Stuffed Chicken Wings

While cooking for our charity supperclub last weekend, we discovered what is possibly the holy grail of chicken wings, and it is not in buffalo form. I do love buffalo, don't get me wrong, but this transcends it. It takes the wing tip and uses it as a sticky handle, and using it you can lever it to your face to bite into. A sweet salty glaze, made using fish sauce and sugar and dark soy, coats the wing to make sure you cannot come away cleanliness intact. It is also a fact(oid) that pork and salt and sugar are the holy trinity of flavour. 

Fatty pork mince - crucial for juiciness - is mixed with red curry paste for heat and fragrance, and within it slivered lime leaves to add some extra oomph. Woodear mushroom and glass noodles snipped through help lighten the mixture as well as an added texture contrast. 

In short, they're fucking awesome. 

They're an amalgam of several peoples' thoughts, recipes and experiments and they lean most heavily on Oishin Boy's and Pok Pok's. I first tried Lap's a couple of years ago at Grillstock in Bristol; he smokes his stuffed wings over coconut until they're beautifully bronzed. Pok Pok's famous wings are sticky goodness, and worth a go if you can't be arsed with deboning them. The glass noodle idea came from my friend's Thai mum - I'd been uhming and ahing over lightening the density with some medium-firm tofu, and I might still yet but the glass noodles are a marvellous texture. So, a group effort really, with ideas borrowed from here and there, which is how I believe most of the great recipes come from. 

You need the pickled cucumbers. The mint, coriander and chopped red chillis help too. You might need a beer after the de-boning. 

Stuffed Chicken Wings

Stuffs 9 wings, so feeds 3 as a starter / snack

9 chicken wings, wing tip and winglet de-boned only - here's a video on de-boning, we took the drumette off 

150gr fatty minced pork

1 heaped tsp red curry pasted (I used Mae Ploy cos I had enough going on here to make it from scratch) 

A hefty pinch of salt
A smaller pinch of sugar

5gr shredded dried woodear mushrooms, rehydrated in hot water and drained

10gr dried glass noodles, rehydrated in hot water, drained and snipped into 2cm pieces

3 lime leaves, rolled up and shredded finely 

2 stalks of spring onions, minced finely 

500ml cooking oil

300gr cooked glutinous rice flour

For the glaze: 

100ml fish sauce (I used Three Crabs - other brands may be saltier so be warned) 

400ml water

200gr caster sugar

1 tbsp dark soy 

For garnish: 

Pickled cucumber spears 

(de-seed cucumber, slice into spears and soak in a solution of rice wine vinegar, salt, sugar and water - it should be heavy on the vinegar as you want these to be tart. Make these at least 4 hours in advance or the day before) 

Picked mint leaves

Picked coriander leaves

Fried garlic - mince 6 cloves of garlic and fry in 1cm of oil until golden, then drain) 

Chopped red chillis

Mix the pork with the red curry paste, salt, sugar, wood ear mushrooms, glass noodles, and spring onions. Using a teaspoon, gently stuff into the chicken wing, using your fingers to press it in snugly. full to the top of the wing, do not over-stuff. Roll in the cooked glutinous rice flour, shake off and deep fry for 9 minutes until lightly bronzed. Set to one side. You can deep fry the chicken wings in advance and keep in the oven in a low heat (70 degrees C) if desired.

Meanwhile, combine the glaze ingredients in a small saucepan, whisk until the sugar has dissolved, and then simmer together until syrupy - about 15 minutes but eyeball it. Also taste it - if it's too salty add more sugar, too sweet add more fish sauce. You want it to be on the sweet side. 

In a large wok or non-stick pan, on a low heat combine the chicken wings with the glaze and toss well. Pile the chicken wings on a plate, tuck the cucumber spears around it, and throw herb leaves, fried garlic and chilli at it. Then serve with many napkins. 

(Thanks to Theo Tennant for the pictures taken from our Supperclub - you didn't think I got suddenly nifty with the camera, did you?)

Gong Bao Chicken, Part 2

Oh hello! 

On the 10th anniversary of this blog (10 YEARS) I've decided to resurrect it from it's dead-of-Winter hibernation, to post a recipe for Gong Bao Chicken. 

I know. The ubiquitous Gong Bao Chicken, Kung Pao Chicken, snore snore snore. No less because I have already posted about it, in 2011. Why do you need to know how to cook this, a takeaway classic of chicken and peanuts? 

Because it's delicious, that's why. I've made this so many times over the years, and it really benefits from being made at home, eaten fresh out of the wok. Silky chicken, spicy little punches of dried chilli, and crunchy rich peanuts makes a fine weeknight dinner with some rice and a vegetable side. I've made it with chicken thighs but also breast and for a quick cooking time, this is one of the only things I use chicken breast for. Sometimes I use cashews if I'm feeling flush, other times peanuts. A Google image search suggests that some add red and green peppers but I like the simplicity of just meat, nut and fire to highlight the sweet and sour aspects of the sauce. 

Velveting the chicken - that is, marinading in a liquid, cornflour and wine - is a handy technique to keep up your sleeve. Marinading in this style (often also with egg white) means that when the meat hits the hot oil, it cooks but still remains juicy and soft, where it can sometimes turn tough and stringy. With any chicken, pork or beef stir-fried dishes that includes quick flash-frying, removing from the pan, and then re-introducing the meat back in at the end, this is essential to keep the meat ....MOIST. Sorry. There's no other word for it. 

The main thing about this recipe is to be prepared. All the time taken is in the prep - have your spring onions chopped, your garlic and ginger minced, sauces all set out. The time it takes in the wok is really minimal so you don't want to be flapping around the kitchen while your chillis burn and cause an intense napalm-haze that makes everyone cry. If you think I'm sounding very specific then yes, you are right, that has happened to me. 

I partnered with Chinatown London to create this video inspiration for you to try it out yourself; the recipe is below. You can also eat it at pretty much any restaurant in Chinatown, though for the most authentic results I would head for Sichuan restaurants, like Er Mei, Bar Shu, or Bai Wei.

Gong Bao Chicken

Serves 2 - 4 depending on how many side dishes 

For the chicken: 

350gr chicken breasts cut into 3 cm cubes

1 tsp Shaoxing wine

2 tsp light soy sauce

2 tsp cornflour 

Large pinch of salt

For the sauce:

2 tablespoons Chinkiang vinegar

1 tablespoon Shaoxing wine

2 teaspoons light soy sauce

1/2 teaspoon cornflour

1 tsp caster sugar

2 tbsp water to hand 

For the dish: 

3 tablespoons vegetable oil 

8 small dried red chillis, stems removed, cut into 3cm pieces with scissors, seeds shaken out

1 tsp Sichuan peppercorns

3 cloves garlic, peeled and minced

5cm knob ginger, peeled and minced

6 spring onions, cut into thumb size lengths,

150gr roasted unsalted peanuts or cashews

Combine chicken, wine, soy sauce, cornflour, and salt in a small bowl and turn until well mixed and chicken is evenly coated in a thin film of the paste, and then set aside for at least half an hour.

For the sauce, add the sugar, vinegar, wine, soy sauce, and cornflour in a small bowl. Stir together with a fork until no clumps of cornflour are left.

Have all your ingredients out and prepared in front of you when you start cooking. 

Pour half the oil into the wok. Place over high heat and preheat until smoking, swirling up the sides. Add remaining oil and immediately add chillis and Sichuan peppercorns. Do not leave it alone at this point! Stir-fry until fragrant but not burnt, about 5 seconds. Then add the chicken, breaking up the clumps, and stir fry, pausing to allow the outsides to sear. Before the chicken is fully cooked (so, after 1 minute or so), add garlic and ginger and stir-fry until fragrant, about 10 seconds. Add scallions and peanuts and stir-fry for another minute.

Add the sauce ingredients and stir well until all the ingredients are coated evenly and the chicken is cooked through, about 1 minute, adding water 1 tablespoon at a time if necessary to keep the sauce from sticking. Serve immediately with steamed white rice and vegetables.

(Disclosure: This is a paid partnership for me to develop the recipe and cook it in the video. All views  and words are my own)

Kiln, Soho

Kiln has just opened on Brewer Street, Soho, and it promises 'side of the road' style Thai food. There's no hint of eating at the side of a the road here, though; no tiny plastic stools or lizards running up your legs (another story...), but a shiny metal bar dominates the restaurant, extending down the side of the kitchen, where you can watch the chefs cooking in clay pots.

Kiln was opened by Ben Chapman, who is also behind Smoking Goat - a den of darkened spice, cocktails and smoke, where you go and gorge on fish sauce wings, and leave stinking wonderfully of garlic. Kiln is a rather more grown-up affair, the food meandering through Thailand, dipping its toe in Laos, Burma and sometimes Yunnan.

I went along for the preview (where all these pictures were taken), and it was so good I found myself back there less than two weeks later. I'm not the only person to think so; at 7pm on a Friday night, I was told there would be a two hour wait. I put my name down and headed for Bar Americain, under Brasserie Zedel, and merely an hour and 10 later that blessed text message came through. That is how to do Soho on a Friday night. 

Anyway, of the snacks, the lamb and cumin skewers are poshed up versions of my Silk Road stalwart. Juicy chunky pieces of meat and fat are dusted with cumin and chilli, compact and charred from the fierce grill. Fermented sausage comes with sliced shallot and a spritz of lime juice, and holy god those chillis pack a punch. Grilled chicken was sweet and smoky and tender, but for the simplicity of it lost out somewhat in the excitement of the sausage. 

Dry mackerel curry was the dish that made me suck air through my teeth. When you see the dish you think those peppers are... peppers... And a couple of them are mild and sweet, so it tricks you into thinking they all are, and then suddenly your eyes are watering, and you're having to slurp back really delicious orange wine to fan the flames of chilli fire. That was that mackerel dish.

I loved herbal pork soup the first time round. A light broth with Thai basil and fronds of dill, and pieces of pork so buttery and tender I thought it was mutton, originally. The dill makes it really fragrant and light. The second time round it lost its magic for me. The pork was a little on the dry side, as if they'd smoked it rather than cooked it in broth, and I don't remember much dill going on. My sadness was brushed to one side with the grilled pork neck with chilli sauce. At around 30% fat, it was charred to a sweet crisp exterior and butter within, and I was kind of hoping my date would be a fat avoider - you know the ones, the type that cut the fat off parma ham and you wonder why you're friends with them - but it wasn't to be. I had to share it. 

Langoustines. Sweet, sweet, langoustines, poached very briefly, and dressed with mint and shallots and lemongrass and very finely sliced chillis. These were a real highlight; the flesh is creamy and sweet, while all the aromatics are just there in the background, lightly perfuming each mouthful. I sucked the heads, ate the roe, cracked the claws and picked around in them before I remembered I was out in public. So, so good. 

The wild ginger and shortrib curry, pictured here from the preview, has actually gotten better. A darker, richer, coconutty sauce covers fork-tender meat. Luckily the brown rice they serve, still satisfyingly sticky, arrived just then for me to drench in that wonderful sauce. I woke up the next day resentful that I hadn't eaten more of it. 

Wild mushroom salad contained grilled, meaty mushrooms served at room temperature in a savoury broth, garnished with roasted ground rice. Squidgy, smoky perfection. Glass noodles baked in a claypot, so they're slightly crisp on the bottom, were flavoured with sliced Tamworth pork belly, and lots of rich, beautiful brown and white crabmeat. A sprightly green sauce came to drench the noodles with.

Kiln is exciting. It's a riot of herbs and fire, elegant seafood and rich meat dishes, interesting vegetables handled delicately. It's a flavour of the Far East, with herbs and vegetables grown in Cornwall, and using UK-bred produce. I can't wait to go back already, and my last visit was only 3 days ago. 

Kiln

58 Brewer St, 

London, Soho W1F 9TL

Bigbe Chicken, Chinatown (EDIT: Now Good Friends Chicken)

I get pretty excited about new arrivals in Chinatown; often restaurants are changing their names for whatever reason and not much else changes, but on a wet and windy trudge through Soho I saw a shining yellow beacon; Bigbe Chicken, a specialist Taiwanese fried chicken shop. 

I popped in one evening, late, around 9:30pm to see what was up. Obviously still very new, it's a really simple set up; fried chicken, fried squid, sweet potato fries, and soft drinks. That's it. Don't come here looking for a salad. 

I asked the nice chap behind the counter lots of questions; they're new, the chef is from Taiwan, and they serve really good fried chicken. The powders are for you to select to have shaken on your chicken. I asked so many questions, in fact, that the chef offered me up some of their off-menu chicken skin, freshly fried, and for the other customers waiting too. He raised his eyebrows - "are you sure?" - surprised that I hoovered it up (I think a lot of Chinese are still surprised by white people enjoying the 'undesirable' bits. They also never notice the Chinese bit of me.)

The man is obviously incredibly talented at the fryer, for that was one tasty chicken-pop. I was talked into a behemoth chicken breast, battered out flat and bigger than my head (£5.50). Once out of the frier, I asked for a mixture of plum powder (sweet and tangy) and chilli (not spicy enough, but a good tingle). 

The chicken is well marinated, crisp and juicy. I burnt my tongue and scraped the roof of my mouth scoffing it down. Sweet potato fries, which they very sweetly insisted I have after I'd paid for just the chicken, were great; crisp, salty and with soft insides, and also garnished with flavourings. Next time - curry powder.

Afterwards, I died of salty thirst. It's probably not going to win any health awards, but it was so filthy-good. Shame the sign printer managed to print off all their wall art with 'deep fired chicken'. 

I'll be back, undoubtedly. 

Bigbe Chicken
10 Little Newport St, 
London WC2H 7JJ

Le Poulet du Dimanche, Hélène Darroze at The Connaught

There are some invitations you get when you just think, yes. Yes I WOULD like to come to The Connaught and try out the new 6 course ultimate Sunday roast menu, at Hélène Darroze's eponymous 2 Michelin starred restaurant. They have just launched a celebration of the chicken, inspired by Hélène's memories of France. Each course comes with a fantastic back-story of why that particular dish is on the menu, and how it links into Hélène's life.

I'm not going to exhaust you with a blow-by-blow account of the meal, as that'll only spoil the surprise for you. What I will say is that for £95 for two, this is a steal for a meal at such quality. We had little courses around the menu too, like this fennel, green apple and bergamot tea, to cleanse the palate after snacks of aioli croquettes and thinly shaved jamon (sliced table-side) with house-baked bread.

Given I spent 7 years - 7 whole years - studying French at school, you might have thought the opening course's French title might have solicited a giggle from me, but no, I stared at it blankly until our lovely menu introducer told us "directiment sorti du cul de la poule" meant "straight from the chicken's arse". It's not really, it's more to denote the freshest and best of the eggs, such as the one served here, sourced from Clarence Court (though sadly not sold in that colour). Still now I can barely ask where the swimming pool is. 7 years!

Anyway, this is one of the most glorious eggs to ever have passed my lips. It's gorgeous; the egg yolk cooked confit, and topped with crisp chicken skin bits, smoked bacon, chives and a Parmesan emulsion. It is liquid gold. When Hélène came out from the kitchens to say hello, I could only stare agog in awe at her obvious talent. She's very lovely, and has the most brilliant Fronnnch accent.  

Tiny little raviolis of Bigorre ham came next, nestled in a deep egg-like bowl. Scattered amongst, some beautifully turned and melon-balled vegetables, and a consommé was poured over. This is chicken soup for the soul, but not as you nor I know it. Once our bowls were cleared, leaving behind enough consommé, joy! Armagnac was dribbled in to mingle with it, altering the flavour profile ever so slightly, creating an altogether more warming drink that we were encourged to sip directly from the bowl. This is inspired from an old Southern French tradition called 'lou chabrol', where people added red wine to their duck and bean soup, before drinking it from the bowl. It reminded me of The Clove Club's duck broth with Madeira, surely one of my best mouthfuls of 2014. 

Liver "Royale" was a puck of shiny, gold-flecked smooth as silk paté, served with a skewered chicken oyster with cockscomb, which I can only imagine was the incredibly crisp skin surrounding it. A langoustine, perfectly poached, provided its flavour to the jus that also decorated the dish, and hints of earthiness came from perfect discs of alternating snow-white celeriac, and jet-black truffle from Périgord. 

The main event! A chicken itself, stuffed to its very... ahem with flowers and herbs. We ooh'ed, we ahh'd, we took a million pictures and it was removed to be portioned. When we got it back, a sizeable piece of breast with the most fragrant foie gras and wild garlic mixture stuffed under the skin, along with a 'boudin blanc' slice of sausage wrapped with cooked leek, and a perfect cube of fried potato. This was not just any old roast chicken. 

When I first saw the menu I thought - that's odd, there's a taco in there. But it was one of my favourite courses; named "Retour d'Asie" (Return from Asia - thanks Google Translate...) it had everything going on. The chicken leg meat was garnished with mint, coriander, spring onion, cucumber, and an incredible maize flavour from the freshly pressed tortilla. Darroze's two adopted daughters are from Vietnam, and you can see the influence there in the most refined way imaginable. That fingerbowl! My fingers smelled of mint and lavender. Gorgeous. 

Desserts were no afterthought, carrying through the eggy theme with the most sensationally eggy crème caramel I've ever tried. Dear god, it was rich delicious heaven and apparently her mother's recipe. Îles flottantes (made using egg white) bathed in a pool of velvet custard, dribbled with caramel. With these we were served an incredible Chinese (!) ice wine which is definitely worth checking out. Madeleines, made with olive oil, came warm and fresh from the oven, and were perfect with a coffee. 

There are a limited number of chickens per service and you absolutely have to book in advance. I recommend you do so immediately, as £47.50 / head (£95 per pair) for the level of cooking and just the sheer luxury of it is fantastic value. You might blow the budget on booze, mind. 

I dined as a guest of the restaurant, but all opinions are obviously my own. 

My full set of pictures from the meal is here. 

Hélène Darroze at The Connaught

Carlos Pl, London W1K 2AL

The Le Poulet du Dimanche menu is available every Saturday from 12pm-2pm and Sunday from 12-3pm and 6.30-9pm and is priced at £95 per couple. Places are limited, for reservations please call on +44 (0)20 3147 7200 

Kricket, Brixton

My first experience of Brixton was 15 years ago, when as a grungy teenager I went to Brixton Academy to see Korn and basically got beaten up in the mosh pit. It was the best night ever. On the way home, we saw a homeless man smoking a pipe and I thought "well that's quite old fashioned of him" until upon closer, hurried inspection it was actually a crack pipe. That sort of thing doesn't happen so much in the open in Brixton anymore, at least not that I've seen - Brixton has officially Up and Come. 

For better or for worse remains to be seen, but with it has brought Pop Brixton, a set of shipping containers built around a covered yard, complete with bouncer on the door, housing restaurants and bars. The idea was to provide a platform for local businesses and traders who couldn't afford the extortionate rent in town to be given a chance to make a go of it on the cheap. 

All timber and beams, walking around Pop you'd be forgiven for missing Kricket entirely, if it weren't for the giant red K painted on the wall to direct you upstairs. Inside, a long trestle table holds around 20 people, all crammed up, jostling for cutlery and jugs of water flavoured with mint. 

Then menu, made of up 'Indian small plates' is incredibly appealing, with no dishes above the £10 mark. So appealing in fact, that when my companion asked whether we should just order the whole menu, our server warned us it might be a bit much for two. We gave it a good go. 

Bhel Puri (£4) was a portion big enough to serve between four. Crunchy, herby rice puffs draped with yoghurt and tamarind was a flavoursome mouthful, and a joy in texture. Samphire pakoras were less successful for me, being that the flavour and juicy crunch of the samphire got rather lost in amongst the batter. 

Keralan fried chicken (£7 opening picture) was as fine an example of any fried chicken I've had. The curry leaf mayonnaise, sunshine-yellow and silken, was so good we asked for extra and then positively slathered it on. Pickled mooli, thinly shaven into ribbons, provided that palette cleanser often needed with fried chicken. 

Hyderabad baby aubergine and coconut (£6) was such a pretty dish. I loved all the crockery they use at Kricket; it makes such a difference to the presentation. Here, the baby aubergines were quartered still on the stem. The rich coconut sauce was mildly spiced, with a shower of toasted coconut on top. It was at this point that I wished for some a buttery, flaky paratha to scoop it all up with. 

The hake in malai sauce was a little too similar in flavour profile to the aubergines for me, though such is the danger of ordering almost all of the menu. Had we ordered the venison with pumpkin pickle instead, I'm sure that gripe would be redundant. Malai means 'creamy' in Hindi, and the fish was crisp skinned and cooked perfectly, so the flakes of fish came away at the fork. I love their use of in-season ingredients, like monks beard here, to garnish the dishes. 

This 'kichri' (£8) is yellow moong lentils cooked with smoked haddock, pickled cauliflower and egg yolk. It's a real beauty; comfortingly spiced, with the just-sharp cauliflower giving a lovely crunchy contrast to what is essentially a reworked kedgeree. Wikipedia tells me Kichri originally inspired the kedgeree, and if it had been Kricket's version I'm not sure any kedgeree would be an improvement. I loved this, and would return in an instant to have it again. 

They have one dessert; gulab jamum, which is a sticky, incredibly sweet sponge with clotted ice cream and pistachios. They gave us an extra sponge ball - hurrah! - and it was the ideal sharing portion. The soft, soaked sponge had floral hints which worked beautifully with the carom seed crumble and nuts. 

Kricket has some properly brilliant cooking. I've seen much of their Sunday brunch Goan sausage roll, which I'll have to return for, with a side of that kichri too. The acoustics inside the container are terrible, and when it's really busy it can be a little uncomfortable, but given the high levels of cooking, I'll take it. Everyone is super friendly and didn't bat an eyelid for me being a whole hour late to meet my friend. It's great value, at around £25 a head for a lot of food without booze. Their cocktail list looks incredible too, though having had a teetotal lunch (I KNOW!) I can't tell you for sure. 

Kricket
Pop Brixton
49 Brixton Station Road
London SW9 8PQ

 

Viet Food, Wardour Street

Wardour Street, the Chinatown end south of Shaftesbury Avenue, used to house a stalwart Vietnamese restaurant, opposite the infamous Wong Kei's. Inside, paper tablecloths, strip lighting, sticky chopsticks and bland food meant I only visited a couple of times. To survive as long as they did, which is to say at least the 11 years I've worked in London, is a testament to the tourist footfall that passes through Chinatown. 

That's all changing, now. On the corner used to be a giant buffet restaurant where drunks and people of questionable taste could pile gloopy orange chicken atop deep red crispy chilli beef, stabbed with a flaccid spring roll on a huge plate and repeat, and repeat ad nauseum. Slowly, that's being refurbished into Shuang Shuang, a steamboat restaurant that I am most excited about (more on that later). Next door, Viet Food has sprung up. The pedigree is good; the Chef / Proprietor is Jeff Tan, of Hakkasan Mayfair and others. I had high hopes. 

When we arrived we were hit by the unmistakeable smell of pho, that heady, anise-laden broth that characterises the noodle soups of Vietnam. We announced our intentions and we waited. We waited some more as others who'd booked squeezed past us. Then we were asked to wait outside. So we waited even more. Finally I cracked and asked if there was actually a table to wait for, and we were sulkily shown to an upstairs sharing table. 

The menu is huge. Separated into 'Incoming', soups, chef's specials, pho, bun, rice... we stared at the list groggily, trying to figure out what to order. Summer rolls were big and bouncy, packed full of lettuce and prawns but not a patch on Uyen Luu's. There are no interesting herbs here, just the crunch of the greens and a hoi sin-style sauce for dipping. 

Coconut calamari is much talked about when Viet Food is mentioned. I didn't get it. Bland, rubbery rings with a slightly sweet, crisp coating, served with a miniature bottle of sweet chilli sauce that was just a pain in the arse to extract. Grumpf.

Chargrilled glazed lemongrass chicken wings were a meagre portion. Sure, they were £4.50 but it was slightly embarrassing to look at on the plate; the plate was large enough to make them look stingy. There were four of us and three joints of the wings were hard to share. The lemongrass flavour was absent. They're chicken wings! Cheap as anything. Make it a fiver and pile them on. 

Happily, smoky spiced quail was a whole bird (which you'd hope for £8.50), neatly jointed into 4, and indeed spiced. Lime and salt were provided to sprinkle on at whim, and we made light work of them. 

'Slow-cooked haddock with Chef's special sauce' (£8) came in a claypot in, er, special sauce (are you thinking that too?). Chunks of fish, tender enough for Granny to gum her way through, came in a slightly sweet, slightly savoury cornflour-thickened sauce that was nothing to really write home about. 

The Pho Chin Hue, featuring slow-cooked beef in spicy broth, featured none of the promised heat but had a nice flavour. Upon its arrival we were presented with a bottle of fish sauce - "we don't use MSG in our food so you might need this for more flavour". Quite weird. I'd rather they just used MSG rather than having to add my own umami. Or I dunno, cooked it with more flavours. And before you say it, MSG is fine. 

Bun Thit Nuong, which is chargrilled lemongrass pork with round noodles in a salad form, was decent with a good amount of herbs but it was presented as just a big ol' mess. I've seen street food vendors turn out a more aesthetically pleasing dish on a hot and muggy roadside. 

The unexpected highlight of our evening was the steamed okra with soy sauce (opening picture) £5. Now that was delicious; the vegetables were still crunchy, with a hint of soy and a sprinkling of deep fried shallots. I've never known anything made of okra to be so universally liked.

We weren't exactly full by the time the food was finished, so the dessert of the day had to be ordered. Pandan sago with caramelised banana was served portioned out table-side. The banana was in no way caramelised, but we still enjoyed it. 

I really wanted to like Viet Food. I was hoping for a West End alternative to Pho, at which recently meals have been disappointing, with dishwater-like broth, but the food felt lacklustre, the portions stingy - exactly the opposite of what Vietnamese food is about. Shame. 

Viet Food
34-36 Wardour Street, Soho,
London W1D 6QT,

CheeMc, Walworth Road

It's taken me a while to write this up, and I am placing the blame solely on the above. Soju. Freely available at Chee Mc, a divey little Korean place on Walworth Road, walkable from my house - at least I think so, as neither of us remember the journey home - and with an extensive fried chicken menu. I was tipped off by the ever excellent Su-Lin and me and my friend bumbled off there one Saturday night to try it out. 

They are really not messing about with the fried chicken. They sell them as half portions or whole in various different sauces, but you can also order a mixture of two types, which obviously we did. It is my motto in life that one shouldn't have to make a choice if they can just have it all. This one was covered in finely shredded spring onions, so dense and bushy we struggled to separate the strands. In any case, the chicken was freshly fried with a crisp crunchy coating. Tables around us filled up, mostly Koreans, though there was one lady on her own next to us, sniffling and sucking air through her teeth as she negotiated a portion of the chilli chicken. 

We ordered beers and soju, and were talked up to the stronger 19% version by our very sweet waitress who went to great lengths to explain everything to us. That's where things became a little... blurry. I had wondered what these ice-bucket-esque tongs were for, and looking around, people were picking the chicken up with them and eating directly from them. It was a lively atmosphere; lots of people drinking beers with big groups of friends. I liked the place a lot. 

For a little vegetable balance, we ordered some kimchi which was unremarkable but refreshing, spicy and crunchy to cut through the fried-ness of the chicken. At around £4 or £5 a portion it wasn't a great deal, but we also got lightly pickled radish included with our chicken so we were satisfied that we were not going to become vitamin-deficient. 

Our mix n' match was the 'sweet garlic sauce'. FFF me. It was honky. It was so honky, in fact, I feared it would linger until Monday. The garlic was indeed sweet, but wow, that garlic. Let's not forget the amount of spring onion I ingested too. Another bottle of soju to wash it down. The first text message I sent the next day said "I SMELL TERRIBLE". 

Woman cannot live on chicken alone though, so we ordered the cheesy ramen which was exactly that. Instant ramen in a spicy broth (Shin raymun perhaps?) topped with stir-fried onions and spring onions for added breath-effect, and then topped with a melted piece of slappy cheese. Friends, it was glorious. The cheese mixed in with the broth to give it some creaminess and to temper the spice. We hoovered this up. I have a recipe for something similar, called Buddae Jjigae in Chinatown Kitchen and it was developed as a hangover of the Korean War. The Koreans used frankfurters, spam and processed cheese in their cooking, left behind by the American G.Is, which is where this sort of fusion comes from. 

We boxed up the leftover chicken and paid around £30 per head with service. A not-insubstantial amount given it was a tiny little café near the Elephant and Castle, but I don't think we went light on the booze since I was so unwell the next day I cried. Yup. Garlicky little hungover sobs. I'd go back though, especially since everyone else we saw had ordered the glistening, sticky red of gochujang on their chicken, studded with sesame seeds. And for that slappy cheese ramen. Hold that soju though.

CheeMc

310 Walworth Road
London SE17 2NA