Although Casa Brindisa in South Ken was far from “truly terrible” it certainly had enough fatal flaws to sharpen my claws on and ensure that I don’t visit again. Probably ever. Now don’t get me wrong, I really did want to like it and I tried very hard indeed. I love Brindisa. If ever I need decent paella rice, quince paste, chorizo or any other number of Spanish ingredients, their Borough shop would always be one of my first ports of call, however that doesn’t mean that they can automatically use those top notch ingredients to serve up a good meal as V and I found out to our detriment.

Croquetas are one of my favourite Spanish dishes and as such I tend to have high expectations. Although they won't be taking the Croqueta Cup for the best ones that I have ever tasted the ham and chicken ones were good and consequently the highlight of the meal. Nice and light with thin strands of chicken and ham flecked throughout the creamy interior and just being held together by the crispy outer shell. I would have those again.

Beetroot and Picos blue cheese salad with walnut vinagreta had all the markings from the menu description of being very tasty indeed. The individual ingredients were indeed rather yummy. That said the salad had not been very well combined, lacked enough interesting dressing and walnuts seemed added as a sort of “oh bugger they're on the menu so we'd better add them to the plate” afterthought. Not a bad side dish though.

Baked goats cheese was never going to win any beauty paegent prizes and was a bit too sickly due to the honey it had been soaked in after being deep fried. It was quite tasty in a creamy rich sort of way and as a part of a tapas selection but even with my propensity towards rich and sweet food I couldn't have managed a whole one. Perhaps adding something tangy to cut through the sweet cloying cheese may have improved it.

Tortilla: Imagine a balmy summer day, blue skies punctuated by fluffy little cotton wool clouds, sat on a blanket with a bottle of something chilled and fizzy. Wouldn't an accompanying slice of cold tortilla be rather tasty? Contrast that mental image with a window table in a restaurant on one of the coldest nights this winter with other piping hot food on the table, and a cold tortilla is just disappointing. (I did check and it was apparently supposed to be served “between hot and cold” – it wasn’t.) Flavour was added by the presence of caramelised onions in the potato and egg mix but the brown of the sweet onions also had a slightly unfortunate aesthetic effect rendering it not dissimilar to an eve’s pudding mix where the apples have been left out a little too long and oxidised brown. In all though, it was rather hard to detect any distinct flavours in the tortilla itself as someone had drenched the dish prior to serving in olive oil Jamie Oliver stylee. This bath of oil meant that not only did the dish look greasy, but all I could taste was a strong flavour of oil which was a shame. I’m convinced that had the dish been fresh and warm without the oil innondation it would have been a really pleasant tortilla (although sadly not as good as the one at Tortilla Trophy winners Angels & Gypsies).

Vegetarian bomba. £2.50 giant croqueta of vegetable, breadcrumbed and fried. Nice enough to make it worth its £2.75 price tag.

King prawns with garlic and chilli The prawns were juicy and succulent with a sweet flavoured flesh although perhaps this sweetness was enhanced by the overwhelming burnt flavour of the scraps of garlic and chilli in the oil that they were sat in. There was no spicy kick to these prawns at all. I'm sad to say that I've inherited a pretty rubbish chilli tolerance level from my father however even when I intrepidly chewed on the burnt, dried out husk of a chilli languishing in the oil, heat effect was minimal. Not even a warm, tingly murmur.

Iberico de Belota Chorizo came served in thin slices and was a very generous sized portion indeed, so much so that half of it needed to be taken home and will certainly not go to waste. Provenance of great ingredients is not in any doubt here. There is, however, disparity in the pricing of dishes; five indifferent prawns for £8.50 or enough chorizo for four for £5.25. Granted the prawns involve more preparation but that chorizo was fabulous! Rich and greasy with just the right bite of smokey paprika, I would have been happy paying the same for a good third less.

Service was quite random, one two occasions the same waitress bought differing trays of someone else’s food to our table and tried to serve it. On other occasions catching an eye became something of a game.

The service lowlight for me, however was when dessert arrived. A slice of almond cake was served sat on top of an ugly smear of orange coloured puree. Rather annoyingly, I’m allergic to a variety of fruits and veg (not great for someone who enjoys food as much as me!) and therefore have to be a bit careful about what I eat so we thought we’d better check it out. Two separate serving staff (mis)identified the smear as either caramel, sweet potato or orange despite my having highlighted an allergy at the table that can result in anaphylactic shock. Kinda worrying.

Our other dessert of Turron Mousse with PX soaked raisins was pretty decent and not bad value at £5.50 but more raisins please!

On the wine front the cava that we ordered was nice (my favourite non-committal adjective again). A glass of Pedro Ximenez Verastegui with dessert, however, was unlike any other PX I have ever tasted. Not in a good way either. It lacked the blast of raisiny, syrupy Mmmmmm that I normally look forward to in a PX. My fault really as I should have noted the description of “light in colour” but disappointing nonetheless.

In summary, Casa Brindisa really does have excellent raw ingredients. Their hams are unsurpassable. That said, any idiot can buy really excellent ingredients and put them on a plate, it takes a bit of culinary skill and alchemy to then turn those ingredients into something special and this is where Casa Brindisa just couldn’t make the leap for me. The true measure of value of a restaurant is when the bill comes. I have been faced with restaurant bills for several hundred pounds and not flinched because the meal has been so utterly excellent that I would happily have signed away the rights to any future first born child without batting an eyelid whereas on this occasion all eyebrows were raised in unison at £90 for two as this really didn’t feel like good value at all. Until my visit the name Brindisa had been synonymous with really good Spanish food but the South Ken outpost has not only shaken, but uprooted this belief. They really need to sort their act out if they aren't to damage the brand for the other stores and eateries. on the other hand maybe the brand is to blame, had I eaten this meal at an unnamed tapas restaurant I would probably thought it ok and not gone out of my way to return but I expected more from Brindisa, hoisted by their own petard maybe? Rant over, promise.

Visit: Jan 2012

According to my non-city dwelling Mum there can’t be a recession if a restaurant is packed on a Monday night. I see her point but don’t necessarily agree. To me there are two other possibilities. 1) said restaurant is very good and therefore merits being busy or 2) you are round the corner from the hedge fund Mecca that is Berkeley Square home to bankers who aren't traditionally stereotyped as poor. Or it could be a combination of both. Let’s see…

Upon entering we were greeted by not one smiling member of staff, not two, or even three but FIVE people. Quite the welcoming committee. Bar Boulud itself was loud, very loud indeed, mainly due to the quantity of people crammed into the bar area. If a quiet romantic dinner is your agenda either avoid or make sure you get a table in the back room I reckon. It’s also pretty male dominated but for some reason I’ve never found that to be a problem….

I had been wanting to try Bar Boulud for ages having devoured one of my top 5 meals of all time in Boulud's eponymous restaurant Daniel in New York in late 2010 but for some reason just hadn't got round to it. Weird considering I had been so excited at the idea of Daniel Boulud's first London outpost but que sera. Decor wise, I loved the wine themed art; stained glass windows in the shape of wine glasses and literal wine stains on blotting paper and the layout of the restaurant stops it feeling too huge and impersonal for such a large number of covers.

Bar Boulud’s menu is constructed in quite a hotch potch kind of way where sometimes the price seems to be the only way of determining if something is an entrée or a main course- although even this doesn’t necessarily follow. There is also a very wide selection of food on offer, do they specialise in sausages of which there are many options? or burgers? or seafood? or charcuterie? Its a minefield but who cares, its all good. Due to this we ended up ordering quite a lot of food. Most of it pig based.

As a kind of pre-starter or “Little Bite” as they call them, we ordered the Croustillants de Porc- essentially pork scratchings, ears and some roasted crispy pork belly. The pork scratchings had a five spice/star anise type dusting which was much tastier than I had expected it to be.

We followed this with a large mixed charcuterie platter consisting of “Pâté grand-mère”(a smooth pâté of chicken liver & pork flavoured with cognac), “Pâté grand-père” (a more coarse pâté including foie gras, truffle juice and port)some jambon de Paris and some other sliced meaty bits and bobs and tiny little onions and cornichons. My dad deemed the ham to be the best he had ever tasted and the Pâté grand-père to be excellent which is no slight praise at all coming from a man who spends hours smoking and shooting things (not in that order) and making various pies and terrines.

I had the “Piggie Burger” as my main and never was a dish more accurately named. Of course two previous courses of pig would be enough for a normal mortal but no, I couldn’t resist the charms of a burger offering a topping of bbq pulled pork. The burger was excellent on its own, nice and pink inside and oozing greasy loveliness. The cheddar topped bun made a nice change to the recent rash of brioche burger buns (not that a brioche doesn't have a valid place in burgerdom). In all honesty I wasn't getting much flavour in the “green chilli mayonnaise” but this didn't bother me as personally the highlight ingredient was always going to be the pulled pork. Shiny and rich with tangy barbecue sauce, the pork melted in the mouth and would have slid straight off the burger if not secured with a wooden stake.

Despite being a wildly inappropriate side order to have with a burger, I just had to try the truffled mash which at £4.25 seemed like a pretty good deal. It tasted sublime. Nice and truffly and clearly the chef had been following the cardiac arrest inducing 50% potato vs. 50% butter/cream rule judging by the way it slid from its mini pan in a neat dollop on my plate.

Having protested that I couldn’t possibly fit another mouthful in (and in all honesty probably shouldn’t have) I fell foul of the temptations of the Coupe Peppermint. What was described as a flourless sponge was heavier than the description suggests and essentially a very rich dense chocolate brownie. Don't take that as a moan however as it was deliciously moist and the dark chocolate hot sauce and mint choc icecream were beautiful. Although chocolate based, it was one of the more unusual chocolate desserts that I have eaten recently. It was also the first time in years that I have breached my (admittedly very weird and utterly unexplainable) rule of never mixing hot and cold foods together – call me a freak but normally I hate it.

I really, really wanted to try the madeleines and macarons but even I have some limits to gluttony unfortunately.

There was an excellent wine list at Bar Boulud but I'm afraid all I can remember is lashings and lashings of pig. It was nice wine though and went well with pig…

Ultimately, if you cook me a meal that involves pig, foie gras, truffles and peppermint chocolate I’m going to be hard pushed not to be happy about it (unless you mix them all together in one dish, that would be just horrid). Would I go back? Yes. Especially as they do a prix fixe menu for £23 for 3 courses at lunch and early doors every day.

So in summary and back to my two options from the opening, was it so busy because its good or because of the bankers? A bit of both I guess but definitely more of the former, maybe those bankers just have good taste!

PS Did I mention that they serve pig?

Visit: Jan 2012

Dear Ping Pong,

Sit down for a minute, we need to talk. As I walked from Waterloo station to the South Bank last night I had one of those happy, glowy “I love being a Londoner” moments. Hustle and bustle all around me, Evening Standard under my arm and a sense of purpose in the air. Soft as it sounds I couldn't remember the last time I felt happier with my lot. I even felt momentarily excited about the Olympics. Then I walked into your South Bank branch.

Oh Ping Pong! We were so good together, why did you have to change? Why did you remove all the good things from the menu like the dark coloured prawn and garlic dumplings that actually had some FLAVOUR? I mourn the passing of the wonderful five spice pork crackling which was so amazing and addictive that a friend actually once posted me a portion as a present to my office?! Why has traditional recipe pork and prawn sui mai become the rather drier and crumbly chicken sui mai?
Why have the number of meat-based dim sums diminished exponentially in the last 18 months leaving us with a majority of a) fairly bland prawn, b) fairly bland crab or c) fairly bland prawn and crab?

Why did you employ a supercilious, sarcastic, smarmy excuse for a manager/maitre d' when the old one was so lovely?

When did you start to think that it is acceptable to charge £6.95 for 4 tiny rather dry ribs drizzled with watered down honey liquid? I used to think that every pretty little morsel that I popped into my mouth was a bite of deliciousness but last night found myself thinking “well that was £1.80 per mouthful”, was it worth it? And the answer, dear Ping Pong, was a resounding NO.

Don't misinterpret me, I don't hate you, I'm not cross, I'm just disappointed in you and doesn't that always feel so much worse?

Why do you serve weird baby poo coloured liquid described as “lemon and tamarind dip” with your prawn crackers, the flavour of which more closely ressembles Flash floor cleaner than any known foodstuff?

Why has the kitchen service become so erratic that recently the springy gelatinous dumpling casing has melted into a puddle away from its filling like the aftermath of a hydrogen bomb whilst simultaneously welding itself to the bottom of the bamboo steaming basket making removal of the dim sum in one piece an effort worthy of Krypton Factor status? What did I do to you to deserve such treatment, I just don't understand?

Why did you change the sauce on your satay squid by replacing a glorious, thick, peanutty gloop with thin and runny gunk at the bottom of the plate tasting vaguely of something a peanut once nodded at?

Why have a special section on your order form asking me what time I want to be out of the restaurant only to serve the bulk of my order two minutes before you know that I need to be gone (having been there an hour)? I love the idea of you but I'm just not IN love with you.

Why on my penultimate visit did the people sat next to me who arrived at the same time get 10 dishes within 10 minutes and I was waiting for many of the same dishes for over 30 minutes? You said that you were sorry and that you didn't mean it but it hurt nonetheless.

A lot of my blogging friends told me you were bad for me and that I could do better but I didn't listen, I was taken in by your charms. I used to love you, like REALLY love you. Ok, so you have never been a Yauatcha or a Hakkasan but that has never been your market. You used to offer reasonably priced, tasty dim sum served quickly along with a nice cocktail or two. But no more, your star that shone so brightly for me has ascended and crashed, burnt out. But the important thing is the food used to be reminiscent of proper dim sum albeit of a more fast food quality than the big players. Now it has gradually morphed into just a bastardisation of something vaguely oriental with the addition of Har Gau and Shu Mai to keep it moderately “authentic”. This isn't the sort of dim sum that anyone on the back streets of downtown Kowloon would recognise and it is deluding and defrauding anyone who sees this is a real dim sum experience. I think maybe we should start seeing other people.

When you started out you were a novelty both in terms of dim sum and fast food. At the time London was comparatively bereft of cost effective quick options outside of the MacDonalds/ Starbucks/Pret model and you rode into town like a knight in shining armour. Now, however, there is a wealth of opportunity and choice in your market segment covering all the cuisines of the globe. Traditionally a good business model would advise upping your game as more competition enters the market, not to bury your head in the sand and cower with your tail between your legs. For god's sake man, don't become the Angus Steakhouse of the Oriental food world! Scrape yourself up, give yourself a good talking to, have some pride and give me my good food back!

On the upside your duck spring rolls are still nice but that's about it. Maybe in time we could try being friends but right now I think we need some space.

Farewell to the Ping Pong of old, you will be dearly missed. A bientot; it's not me, it's you.

Yours, with sadness,
S x

Various visits. Last one: March 2012

Despite being located in the heart of Covent Garden's Theatreland, Joe Allens is not somewhere that you are going to happen upon accidentally. Marked from the exterior by only a small understated sign and New York style door umbrella you wonder what you are descending into as you walk down the rather gloomy stairs towards the inner door. JA is the sister restaurant of the same named New York restaurant and is something of a blueprint of the American outpost. I‘m reliably informed that when the London outpost opened in the 1970s a New York Style bar and restaurant was a novel addition to London, alas that is no longer the case and, in terms of decor、JA looks tired.

Posters from theatre shows of eons past plaster the walls and many of the restaurants patrons are likely to have trodden the boards in years gone by. Over the last decade I don't think that I have ever been in Joe Allens and NOT seen someone that I recognise from the television or stage. That said it is far from being a pretentious, starry s'leb type of venue.

Many other reviews of Joe Allens don't view the food terribly favourably, I tend to agree. If you are all about the food experience and want novel, inventive dishes cooked well at a good price then turn around and walk away as this is not for you. If you want an atmospheric post-theatre fill you up with good company and good wine then stay right where you are. I'd like to be able to report a more diverse selection of dishes from my most recent foray into the Joe Allens menu but alas I cannot because why would you order anything else when you can eat one of their burgers? A, E and I (missing only ‘O’ and'U') all ordered variations on a theme of burger, cooked medium or done through with either cheese, bacon, none or both. My burger was pretty rare, thick and juicy and of a level of greasiness where it is safest to keep a napkin fairly close to hand throughout. Served with raw red onion rings, plenty of gherkin and a sweet sweet bun, for me its how a burger should be, bun, for me its how a burger should be.

Looking around it is clear that the “secret, off menu burger” at Joe Allens is definitely not secret (in fact they now seem to mention it on their website whilst still referring to it as “secret” hmmmmm). I reckon that around 40% of the orders on tables surrounding mine involved burger.

I'm not a big fan of the super crunchy fries that seem to attract adulation at the moment in cyberspace so the salty skin on fries with a big pot of mayonnaise worked well for me.

All washed down with a perfectly drinkable bottle of Siglo Rioja. Very satisfying indeed. The cocktail list is pretty extensive. Personally no visit to JA can be complete without a “Geronimo”, something you definitely need to cry if you even think about ordering more than one. Served in a chilled wine glass, the Geronimo is a mix of vodka, wine glass, the geronimo is a mix of vodka, frangelico and creme de cacao and is a sweet blast of hazelnutty deliciousness, searing your mouth with alcohol and warming the very cockles of your being. Yes, I like it that much.

It would be a crime to write any post on Joe Allens without mentioning the legend that is Jimmy the pianist. His knowledge of the London theatre scene is virtually unrivalled and he loves any morsel of theatre gossip that you may have. Having now tinkled the ivories at Joe Allen's for several decades he counts many friends amongst the restaurant's clientele and his playing is often punctuated by long pauses to chat to any passing actor or actress. Bearing a twinkle in his eye and a viciously sharp sense of humour, no visit would be complete without him.

To sum up, its no gastronomic paradise, but JA delivers exactly what you sometimes need. A late night greasy burger, some good drinks, a friendly face and a tinkling piano in the corner. To utterly misquote the film line that never was; “play it again Jimmy” and whilst you keep on playing I will keep coming.

Various visits, most recent Jan 2012

Wimbledon isn't know for its wealth of culinary creativity. Wimbledon town is home to a plethora of eateries many of which sadly are more of the Walkabout/Nandos variety. There is even an establishment called Jimmy Spice's “World Buffet” which boasts of its prowess in the fields of Chinese, Indian, Italian and Thai cuisine. (£9.99 for unlimited Tikka masala with your lasagne with your spring rolls anyone?) An impressive breadth of purported skill for any chef.

If you venture up the hill to swanky Wimbledon Village, the inhabitants may be somewhat wealthier but the food on offer to them is still not as high quality and varied as you might hope. There are, of course, exceptions to this rather bold statement; the Lighthouse does a decent supper and I'm dying to pay a visit to the comparatively new Lawn Bistro whose menu sounds lip smackingly enticing but in general I wouldn't race across London at the prospect of eating in SW19. I'm quite sure there may be many delightful establishments in both the Village and Town that I just haven't been fortunate enough to visit yet but from experience so far, that has not been the case. Anyway, having set the scene for the general gastronomic malaise in SW19, back to the matter in hand, Sticks n Sushi.

Ordinarily I would have a rant about the use of the rather irritating “n” in the middle of the name. It could be interpreted as an uneccessary attempt to be trendy, albeit in a rather 90's way. One might ask why the more sedate ampersand couldn't have been deployed ? – ‘Sticks & Sushi’ looks much more classy. However, on the basis that S&S (I'm going to use the ampersand even if they don't) already has nine outlets in its native Denmark I will let it drop. Yes, you did read that right. Nine outlets in Denmark then one in Wimbledon, unusual business expansion plan maybe but one that I very, very much hope will work for them- there is certainly the gap in the market.

Located on Wimbledon Hill in the bit that straddles the area between super posh and well, not so posh, its easily accessible and is going to be a big hit. First impressions of the decor are that this is a pretty huge floorspace (maybe explaining why they opened in lower price per sq ft Wimbledon & not Soho). Decorated in the kind of luxe/industrial that Scandinavians seem to do so well; big silver pipes and ducts overhead, a giant brick print curtain across one whole wall but with low lighting, touches of leather and ergonomic wooden seating to keep it classy.

The cocktail list is not massively extensive but uses more unusual Japanese ingredients and had enough choice that I struggled to make my mind up opting first for a yuzu and whisky creation then later for a yuzu martini. I love yuzu and find it unlike any other fruit flavour despite the fact that it is often described as a Japanese lime. They are, however, virtually impossible to find in the UK. Indeed S&S confirmed that theirs are shipped in monthly from Africa.

Yasaisticks (posh name for raw vegetable bits) with miso dip were tasty with the tip offering a rich and powerful umame flavour. The ubiquitous edamame beans served alongside crackers were also fine.

S&S offer a variety different fixed platters of different size and shape some majoring more on the fish side of things others of the cooked chicken variety. Quirky names like “bankrupt”, “green keeper”, “man food” and “four meal drive” give you a clue as to their content. You can also go down the a la carte route but platters are the most cost effective way to get a taste of lots of things.

A wealth of yakitori options are on offer. From the traditional terikayi chicken type options to the less Japanese sounding goats cheese & ham or beef and herb butter they all sounded divine and (unusually for fussy old me) I could have merrily eaten all of them. There are so many bad examples of how not to do fusion cooking out there so it was a pleasant surprise to find one that really works. Although Japan and Denmark are geographically distant, gastronomically there are certain parallels; clean, simple flavours and presentation and a fondness for fish being just a couple!

We opted for a Sticks n Sushi platter with additional choice for three. Salmon, hamachi, prawn & tuna nigiri all consisted of good quality, fresh fish and well seasoned rice. Hard to say anything beyond that, very nice but nigiri is nirigi really. Large Futimaki rolls were equally tasty: ebi tempura being a favourite.

The yakitori was where S&S really shone for me. The tsukune chicken was a stick of seasoned minced chicken meatballs, asparagus with bacon gave a salty crunch but the best by far was the chicken teriyaki with spring onion yakitori. The sauce went beyond the usual teriyaki and was thick, gelatinous and very moreish whilst the chicken was juicy and grilled to perfection.

Highlights of the Uramaki inside out rolls were the ‘Tuna sparkling roll’ – the sparkle taking the form of some orange shiny roe and the ‘Cut the … roll’ consisting of surimi, sugar snap and sesame.

Dessert was one of the real highlights of the meal. Usually in Japanese restaurants (and indeed in Japan itself) there are not a huge variety of desserts designed for the western palate. Mochi and red bean paste take some getting used to. S&S however, has chosen to take the route of offering desserts with a Japanese twist, for example. The desserts on offer are much more varied and interesting than those listed on their website.

Espresso chocolate fondant was topped with crispy caramelised hazelnut pieces and served with a creamy hazelnut ice cream. The fondant was just molten in the middle- a minute more in the oven and we'd have been in trouble- and the flavour of espresso was prominent without being overpowering. All in all, a seriously good dessert. Creamy green tea parfait held a vivid and deep matcha flavour with the red of strawberry nougat made a colourful contrast on the plate. Cubes of financier added a more solid texture to the dish.

Service was extremely attentive and really accommodating. I'm allergic to avocado which can make sushi a minefield but the chef prepared a special platter for me, not something many places would do on a fixed group menu. Both the yakitori and the sushi were both equal in quality to anything that I tried in Japan last month and, in some cases, much better. High up my list for next time will be the scallop kataifi yakitori where scallops are wrapped in a crispy birds nesty thing and also the ebi bites, looks like a type of prawn popcorn – sounds delicious. I will be back again very soon!

18 April 2012