Portland, Fitzrovia

Tuna tartare with salmon roe & seaweed crisps

It's not often I visit somewhere four times without writing it up; I obviously like it a lot to keep going back, especially with the number of restaurants in London that I have yet to try. Portland, situated just north of Oxford Circus, has quietly impressed and fed me for a couple of years now. I've been there for many occasions; my father's birthday dinner, a boozy leaving lunch, a work lunch, and a lunch just 'cos. One must lunch.

Truffle & Gruyère macarons

Razor clams

The menu starts with snacks, usually irresistible, and often a little startling in flavour; a true amuse bouche, really. On my most recent visit even before the snacks we had cheesy gougère pastries, warm from the oven, which popped in the mouth to reveal molten, luxurious cheese. White truffle and Gruyère macarons are really clever; mushroomy, sweet, balanced into savoury by the cheese. Raw razor clams are chopped up and drizzled with kimchi and wild garlic oil, to be slurped down in one. It's never nothing short of a delight. 

Salsify

Lobster sabayon

Beautiful crockery showcases the most incredible ingredients, treated just with the slightest teasing of complementary flavours. Last Autumn, a creamy, cheesy, almost a carbonara-like dish of salsify with crisp cured ham comforted us, like a soothing hug on a plate, carbonara-like in flavour. Now that we're coming into Spring, lobster in a sabayon-like sauce, light and luxurious, was heaving with al denté verdant vegetables. Their menu changes daily, reflecting the seasons and the produce that comes with it. 

Portland is pretty much perfect to visit as a party of 3, since they offer 3 choices per course. I'm not one to opt for the vegetarian offering though, especially not if the Specials board lists Challans duck glazed with maple syrup, confit duck, foie gras and grilled pear. It was £30, which isn't a trifling amount, but also came with the most stunning salad I've had, and unfortunately did not document pictorially, I was enjoying it so much. It was made up of crisp vegetables, fresh peas and finely shaved pear all tumbled together, to shine through the richness of the duck. If I'm honest I'd have done away with the confit duck; it didn't add much to the party. 

Sides are often superfluous but I usually enjoy them; on our latest occasion roasted cauliflower was far too cooked, and fell apart into a mush. But I've had gorgeous cheesy potatoes in a fluffy, creamy sauce which made me glad I had the space for them. Desserts are always inventive; pumpkin, blood orange, and meringue I originally veto'd but our server was horrified for us to miss it, and he was quite right. Look how pretty it is! A hazelnut eclair was light as air, pretty as a picture. Chocolate with beetroot and blackberries last year was the absolute epitome of Autumn, deep and earthy, lightened by sweet chocolate mousse. 

I'm a great fan of Portland. I never fail to have a really lovely time there; they make me feel like a grown-up, and on a special treat. The prices do too - it's not cheap, or affordable enough to be done regularly, but it is good value for the level of cooking and the quality of the produce. Quite an important distinction, that. The service is helpful, especially with the wine list which I'm told is rather special, and warm and welcoming. On the second time I visited I was startled into wide-eyes when my waiter chimed "welcome back!". It felt nice to be remembered, homely even. 

Portland
113 Great Portland Street
London W1W 6QQ

Tel: 0207 436 3261

Weekending at The Cary Arms, South Devon

I don't explore England enough. It's well enough saying that it's good to get out of London sometimes, but having done weekends in New York, Berlin, Rome, Madrid, and Copenhagen this year, those types of weekends aren't exactly relaxing. Airports themselves I find quite stressful - if you've ever been on the verge of missing a flight, I'm sure you can sympathise - and then you're racing around trying to see everything on the limited time you have. I know, I know. Woe is me. Recently I spent a couple of days in rainy Devon, cozying up by roaring fires and eating a whole lot of seafood, and it happened to be just a mere two or so hours on a very pleasant train journey. I was clearly lucky enough to avoid Sunday replacement bus services.

The Cary Arms is an adorable converted pub, down a steep hill and right on the coast of Baddacombe Bay. It has typically low ceilings and several nooks and crannies to hide away in with the morning papers, or indeed a digestif. Probably not a digestif in the morning though. 

We were a group of five, invited to visit by their people. They have rooms as well as cottages, and the Beach Cottage was very well equipped with everything you might need for a self-catering stay. When we arrived we warmed ourselves by the Aga, before migrating over to the living room for a couple of board games. A pre-stocked fireplace made it incredibly easy to light... by someone else... I'm terrible at practical things like that. I'm much better at pouring out sloe gin that came complimentary and - joy! - was replenished daily. 

Unlike most self-catering cottages though, here you still have the luxury of nightly turn-downs in the spacious bedrooms. When I tiredly whipped off the covers of my big bouncy bed I discovered a hot water bottle warming the sheets. There is not much more glorious than getting into a pre-warmed bed.

For breakfast, fruit, honey, granola and yoghurt were on offer as well as a more traditional European-style breakfast of sliced meats and cheeses, thus enabling a three course breakfast once you factor in the cooked breakfasts that obviously I wouldn't turn down.

I ordered the grilled kippers and I got literally all the kippers in the world. See? That was just for me. It was a bit much actually. We giggled so heartily at the size of it, the waitress shrieked into the kitchen - "'ere! They're laughing at your kippers!" I gamely attempted it in its entirety but had to stop, fearful of a slow death by salt. They were good kippers though.

Much more manageable was the smoked salmon with scrambled eggs. I felt the eggs could have been a little creamier, a little fluffier but that was merely a light gripe. 

As it pissed it down with rain, we donned our raincoats and, er, leopard print trainers ("you definitely didn't bring wellies...?") and set off with David Beazley, our wild food foraging instructor. 

Sure, we look pretty soggy and bedraggled. But David was really brilliant, and took us on an hour long leisurely walk, picking out various leaves, encouraging us to taste them as we went.

We gathered leaves along the way in little plastic tubs, with the view of making our own salad as we went along. Many of the leaves were citrussy in flavour, some strongly of celery, others a hint of cucumber. 

The views along the way were stunning. Admittedly it might have been rather more picturesque if the sun had been shining and we were romping around the coast in shorts and hats, but then we definitely wouldn't have seen this mini waterfall.  

Once we'd gathered all our leaves we dressed them with a squirt of sweet sea buckthorn dressing that David had made, and in went some roasted hazelnuts he'd brought along. It was really delicious - refreshing, and interesting. A lot of salad I eat from pre-bagged or bought tend to be heavy with rocket, or bland with watery leaves, but these actually had flavour. Bitterness, sweetness, citrus, all in there. All the tastier because we picked it ourselves. 

I have absolutely no recollection of which leaf was what, which is incredibly helpful, but luckily David has a Kindle book and an app that details pictures as well as recipes. 

What else is there to do in the area? I'll come on to that later, to avoid this becoming the longest post there ever was, but what was an incredibly enjoyable way to spend a morning is a wine and cheese tasting at Sharpham's Vineyard. There's nothing quite like legitimising an 11am glass of wine - only really acceptable at weddings or wine tastings APPARENTLY - and Sharpham's wine is very fine indeed. 

If you want to learn anything about English wine then I would strongly recommend visiting. On account of said pissing rain we forewent the vineyard tour, opting instead to have a good sit under some warm blankets and be guided through all their wines instead. The Dart Valley Reserve was my favourite, and happily you can find it in Borough Market. 

What Sharpham's also do incredibly well is cheese. Each cheese we tried matched a different glass of wine, but standalone we could only sit on our hands to avoid scoffing the lot. Well worth seeking out - stockists are listed here. 

Back to our abode, and The Cary Arms also serves food in the evenings, with a menu that can only be described as gastro-pub with a strong leaning towards seafood. Full of solid comfort food like steak and ale pie and fish and chips, they also do lighter, more elegant options. I really enjoyed the seared (very local) Brixham scallops with crisp parma ham wafers. The star anise jus lifted it from being a bit obvious to bringing something a little different about it.  

The 'trio of fish' changes depending on what's fresh at the market. Cooked very simply and sympathetically to bring out the best of each, the seabass, ling and hake were all topped with pistou sauce. A seasonal vegetable accompaniment of mange tout, green beans and cubes of fried potato really did make me reminiscent of the veg sides you get in countryside pubs. That's not a criticism, it's just very straight-forward. 

On another night, seared pigeon breast with butternut squash puree and a black pudding sauce was very generous with not one but three whole breasts, cooked perfectly blushing and juicy in the middle. Someone had a big day on the red cress garnish, but the flavours worked really nicely, the tang of the black pudding off-setting the sweetness of the squash.  

I opted for the Devon crab salad with wholegrain mustard mayonnaise and while I was happy to get both white and brown crabmeat, the mayonnaise was a bit too plentiful to fully appreciate it. 

We all got dinner envy at the Otter ale-battered fish and chips. The less said about crushed peas the better since the person actually eating the meal loved them and I'm a big mushy girl. The fish looked perfect. Sigh. I really liked the newspaper garnish, harking back to how fish and chips used to be served. 

With a sticky toffee pudding and a cheese board to properly finish us off, there was really only one thing for it - either fall asleep in front of a fire, or take advantage of the ex-pub's throwback - pool. 

They also have a spa there, with treatment rooms. In 2016 a set of beach huts will be built, completing their spa and offering rooms right on the seafront. After a restful night's sleep in a properly dark, properly silent room - this is a novelty for a Londoner - we were treated to a 25 minute neck, shoulder and back massage. Completely blissful. Afterwards I flopped into a big squishy seat and stared at the sea for a while. 

I was invited to The Cary Arms, but as with everything on this site, all opinions are my own. Rooms start at £196 per night for two, including breakfast.

The Cary Arms

Babbacombe Beach
South Devon
England
TQ1 3LX

Tel:  + 44 (0) 1803 327110

Email: enquiries@caryarms.co.uk   

The Culpeper, Shoreditch

I wasn't sure if I was going to write about The Culpeper, mainly because a friend of mine is a shareholder in the business and I wondered if I would be seen as biased or swayed by this. But then I remembered I can write what I bloody well like because this is my blog and I'm not such a simpleton that I can't form my own opinion. So, The Culpeper. Last year it was called The Princess Alice, and it was a fine old boozer with a foosball table and nothing much more remarkable than that. Oh, they also did a swing class in the sweaty room upstairs that you would have to edge past to get to the bathroom and hope that you don't get kicked in the crotch on the way by the oft-grumpy dancers. 

The entire pub was gutted and refurbished to be transformed into The Culpeper. Gone is the dinginess and the low ceilings; the main room is bright and airy, lit with swinging lightbulbs. Banquettes in bold turquoise line the huge open windows, and a shiny chromed bar is the central focus.

Head Chef Sandy Jarvis, formerly of Terroirs has created a menu that is solid gastro-pub, with flashes of excitement. Nestled within the classics like pie and fish and chips are porkcorn, and anchovy butter. 

Whole globe artichoke with spiced crab butter (£6) was a great example of a perfect starter. Easy to share, a little messy and not too filling, the crab butter was a lovely deviation from the usual vinaigrette. A salad of soft boiled egg with anchovies (£6.50) was well dressed with a tangy, parmesan sauce. The ingredients were obviously of top quality. 

Deep fried pigs head (£6) elicited ooh's of delight from our gaggle of girls; a few golden, crisp spheres of spiced pork was accompanied with leaves dressed with a mustardy emulsion, a sliver of pickled walnut here and there to counteract the richness. Our token vegetarian enjoyed roasted vegetables with Israeli cous cous (£5) - the big type - and a splodge of spiced yoghurt on top. 

Our mains were nothing short of hearty. An enormous pie (£14) with a golden puffed lid was packed full of creamy chicken, mushrooms and leek. I appreciated the dressed finely shaved cabbage and radish salad that came with it - one of my bug bears is a full priced main, but an incomplete meal that forces you to order the vegetable or carb component additionally. My own dish was an enormous pork chop (£15), thick and as big as my face, balanced on top of a lemony fennel salad. New potatoes, boiled and then roasted and tossed in mustard accompanied it, along with a herb-rich chimichurri sauce to pour over the chop. The pork was cooked to a rosy pink, leaving the meat juicy and the flavoursome fat crisp. 

By the time we got to desserts eyelids were starting to droop and the toll of our gluttony was onset. I wished I hadn't finished my friend's pie, when our lone shared dessert of a chocolate brownie with salted caramel, honeycomb and creme fraiche (£6) came out. It was attacked with fervour and it was as good as it sounds. 

For such a busy pub, service was swift and engaging. Our friend wrinkled her nose upon tasting the anchovy butter that comes with the bread (honestly, these vegetarians) and plain butter immediately appeared without prompt. Our waiter (or sommelier?) did well with the red wine drinkers in recommending a cloudy-ish, chilled Gamay which they loved; I had a slight tussle on the white wine front, but eventually talked him down to what was more mass affordable for a bunch of women who'd just been drinking beauty-parlour-house-white. Our ordered porkcorn never arrived - devastating, considering my love of both popcorn and pork - but when it was pointed out on the bill our waiter was so embarrassed he offered us a round of drinks on the house. We declined in favour of last tubes / trains / buses but it's the thought that counts.

I'm a big fan of The Culpeper; it's obviously strongly driven by food - they serve breakfast, lunch and during August you can also picnic on their rooftop, where they grow herbs and vegetables for the chef to use. Often pubs can lose the traditional pub drinkers aspect, but I've been for drinks, perched outside on a window ledge in the afternoon sun with scores of drinkers at the bar too and The Culpeper seemingly get the balance just right. 

The Culpeper
40 Commercial Street
London

(Tables are bookable for 6 or more)

Hog Roast at The Red Lion & Sun

I first met Heath Ball, owner of The Red Lion & Sun, at The Ship in Wandsworth. He told me about his pub which is located in Highgate - so far north of the river it's nosebleed-inducing. I knew it was unlikely that I would visit his pub any time in the near future.

However, dangle a carrot in front of a pony and the pony will eventually knock you clean out of the way, wrenching that sweet carrot from your grasp. That is what Heath did to me; the offer of a hog roast. A whole pig on a spit. I gathered 30 of my friends and we made the mission. Immunisations all up to date, we headed to leafy Highgate.

We walked into the garden to be greeted by cute jam jars of Four Roses bourbon, kindly donated by them. I'm not usually a fan of whiskey, but this concoction, full of sweetness and lime, was addictive and thirst quenching. A tray of puffy, crispy crackling dipped in apple sauce kept the hunger pangs at bay while the wafts of pork on the spit wafted over tantalisingly.

The poor piggy had his head chopped off to fit in the spit. A whopping 75kg Gloucester Old Spot, it was basted regularly with bourbon.

Salads were laid out and they were not your usual buffet affair. A multi-coloured tomato salad with plenty of basil featured actually ripe tomatoes that tasted of something. Potato salad had bite and no clag, while the leaves had ribbons of carrots and half moon slivers of red onion. We were never going to make even a dent in the most enormous bowl of white bean salad.

"The foccacia smells like real foccacia!" squealed one Italian lady. I didn't get a bite of it (why eat bread when it could be room for meat?) but everyone that did raved about it.

Photo above by Emma Dickinson

The pork was served to the masses. It was absolutely delicious. I haven't been to a hog roast where I didn't encounter a dry piece of meat, usually from the loin as it's lean and it dries out the quickest. Not here; all of it was juicy and tender. I had 2 platefuls before I had to take a break.

I casually walked past the spit again, and Heath got my attention. "Here, have some belly" - he ripped it straight off the pig with his hands. Oh. My. Silky, fatty, porky, all those adjectives. I shared a bit with a friend and the only noises we could make were "ahhhuhhmmuuuuhhhhhh". It was slightly obscene. Later on, I was accosted with some tenderloin; still pink, it felt like biting into butter.

Claire from D'Arenberg Wines, an Australian winemaker from Adelaide, kindly supplied us with copious amounts of booze. I liked how they all had odd names; my favourite was The Last Ditch. It was a delicious Viognier from 2008 and it matched the food well (if you believe in that kind of thing) - fuzzy fruits and slightly nutty.

We finished up in a far more uncivilised fashion. Oh, those Jägerbombs.

We paid a measly £10 each for all that grub, though we got lucky on the booze front as Four Roses and D'Arenberg catered for us. Poor Heath has gone well and truly off lamb and pork after having roasted hundreds of the beasts in two years, so you should make the most of it and book your next celebration there. Or you don't even have to be celebrating. We had a truly cracking night, to be followed by 3 hours sleep and a dog-rank hangover the next day. Jägermeister for you, I suppose.

Red Lion & Sun

25 North Road
Highgate Village
N6 4BE

Tel: 020 8340 1780

Terroirs Wine Bar

If you saw my Christmas post, you may have deduced that I come from a family of food lovers. Ma and Pops didn't tolerate fussiness and when we were kids, they were liberal in taking us out to restaurants. I remember several occasions of sitting in a restaurant called Spices in Repulse Bay, Hong Kong, while my mum had business lunches. Satay chicken was a favourite, and the green minty-tipped toothpicks excited me. My sister and I were also covertly taken to Singapore on another business trip; we feasted on chilli crabs every evening and blew Mum's cover by wandering into her conference, dripping wet from the pool, having mislaid our hotel key.

Another sticking memory was of dinner with my parents and their friends, where I had my first steak tartare (I think I was 8) and was upset when Mum insisted I shared it with my sister. A darkened pub at a late hour, aged about 11 was where I sampled the finest bowl of Irish stew in memory. My love of restaurants (and pubs...) obviously stemmed from my childhood.

It is with this that I go out for meals with my parents with some trepidation. I suggested we meet at Terroirs Wine Bar; the wine list, mainly comprising of natural wines, looked really interesting - my teetotal mum was enthused by the menu - and it was well located for all of us to head home after.

We were seated downstairs and at 6:30pm there was only one other table seated. Duck scratchings were crisp, salty and (of course) ducky. A glass of 2008 Boisson Rouge Pet Nat was a delicious sparkling companion. The menu is simple and having spotted quite a few dishes I wanted to try, I convinced the table to share a selection of dishes.

The charcuterie selection had slices of saucisson 'Noir de Bigorre', duck rillettes and a slice of pork and pistachio terrine. The rillettes oozed fat and spread unctuously across the bread, while the green-studded terrine went very well with the cornichons and were porkily good.

Squid with aioli was beautifully cooked; the squid was buttery soft though I thought the aioli could do with a more garlicky hit. This may have been the fault of the clams though. Bathed in parsley-stringed buttery juices with strips of cured ham, thin transparent slices of raw garlic decorated the dish. A dried chilli provided a building punchy background. Simple, but stunningly good.

My favourite dish of the night was the Cantabrian anchovies with shallots and butter. Toasted bread, smeared with the butter, piled with the shallots and topped with an anchovy was a lesson in great ingredients. The anchovies weren't too salty but were plump and silky. The shallots added freshness and counteracted the richness of the butter well. I found it a real struggle to share this dish.

By this time, the restaurant was packed to the rafters and there was a lively buzz emanating throughout the restaurant. Service never slipped, and our bottles of tap water were replenished regularly. Dishes (and two baskets of bread) finished, we contemplated ordering a main to share but decided that was overkill and dived straight into the cheeses.

Soumaintrain was served apologetically fridge cold but after leaving it as long as we could to warm up (oh, about a minute) it was pungent, slightly sweet and intense. The Fourme d'Ambert was very blue indeed, but I preferred the stinkier former and Pops hoovered up most of this.

To finish, a refreshing glass of Moscato d'Asti, tasting of pear drops and springtime, was matched with my prune and Armagnac parfait. The parfait was served very simply, with just the right amount of booze in it - Mum made a face on tasting it. The texture was as light as a mousse, with the prunes giving it just enough sweetness.

Dinner was near perfect. I found the cheese servings a little stingy for £3.50 each, but that was my only complaint. Service was sweet and our server valiantly stepped up to the challenge with a a fortified red Banyuls when Pops voiced doubts over whether there were any dessert wines to go with his bitter chocolate pot. We left vowing to come back; after all, there are the main courses to try. A sign of a brilliant find.

Terroirs Wine Bar

5 William IV Street
London WC2N 4DW

Tel: 0207 036 0660

Our bill came to £130 with service