John Charlick

Many moons ago, I was a young graduate working near Chancery Lane.
The smoky old-man boozer where we used to go on Friday nights is now an airy gastro pub, and the cafe where I bought my morning croissant and coffee for 99 pence is long gone.
But one local institution is still going strong -- John Charlick.
It's a tiny deli, serving sandwiches and salads to lawyers and other locals for three decades worth of lunchtimes.

I was pleased to see that my favourite mackrel pate is still on the short menu. Spread thickly on rye bread it still tasted absolutely divine.
There are a couple of tables outside, but Gray's Inn Road isn't the prettiest spot. If you have kids, grab your sandwich and head to Coram's Fields, a seven acre playground and park in to which adults are only allowed if accompanied by a minor. Or, for a more serene atmosphere, head to Gray's Inn Field.

John Charlick, 142 Gray's Inn Road, Holborn, WC1X 8AX; Tel.
020 7278 9187 www.charlick.co.uk

The Gunmakers

Some restaurants pride themselves on having a mission or a premise. The Gunmakers, judging by its website lays claim only to a menu and an address. And, judging by its food, it's on to a winner. On the downside, it means I can't tell you the history of the place or its name, as Clerkenwell is historically more famous for its printers and Italians rather than guns.
In a world of chain sandwich shops and crumbs over keyboards, the cosy pub felt like a gateway into a less hurried, bygone era. A handful of suits were finishing their meals and their drinks when we arrived at about 2.30pm on a weekday.



In one corner, the bar man had started on his lunch. His mackrel looked very good, so we ordered that. The husband pronounced it delicious, and even finished off the accompanying beetroot - a vegetable he normally winces at.



I went for the chorizo toad-in-the-hole, which further confirmed my new-found love of the Spanish sausage. It worked really well with the batter, adding a stronger, more vibrant flavour than the usual English banger. Definitely one to try at home, along with the celeriac mash which came on the side.
We washed it all done with well-kept Mad Goose ale, and I left wishing I still worked in the area and could sneak off for lunches there on a regular basis.

The Gunmakers, 13 Eyre Street Hill, Clerkenwell, EC1R 5ET; Tel. 020 7278 1022 thegunmakers.co.uk; Lunch for 2 around 30 pounds

Polpetto

Strange or unusual dishes beckon me from restaurant menus with an almost irresistible force. In its grip, I have found myself picking at a greyish, mushy plate of brains in a Bulgarian restaurant in Moscow and tucking into a gamey but not entirely pleasant giraffe burger (the animal, not the chain) in Camden Market.
More successful forays have included nettle soup at the now sadly defunct Ambassador in Exmouth Market and, most recently, dandelions at Polpetto.

Polpetto has squashed some dark wooden tables into a small, cosy room above the equally crowded French House pub in the centre of Soho's hustle and bustle. It's been open for a little over a year, receiving praise for the food and taking other criticism on board - the originally tapas-y menu has been split into small and large plates (starters and mains to you and me) and it's now possible to book.

The stalks of dandelions added a delicate, flowery and slightly citrusy crunch to a delicious plate of rigatoni flavoured with "wet walnuts". It turns out that wet walnuts are the super seasonal young fruit of the tree, which dry out into the more familiar variety with age. And very good they were too.



Given that Polpetto means "baby octopus" in Italian, I also felt moved to order the octoped. It came as a carpaccio starter, bejewelled but nor overpowered with fresh red chillies (£6).

The brief, description-free menu gives diners the option of asking the waiters for advice/translation or -- as we did -- going for a lucky dip approach. Tempted by smoked anchovies, we thus took a gamble on its unfamiliar accompaniment, puntarelle. The gamble paid off, with the arrival of some tasty green shoots of the chicory family.

Among the mains, we also sampled the squid (£11.30) - with a delicious if slightly overpowering char grilled tang - and the Italian classic of pork in milk (£10.30). The meat was meltingly tender, with notes of aniseed and chunks of white bread all but dissolved in the juices.

Largely ignorant in Italian wine, we washed down the meal -- one of the best I've had in London since returning -- with carafes of the very drinkable house red, and pledged to come back again soon.

Polpetto, Upstairs at The French House, 49 Dean Street, London, W1D 5BG; Tel. 020 7734 1969 polpetto.co.uk
Cost: around £30 a head for two courses with wine

The Barbarians in Moscow

It's been nearly three years since I moved to Moscow and stopped writing this blog. During our time here, the city has finally secured a place for itself on the gastronomic globe, with Varvary - The Barbarians - becoming the first ever Russian restaurant to make it into the world's Top 50 (sneaking in at number 49).



In many ways, the place is very typical of the Moscow dining scene, with over the top decor, a surly doorman and sky-high wine prices. We had booked a place on the balcony, but were told that the tasting menu would only be served indoors, as the strong wind and pukh* outside would ruin the delicate presentation.

Unusually though, Varvary takes pride in using local ingredients. This is a welcome change in a country where distant foreign imports are still the most prized, because local produce is considered to be of poor quality and people want to show that they can afford the best.

The 11 courses of the 8,500 roubles (190 pounds) "Gastronomic Show - Moscow Summer 2011" also had a distinct Russian flavour, showcasing such traditional, unglamorous ingredients as mayonnaise, dill and potato.



A good example of this was the appetiser, featuring "Real Russian Flavour" in the form of intense beetroot jelly on a sliver of black bread (remnants can be seen on the tablecloth in the photo!). On the same plate there was also sea buckthorn (a bitter, orange berry so beloved by Russians it even features as a toothpaste flavour) with curd cheese, shaped like the Japanese maki rolls that are omnipresent here; cream of broccoli with cod liver, and a herring mouse with sorrel and rocket -- a concoction of intense green, served in a beautiful egg-bottomed cup and possessing of a very sharp fishy flavour.



Next came the "oyster", the wittiest dish of the set. The flavour of the creature was separated from the traditional slippery texture and infused into a fragile green leaf, floating on a cloud of lemony foam in a silver spoon. The generously-sized oyster itself, on the other hand, was distinctly unoysterish, served baked under a parmesan crust in a very Russian sauce which the husband identified as warm mayonnaise.

Being a lady (ahem), I was then served the Spring Meadow -- a plate of green salad and fresh asparagus with steaming chunks of white truffle flavoured dry ice around a golden pond of a poached egg.

The manly alternative consisted of a shot of vodka and a plate of intense traditional beetroot soup, borsch, with a ball of dill-speckled sour cream which dramatically burst within moments of serving. Ironically, I preferred the borsch, while the husband was most taken with my salad!

There was generally a lot of soup on the menu -- gaspacho ice cream with lobster bisque was followed by langoustine soup with calmari essence, both nice enough but not spectacular and, together, overdoing the fishy liquid quotient of the meal.

A Russian-style dumpling (varenik) with succulent Kamchatka crab was a hands down favourite, with the quality ingredients shining through. Vareniki, or pelmini as their meat equivalents are known, will be probably the Russian food that I will miss the most, as they are cheap freezer staple for us on those too lazy/tired to cook evenings, though I am more used to them stuffed with non-descript meat than prime seafood.

The fish and meat main courses -- silver cod with peas and beans, and veal on the bone with pepper sauce -- were surprisingly simple, again allowing the quality ingredients to shine through. They were interspersed with potato with dill and red caviar, but alas by this stage the wine had started to kick in, and I can no longer recall how these traditional Russian staples were woven together. Restaurant blogging here seems all but non-exhistent, so google was of no help -- you'll just to have to go and check it out for yourself.

The meal finished off with a selection of honey-based dainties, followed by cute little pots of cream and jam and another potato - this one a chocolate cake-cum-sweet of Soviet childhood.

With a bottle and a half of one of the cheapest wines, the final bill rivalled our lunch in the Fat Duck. In terms of the food and the whole 'show', I would say Hesthon Blumenthal has nothing to worry about yet. But Varvary does offer the most interesting food I have tried in Moscow, while proving that Russian cooking can be turned into a cuisine.

Our time here is running out and London beckons again, so it's too late for me to start a Moscow blog, but I will do a write up of some of my favourite places here - watch this space.

Varvary, 8A, Strastnoy Boulevard, Moscow, Russia; Tel. +7(495) 229-28-00; http://www.anatolykomm.ru/Varvary



*Pukh is Russia's summer snow. In May and early June, the white fluff blows off poplar trees in Moscow's parks and boulevards, covering the streets and getting into everything from drinks to nostrils. The story goes that after the war, the powers that be wanted to make the city green as quickly as possible, and they chose the poplar as the fastest growing breed in the moderate climate. But in their hurry, they filled the streets with female trees, which produce the fluff (insert sexist joke), ensuring year round snow in the Russian capital.

Menelik

The table cloths are stained, decorations include a dusty Eiffel-tower-shaped brandy bottle and the place is empty around 7.30 pm on a Friday night.
Plus, in my mind 'Ethiopia' was always more linked with television images of famine than with cuisine.

But stereotypes and appearances can be deceptive.



We order their taster selection. The first to arrive is a large tray covered in traditional injera bread - a pancake like thing with a slightly vinegary taste. Upon it, the waitress ladles out half a dozen or so different dishes. I particularly enjoy some beans and a mix of barely cooked mince with (I think) spinach. All is eaten with your hands, scooped up with more injera bread, and washed down by surprisingly good Ethiopian larger.
The only dish that we fail to finish is the Ethiopian take on steak tartrare - large chunks of raw beef in a thick, spicy sauce. It's not bad, but the consensus is that the chunks are a bit too big to chew/digest raw.

Still, we leave a couple of hours and many beers later, absolutely stuffed and amazed to have paid only about 15 quid for this feast. Sure, you might not want to eat here once a week, or even once a month, but it's definitely worth trying at least once.

Menelik, 277 Caledonian Road, London, N1 3EF; Tel. 0207 700 7774; Tube: Caledonian Road

Cork and Bottle

A hidden gem just off Leicester Square. Yes, really. Such secrets don't come along often, and I'm only letting you in as I won't be in London for much longer to savour its delights myself.

Hidden under red awning between the endless kebab shops and ticket touts, the small door deposits you atop a spiral metal staircase. Below, there's a buzzy, cosy vibe of a not quite authentic French or Italian wine bar.

The wine list is amazing in scope, decent in value and wittily, informatively written. The food menu focuses on classic comfort food with a nod to the owner's Antipodean origins.



The husband's burger is large and decent-tasting, but I am smitten with the cheese and ham pie, the house speciality. Beneath a pastry lid is a savoury heaven, a layered tower of cheese and ham... Mmm, writing about it, I want one now.
We were far too stuffed for the cheese course, so finished off with a couple of glasses of a young Beaujolais Village.

This lovely precursor to the theatre set us back just over £50 for two huge mains, some olives, a bottle of a zesty Spanish white and the glasses of the Beaujolais. Like I said, a gem.

Cork and Bottle, 44-46 Cranbourn Street, Leicester Square, WC2H 7AN; Tel. 0207734 7807; Tube: Leicester Square

Moro

The location: Exmouth Market – especially lovely on a warm, sunny day.

The spec: Spanish/North African cuisine served up by a Sam & Sam Clarke. (Would you ever marry, or even go out with someone who had the same name as you?) The place is perennially popular -- even on Monday night they are fully booked, but manage to squeeze us in at the bar.

The disappointing: The menu. I don't know why, but somehow every time I come here, nothing at the menu really grabs me.

The good: The very friendly service. The food.
We start with a plate of chorizo from the bar tapas menu. The two thick slices, curled and charged from the grilling, don't seem little a lot for £4, but every moist, spicy bite says it's worth it.
I follow with the succulent wood roasted chicken, served with a warm, yoghurty, walnutty pasta salad (£18.00). It's delicious and the pickled radishes which initially put me off ordering the dish don't taste picked at all.
The husband goes for wood roasted Middle White pork -- and the waiter very kindly offers and extra helping of crisp crackling (£18.50). The meat comes with Moorish flavours of spinach, red onions, pine nuts and raisins.

We ask the waiter about the house white -- he offers us a taste (as he said, it’s “very drinkable”, but no more), and suggests a much nicer bottle from the Spanish list -- a Verdejo/Sauvignon mix (£18.50) which has the zesty zing I usually associate with New Zealand.

The verdict: Friendly and delicious. Though alas too busy and a bit too expensive to be a regular haunt.

Moro, 34 - 36 Exmouth Market, EC1R 4QE; Tel. 020 7833 8336; Tube: Angel; www.moro.co.uk

Hibiscus

Few things beat a random, middle of the week day off spent doing very little other than having a long, leisurely lunch somewhere posh.
Hibiscus -- Michelin-starred and recently transported from button-cute Ludlow to snooty Mayfair -- fits the bill perfectly with its unbelievable £25 three course lunchtime set menu.
Inside, it is surprisingly small and very brown - right down to the browny golden hat-shaped glass plates on the place settings. Quite a few of the customers seem to be regulars, warmly greeted by the friendly and numerous waiting staff.



First comes a freebie of soup, served in an egg shell, with the runny yolk nestling underneath the delicate vegetable (I think it was asparagus) liquid. It looks stunning inside the huge white circle of the plate and taste brilliant save for the tiny bit of runny egg white left on the yolk.
There is also bread with very creamy butter.



The carpaccio is as good as any I've had, and I also enjoy the richness of the mango ice cream -- though perhaps not in the same mouthful as the meat.



A giant ravioli (raviolo?) is plump with delicate cod brandade with (luckily!) not very detectable liquorish root.




Next is Cornish silver mullet with crispy skin and



suffolk guniea fowl stuffed with mushroom with creamy mash.
I don't spot the advertised douglas fir, though it's probably just as well as I am not sure a 20 to 100 metre tree would fit in the restaurant, let alone on the plate.



For desert, we have an Italian shortbread with strawberries, strawberry gel, curd cheese ice cream... and an utterly amazing chocolate creation.





With a couple of aperetifs and a bottle of wine (a very nice Torrontes for just £16.75), the bill comes to £5 less than I paid earlier that week for an utterly average two course lunch for two in Chez Gerard.

Hibiscus, 29 Maddox Street, W1S 2PA; Tel. 0207 629 2999www.hibiscusrestaurant.co.uk

Czech and Slovak House

The house, on a residential stretch of road in West Hampstead, is advertised by a plastic chef outside and a wooden post from which a sign must have once hung. Inside, it feels like a slightly ramshackle hostel, and indeed I think they do let out some rooms to their compatriots. There's a bar and a casual room for eating or drinking, but we were ushered into the restaurant - reminiscent of a living room circa 1970s, with faded wall paper, a portrait of a grim looking officer and another of Havel, and white table cloths.



I wasn't very hungry, so settled on some fried bread with garlic & cheese (a mere 1.50). It might have been nicer with melted cheese, but it packed a strong garlicky punch and went well with the beer.



The fried goose liver with onion & bread (by far the most expensive starter at 7.00) was, to my disappointment, closer to the traditional English dish of liver and onions than to the French foie gras. But its order pronounced it very good.



The others went for roasted wild boar in cream sauce (11), one with saute potatoes and one with sauerkraut. The portions were huge, and the boar's sauce was surprisingly though pleasantly cheesy. The meat though was perhaps a touch tough.
I liked the fact that with each main one side dish of your choice was included - too often I've dithered over the dilemma of the more appealing main versus the one with the more appealing side dish.
On a Sunday afternoon, the place was reasonably busy with people (both Eastern European and English) finishing lunch, starting dinner, or simply having a few beers. The dark Bernard was delicious and cheap by London standards at only 3 quid per half-litre bottle.
The service was friendly, and they were more than happy for us to linger over beers and a game of cards even as the main dinner crowds starter to arrive.

Czech and Slovak House, 74 West End Lane, NW6 2LX; Tel. 0207 372 1193; Tube: West Hampstead; www.czechoslovak-restaurant.co.uk

Daquise

We venture in from the drizzle and enquire about a table for two. "Half an hour," barks the waitress before turning her back on us and scuttling off towards the kitchen.
At Daquise, everything is authentic, old-school Eastern European, right down to the service. We kill time in a pub filled with American tourists ("Do you serve half pints?," one lady enquires at the bar), watching as the weather yo-yos from rain to hail to sunshine and back again in the time it takes us to get through one round of beers. It's the kind of day that calls for plates of hearty, warming food and luckily by now Daquise is slightly emptier. It was shut for a refit a couple of years ago, but to my naked eye nothing has changed. It still has the same red and white checked wipe-clean table cloths, and the same shabby, comfortable aura. There are still a few old souls -- who came here long before Asda was full of delicacies from their homeland, and indeed probably long before there was Asda -- slowly slurping their barszcz (borscht) alongside young families of trendy South Kensingtonians in search of retro chic. The menu offers few starters and one token salad (chief ingredients: tuna, eggs, potatoes), but given the size of the mains I doubt many could manage more than one course anyway.



I have the pierogi, large dumplings filled with surprisingly tender meat, curd cheese or a mix of mushrooms and cabbage, and served with crispy bacon bits and a lonely tomato segment for anyone on a health kick. I smother them in sour cream and tuck in with relish, trying not to think about the bathroom scaled on Monday morning.



My friend is lured by the potato pancake (advertised as a house speciality) and opts for one served with Hungarian goulash. The pancake is huge, the goulash is proper comfort food like grandmothers/babushkas used to make. The only disappointment is the beer selection, featuring nothing more interesting than the Polish lagers now available in every corner shop -- why is that the more interesting beers from Eastern Europe never make it over here?
We are too stuffed to even contemplate the desert menu (which includes more dumplings). With a couple of the lagers, the bill for the two of us comes to a very old-fashioned £24 with service and we reluctantly waddle back out into the English "spring".

Conclusion: Not a destination restaurant as such, but a perfect place to refuel if you are visiting the museums and after some hearty comfort. Another good bet in the area is the Creperie, though it tends to be packed on the weekends.

PS Does anyone actually know what Daquise means? Seems an odd French-sounding name for a Polish restaurant.

Daquise, 20 Thurloe Street, SW7 2LT; Tel. 020 7589 6117; Tube: South Kensington

CLOSED - The Ambassador

** UPDATE OCTOBER 2011 - The restaurant has closed, and a Japanese place looks set to open in its place.

Last weekend the husband was away having fun (getting bruised by paint bullets, then dulling the pain with copious alcohol), while I was home working. So I reckoned I deserved to treat myself. A lunch in the sunshine on Exmouth Market was just the ticket.
I was craving the bright green nettle soup that I'd tried in Ambassadors a year or so ago, but it wasn't on the menu. So trying to stay vaguely healthy yet colourful,



I opted for a small beetroot risotto (£6.50) instead.
The healthiness was slightly thwarted by the generous splash of olive oil and the white pool of gloriously creamy, melted goats chese topping the vibrant red rice. It was a blissful plate to nibble on while looking through their selection of weekend papers over a glass of white Abruzzo (£3.50) from the extensive wine list.
Conclusion, a fabulous couple of hours' treat for only £10 (plus service).

The Ambassador, 55 Exmouth Market, EC1R 4QL; Tel. 0207 837009; Tube: Angel;
www.theambassadorcafe.co.uk; closed Sunday evening

Number Twelve

I was intrigued by Number Twelve -- it's not often that you get good reviews for hotel restaurants (unless they are really super-posh hotels).
This restaurant also happens to be based in the hotel where we stayed for a couple of nights many moons ago, while flat-hunting for our move to London. Now we are plotting our departure (for a few years) so a visit to the restaurant had a nice full circle feel to it.
The hotel has had a complete refit in the intervening years -- my memories are all of chintz and flowery bed spreads, but the photos on the website are all minimalist chic. The restaurant is modern too, but still feels like a hotel eaterie, its decor unmemorable except for the pretty flower stems etched into the flower-to-ceiling windows.
The place was empty, which didn't add to the atmosphere, but then it was 2.30pm on a Sunday. Luckily they sat us at a window overlooking the narrow Woburn Walk, with its pretty balconies, so we could people watch and utterly forget about the empty restaurant behind us. Plus we got two friendly waiting staff to ourselves, ensuring speedy service.



The home-made bread selection was amazing and, at £2, utterly bargainous. I could come here and just eat that with a glass of wine and consider it a pretty perfect repast. This included bread topped with manchengo-like cheese, a croissant-shaped roll speckled with walnuts, a focaccia-tyle cube studded with a cherry tomato .... and plenty of fragrant olive oil to dip it all in.



The 'small' chicory salad (£5.95) featured half a chicory head, its bitterness off-set by slices of pear and walnut, in a surprisingly light dressing Coston Basset stilton (they are big on provenance here), all topped with crispy fried parsley.



The juicy Donald Russell rib eye (£12) came with a gratin dauphinoise which managed to be utterly moreish despite being light on the cream and the cheese, beautifully cooked French green beans and a cute shot glass of the potent meat juices.

From the more than two dozen (!) wines available by the glass or a 375 ml carafe, I chose a glass of the cheapest -- a rich, pungent Temparanillo for a very reasonable £3.50. Generally I'd say the place was pretty good value (especially if you fill up on the bread!) -- their pre-theatre menu includes half a bottle of wine per person, and comes at a very reasonable £22.95 for two courses or £25.95 for three.
And they even give some very nice freebie cakes with the bill!



My biggest regret was that, as it was lunchtime, we were too full to try the huge cheese selection from La Fromagerie (£8.95). Guess we'll just have to come back!

PS While you are in the area, I can highly recommend a visit to the Wellcome Collection, where, among other things, you can see every possible design of forceps, a shrunken head and Napoleon's toothbrush. They do great 30 minute tours perfectly tailored to our (my) modern short attention spans.

Number Twelve, 12 Upper Woburn Place, WC1H 0HX; Tel. 0207 693 5425; Tube: Euston or Russell Square; www.numbertwelverestaurant.co.uk; closed Saturday lunchtime and Sunday evening.
There's a 25% off food deal on toptable at the moment, and on our bill there was also a voucher for 25% off food if you come back within a month.

Divo

If I had to use one word to describe my visit to Divo, it would have to be disappointment. I'd been deeply intrigued by all the terrible reviews and had gone expecting... I am not sure what exactly, but certainly not what we got which was damn good meal. And not just damn good for Eastern European comfort food, but damn good full stop.
Sure, the place is ostentatious, with flat-screen TVs in fake gilded frames (luckily turned off), elaborately carved wooden pillars around the bar and the most amazingly ornamental, flower-patterned enamel in the bathroom. But the owners have clearly had a bit of rethink since the dire reviews.
Gone - to my huge disappointment - are the waitress' Ukrainian folk outfits with mini skirts. Gone is the £320 caviar pancakes (though may be these are now in a separate menu that doesn't get given the plebs like us) and the Ukrainian wine. Instead we sipped on a very nice French house red for a very reasonable £14.50 a bottle. We also tried some kvas (£3) - a drink made with fermented rye bread, which in my Russian childhood days used to be sold from a tap on the back of special mini-oil-tanker-style lorries. Alas, it turns out, the kvas of more childhood days was akin to the bottles of old fashioned lemonade in the supermarket. The version here was authentic, home-made and heavy on the bread flavours. Uncouth that I am, I didn't like it nearly as much as the fizzier, sugarier mass-produced stuff. They also passed the tap water test with flying colours, bringing a jug when asked and frequently replenishing both our glasses and the jug. In fact throughout, service was very attentive (the waitresses now wear red blouses and black trousers).



The starter of salo (£7) entirely transformed this fatty, common-as-muck but delicious to my Russian taste buds lump of lard into a dainty dish worthy of any upmarket modern eaterie. The slices were wafer thin, daintily arranged on a slice of toasted rye bread and complemented with greenery and capers.



The khachapuri (£7), alas, were again of the cheesy pitta bread style I'd tried in Baltic, if a lot nicer. (This did make me wonder whether there is a Georgian style and another non-Georgian style?) The accompanying pot of lobio was a moreish mix of chopped up kidney beans, garlic, walnuts and lemon juice.



Of the mains, deruni (£8) featured two potato pancakes, filled with nicely browned, buttery button mushrooms and herbs and served with a pot of sour cream.



The neck of lamb was delectably pink and tender -- though that probably rendered it not very authentically Eastern European. At £18 it was the joint second most expensive thing on the menu, which rather suggest the prices have come down somewhat since the place first opened. It was served in a very artistic arrangement with sides of rice, grilled aubergine and a tomato-y sauce.



We weren't exactly hungry after all that, but the desert menu was too tempting to resist. I had vareniki (£6), a surprisingly light version of these ravioli-styled dumplings filled with pleasantly sour cherries and served with more sour cream. (Vareniki are basically the same thing as pelmeni, only with vegetarian fillings rather than meat, which usually means either curd cheese or fruit.) I was very sad to discover I was too full to finish the rather generous serving.



The cherry cheese-cake (£6) was nice if not particularly unusual, while the poppy-seed cake (£7) came daintily encased in chocolate and accompanied by rum and raisin ice cream.



With two bottles of wine and service, the bill came just under £120 for three -- pretty decent value. I just hope they are making enough because on our Friday night visit the place was barely half full, with most tables speaking in Russian.

Conclusion: by a long way the best Eastern European restaurant I've been to in London.

Divo, 12 Waterloo Place, SW1Y 4AU; Tel. 0207 4841355; Tube: Picadilly; www.divo-restaurant.co.uk

Morgan M

Morgan M has had a long wait on my to-visit list, thanks to its relatively hefty prices and far into Islington location (ie en route you go past lots of other nice places so have to bee very determined and not too hungry to keep going). An impromptu celebration finally gave the excuse for the trip earlier this week. Sadly we'd both forgotten our phones at home and the battery in the camera died that very day, so you will have to rely on their website for photos of the artfully arranged food and on my fickle memory for what we actually ate. (The hand-written bill is no help either, simply saying we had the set menu and detailing the drinks, though perhaps it is a better strategy than trustring all to a machine!)
The room itself is quite small and feels a bit like the living room of someone quite rich but not very proficient in interior decorating. Their are splashes of the modern in geometric colour-block paintings, and then swirls of the old-fashioned and kitch in the ornamental plates displayed on one of the walls.
We were quickly won over by the friendly and efficient service though, with the tap water appearing immediately from an elegant jug stored on the service station, and the aperitifs following soon after. It was all in such stark contrast to the experience at Beach Blanket Babylon a few days previously, and the comparison also made the prices seem more reasonable. The a la carte comes in at £36 for three courses, though a few of the options carry hefty supplements (as much as £7.50 for cheese instead of desert, though admittedly from a rather excellent looking trolley selection), and there is also a longer tasting menu.
Four well-cooked scallops (£5.50 supplement) are accompanied by a white chicory tarte tatin, nice but a little too acidic for my taste, a creamy sauce (onion soubise) and some tiny pickled onions. The ravioli come as three large-ish parcels, stuffed with an earthy mix of vegetables, a snail hiding in each one. It's a revelation that snails can taste of anything other than garlic butter, though a more generous sprinkling of the creatures would have been nice.
To follow, the filet of venison is beautifully pink and tender, meat at its best, and comes with a gamey dose of hare ravioli. The lamb (supplement £6.50) appears in three guises -- the shoulder is confit-ed, the rack is roasted, and I've forgotten the third (damn those forgotten phones).
The sommelier recommends a gorgeous bottle of French pinot noir for 25, not blinking at my request for something on the cheap side and educating me that it's not just new world countries that can do wonders with that notoriously temperamental grape.
Normally I don't even bother ordering desert, but here it's included and arguably turns out to be my highlight of the meal. The chocolate moelleux is dark, dense, bitter and rich all at once. The accompanying shot glass of mandarin juice is bizarre but provides a refreshing contrast. The passion fruit soufflé was also pretty good.
At the end of the meal, Morgan M himself appeared, smiley in pristine chef's whites, and asked us whether we'd enjoyed the meal, and what we'd liked the best.

So to sum up, I certainly would not go back for the decor - but I will be back at the next opportunity for more of the impeccable food and the equally impeccable service.

Morgan M Restaurant, 489 Liverpool Road, Islington, N7 8NS; Tel. 020 7609 3560; Tube: Highbury and Islington; www.morganm.com

St Moritz - gloriously cheesy

As someone who once managed to put on half a stone on a four-day "skiing" break in the French Alps, I have to admit to impartiality - I love fondue. And as St Moritz is the only place I know of in central London that serve fondue, I am also rather fond of St Moritz. It's located in the heart of Soho, in a small, old half-timbered house done up to look like a Swiss chalet. There's one of those long horn things on the wall, and framed postcards advertising Swiss cheese. The waitresses are dressed in Swiss national costume and the plates have pictures of cute little cows chewing on oversized daisies. Sure, it's kitsch, and it's not going to win any contemporary style awards. But to my mind, cosy and comfortable often beats stylish.
The menu includes raclette as a starter, and other Swiss specialities such as rosti. For me though, it had to be fondue. The selection includes a meat one, and a Chinese one (I guess a version of the fiery Sizchuanese hotpot), but we went for the "forestiere" - a heaven-made combination of mushrooms and cheese. I was very pleasantly surprised by the mushrooms - there lots of them, and of the proper wild, non-dried variety. The dish smelled of autumn. It came with a basket of bread, and we order a side of new potatoes for dipping as well (£3.50). If you want to pretend that you are being healthy you can also dip in seasonal vegetables. The fondue was huge and we struggled to finish it (we did of course, what kind of a cheese fiend would I be otherwise!). The wine menu is interesting. They have a large selection of whites, reds, roses and bubbles -- but they are all Swiss, as is the only beer on offer. We opted for Merlot rose from the Ticino canton (£20.95), which proves refreshingly crisp and dry for a rose, and nicely cuts through the richness of the cheese. Licking the last bits of cheese off my fork, I wished I could eat fondue every day. But luckily for Britain's obesity statistics I don't -- yet.
St Moritz, 161 Wardour Street, Soho, W1V 3TA; Tel: 020 7734 3324; Tube: Tottenham Court Road; www.stmoritz-restaurant.co.uk

The Fat Duck

It's not really the kind of place that needs a jokey headline, or much of an introduction. But it does make a rather worthy subject for my 100th post (yay!).

We planned the trip for months in advance, the booking line on speed dial for The Day Three Months before THE Day (they take bookings up to three months in advance), credit cards at the ready.

A rather unglamorous train trip from Paddington to Maidenhead, followed by a £5 taxi ride and we were standing on a narrow pavement outside an unassuming white washed, centuries old house. Inside, it was all white walls and tablecloths, sparkling glasses and dark wooden beams. The clientele was a mix of those for whom this was clearly a special occasion and those who looked they could afford to become regulars. There was a slight awe in the air, but it wasn't a stuffy, must-wear-jacket-and-tie kind of place.

We decided to go the whole hog -- aperitifs of champagne (we didn't like to ask how much, but the bill shows up about £17 a glass), the tasting menu (£115) and the accompanying wine selection (£90). I wanted to ask for tap water, but was over-ruled, so we had the £3.50 bottled stuff instead. All in all, it added up to about £250 a head. But was it worth it?...

At the end of the meal you each get an envelope of posh, strokeable paper with a Fat Duck seal, a copy of the menu concealed inside. So even though I've put off writing the review for months -- overwhelmed by the task -- I can tell you exactly what we had.


It started with nitro-green tea and lime mousse . The waitress produced a little blob, not dissimilar in appearance to hair mousse, out of an old-fashioned looking metal dispenser. She then zapped it with liquid nitrogen and told us to put the whole thing in the mouth in one go. On the tongue, it had a crunchy, frozen shell and then melted into lemony, liquidy refreshness.

A single oyster was served in its shell with passion fruit jelly and lavender , the textures matching nicely to create a slightly sweet, slithery, but not unpleasant sensation.

The pommery grain mustard ice cream was served a small, creamy coloured blob in a large white bowl, with the red cabbage gazpazcho added a little later in keeping with the theatricality of the place.

The parade of appetisers also featured jelly of quail, langoustine cream and parfait of foie gras before culminating in a three-way experience of the forest. A wooden tray of oak moss was placed on the table and "watered" with dry ice to produce clouds of foresty, mossy mist. We inhaled this while treating our taste buds to a tiny, earthy square of truffle toast and a sliver of moss jelly served in a little plastic box and eaten by letting it dissolve on your tongue. All that was accompanied by a German white, 2005 Iphofer Kronsberg Silvaner Spatlese Trocken (though I don't remember it tasting of celeriac!)

But even though the portions are tiny, this is certainly not a place you leave huyngry. Firstly, the dishes are numerous (including the appetisers, we counted 18!) and secondly throughout the meal, you can choose from a tasty bread basket selection.

Next came one of the Fat Duck's signature dishes, snail porridge. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but of all the dishes, this was the one that disappointed me most. It actually consisted of some normal-tasting porridge (though, to be fair it an unnatural shade of green), topped with normal, de-shelled snails and decorated with Joselito ham and shaved fennel and washed down with a glass of red, the 2004 Vin de Pays des Cote Catalanes, Le Soula, G. Gauby, Roussilon.

Then, to show that even molecular gastronomes aren't averse to using top-end ingredients, came the luxuriously creamy roast foie gras, served on plate decorated with streaks of cherry and chamomile sauces and tiny cubes of almond fluid gel. I was unconvinced by the jelly, though the Husband (generally a bigger fan of nursery food!) complemented it for the strong flavour. The 2003 Vinoptima Gewurtzraminder Reserve from Gisborne in New Zealand was a surprisingly nice accompaniment, considering that I don't like sweet wines.

Next another much-written-about dish. The "Sound of the sea" came accompanied by a tiny little ipod, hidden in a conch shell and programmed with swooshy sea sounds. The dish itself looked like a pebbly beach, topped with some foam and some things that may have been sea weed or sea creatures, and matched with a pungent, maritime smell. While I was not convinced by the flavours, you certainly couldn't fault it as a recreation of the sea for all the senses. It was served with Rashiku Junmai sake, which apparently has similar flavour characteristics to a Sauvignon blanc.

Salmon poached with liquorice featured a delicately flavoured (cooked sous vide?) piece of salmon, encased in sticky, sickly brown coating of (admittedly relatively mild flavoured) liquorice. It was served with two rather gorgeous spears of asparagus on streaks of vanilla mayonnaise and Manni olive oil , the latter fittingly created as part of a science project! Whether you enjoyed the dish or not I think boiled down to which side of the fence you are with regards to liquorish. The glass was topped up with 2001 Quinta da Falorca Reserva from Dao in Portugal.

Next was the Ballotine of Anjou pigeon with a very bloody black pudding, Chinese pigeon cracker, picking brine and spiced juices and a glass of gutsy 1999 Barolo from Piedmont.

The hot and iced tea was a truly amazing feat of science. The left half the cup of lemony, black, slightly sweet, slightly solidified liquid was hot. And the right half was ice-cold. You could feel the divide on your lips as it slipped down. Another one to file under "how the heck did he do that?!".

Then it was time for some rosy-coloured British nostalgia, a concept which in my mind is always illustrated by idyllic images of the British seaside and those mildly smutty seaside postcards circa 1950s. Mrs Marshall's Margeret cornet was a dinky little ice cream cone accompanied by a little leaflet. From there, we learnt that the rather pretty looking Agnes Bertha Marshall may have invented the edible ice cream cone back in 1886 and who suggested making ice cream using liquid gas more than a century ago.

The Pine-sherbet fountain was just a cute hark back to childhood, not dissimilar to those sugar fixes from the local corner shop of old.


The Mango and Douglas fir puree, Bavarois of lyche and mango, blackcurrant sorbet looked very pretty was ultimately a bit forgettable, but luckily its accompanying beverage was not. The 2003 Icewine from Pelee Island Winery, Ontario was for me the most bizarre thing on the drinks list -- they make wine in Canada?? Icewine, I discover is actually made from grapes that have been frozen while still on the vine, so perhaps it's ideally suited for cold climes. It was sweet, but clean and refreshing tasting, though that could have just been a psychological reaction to the word "ice" in the name.

The Carrot and orange tuile came as an odd-looking crispy lollypop, contrasted with a cube of beetroot jelly.

The Parsnip cereal came in a cute little pale green cereal box with the Fat Duck logo, and looked a bit like cornflakes. It came with parsnip milk.


The Nitro scrambled egg and bacon ice cream, pain perdu and tea jelly was truly amazing. The waitress came up with one of those shaped cardboard egg boxes, full of whole-looking egg shells into which they had cunningly put the egg and bacon ice cream mix. She then cracked the eggs into a shiny copper saucepan and zapped them with the nitrogen into ice cream. It tasted nice too - a luxurious take on breakfast in the middle of a very extravagant lunch. The accompaniment was a sweet, fruity glass of 2004 Jurancon, Uroulat, C. Hours, France.

We just about had room for the Whisky wine gums, violet tartlet before stumbling out into the daylight, about four hours after we first went in! And the verdict? Well worth the money (though probably as a once-in-a-lifetime treat).

19 Numara Bos Cirrik - pide paradise

Of the Turkish places I have sampled along the stretch of multi-cultural Dalston, this is my favourite -- even it it's not frequented by Gilbert and George . The decor frills-free and plastic-tabled, with the attention focused on the large oven by the back wall. In there they make the house speciality, pideler, or Turkish pizzas. Mine was piled high with onions, other veg, cheese and spicy sausage. It was a little greasy but utterly more-ish. The various kebabs, served with lashings of yoghurt, were also very good. We couldn't finish them though, having feasted on houmous with warm bread and tiny black, chilly-covered olives, as well as the freebie onion salads. A bit of googling suggests one of them might have been izgara soğan (grilled onion with pomegranate and turnip sauce). We were stuffed for around £10 ahead, having washed the grub down with some beers from the off-licence next door (I think it was run by Poles, they were very excited when I bought Okocim). The restaurant is licensed though, and offers Effes beer as well as a small selection of wines. The service is quick, making this an ideal place for a pre-gig meal if you're heading to the near-by Vortex. Which, incidentally, has had a re-fit -- it now features Pizza Express style marble-topped tables, and no longer allows you to order in takeaways, but it has retained the charm, the good music, and the interesting selection of bottled beers.

19 Numara Bos Cirrik; 34 Stoke Newington Road; Dalston; N16 7XJ; Tel: 02072490400; Train: Dalston Kingsland, or buses including the 243.

Metrogusto - a new discovery

We had been to see Ratatouille at the cinema and, craving some hearty French or mediterranean fair, set off up Upper Street towards Sacre Coeur or Le Mercury. Just before reaching the former though, our attention was caught by a place that looked a bit like an art shop but actually seemed to be full of people eating food at candle-lit tables. And so, only about 5 years after it opened, we discovered Metrogusto.

Inside, the walls are decorated with dozens of large, colourful canvasses. My favourite was the giant squirrel with a manic look in his eye. The atmosphere is warm, romantic even. We ordered a bottle of prosecco (£24.50) and tucked into some delicious warm bread rolls with sun-dried tomatoes. The yeasty dough pleasantly reminded of Russian pasties, pirozhki .

(photo from another visit)

On Sundays and pre-theatre they have a good value two-course menu with two courses for £14.50. From this, the husband's grilled aubergine with pesto sauce & toasted walnut bread was luscious and earthy - comparable perhaps, we thought, to Rémy's ratatouille. My eyes (and belly) had been tempted by the a la carte, so I started with the "flat asparagus pancake with parmesan sauce" (£7.50). Perhaps foolishly I had actually envisaged a green pancake made from asparagus (I've made some lovely aubergine pancakes at home), sprinked with parmesan shavings. Instead, I got some normal asparagus tips wrapped in a pancake and smothered in a creamy balsamic sauce. It was nice, but not as nice as the grilled aubergine (plus I couldn't taste the parmesan - never a plus for a cheese fiend).

And, darn him, the husband won with the main course as well - baked chicken breast with gruyere & oregano sauce. Now here the cheese was very clearly present in all its melting gooey gorgeousness. But best of all was the chicken itself - beautifully juicy, and cooked not for a second longer than was needed to stop it from being pink.
That said, my veal ravioli with butter and sage sauce (£12.50) was also very good. Aong with chicken (so easy to overcook), I think ravioli make a good test for truly great cooking, as all to often they just taste of stuffed pasta and you can't quite tell what the stuffing actually is. Here though, I could both see and taste juicy shreds of gamey veal inside the large discounts of home-made tasting pasta.

The people at the table next to us were raving about the basil ice cream which came with their chocolate cake. But sadly we were too full to even contemplate trying this (I knew we shouldn't have had the popcorn). On the plus side though, that gives us a very good excuse to come back - and soon.

Metrogusto, 13 Theberton Street, N1 0QY; Tel. 020 7226 9400; Tube: Angel; www.metrogusto.co.uk

The Eagle - worth pawning for

Another favourite which has hitherto evaded a review is The Eagle. Firstly, any pub that stars in a nursery rhyme -- and in a depraved one at that -- deserves serious kudos.
Up and down the city road,
In and out the Eagle,
That’s the way the money goes,
Pop! goes the weasel
It all sounds innocent enough, but actually the last line is said to refer to local workers pawning their tools at the end of a working week (a weasel is apparently some kind of yarn measuring device) to fund a few rounds down the pub. Very educational.

I'm not sure many people pawn stuff to drink here these days, though it's not the cheapest place in the world. But it has plenty to recommend itself. There's a great selection of drinks, including regularly changing cask ales. Inside, lights twinkle around the dark wood bar. There's pretty wall paper and chandeliers. And best of all there is a huge (by central London standards) beer garden, with ramshackle furniture and leafy trees. During the last world cup, they found lots of old portable tellies somewhere (some black and white!) plonked one on each table in the garden. Seeing as this is a food-reviewing blog, I suppose I'd better mention that too. The menu features burgers, snacks, roasts etc -- all simple, but good stuff that you'd expect in any gastro pub these days. Last week, we sampled the salads (£8ish). Mine featured warm new potatoes, chorizo, cheese, sundried tomatoes and green leaves. It was gorgeous. The husband's Caesar salad had iceberg lettuce, generous shavings of parmesan and chunks of char-grilled chicken. Normally though I skip the salad and go for potato wedges -- either with cheddar and chorizo or with stilton. For about £3.50 you get a large plate which perfectly soaks up the beer without denting your night out budget too much.

Incidentally the other Eagle , the so-called original gastro pub on Farringdon Road, is somewhere I haven't taken to. We visited twice over the years and it always felt a bit chaotic and rushed. The menu above the open plan kitchen seemed limited (last time I had something which turned out to be not dissimilar to philadelphia on toast, which for about £6 was a bit much). But may be I am just uncouth - I'd rather pawn my wares for good old potato wedges.

The Eagle, Shepherdess Walk, City Road, N1 7LB; Tube: Old Street

Little Bay - big food, big decor

I've been writing this blog - admittedly with varying regularity - for nearly 2 years now. So I am surprised to discover how many of my local, everyday favourites have as yet escaped being featured.
One such place is Little Bay, part of a mini chain of wackily decorated, ridiculously cheap, vaguely French restaurants. The walls are dark red, decorated with white silhouettes of mythical themes. There is a giant gold head protruding from the wall, floor to ceiling. Mesh and baubles hang off metallic chandeliers. It fells romantic, decadent and unapologetically kitsch. And if you get there before 7pm you can get a huge bowl of mussels in creamy white wine loveliness (or any other starter) for £2.25, followed by juicy duck breast with red cabbage and a hexagonal leek-filled pastry for £6.45. After 7, the starters go up to a still-very-reasonable £3.25 and the mains to £8.45.
There's a decent wine list, Budvar on tap, friendly service from young foreign-sounding waiters and utterly more-ish chips cooked in goose fat (£2.25). Last week, they provided plentiful tap water and happily refilled our free bread basket (you have to mop up every bit of those mussel juices).
As you can probably tell by now, I love the place. According to google, it's owned by a Serb called Peter Ilic, who also runs the LMNT restaurants while his wife Grace runs my other romance-on-a-budget favourite, Le Mercury on Upper Street. In checking out the Little Bay website for this review I have discovered two more cool things: they have a branch in Belgrade and the one in Battersea has live opera six nights a week.

Little Bay, 171 Farringdon Rd, EC1R 3AL; Tel. 0207 3724699; Tube: Farringdon; http://www.littlebay.co.uk