C Food, Camberwell

I've spent the last few days in France by the seaside, sipping (ok, glugging) Provençal rosé, frolicking in the sea and generally having a lovely time. I came back to a slightly greyer London, dejected and tired so I was completely delighted when I arrived at C Food, a new pop-up in Camberwell. Just off the Peckham Road, the courtyard this weekly pop-up is housed in took me right back to the holiday spirit I'd just left behind. When we arrived, musicians were strumming guitars gently, and twinkling fairy lights festooned the space.

Brightly coloured tables and benches are set out for groups to dine at, sharing family style. Held every Sunday until 27th September, for £25 set price for food, the menu kicks off with bundles of peppery radishes and nutty, seeded bread.

Oysters, freshly shucked come at two per person, a fine example, briny with a splash of lemon. We slurped on a blush rosé, £18 per bottle, easing me back from my French binge.

New potatoes, boiled and buttered, scattered with parsley are handed down the table and soft floppy green leaves are dressed with a mustardy vinaigrette. Platters of seafood (for four to share) are served on ice; a dressed crab, rich with brown meat, was eagerly piled on top of the bread and dolloped with dill or plain homemade mayonnaise. Plump prawns are mess-makers, the bowl beneath catching the discarded shells. I've not often had cold mussels but these were sweet and firm, less wobbly than a hot preparation. Smoked salmon is generous (I would have liked some capers, but I do love the things) and a ramekin of smoked mackerel paté benefitted from a squeeze of lemon. As darkness fell, one bottle turned into two and the doom of the impending Monday melted away.

Dessert is simply strawberries drizzled with cream and dotted with mint leaves, a nod to this month's Wimbledon and a refreshing and light end to the meal.

Safe to say I really enjoyed C Food - it was the perfect antidote to the holiday blues. By the end of the meal we were chatting to our neighbours long after the evening had settled in. I could barely believe we were in the hustle and bustle of Camberwell, and it was quite the shock turning back onto the main road. You can buy tickets here.

(I was invited to C Food but all opinions are my own. Obviously.)

If you prefer your mussels hot over cold, I have a cracking recipe for Mussels in Lemongrass Broth in Chinatown Kitchen - you can buy it here.

The Richmond, Hackney

It's in a peculiar place, this one. A good 10 minute stretch of the legs from Dalston Junction, down a rather unremarkable road, The Richmond is striking. Turquoise paint and a striped awning declares it the restaurant it is, with glittering lights - otherwise I would have just wandered past. Inside, they've spent some money fitting it out nicely, with a bar for people to perch at, sipping cocktails, while couples can dine at banquettes, and larger tables get the advantage of natural light by the windows. 

The Richmond is the latest offering from Brett Redman of Elliot's, in Borough Market. Here, like there, the wine list is curated by Isabelle Legeron, forefront of the natural wine movement, and indeed she created RAW, the UK's largest artisan wine fair. This lady knows her shit. Me? Not so much, though I noted some orange wines on the menu. 

Alongside your more traditional menu of starters, mains and pud, there is a selection of raw items, as you might expect from somewhere declaring itself 'East London's first raw bar'. But in addition to this is also an oyster menu, and this night we had kumamotos, those small, sweet Japanese oysters, grown on our home shores of Essex. The 'hearty' from Ireland was the largest of the lot, and somewhat ungraceful to slurp out of the shell - I'm pretty sure my date looked askance - and the Menai rocks from Wales were my favourite, as sweet and mineral as they come. Alongside, a herbacious, a tart and a spicy were the proffered sauces. I usually stick with pure lemon.

Raw red Sicilian prawns aren't just the realm of Rex & Mariano; here, they are neutralised from any squeamishness, having been already relieved of their heads and shells. I was a little disappointed, for the intensity of flavour really is within the heads, but the sweet flesh of the prawns themselves are showcased here. The advertised new season olive oil and lemon seemed to be a little bit lacking, though we were able to lightly spritz them ourselves. For the £9 price tag here, you might find better value in Soho. 

Potentially dish of the evening though were more prawns, this time deep fried whole, which demanded that you eat them whole. The shells were soft but crisp, so that you could crunch through them entirely. A silken aioli and the wedge of lemon were perfect accompaniments; nice and generous with the mayo too, which often restaurants are not. 

Tuna tartare with aubergine, harissa and mint was a flavour sensation - each bite revealed something new. The heat of the harissa was tempered by the cooling silkiness of the smoky aubergine, and upon further nibble, the richness of cumin seed came through, along with a passing glance at preserved lemon. Very clever stuff. 

From such a strong and refined start, it seemed peculiar to order a burger, though I am aware Elliot's has often been recommended. Instead I went for the lamb, celeriac and tenderstem broccoli with anchovy. The meat was well cooked, and the components fitted together on the plate, but I felt the dish was lacking in something - perhaps the excitement of the starters? - it felt a little ...expected. 

I don't think it helped that my companion declared his main as one of the best fish dishes he'd had at a restaurant. Yes, the squid was perfectly cooked, the clams just opened and draped with fronds of wild garlic. The sauce was made from two of the finest sauce liquids known to kitchens - white wine and butter. I was grumpy. 

The Bibb lettuce salad was magic and it perked me back up. The leaves were separated from the heart of the lettuce, and dressed aggressively with a shallot vinaigrette. The thing that sets it apart though was that it was really cold; the most refreshing of salads. I think I ate the whole lot. 

The waiting staff, who were incredibly charming and knew exactly when they were needed and when they weren't - a talent, given the restaurant's infancy - talked me into dessert. My hazelnut cake with ice cream was just the right portion for someone who just wanted a taste of something sweet. 

Across the table, (the less said about the finger poking the better) the banana tart is never something I'd order, as I'm a bit picky about bananas - I like them on the green, slightly flavourless side - but it was incredible. Smooth, caramel and intensely banana-tasting without that over-ripeness that often comes with it, it was a perfectly sharp wedge. 

The Richmond must be a welcome addition to the neighbourhood; it certainly would be if it had sprung up in my own. It does that effortless cool thing effortlessly without being sniffy, and it makes it a very easy place to spend an evening - an atmosphere seemingly instilled by its co-owner, Margaret Crow. The strengths for me lay in the seafood, which seems obvious; I'm looking forward to seeing the menu expand to include the seafood platters, and the £1 Oyster Happy Hour from 6 - 7pm Monday to Friday. Not that there's any chance I could get across town in time for that, but dammit I'll try. 

The Richmond

316 Queensbridge Rd
London, E8 3NH

I dined as a guest of the restaurant. All my opinions are staunchly my own.

There's a tart recipe in my book, Chinatown Kitchen! It's not made with banana though. Definitely coconut. You can buy it HERE.

Kitchen Table, Fitzrovia

When Kitchen Table first opened in 2012, everyone flocked. Bubbledogs, the front-facing side of the restaurant, was incredibly popular anyway; co-owner Sandia Chang sources rare, specialist Champagnes to be served with gourmet hot dogs. It might sound like a nutty juxtaposition, but don't tell me you don't like hot dogs. Don't tell me you don't like fizz. Go on, put 'em together. There!

So when James Knappett, the chef there, announced that he was opening Kitchen Table, a 19-seater horse shoe shape around the edge of the kitchen out back within which the chefs prepare incredibly high-spec food, well - the phone lines jammed. He has an impressive pedigree - out abroad, he did time at Noma in Copenhagen and Per Se in New York, and on our home shores, he worked at Marcus Wareing's The Berkeley and The Ledbury. He is not a stranger to our fat jolly tyre specialist, and in fact was awarded one in 2014. 

I took my time with this one. Almost three years from opening, we booked for dinner. Out front, ramshackle and noisy. Push past this, beyond the leather curtains and it is an oasis of calm. The Kitchen Table operates two sittings, one at 6pm and another around 8pm - half of the seats sit down for each, so as to keep control in the kitchen. There are no turning tables here - with a solid 14, if not more, courses, you're in it for the long haul. The main ingredients are chalked up on a blackboard - 'scallop', followed by 'prawn', and perhaps 'beef', for example. Each course is preceded by a spoken explanation, a short description of what accompanies that ingredient, or how it is cooked. The menu comprises of British, seasonal ingredients which is devised each day, so no two sittings may ever be the same. 

Sure, famous, 'signature' dishes like this pressed chicken skin topped with mascarpone and bacon jam feature almost all of the time, and it's easy to see why - purest chicken flavour compressed into an impressive crisp, sweet yet savoury and creamy all at once. I also enjoyed the potato wafer (opening pic) made using potato water, and dabbed with sour cream, cubes of smoked salmon on top. It had a strong potato flavour which I had no idea you could get from dehydrating its water. 

We're readying ourselves for 16 courses, here, so I won't give a blow-by-blow account of everything we ate, especially since it's not likely to be repeated. However, the sweet, delicate little raw prawns with seaweed and dill deserve a mention for the complex flavours brought out on such a seemingly simple plate. 

Blowtorches in full force, Knappett meticulously scorches the skin of brill, rendering the flesh pearly and delicate, the skin crisp. Mustard leaf is a worthy accompaniment here, adding a bit of heat to the otherwise slightly dull turnip and daikon. 

I couldn't miss out talking about the potato foam with a 63 degree, slow-cooked egg nestling within, which came absolutely covered in heady, fresh truffle. That green oil there was made from wild garlic. Outstanding stuff, and proof indeed that one doesn't always need a lump of fish or meat to make a quality dish. 

...I mean, you CAN though so why not? After lamb sweetbreads that were golden and caramelised on the outside, served with a curried yoghurt with carrots, the grill next to us was fired up for the beef. Aged sirloin, seared, with brown sauce - a really, really posh HP - and topped with crumbs. My god, this was good. That beef fat, all yellow and creamy, was the very embodiment of beef. We were dismayed later on to see that other diners on the later sitting hadn't finished theirs. They were denied the beef broth, deemed too full and more the fool them, as the beef broth was clear and comforting, deep and flavoursome. It felt nostalgic, it reminded me of Taiwanese beef brisket soup, with a slight hint of anise scenting the nostrils. A bundle of seaweed in the middle gave it texture and an additional savoury oompf. 

Sweets were, I felt, slightly less inventive. A flop of pannacotta on top of a rhubarb compote was tasty enough, but lacked fireworks for me. 

The caramel dessert brought me back into the room. An ice cream, a mousse and a marshmallow, with cocoa crumbs underneath was very pleasing, texturally and I couldn't help but hoover it all up. Next, we had to make a group decision - banana or liquorice? - probably two of my least favourite flavours. Really, if someone manufactured banana-flavoured sambuca I'd cry, but actually, the frozen chocolate covered cylinder of banana was really very good. It was refreshing and surprising, all at once.

We finished the night off with a sharp-edged cube of fudge, topped with sea salt, and house-made damson gin, while we chatted to the chefs. I felt incredibly satisfied by the end of the meal; almost all the dishes blew me away. Out of 16 courses there was bound to be a couple I felt were weaker, which I did with the desserts, but perhaps it has something to do with my extreme prejudice towards savoury food. 

It's not cheap, and that could go some way to explaining why I took my sweet time getting there. It's £98 per head before you've even looked at the wine list. It's definitely (for me) a special occasion kind of place, and I couldn't recommend it for that enough. It's not the place to come for a big girls night out, or a raucous catch-up - the focus is the food, and you'll want to be focussing on it. Intently. 

Kitchen Table
70 Charlotte Street
London W1T 4QG

So I basically did describe the courses but for more pretty pictures look HERE.

Rex & Mariano, Soho

I've worked in Soho, or the proximity of Soho for over ten years now (good god, that makes me feel old) and I can count on one hand the number of times I've been to the site that Rex & Mariano now occupies on St. Anne's Court. A vast behemoth of a place tucked down this alleyway that joins Wardour Street to Dean Street, it was, for many years, Vodka Revolution. Nothing good happens in Vodka Revolution. It's the type of bar, in my experience, that is dark, dank, loud and full of grabby lecherous men. They used to sell flavoured vodka shots that you would optimistically suck back, your subconscious hoping beyond all hope that you would get pissed enough to induce a memory black-out of ever having been in such a place. 

But now it's all joyfulness and light. Gone is the dark, and in its place light pine furniture, white marble-topped tables and a huge gleaming kitchen. There's banquettes, there's bar seating, and also standalone tables - truly something for everyone. From the same stable as Goodman, Burger & Lobster and Beast, Rex is Rex Goldsmith, Chelsea's fishmonger, while Mariano looks after the wine list side of things. 

The menu is, indeed, very fishy. It's also presented to you not only as a paper menu, but also on an iPad. The first time I visited in December I thought perhaps that would be a worthless gimmick but I am now a total convert. All the items are listed for you to order with gay abandon, and an alert will tell you when you've ordered quite a lot and perhaps maybe you'd like to order more a little later so that it doesn't all come at once? There are humans available to guide you if it's your first time and also deliver the food, but I loved the efficiency of the electronic ordering and the subsequent 5% standard service charge. There are some who will bemoan the coldness of a dining experience without human interaction, but that's what your lunch companion is for. 

Anyway, the food. The food! The raw red prawns (opening picture) will be served to you cooked if you so choose. They are specialities of Sicily, and they are the sweetest, prawniest little things. Already de-shelled for your eating ease, they are dressed liberally with olive oil and salt. Some find the raw versions a little slimy but that's why I like them - they're slippery and sweet. Suck the heads of the prawns for an extra prawny hit (I imagine some of you might be retching a little at the thought but do try it. Prawn brains!) At £10 for 8 of the highest quality seafood, it really is a bargain. 

Lobster ceviche (£12) I am not sure is a ceviche in the truest sense of it being cured in a citrus juice, but it certainly is very lightly cooked, tossed with lemon and the unmistakable fragrance of yuzu, a type of Japanese citrus fruit. It's hard to describe what yuzu tastes of, except for absolutely delicious. Along with shaved fennel and chives, this is what summer flavours are made of.

Tuna ceviche is true to form and has the unmistakable heat flavour of jalapeno, addictive and punchy. Salmon carpaccio with tomato and olive oil was something I had at my original visit in December, and I found it a little dull when compared with the exciting flavours that preceded it.

Onto the cooked. There's usually a daily fish on offer, grilled simply and served with chips but these clams with white wine, chilli and parsley are unmissable. On my first visit (which was also their first day open) the clams were deliciously garlicky but also borderline too salty - this has now calmed down a lot. We used empty shells to slurp up the delicious sauce. 

Courgette fries have surpassed Byron's as my favourite side in London. Served with an aioli that is mercifully mild on the garlic flavour (look, no one wants a colleague returning from lunch honking of garlic) they are crisp, bronzed and utterly irresistible. 

Olives are stuffed with yellowfin tuna, dusted lightly and deep fried. I've had versions of these stuffed with anchovies which are a bit too much for me - a literal salt bomb - so these tuna versions pleased me greatly, as they have just the right side of fishiness. 

Nothing will ever sway me from my most favoured preparation of deep fried seafood, which is the classic Cantonese salt and pepper (yup, you guessed it - there's a book plug - I have a recipe for it in Chinatown Kitchen!) but this frito misto with Old Bay seasoning is a decent alternative. Old Bay seasoning is used for crab and crawfish boils, made up of rich, warm spices. We were pretty big on squid on this plate - a couple more whitebait would have balanced it out well, but for £9 it was a good portion. 

That's another thing. Price. While Goodman is expensive - quality meat doesn't come cheap - they've brought lobster to the masses, for £20 at Burger & Lobster. Beast blows the budget with the food coming in at £75 per head - certainly, it is 'exclusive' as their website advertises. That king crab aint cheap. Rex & Mariano though is a total bargain. If you look at the price of seafood at the fishmongers you'll know it's not a cheap foodstuff; at Rex & Mariano, those prices are barely inflated. 

So why isn't it completely packed to the rafters? Alas, fish and seafood is one type of food that divides people. I know a lot of people fanatical about it; similarly I know many who won't entertain any sort of seafood at all. I feel sorry for them. I've recommended Rex & Mariano to countless people who have been so excited to go, to be let down by one party member who won't or can't eat fish. Unless you're happy with a meal of sides, it won't be suitable. I can't help but wonder if they could just put a chicken or steak dish on the menu to pacify the naysayers, I could go more often to stuff my face full of delicious creatures of the sea. Please?

Rex & Mariano

2 St. Anne's Court

London W1F 0AZ

Tel: 020 7437 0566

Meat School at Cannon & Cannon

MEAT SCHOOL.

Surely the best kind of school? It definitely beat double English Lit. on a Friday afternoon.

I was invited to the launch of Cannon & Cannon's Meat School. Cannon & Cannon are purveyors of British cured meats. They're not producers as such - they're curators of the good stuff. They have stalls at various markets, and they also occupy the space underneath Salon, in Brixton (have you been there for brunch yet? Go. Immediately.) Their HQ is in Borough Market, which is where we went to be schooled.

We started off with cured loins, and the first was delicate and sweet in flavour, laced with an incredibly creamy strip of fat. 

All of the loins were from different producers, so each had a distinctive style. I particularly liked the paprika-cured loin from Trealy Farm, Monmouthshire, for its subtle spiciness. The others, from Moons Green in East Sussex, Black Hand Foods in Hackney and Capreolus Fine Foods in Dorset all held their own with other charcuterie I've tasted on the continent. Ed Smith, creative director of Cannon & Cannon, talked us through the process of how the meat is cured. Alongside, we tasted wines from Jascots, matched for each style of charcuterie. 

From the collar now, which came from Trealy Farm and Capreolus Fine Foods again, and also Native Breeds in Gloucestershire. These are a little firmer, denser and all round meatier, each with their own unique flavour. 

Ahh, these air dried sausage variants were a bit more like the saucisson I'm used to, particularly the pork, fennel seed and garlic from Moons Green, back right. This in particular was much like the salami you and I think of when it's mentioned, and in the background left there, pork, seaweed and garlic from Cornish Charcuterie was a little lacking in seaweed flavour, though I enjoyed the chewiness of it. In the foreground, the pork, fennel seed and cubeb pepper from Black Hands Food won my heart with its spicy pepperiness. In between, we cleansed our palates with bread from Bread Ahead, and the most insanely addictive sweet pickled cucumbers from Vadasz Deli. 

And then, something a little bit different - venison and long pepper (back), from Native Breeds, and the other from Great Glen Charcuterie in Scotland.  Spiked with green peppercorns, it was  supple and floppy, gently cured, and the other a little more robust. Deep, rich and gamey, I loved them both.

Finally, a little treat. Trealy Farm had been experimenting using pork, duck and Sichuan peppercorn. I got to have the first taste on account of being the most Chinese (read: pushy) in the room, and it was absolutely fantastic. There was the richness of the duck fat, the mellow sweetness of the pork, and then lip-tingling spiciness from the Sichuan peppercorns. I am ordering more as soon as I can. 

Meat School isn't just about tasting charcuterie. They also run classes on how to cure your own bacon, cured meat butchery, and pates and terrines. The one I went on was £25 - along with a welcome drink, it really is worth it. Just don't break their meat slicer...

Browse the courses here. 

Blacklock, Soho

"Do you want to eat piles of meat and drink £5 cocktails in a former brothel basement in Soho?" 

"Of course I do."

That, pretty much, is how I'd sum up Blacklock. Opened a few weeks ago, the slim doorway doesn't give away the cavernous space beneath. It's dark. It's noisy. It's not for vegetarians. The menu consists of pre-meal bites, a selection of 'skinny' chops, and some sides - you're here for the meat. The 'crisps' are perfectly circular crisp breads; of the lot, egg mayo and anchovy is my favourite. I'm not sure what is 'filthy' about a wafer of parma ham atop the crisps, but in any case, I favoured the pickled vegetables with a sharp, strong cheese over them. 

I've been twice now - once for dinner, when it was a no-brainer to go for the 'all-in' option of a load of chops, a side each person and the crisps for £20 per person. It's enormous, a whopping great pile of charred meat on the bone. A blacklock is a type of cast iron press, and these are used to press the meat against the hot grill. Underneath the meat is crisp, spongy bread, soaking up all those meat juices and fat. Pork belly, lamb t-bones and chops, and beef chops were all present and cooked well, with incredible flavour from well-sourced meat. 

I returned again for lunch, and we attempted to order a la carte at £4 per chop but we abandoned that idea when the order became too confusing. It's just easier to go all in. This time the beef chops were out of stock, so a pork and lamb feast was presented to us. My earlier criticism that the meat was aggressively salted seems to have been addressed. 

But what of the sides? Oh, the glorious, glorious sides. Carrot and meat radish salad was a vinegared affair, shaved thinly and dressed with fennel seed and parsley. It's brilliant - well balanced, and it cuts through the richness of the meat. Kale and parmesan salad was the antithesis of this, what with being very cheesy and robust. Chargrilled baby gem was another favourite at the table.  

Anyone who knows me knows that there's not much I dislike in the food world, but sweet root vegetables have that dishonour. So I was as surprised as anyone when I actually actively enjoyed the 10 hour coal-roasted sweet potato - a genius idea of cooking them overnight on the dying embers. Smoky, sweet, and seasoned well with butter, I have found my new favourite side dish. I don't even know who I am anymore. 

And what of those cocktails? The nettle gimlet is a pretty thing, served in a tiny glass but packed full of potent punch. An Aperol negroni was a shy cousin of it's usual bolshy Campari-led self. They have a beautiful cocktail trolley which they'll wheel round to you to stir up an Old Fashioned, which is pretty much the best way to end a night.

There is only one dessert, the white chocolate cheesecake. The waiting staff come round with a dish off of it, proffering a portion with an accompaniment of stewed rhubarb, which I imagine might change as the seasons do. What a cheesecake! Light and fluffy, and the only thing I was capable of eating after that carnivorous frenzy.  

Blacklock will be a deserved success. The staff are friendly, the playlist makes you want to wave your arms in the air, and the food is accessible and no-nonsense. I hope the sides will change slightly as to what's available as the year wears on, and as I understand it they will be introducing specialist and larger, sharing cuts of meat. At around £35 a head if you're being sensible, it's perfectly reasonable to go back all the time. Interspersed with gym visits, perhaps.  

Blacklock
The Basement,
24 Great Windmill St,
Soho, 
London W1D 7LG 

No reservations

Homeslice, Covent Garden

When I was 19, I was taken to Pulcinella's on Old Compton Street. It was a regular lunch spot for our department of engineers, and I was their new personal assistant. Upstairs they had vast tables; these were the days where you could go for lunch as 8 of you on a Friday afternoon without a reservation in Soho - remember that?! My pizza arrived, unusually larger than I had imagined. Instead of my requested 12 inch, the 15" had turned up. What was I to do? A lone girl, the table of men looked upon me expectantly. I hoovered up the lot, and was thus nicknamed 'gannet'. I didn't tell them that the pizza was remarkably easy to finish, no - I hammed up the glory of my triumph. For the best really, since I bumbled my way through that job role, with absolutely no idea what was going on. I was great at booking flights and hotels for the trips and conferences they attended abroad, and I was pretty good at getting meetings in diaries, but actually being able to take minutes and understand what was going on at those meetings? I fell asleep a lot. I lasted 8 months.

Anyway, almost 10 years later, and here we are at Homeslice. They started off in a van, and opened up their bricks and mortar place in Covent Garden's Neals Yard just under two years ago, with help from investor Mark, none other than Terry Wogan's son. On a Monday night by 7pm the place was full; we were able to put our names down and wander off for 25 minutes before we were called back again. A huge pizza oven dominates the back of the room, lit with harsh fluorescent lighting - very Naples. For the rest of the restaurant, the room is atmospherically lit with candlelight (so, you know, dark), and tables are squeezed closely together. There is some great tiling.

There is no messing with the menu. It's chalked up on a blackboard for all to see, and some pizzas are offered by the slice for £4 per slice, while others are £20 for a 20 inch pizza. Fine, I thought. 20 inches between 2? Absolutely fine. I remembered Pulcinella's.

It was not fine. I died from carbicide. I am not 19 anymore, god DAMN it. Sure, sure, they will give you a pizza box to take leftovers home. I watched an incredibly annoying couple on the table next to us package up at least 60% of their pizza to take home but on account of their annoyingness I refused to do so lest I become anything like them. Also, I have no self control.

But what of the pizza? It's good. The bases are thin, the crust (or cornicione) is pillowy and chewy. A little saltier than what I'm used to. The toppings are inventive; they have the classic margherita (which would be incredibly poor value at £20 for 20 inches) but they also do others like goat shoulder with kale, yoghurt and sumac, or chorizo, corn and coriander - which would have been my choice, had I not been a bit weirded out by the thought of coriander on a pizza.

Instead, we went for half and half of bone marrow with brussels sprouts and pickled onion, and Calabrian peppers with chervil and Lincolnshire Poacher (a type of cheese). Would it have killed them to take the stem off the peppers? That was a bit troublesome. But otherwise, the spicy pickled peppers worked beautifully with the rich cheese. The brussels sprouts were shaved very thinly, like a carpet of vegetable. This was the least favoured side as the bone marrow wasn't hugely flavoursome. The brussels sprouts kept flaking off into my wine glass too - lumpy wine. That is my fault though. The main issue I had was that both sides were a bit similar - again, our fault - next time, something like mushroom and ricotta would complement it well.

A word on the wine. Red, white or fizzy? They plonk a giant bottle of it on your table, which you help yourself to, and then at the end of the meal they measure how much you've drank and charge you appropriately (£4 for a glass of red). This is GENIUS - no hanging around having to finish your wine, thus freeing up tables, and no indecision on whether another bottle is a good idea (it usually is). Loved it. I assume everyone is adult enough not to go poking their fingers / bits of stuff into the bottles. Right?

Homeslice
13 Neal's Yard
London WC2H 9DP