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

Tofu Tuesday on a Wednesday - Braised Pork & Potato with Red Fermented Beancurd

Ok, so it's Wednesday. I got home late on Tuesday night and started making this, but then got hungry waiting for it to cook I had to scoff some Mi Goreng noodles. Thankfully this is the kind of recipe that benefits from the flavours sitting overnight to amalgamate. I was also able to use my new claypot that I bought for £3. Claypots need to be soaked for 24 hours before their first use, and then whatever you cook needs to be in the oven, gradually building heat otherwise it'll shatter. It was a bit nerve-racking, especially when you're hungry.

I won't lie to you; red fermented tofu bloody stinks. I opened the jar and had a tentative sniff and I almost decided not to go through with this recipe. When frying it, it transformed. It's similar to the kind of stink you get from frying shrimp paste - ultimately you know something delicious will come of it.

This is not my recipe, but that of Sunflower's. I've adapted it to fit in my pot and my belly.

Braised Pork & Potato with Red Fermented Beancurd

Serves 2, or 1 generously

250gr belly pork, in chunks

1 tbsp dark soy sauce

Splash of light soy sauce

Pinch of ground pepper

3 fist-sized potatoes, cut into chunks

60mls vegetable oil

1 Asian shallot, chopped finely

2 cloves of garlic, minced

3 slices of ginger

1 square of red beancurd

1 tsp five spice

Splash of Shaoxing cooking wine

1 tsp sugar

1 stalk of spring onion, chopped (optional)

Mix the belly pork with the soy sauces and pepper. Leave to marinate while you prepare everything else. Heat up the oil in a wok until almost smoking. Carefully add the potatoes and fry until browned on all sides - this will take about 10 minutes. Put the potatoes to one side. Pour off the oil, leaving 1 tbsp left. Fry the garlic, shallot and ginger until fragrant. Open the windows, add the beancurd and mash the cube up. Add the pork, leaving the marinade in the bowl, and fry until browned (once again, this will take about 10 mins). Add the wine, the 5 spice and any excess marinade. Bring to the boil, then place the wok contents in the claypot or any other suitable oven proof pot. Add the potatoes in, and then enough boiling water to cover at least the meat. Put the lid on, and stew for 1.5 hours. Here I put it in a cold oven and turned it on to 170 degrees.

The pork becomes meltingly tender. The potatoes hold their shape due to the initial frying, but they also soak up all the flavours of the stew. They're very strong flavours, and less is more with this dish. I think I might prefer it with white rice rather than potatoes - but then I'd always prefer rice.