pickled carrots, mooli, coriander, spring onion, mayo, chilli sauce and a salty seasoning combined with char sui pork and a liver and cognac pate made a very satisfying lunch time treat. My boss had the caramel chicken and marked it 7/10 and not spicy enough for his tastes. I'd be willing to bet that they'd put some extra chilli in your order for you if you asked though, the staff are very helpful, though charmingly under-prepared for their sudden popularity (the queue was 30 minutes.)

Viet Baguette has weekly changing specialities, and are keen to hear from banh-mi enthusiasts with suggestions for their menu (which includes Laughing Cow.)

They're open from 12pm-4pm, I'd suggest arriving at 12pm on the dot to avoid the queue that all but the most dedicated of baguette fans would abandon on sight. Priced from £3.70-£5.00

Viet Baguette
14 Charlotte Place
London W1T 1SW
www.vietbaguette.net

The Breakfast Club

I felt much the same way about the Soho eatery as I did about the popular brat-pack film – underwhelmed. I ordered the American breakfast (£6.50) which arrived with a raw sausage (yes, raw as in uncooked) and rubbery scrambled eggs which would have benefited from a pinch of salt. If you’re going to do breakfast and only breakfast, then get it right.

The Breakfast Club - 33 D'Arblay St London, W1F 8EU

En France, on peut demander encore.

In Paris, what’s for dinner? Steak-frites obviously. Shortly after booking my bargainous Eurostar tickets I began frantically researching the best steak dinner in Paris. Obviously, some of the high-end options were a bit beyond my pocket power, but I was excited to discover La Relais de l’Entrecote, a charming restaurant in Montparnasse which only serves meat and fried carbs. Perfect.
We were in a bit of a rush to find La Relais, as fresh off a cross-city metro and a stint in a charming Montmartre pub (jugs of beer: €10 yes please) we were pretty keen to find a toilet. Luckily for us the restaurant is right outside the metro station, and the waitresses; charmingly decked out in black uniforms with frilly white aprons were only too happy to point three breathless English girls in the direction of the facilities.
We were ushered to a window seat in front of an old French guy who had clearly been availing himself a little too freely of the carte des vins and fell off his chair. He later fell out of the restaurant in spectacular fashion, but was thankfully helped by a friendly waitress. Phew. Keen not to make the same spectacle of ourselves, we tentatively ordered a bottle of house red and a carafe of water to mitigate the effects. The water never materialised, but we found this to be a common feature of dining a Paris. No matter, we prefer wine anyway, and holidays are not the time for sensible alcohol consumption.
There is no menu at La Relais; why would there be when they only serve one thing? Our waitress simply asked us how we would like our steaks cooked, and then brought us three salads garnished with walnuts and drizzled with a vinegary dressing. Upon inspection of the bill, these salads were free. Bonus.
Next up was the main event. My two friends had ordered their steaks well-done, aware of the French penchant for brutally under-cooking steaks. I ordered mine medium, reasoning that if it came medium I’d be happy, but if it came rare, I’d still be happy. One friend had had a nasty experience with a steak tartare on the previous night, and so was erring very much on the side of caution and sick-avoidance.
The steaks arrived exactly as we had ordered them, mine blushing in the middle, theirs cooked all the way through, but still tender. The meat was sliced from a central station in the restaurant and arranged onto plates along with a shovelful of frites and the most amazing sauce, possibly ever. Sadly, it’s a secret recipe and our waitress was loathe to divulge the tricks of her trade. It looked awful, sort of like the greenish brown contents of a newborn (desperate to go there yet?!) but it was garlicky, mustardy, salty and perfect all over buttery meat and brittle chips. We spent a while trying to work out what was in it. Cumin? Coriander seed? Ground ginger possibly? In the end, we gave up, because it was just too hard to stop ourselves from wolfing it down like frenzied savages (our Parisian chic totally abandoned us in the face of this carnivorous feast) to try and work out the nuances of this wonder sauce. If I could recreate it at home though, I’d be very happy, and very very fat.
Now, we had read online that you could ask for seconds in this restaurant. So, rather shamefully, we did. Yes, we demanded ‘a little bit more s’il vous plait?’ in a restaurant. We were not in a school canteen or our grandmother’s kitchen, no, this was an actual restaurant, and we were asking for more. The waitress looked a little bemused as she asked what exactly we would like more of. Steak? Chips? All? ‘All’ we replied, red-faced.
Sure enough, she returned with the same again. Yes, we ate two full meals. All for €86.75 for three greedy girls. Lesson learned, if you’d like more, ask for it. We’re certainly glad we did.
If the fact that they have a secret sauce that you would sell your grandmother for the recipe for, the nonplussed waitresses in turn of the century outfits, the free salads and the fact that you can get SECONDS doesn’t convince you to buy a ticket to Paris right now, then you’re dead inside. It’s as simple as that.

Rubicon Watermelon

As a regular and enthusiastic drinker of the Rubicon range of juices, I was perhaps a little too excited about the new addition to the range; Rubicon Watermelon. Like a child at Christmas I ran to greet the courier when he brought my delivery, I could hardly contain myself, and was eager to down a glass immediately, if not sooner.

However, I was just about to leave for a trip to Paris. Unconcerned, I packed a carton into my luggage and whisked it across the Channel.

My first taste of Rubicon Watermelon was mixed in a rather lovely watermelon martini, which went down extremely well with the girls before a night in the bars of Bastille. This is not a manly drink; the glowing pink hue and intensely sweet flavour were the perfect foil to ice-cold vodka, and looked very pretty poured into a tiny martini glass. A wedge of lime or a splash of grapefruit juice to cut the sugary hit of the watermelon juice would have taken an already very palatable cocktail into the realms of perfection.

I have since enjoyed the drink sans alcohol, and it ticks all the boxes for a very successful sunshine drink. Served very cold, the juice is a perfect summer refresher, and sits alongside its exotic label mates perfectly. Rubicon Watermelon would make a tropical refresher mixed with Pomegranate Juice and mint, or added to soda water, crushed cucumber and ice for a grown up alcohol-free cocktail.

Rubicon Watermelon also contains lycopene and vitamins C and B6 meaning that it is not only delicious, but healthy too (without the vodka presumably!)

Like other juices in the Rubicon range, Watermelon errs on the side of psychedelic sweetness, but that only makes me love it all the more.

Published at http://www.theculinaryguide.co.uk/

Guerilla dining in Brixton.

After watching Jamie Oliver attend and host a supper club in New York on Jamie’s American Road Trip I was intrigued by the so-called ‘guerrilla restaurant’ concept; an individual hosting a dinner party for strangers in their home, where everybody pays a ‘donation’ towards the meal. On the edge of legality, these supper clubs seemed to me like a fabulous way to enjoy great food (and a smug feeling of coolness) away from the stuffiness (not to mention high prices) of some London restaurants.
Imagine my surprise and delight when I discovered a supper club not only in London, but on the next road. The Saltoun Supper Club in Brixton is run by Arno Maasdorp – a food stylist and photographer, from his top-floor flat on the road after which his pop-up diner is named.
Every Thursday Arno transforms his living room into a 16 seat restaurant where diners bring a bottle (supper clubs are unlicensed and cannot legally charge for their services) and a friend of his helps out with service.
His website cites the bustle and fresh produce of Brixton market as the inspiration behind his supper club, but Arno’s menus indicate a chef with skills reaching far beyond the amateur market cook. They are impeccably well thought out, seasonal and represent astounding value for money at £25 for 4 courses. Each week sees a different menu, emailed to guests in advance, including homemade breads and handmade confectionery.
Arno’s concept appeals to me, not only as a chance to enjoy his cooking in a relaxed environment, but as a chance to feel part of something a bit rebellious. His ‘restaurant’ is an entirely personal affair, undertaken for his own enjoyment and that of his guests rather than for personal gain. A refreshing antidote to the overcrowded and overpriced restaurants which are beginning to seem more and more redundant in these slender times.

Better than Noodel's City.

Caravaggio’s is without doubt the finest restaurant in Camberwell. There’s a bold statement for you, though when you consider that the other ‘restaurants’ in the area are KFC, Noodels City (sic) and Morley’s, it ceases to sound quite so audacious. That’s not to say that Caravaggio’s isn’t a very fine restaurant indeed, combining as it does the holy trinity of great food, great service and great value.

I’ve eaten there several times, with grandparents, with a small group of friends and as last night, in a rowdy party of twelve, and the food and service have been consistently good. I would not hesitate to take anyone visiting Camberwell to Caravaggio’s, and think it a credit to them that they can accommodate a slightly raucous (for a Monday at least) 23rd birthday party with as much ease as a quiet meal for two.

Located halfway up Camberwell Church Street, Caravaggio’s boasts a coffee shop and sandwich bar at the front of the restaurant, with a pretty restaurant and small courtyard garden at the back. The reproductions of their namesake’s greatest works crowding the walls, exposed beams and vaulted ceiling create a pleasant dining environment, though the swirling wallpaper is starting to look a little tired around the corners. The waiters are knowledgable and personable and always keep the wine flowing and plenty of bread and olives on the table. I thought that it was a nice touch that they brought jugs of tap water to our table without being asked; occasionally they will also bring digestifs over after your meal, which is a pleasant surprise when it happens.

Yesterday I chose Caprino Fritti; deep fried goat’s cheese with poached pears and cranberry sauce, which was delicious - though the sheer quantity of cheese was enough to have me contemplating my next gym session.

Next up I chose Saltimbocca which was meltingly tender and robustly flavoured. Despite this, I regretted my choice. Food envy reared its ugly head when a friend wisely chose the Tornadoes Rossini from the specials menu, which is without doubt the finest dish on the extensive menu (and consistently available despite its status as a special). Perfectly cooked filet steak is served in a rich Barolo wine sauce, topped with soft chicken liver pate and served with rosemary potatoes. Having ordered this in the past I can vouch for its deliciousness, it is a remarkably well executed dish, particularly considering the £13ish price tag.

Other fine choices amongst our party were Spicy Turkish Sausages to start, a special of Brie with mango, and a huge portion of plaice with a cheese sauce served with mashed potatoes – comfort food at its best. Pastas can be slightly weak in here, though cheap at under £5 and generous in their proportions, so I would staunchly recommend sticking with the meat or fish options, though the risottos are also very good. A heavily garlicked side-order of spinach was buttery and delicious and sat very well alongside fish dishes as well as grilled meat.

Having washed down our enormous meals with about 38 bottles of wine (or 7, probably) we were presented with a very reasonable bill of £20 per head including service. Caravaggio’s represents fantastic quality and value in Camberwell, and I really hope it continues to do a roaring trade for many years to come, I see absolutely no reason why it should not.

Turkish Delight - Nar Restaurant and Bar

Vauxhall’s newest bar and restaurant Nar, which is Turkish for pomegranate, held a lavish launch party on Tuesday 26th May, complete with flowing champagne and rubber-clad sambuca distributors. Within walking distance of both the station and the river, Nar is housed in the cavernous railway arches of Albert Embankment.

The bar area is characterised by eclectic Turkish artefacts; brass lanterns, carved cabinets and ornate tiled panels set against the whitewashed walls and arched ceilings, working together rather than competing, to create an atmospheric and chic bar; perfect for post-work drinks. The impressive range of spirits behind the blue-lit bar including Tanqueray No. 10 and Belvedere Vodka certainly recommend Nar as a serious player in the cocktail stakes. The range of freshly squeezed juices including the unusual raspberry, cucumber and apple, mean that designated drivers are catered for just as impressively as drinkers.

The outdoor area, though roadside, seems like a pleasant place to enjoy a few beers on a Sunday afternoon. In an area which is poorly served for beer gardens, the residents of Vauxhall will just have to make do.

The restaurant area is an elegant dining space, with curved white ceilings and exposed beams. The walls are dotted with cabinets filled with pretty antiques to add a bit of interest to the bright and airy interior.

We enjoyed a meze menu including crowd-pleasers such as hummus, falafel, cacik and puffy flatbreads, as well as more unusual snacks such as midye – skewered mussels served with pickles. I could happily eat meze every day, so I may be biased, but I could have stuffed myself for hours with the tasty morsels and varied plates which included some pleasant surprises like a pomegranate-studded coriander salad. The chef at Nar manages to avoid the greasiness that occasionally accompanies Turkish cuisine, keeping everything light and refreshing.

The starters all come in at around the £5 mark with main courses venturing no further than £16 for a sirloin steak, which is a pleasant surprise considering the quality of the food and the standard of the surroundings. Vegetarians are also extremely well catered for, as is so often the case with Mediterranean fare.

Though I was tempted by almost everything on the menu, particularly the starter of Amavut Ciguri – fried lambs liver with red onion salad, I would suggest that the menu, at 8 pages, is too long and tries to spread itself too thinly, taking in Italian pizzas and pastas as well as Turkish meze and grills.

Nar is a welcome addition to the SE1 dining scene, which until fairly recently has been somewhat of a culinary desert. The elegant and well stocked bar, staffed by an attentive and knowledgeable team is a real bonus (the regular rumbles of trains passing overhead are not!) and I sincerely hope that this little corner of the Mediterranean stays afloat in South East London.

Published at http://www.theculinaryguide.co.uk/