Smoking Goat, Soho

On a wet and blustering evening way back in October, I was made acutely aware of my once-infallible appetite failing me. It can only be blamed on age, and the dastardly thing has caught up with me; it has gripped me in its inescapable, vice-like clutches. You see, I ate two dinners, back to back, and it was really very difficult.

The evening was organised by the owners of both joints in mention to preview their openings and we started off at Smoking Goat on Denmark Street, a tiny shoebox of a place that serves Thai barbecue. It was dark and noisy, low-wattage bulbs swinging all over tha place, smoky and pungent. I ate the best damn crab I've ever had, crunching through the shell with utensils, viscera in my hair, curry sauce all over my manic grin as I mopped up the sauce. A record player spun vinyl, and the house water was flavoured with lime leaves. Cocktails were shaken, craft beers on tap, Riesling was poured; this was not your typical Thai restaurant. Huge chicken wings were in abundance, and what's that going past? Oh yes, slabs of lamb ribs, smoked and doused in a fermented shrimp paste and palm sugar, sweet and sticky and resplendent. My stomach pleaded leniency with me for what we had ahead of us, but my greed wouldn't listen. Onwards we went to Som Saa in Hackney (more on that later). Miraculously a second wind blew past me, and I ate another dinner, unable again to control the insatiable demand of my tastebuds. 

The end wasn't pretty. Unable to cope with being in public any longer, finding it difficult to breathe, even, I rolled into a taxi home, groaning all the way, like the over-privileged turd I am. 

I've been impatiently drumming my fingers, waiting to go back ever since. Since Smoking Goat is nearer my office, it's the easier one to visit and we went along at lunchtime, which is the only way you'd be able to get a decent photo without making your mates hold up an iPhone light like some sort of cringe-inducing wanker. They serve a small menu, both afternoon and evening, and between the four of us we were able to get almost the whole menu. Roasted scallops in the shell (opening photo) were in a sparky, spicy, lime-heavy dressing and were the perfect side of roasted. Creamy within and joy! With the coral still attached. One might think those ballsy flavours would overshadow, but they complement the sweetness of the shellfish and we slurped the remnants of the juice from the shells. Roasted aubergine salad, silken and smoky (above) with mint leaves and ground toasted rice for crunch, positively screams 'WOOD!' at you. In, er, the barbecue sense. 

A little gift on the house of this pomelo salad set our world (and mouths) on fire. On the specials board at £3.50, it was a feisty little number; I loved the depth of the dried chillis versus the sharpness of the pomelo (essentially a giant grapefruit). We'd done two salads now, and both were completely different to each other - sometimes at The Begging Bowl (where head chef Seb Holmes used to work) I find that the salads can be a bit similar in their dressings, which I put down to my careless ordering, but here each has a defined and individual flavour.

Fish sauce chicken wings were giant - though, note there are three in a serving. Two of us had to share one. Humpf. But something magical has been done to these, as they have the crispest coating I've encountered on such a wing, and the sauce is almost on the verge of too salty, but saved by what can only be an incredible amount of sugar so they're actually beautifully balanced. Groans erupted from our table. They are that good. 

The mains are big meaty affairs, designed for sharing. On our visit, duck, pork belly, lamb ribs or a whole seabass were available, and we opted for two of the four. With this comes sticky rice as standard, as well as som tam - a great idea for someone like me; a meal without vegetables makes me uncomfortable. The duck was glazed and sticky, the pure flavour of the barbecue permeating the rich flesh. An orange sauce was a nice riff on duck a l'orange, though it was far from cloying or, you know, disgusting, which is what my experience of that dish is. 

If you're hoping for slow-cooked, fally-aparty pork belly that flops over at the prod of your fork then this is not the place for you. The meat, while tender, had bounce, the layers of fat making it incredibly juicy and a worthwhile mouthful. Teeth are a wonderful thing, and they should be utilised. The nam jim is a roasted chilli sauce, possessing that Thai alchemy of perfect hot, sour, sweet and salty balance. It was so good I mine-swept the table for any remaining sticky rice to mop up the remainder.

So, I think you can gather that I liked Smoking Goat a lot. My initial disappointment at discovering the crab curry wasn't on the menu -  they're seasonal, the selfish buggers - was pacified by the brilliance of everything else. As for downsides? There are no desserts; I'm ok with that, but I know many who wouldn't be. If you're a vegetarian you'd go hungry, but then I imagine most Thai food, with its abundance of fish sauce and dried shrimp is off-limits. We noticed an acquired perfume amongst us, mostly of wood and smoke and meat which is mainly a downside because it makes the working afternoon slightly distracting. There's no reservations, so it's likely you'll have to queue, much is the trend in this part of town. But they do have a bookable private dining room. For the four of us, with a bottle of wine and efficient and unobtrusive service we paid around £23 a head which for the level of cooking and the quality of ingredients, is great value. The new year will see me back to drumming my fingers, till I get to visit again. 

Smoking Goat

7 Denmark Street
London WC2H 8LZ

No reservations. Open midday - 3pm, 5pm - midnight, Monday to Saturday

Berners Tavern, Fitzrovia

If you were to look up what Jason Atherton was up to at the moment, you may raise an eyebrow. This is a busy man. Within spitting distance of his Michelin starred original, Pollen Street Social, sprouted up Little Social, a more casual bistro-style joint. Next came the confusingly named Social Eating House, on Poland Street - not Poland Street Social, or Social House Poland, both of which I've both stumbled on. Then just as the paint was just about to dry on his last place, Berners Tavern snuck in under the radar and opened last Wednesday. And that's just in London - Shanghai, Singapore and Hong Kong also have restaurants with his name over the door. 

We went along to the press preview and a bouncer waited at an nondescript door with a black canopy, barely giving away what was to unfold before us. Stepping through the door, your breath really is taken away - it is a very handsome dining room. I stood there slack-jawed for a minute, regretting my choice in shoe. High ceilings hold up two enormous chandeliers. A bar lines the right hand side of the room while banquettes for larger groups dominate the middle of the room and tables for couples line the walls. Between 185 and 200 pictures depending on who you ask adorn the walls.

Head Chef Phil Carmichael's menu was a hefty page of A3. It read like a British take on the all-day-dining brasserie menu, detailing seafood platters, sandwiches, salads, 'Fish Fridays', Sunday roasts and then the classic starters and mains. Oh! And a steak section. Phew. 

A couple of oysters to steer us into dinner were jazzed up with a Vietnamese-style dressing, a spicy citrus thing that sweetened the oyster further. My starter of scallop carpaccio was light and inventive; the sweet shellfish was scattered with Little Gem lettuce, shavings of radish and creamy blobs of avocado. The quenelle of jalapeno and lime sorbet made an otherwise perfectly nice dish more exciting. The 'Ham, Egg, Chips & Peas' was brilliant; a soft-yolked breadcrumbed egg was sat on top of pea shoots and shavings of jamon. The 'chips' aspect were frites with a spicy tomato chutney, though better dipped inside the egg. I ground my teeth that I hadn't put dibs on ordering this first. 

It took a lot of uhm-ing and ah-ing to decide on main courses. I swung wildly between a steak, or a delicious-sounding seabass with seaweed and cockles, or perhaps the chicken? Or lamb? The patient serving staff guided me gently, offering me assistance to my frustrating decision-swinging. I finally decided on the Creedy Carver duck, mainly because it had kale in it and I freaking love kale. Perhaps I'm a secret Californian. Beautifully cooked to pink, it was served with roasted plums (or nectarines? I'm not up on my soft fruits) and a plum puree and it was heady with Autumnal spices. Towards the end it perhaps veered on too sweet for my tastes. Across the table, the ribeye steak was being very well received, though I questioned the point of serving it on a board for you to then drag / flop it on to your plate. Creamed potatoes on the side were, indeed, creamy and rich - the perfect mashed potato really. I gazed over in awe at the couple next to us that ordered the seafood platter - with lobster - and then went on into main courses. 

Feeling fully stuffed but not one to pass up on dessert, I went for the lightest sounding option - the chocolate doughnut. Ahem. But we also balanced it out with this goat's cheese sorbet with blackberries. It was a joy to have something so surprising and unusual; slightly goaty, slightly salty, fruity tartness. 

I loved Berners Tavern. I loved the room and the sheer glamour of it; it reminds me a lot of places in New York. The menu is a nightmare for people like me who live in fear of Food Envy, given that there's so much choice, but I think that's more to say about me than them. The whole place ran like clockwork on it's first night, which is no easy feat - our lovely waiter told us they'd be in full training for two weeks - and we left feeling incredibly well looked after. And more joy! It's a five minute walk from my office. 

Berners Tavern

Edition Hotel, 
10 Berners Street, 
London, W1T 3NP

Tel: 0207 9087979

Andy Oliver's Thai Grill - Bar Story, Peckham - NOW CLOSED (But Bar Story isn't.)

The first time I went to Bar Story was a few years ago, and the firefighters were called after the bonfire in a oil drum we were all huddled around in the beer garden emitted too much smoke. The toilets have the kind of decrepitude you'd expect from a bar under a railway arch, but the serving staff are sweet, the beers are cold and they can at least mix an Raultini - which, I've now discovered, is the name for a Negroni made instead with Aperol. They ran out of Campari. Sign of the changing times in Peckham, I suppose.

For the next few Mondays, Andy Oliver is cooking Thai barbecue at his grill there. Having worked a while in Thailand as well as Nahm in London and now also The Begging Bowl (which I love), he's keeping himself (very) busy down at Bar Story. A simple set-up, it's best to go early (say, 7pm) as they temporarily close the orders when the grill gets full, and they also run out of things - it doesn't make sense to over-cater for a once-weekly menu. 7 of us arrived just as the rain stopped, flung the excess rain water off some plastic chairs and gingerly perched at a very wet table. Ah, the classic British barbecue.

Meaty king mushrooms were served lightly seared, room temperature and with a handful of
herbs that sparked a lively identification debate. Splodges of intensely red chilli sauce were scooped up eagerly with sticky rice, authentically out of a plastic bag, when the mushrooms were no more. Other salads we had were the Som Tum Thai (above) and a green mango salad (below) with grilled cuttlefish. I mistook a green chilli for a green bean in the Som Tum (you can see the bastard on the left hand side of the photo) and for about 10 minutes I was in some serious pain while my companions laughed and the sympathetic fetched water. The salads were quite similar in flavour; both tangy, both spicy with a hint of sweetness but where the Som Tam was a touch fruity, the cuttlefish salad was more herbal with leaves of mint and sliced shallots. I liked the cashew nuts in there - a nice change from peanuts. Andy clearly is adept at the fine balancing act of flavours that the Thais are such experts in.

Whiskey pork (above) was a pretty dish; smoky, with a pungent raw garlic, chilli and fish sauce dressing. Skewered pork, (below) called mu ping, were like an addictive porky candy - traditionally marinated in garlic, fish sauce and a lot of sugar, they're cooked with coconut milk, which we saw Andy fastidiously applying with a lemongrass brush while they were on the grill. This is one of my favourite dishes to bring / make at barbecues - my recipe is here. Everything was snaffled up quickly and not only because the paper plates were soon losing themselves to the damp table.

Fermented pork may raise an eyebrow to anyone new to South East Asian cuisine, and you can read more about it here. I felt Andy's version could be more sour, more fermented (and he agreed) but nevertheless this had a good porky flavour. I enjoyed the hidden chilli bombs that come out and POW you in the face, but also the contrast in the crunchy cabbage and the soft meat.

A secret special of grilled octopus followed - tender tentacles dipped in a lime-heavy sauce. That same sauce was served with a whole grilled seabass - stuffed with aromatics, I marvelled at how he'd managed to cook the fish perfectly on a barbecue in near dark (by now). You know a fish is cooked well when you're able to prise away the flesh from the bone to leave the fish skeleton, with merely a wooden spoon and fork.

By now, our bellies were starting to protrude and we were thankful for the leisurely procession of dishes. Grilled chicken legs, chopped Asian style (i.e. right through the bone into segments) had crisp, sticky skin and it was was served with two dipping sauces; one sweet and subtle, the other crunchy with roasted rice, ferociously citrus-spiked and spicy with ground dried chillis. 

And then came the show-stopper; a whole smoked and roasted duck which the poor chefs had to chop up in the dark, so you'll have to imagine (or see here at the end of the post) as my picture was so terrible it wasn't worth the memory space. Only one is served per night, as the smoker it sits in for hours isn't big enough for any more. It is then finished off on the grill for the hot crispy skin, and chopped up to reveal the blush-pink meat, served alongside the duck's offal grilled on a couple of skewers. More of that intense sweet, sour and crunchy dipping sauce arrived with it, and we were instructed to seek out the flavoursome bits of neck to nibble on. We ate until we felt fit to burst, and then I was pretty freaking glad I just so happened to have some empty Tupperware in my bag. I didn't engineer this I didn't I didn't (ahem).

For £20 a head we ate handsomely. Thai food is clearly a passion for Andy; the way he talks about Thai food and his animated descriptions of each dish and the way they're made, even after a busy service, is inspiring. If you're in a large group doubling up the orders is a good idea (as we did), and the menu changes every week, though staples like the mu ping stay on. If I haven't convinced you enough to go then I don't know what will. 

They serve from 5pm - cash only, Monday evenings. 

Bar Story
213 Blenheim Grove
London SE15 4QL 

(The frontage is sometimes closed so you need to walk under the railway arch to the back)

Gold Mine, Bayswater

When one thinks of Chinatown in London, you're automatically directed to Gerrard Street just off Leicester Square. Not famed for the high quality of the food, those who know better go to Bayswater instead. I never bothered heading West to this concentrated strip of restaurants until a couple of weeks ago. In a city where more obscure Chinese cuisines are being embraced (Sichuan, Hunanese, Xinjiang), the poor old Cantonese staples, food that I grew up with, have been neglected by me quite heartily. 

Gold Mine has a reputation for duck, specifically Cantonese-style roasted duck. I've heard myths of Singaporean students buying them ready vac-packed and flying them back to Singapore with them for their families. You can reserve tables, and we went en masse for a Chinese New Year dinner. It's not big inside and they pack you in, but the staff were friendly and welcoming.

Roast duck comes in various portion sizes, either on the bone or off. I was worried that I'd built this duck up in my head quite substantially; I'd spent a long afternoon thinking about that laquered skin and glistening fat (it was a small lunch day...). I needn't have worried as it was pretty much glorious. 10 pairs of chopsticks came flying in as we tried to stay polite but really, we (I) failed. I preferred meat on the bone - there's just something about chewing around little bones that I enjoy, and it seemed slightly more succulent. The main competitor on the roast duck front is Four Seasons, but having tried that a few days ago I preferred Gold Mine's; the sauce drizzled over it was more savoury, Four Seasons' more sweet, and the meat less flabby than Four Seasons' version. 

Steamed egg with century egg and salted egg yolks was eggy heaven. Steamed until it is just set like a custard, this savoury dish is delicately flavoured. Each wobbly spoonful I had a little century egg or salted egg yolk hidden within it, and eaten with some steamed rice, it was comforting and creamy. They also do a prawn and scallop version which I'm keen to try. 

Siu yuk (crispy belly pork) was decent, though overshadowed by the duck that had arrived at the same time. Golden sand prawns disappeared in the blink of an eye; the prawns are coated in a salted egg yolk batter and fried, then mixed with chilli and garlic. I'd order a double portion next time. Aubergines with minced pork claypot was strangely flavourless and largely unremarkable, but the Japanese tofu with minced pork (pictured above) was another story. Discs of this soft tofu were fried so that they had a crisp outer coating, and then braised with the pork. 

Most of the table weren't keen on the pork spare ribs with bitter melon, which I sort of suspected might happen when I ordered it. Bitter melon is properly bitter, which I like but I've not found many who agree with me. Pea shoots fried with garlic made up the vegetal component, and although cooked a little past the point I'd have liked, they were tasty and fresh enough. 

Desserts were classic Cantonese restaurant style; banana and apple fritters I gave a wide berth and instead concentrated on a nice, grease-free fried red bean pancake, bafflingly garnished with parsley. 

For roughly £25 a head with beers and service, it was no Michelin-angling HKK, but decent Cantonese food done well. Probably the best roast duck I've had in London too, though I haven't yet done a duck tour. My arteries wouldn't approve. 

Gold Mine

102 Bayswater
London W2 3RR

Tel: 020 7792 8331

Duck & Waffle

If you follow the people I do on Twitter, you'll have heard an awful lot about Duck & Waffle. An awful lot indeed. It almost put me off going, so much were people wanging on about it, and then I realised that it must be quite good to generate such a buzz, and I should stop being so grumpy. 

My vertiginous friend and I gingerly stepped into the glass-walled lift that would take us up the 39 floors of The Heron Tower in Bishopsgate, to deposit us in the bar area. Orange-dressed women wafted us up a curved flight of orange stairs, as we stared agape at the view. Hello, London.

The restaurant itself was smaller than I imagined, with a open kitchen where you might want to watch the chefs at work. I'm unsure as to why you would, with the view before you; the three of us were mesmerised by it. Later, when it became dark, the fireworks of the Paralympics Opening Ceremony were visible. 

The head chef, Dan Doherty, was previously of The Old Brewery in Greenwich and we've long chatted over Twitter, though never actually met. He kindly sent us some crispy pigs' ears (£4), spiced with barbecue flavours and served in a paper bag with a wax seal. These were chewy and salty, nicely spicy, sometimes crunchy. They were seriously addictive, and possibly better than tooth-shattering pork scratchings. Maybe. 

We'd given this burrata, served with pickled pink onions, capers and leaves (£9) a good poke by the time this picture had been taken and it spilled its contents all over the place. The bland creaminess paired with the sharp, peppery salad was a delight, and I wished we'd ordered some bread. 

An oozy Scotch egg was jazzed up with using smoked haddock (£6) instead of pork, and served with a curried mayonnaise. This was pleasant enough but a bit on the salty side with a slightly chewy crust and I wondered whether anything really could beat pork wrapped around an egg. 

Bacon-wrapped dates with dandelion salad (£7) was a flavour bomb. The dates were actually stuffed with a spiced sausage before being wrapped in bacon, so it was pure meatiness with some background sweetness. I really enjoyed this - it needed the bitter dandelion salad to help you along the richness - and you couldn't really eat more than one.

Mussels & clams with 'nduja and fennel broth (£10) was served with the house bread. Puffy and soft, we alternated between using this for the burrata and the shellfish juices, and it soaked them up like a dream. The mussels were small and sweet, the broth meaty and moreish. I wished more of the clams were open. Octopus braised with chorizo (£11) was smoky and tender, a generous portion.

Ahh the eponymous dish, the duck & waffle (£13). It sounds awful on paper; confit duck leg? Egg? Waffle and maple syrup...? But actually it was freaking delicious. The more mustardy maple syrup I drenched on it the better it was. It's a sharing dish, due to its richness (3 of us shared it) but what a dish it is, and well worthy to be the star of the show. 

Desserts for me are usually an 'oh fine, if everyone else is', and it is not often I get excited about them. However, the torrejas with maple caramel apples (£7) was ordered for us to share and glad I am we did too as it was one of my favourite dishes of the night. The torrejas was a brioche-like French toast type thing, soaking up the maple apple juices. It smelled amazing, and tasted as such with the ice cream tempering the sweetness of it all. 

Service was friendly and attentive throughout, and the room was nicely buzzing without being too noisy. There was a good mix of couples and friends dining with no sign of the braying suits that SushiSamba a couple floors below is reportedly plagued by. I loved Duck & Waffle quite a lot and we all tripped out of the elevator headed homeward and grinning. 

In the interests of full clarity, the kitchen were very generous and we were unexpectedly sent a few complimentary dishes. We paid for the rest. My full Flickr set of the meal is here. 

Duck & Waffle

Heron Tower
110 Bishopsgate
London EC2

Tel: 0203 640 7310

Roasted Duck with Puy Lentils

It was absolutely hammering it down yesterday. Winds howled, rain lashed against the windows and I was bravely battling my way to the shops. Though we're almost in Spring, this kind of weather calls for something warming and hearty to eat while slurping a robust red wine, feet in fluffy slippers. I rather like a Sunday of intense cooking or preparation as I have so little time to do so during the week, but yesterday was all about wanging a few bits and pieces into a casserole dish and letting it do its thing in the oven while I slumped on the couch.

The result astonished me - so little effort reaped great reward. The duck was crisp-skinned - let's, er, ignore that tiny burnt patch shall we? I'm still getting used to the electric hob. - and tender, absorbing the fragrant star anise and flavouring the lentils with its delicious fat. Amongst the lentils cubes of butternut squash sweetened the dish and gave the dreary brown some colour. Nothing more than than a lemony fennel salad was needed to wash down that richness.

Roasted Duck & Puy Lentils

Serves 2

2 duck legs

80gr puy (pronounced 'pwee') lentils

1 onion

4 fat cloves of garlic

1 scant tsp smoked paprika

A large pinch of fennel seeds

1 chicken stock cube

1 star anise

3 tbsp Oloroso sherry

A small glass of red wine

1 small butternut squash, peeled and cubed

1 small courgette, cubed

2 large tomatoes, quartered

A large handful of flat leaf parsley

Firstly, simmer the lentils for 10 - 15 minutes and drain. In a dry non stick frying pan, gently fry the duck legs skin side down from a cold pan (this helps render the fat out more effectively and crisp the skin up). This will take 10 - 15 minutes on a low heat. Don't be tempted to turn the heat up like I did... Turn the legs over and cook for a further 3 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 150 degrees C. Slice the onion into half moons and mince the garlic. Remove the duck legs from the pan and remove most of the fat, keeping 1 tbsp. Fry the onions and garlic slowly in this till soft. Add the smoked paprika and the pinch of fennel seeds, then add the sherry. Simmer until halved in volume, then add the red wine and do the same. Season generously with salt and pepper. Combine with the drained lentils in a casserole dish.

Add the cubed butternut squash to the lentils and mix well. Sit the duck legs on top. Dissolve the stock cube in 150ml water and pour this over the lentils, though this shouldn't go on the duck leg skin, just to the flesh. Nestle a star anise in between the duck legs and the tomato quarters in the lentils and put the lid on. Bake for 1 hour, then remove the lid and add the courgette within the lentils. This may need some jiggery pokery. Turn the heat up to 160 degrees C and roast uncovered for a further 40 minutes, checking that the lentils are wet enough that they don't stick and burn.

To serve, scatter with chopped parsley and accompanied by shaved raw fennel dressed with lemon juice.

New York - December Edition - Not So Cheap

As much as I loved all the cheaper places we visited, leisurely dinners meant coughing up a bit more. My favourite of the trip goes to Schiller's Liquor Bar. Located on the Lower East Side, the room is white tiled, darkly lit and bustling. The bar area was filled with people perched on high stools sipping on beers and we were seated at one of the last tables for two left.

I loved how unpretentious it was; the wine list was simply presented as 3 options; 'cheap', 'decent' and 'good'. When our bottle arrived, CHEAP was plastered across it. I'm not a wine buff in any way, shape or form and our bottle was drinkable and tasted good.

East Coast and West Coast oysters were sweeter with more mineral flavour than ones from our own shores. Crab and articoke dip with melba toast was decadently creamy and rich, though I'd have preferred a little more crab flavour. A seared tuna Nicoise salad (what was I thinking!?) was horrendously overshadowed by The Boy's 'pork chops and roasted potatoes'. What was presented to him was a behemoth plate with two chops and a pile of roasted potatoes, just as advertised. They were cooked in the most delicious caramelised onion, ginger and garlicky sauce. I almost cried with envy.

With a couple of well made cocktails and well deserved tip for our affable and charming waiter, the bill came to around £50 / head.



I was a fan of David Chang since I went to Momofuku Noodle Bar on my first visit. Since then I've become an even bigger fan, having bought his cookbook and the quarterly magazine he's a part of, Lucky Peach. We managed to nab two seats at the bar at Momofuku Ssam early on new year's eve.

I'd have liked to try more of the raw dishes but they were quite pricy, so we settled on one - diver scallops with yuba (tofu skin), satsuma and coriander. The smears were intensely orange flavoured and worked well with the sweet, delicate shellfish. Yuba doesn't taste of much but had a tender texture, much like the skin you get on top of gravy. It sounds rank but it was a great texture contrast to the scallop.

The pork buns, which Momofuku is famous for were pretty damn sexy. Pillowy steamed buns were stuffed with a slab of fatty warm pork belly, with a smear of hoisin sauce and sliced cucumbers. It took everything in my power to refrain from cancelling the other dishes and ordering another seven of these instead.

Fuji apple kimchi with bacon and maple mayo was incredible; rather than the apples being fermented with garlic and chilli over a length of time, the apples were crisp and fresh, having been dressed in kimchi juice instead. The bacon was really smoky and coupled with the maple mayo it was perfect.

Market greens came in the form of swiss chard, cooked in XO sauce and topped with a heap of fried shallots. Cooked until the stalks were al dente and the leaves just wilted, the intense savoury flavour of the XO sauce was thankfully sparing; any more and it would have been overwhelming.

Spicy sausage with fried rice cakes and Sichuan pepper was my least favourite dish of the meal. Although the rice cakes had a great texture, both gooey and crispy from frying, after a while it began to all get a bit samey with each bite. Too stuffed for dessert and with a party to get over to, we decided against desserts. With a couple of cocktails each, our bill again reached around £50 / head.



After an afternoon of ice skating, we were ravenous. The temperature on our last night was around -5 C; I don't think I've been anywhere that cold. The streets of New York were windy, and as we rushed towards Locanda Verde in TriBeCa I had everything crossed that we wouldn't have to wait long.

The place is cavernous, dark - this is a recurring theme - but lively. Families dined with small children, couples were having intimate dinners and groups of friends were sharing plates. A long L-shaped bar was absolutely rammed, both with people having drinks waiting for a table as well as people eating at the bar. A mere half hour wait while nursing a Negroni was all it took before we were seated.

A tuna crostini with smoked cannellini beans and a hint of lemon was perfunctory enough to keep the hunger at bay. Proscuitto lent smokiness to the prawns they were wrapping, doused in romesco sauce and it was dotted with creamy white beans to give some heartiness to the dish.

Marinated beet salad was a textbook example. Tender beetroot was topped with slices of fennel and happily they didn't go for the obvious goats cheese, but instead smoked ricotta. Some welcome crunch was provided from the pistachio garnish, with a smear of pistachio puree hiding under the beets.

We had a lot of trouble trying to decide on mains, but we were pleased with our spiced duck choice. Huge slabs of flush pink breast arrived, garnished with pomegranate seeds, small faro grains and cavolo nero. The skin was crisp with sweetness with a hint of the exotic, and the meat as tender as butter. A side dish of roasted brussel sprouts was a hearty affair; strong mustard flavours with the slightly bitter brassica was reinforced further with chunks of pecorino and pancetta. It was the unheathiest vegetable side I've laid eyes on in recent times. Obviously I thought it was great.

Orecchiette was served with beans and fennel sausage and a hard strong cheese grated on top. These were gutsy flavours and the little ears held them well. With the beans and pasta combined, it was great comfort food. But good lord we were stuffed afterwards.

A pear, quince and cranberry crisp with vanilla bourbon ice cream sounds quite light and insubstantial, right? That's what we thought when we ordered it to share. A deep ramekin arrived with the aforementioned fruits in a crumble. Crisp, it turns out, is a crumble. Oof. We managed to polish it all off due to its own deliciousness caused by nuts being incorporated into the crumble topping, but I was rendered incapacitated after the meal and could only lie down and make small groaning noises.

Locanda Verde reminded me a lot of Polpo both in atmosphere and food; unsurprising really, as the recommendation to go there came from Russell Norman. Locanda Verde is a touch more expensive though, we hit £60 a head with a bottle of wine.



Now I shall be nibbling on dry bread and lentils until my bank balance recovers.

Roka, Fitzrovia

Roka has been top of my I'd-like-to-go-there-but-will-never-afford-it list. I mean, god - the menu on the website doesn't even list prices. You know what they say about those kind of places; if you have to ask how much, it means you can't afford it. Which is why I leapt at the kind offer of lunch there.

Packed to the rafters one lunchtime, there were a lot of business meetings going on. We were sat at the bar in near the robata grills, chefs busy working away. The menu is long; split into sashimi, sushi, soups, rice dishes, seafood and meat grills, I stared dumbfoundedly for a few moments.

Edamame glistened with salt flakes and were lovely served warm. A red miso soup had a real punch to it, a depth that its white sister lacks.

Yellowtail, salmon and tuna sashimi was served on an enormous bowl of chipped ice. Cut thickly, the fish was beautifully fresh, though I winced at its price tag in the late teens.

Tuna, pickled mooli and shiso leaf sushi was gorgeous. Ever so lightly battered and deep fried so that the seaweed was crispy, I wondered how on earth they got this done without cooking its innards. The mooli had a slight tang to it, lifted by the minced shiso. I was glad our waitress recommended this.

Two scallops (at a whopping £13 or so) were served with wasabi mayonnaise. Big fat specimens, the char of the grill deepened the flavour of the flesh and kept them transluscent and juicy inside.

I'm not one to pass up on aubergine, you know that. These were soft, silken and sweet. A perfect example. I hogged it.

I found it difficult to taste the smokiness in the smoked duck breast, but the kumquat and persimmon sauce worked well in its tart sweetness with the richness of the duck fat. Sliced ever so thinly, the meat was tender, the skin crisp.

Sesame and honey chicken wings were the biggest bargain at £4.90. Dipped into the salt mixed with lime juice, these had me licking my fingers in the most unseemly manner.

Rock shrimp tempura'd was served with a chilli mayonnaise. While addictive (they reminded me of KFC's popcorn chicken in that sense) they were fairly one dimensional in flavour, though expertly and greaselessly fried.

Given it was a mid-week lunch, I had to rudely run off before we had even asked for the bill, leaving my companion sat on his own. Honestly, why can't we have two hour lunch breaks?

When I receive my unexpected windfall of dosh, I'll be back for the rest of the menu.

Roka

37 Charlotte Street
London W1T 1RR

Tel: 020 7580 0220