The Lockhart, Marylebone

I had been meaning to go to The Lockhart for a while after I met a couple of the owners at a party last Summer (dahling) and they'd talked excitedly about their passion for mezcal, reflected in their cocktail menu; I bloody love mezcal. But it took me a few months to get there and in that time they installed a new head chef, the acclaimed Brad McDonald previously of New York, and the mezcal was seemingly wiped from their drinks list, bar one lonely cocktail. The Lady Lockhart, a gin, cucumber, maraschino and lemon number, was a decent and well balanced hit of booze to start our dinner off with though.

We were in for an early, pre-cinema dinner and the room was dark and atmospheric, tables lit with candles, a bustling but quiet kitchen pass at the back of the room. Catfish goujons with remoulade and grilled chicken oysters with mustard were nuclear-hot, but once cooled were a tasty little number. I had incredible difficulty in choosing from the mercifully short menu - everything sounded amazing. 

Dirty rice with brown crab and smoked oysters (£14.50) was probably my least favourite dish of the evening. Although the rice grains were pearly and cooked well, I found the overall flavour a little too fishy. Catfish gumbo (£9) was far better; soft chunks of fish with a thick, spiced stew heavy with the slime of okra (which I love). 

On to mains, and the cornbread which seems to be at the forefront of most critics' reviews had to be ordered (opening photo). We were not disappointed. It was drenched in butter, reportedly cooked with lard too for an extra crisp base. A hint of honey flavoured the bread and we ate it straight from the cast iron pan, no adornment needed. Shrimp & grits (£18, above) was somewhat smaller than I had imagined, though the polenta was cooked until smooth and creamy, the prawns sweet and crunchy. I found it overly salty, and towards the end I started to struggle.

Stuffed quail with Madeira glaze (£16) was a cute little thing, and very cleverly stuffed with rice under the skin, so that it burst and spilled out when you cut into it. I love quail, and this was cooked as well as any I've had - blush pink meat, and crisp skin. We ordered coleslaw (£4) as we figured a place serving Deep South food would make it better than any other, but it was unremarkable. 

What was remarkable was the dessert - puffy light doughnuts with a chocolate sauce, made with rice flour (I think?) for extra crispness. Whoever is deep frying there knows their stuff. 

The bill, then. I suppose I shouldn't have been too shocked, since the menu prices were right there before me, but I wondered when a cocktail, a bottle of the cheapest house wine and a 3 course meal became a £70+ per head expenditure? I suppose I was taken aback as everything wasn't perfect, and it especially smarted a little as I had to ask for the 30% discount to be applied, for sitting down before 6:30pm. What was a nice little surprise when I made the online booking turned into a bit of an awkward one. Luckily I wasn't on a first date.

Still though, we were able to box up the leftover cornbread which my very clever boyfriend fried the next day for breakfast with scrambled eggs, which turned out to be one of the best breakfasts I've had in recent memory, so you know, all is not lost. 

The Lockhart

22 - 24 Seymour Place

London

W1H 7NL

 0203 011 5400 

Posh Breakfasting: Claridge's, Mayfair

Posh Breakfast at Claridges was a long time coming. We'd originally planned it for a Christmas treat - treat almost certainly being the operative word - but through one mishap or the other, we forgot to book and then it was full. Instead, we visited on a blustery February morning, only slightly conscious that we'd missed the famous Christmas tree. 

The whole place screams old fashioned posh. Plush carpets, polished silverware, well dressed serving staff and beautifully laid tables, at 8am the room was bustling. We were led to a table beyond the pretty dining room, a darker alcove with one other seating of businessmen eating granola. A shame we weren't able to eat in the main room but I didn't want to cause a fuss. 

The menu is likely to make you raise your eyebrows. Yes, that really is £6.50 for a cup of coffee. An English breakfast will set you back £17.50, and the eggs Royale I ordered was £18.50. It was a decent eggs royale, though I can't say it was the best I've ever had. If you're really pushing the boat out you could go for scrambled eggs with caviar, at a causal £75. 

Omelette Arnold Bennett (£19.50!) was a hefty plate of omelette, topped with smoked haddock. Mornay sauce, which is bechemel with added cheese, covered the lot and was grilled until browned and bubbling. This was the richest dish I could have ever imagined. My friend and I shared the Eggs Royale and this, and still half was leftover. 

My vegetarian friend asked for the Welsh rarebit, advertised with ham, to be served without. It arrived as menu'd, but the serving staff apologised profusely and a replacement arrived. It was nice that they removed it from the bill too. 

Speaking of the bill, we would have paid almost £30 each for our breakfasts with a coffee, had the offending item not been removed. Pretty punchy stuff, but you pay for the room and the experience. 

I am sad I don't have much of a sweet tooth, especially in the morning, as the pastries looked amazing. 

Claridge's - Foyer & Reading Room

Brook Street, Mayfair
London W1K 4HR

Tel: +44 (0)20 7409 6307

Lanzhou Noodle Bar, Leicester Square

I was told that Lanzhou Noodle Bar was the place to get authentically hand-pulled noodles, and one Saturday after a bumper load of shopping in Chinatown, I stopped off for a quick lunch. I got there and I gazed suspiciously in the window at the orange gloopy buffet dishes glistening under heat lamps for so long that one of the waitresses poked her head out of the door to see if she could entice me in. She couldn't, until I tentatively asked 'la mian?' and she nodded enthusiastically. 

The menu is vast, but you must ignore all of it (including the buffet) and made a noodle-based decision. One glance at the chap up front, slapping the oiled dough (snigger) down on the counter is enough to tell you that. They're available in soup, dry-tossed or fried. I ordered stewed beef which came in a vast bowl, chunks of beef bobbing around in a clear anise-spiced broth, ruddied by my application of chilli oil. 

The noodles are really great. Chewy and elastic, generous in portion. The surroundings are basic; drinks are served in polystyrene cups and people are ushered along benches to wedge yet more people in. But for £6.50 for a more than ample lunch, I am not complaining - I am there for the noodles.

Lanzhou Noodle Bar (it just says Noodle Bar on the front, for those of us who can't read Chinese like me) 
33 Cranbourne St, 
London WC2H 7AD

Posh Breakfasting: Honey & Co.

For some reason I started this year thinking it would be like the last - a slow burner, with nothing particularly frantic happening until at least March. I was very wrong. We've hit the ground running, and I haven't had much time to do much cooking for the blog (though Instagram followers will notice I have still been cooking - a girl's gotta eat). Indeed, all the exciting new restaurant openings have fallen by the wayside, evening hours being precious to work and sleep.

But it's easier to get up early when there is promise of a hearty breakfast. The advantage is that not everyone is awake to call you to ask for x y z before you've even got the to office, and a leisurely breakfast can be enjoyed in peace. Honey & Co. was certainly peaceful as we were one of the only tables seated, with a few streaming in and out to pick up pastries.

The breakfast menu on the web is actually more substantial than the one we had to peruse - I suspect that might be a weekend brunch - so I was slightly disappointed when I discovered Shakshuka would not be available to me. But, no matter, for my Merguez sausage roll, warm and flaky from the oven with a hard boiled egg and a side dish of pickles was more than an ample start to the day, especially when smothered with the fiery harissa sauce. My friend's pizza-like bread (opening picture) topped with spinach and a soft egg came with a labneh I continually stole for myself. A coffee was strong and smooth, while a fennel and lemon tea to finish with revived my stuffed self. 

Honey & Co. 

25a Warren St. London W1T 5LZ I've been here for lunch too, and it is excellent.

Ganapati Takeaway

You'll have to excuse the incredibly shit picture. It was Sunday night and I was trying to shovel my takeaway into my face as rapidly as possible. But the reason I'm sharing this with you is because South Indian Peckham stalwart, Ganapati, has opened a little takeaway shop and lo, they deliver. Happy, happy days. 

The biriyani special (chicken, that time) comes with poppadums, dal, raita and pickle. It's humungous - we ordered this and some samosas and that was the two of us sorted for a mere £18. I'm sad that the excellent curd rice isn't on the takeaway menu though. I'm baffled that takeaway poppodums and pickles are 30p more expensive than eat in. But, no matter, because Ganapati is bloody excellent.

Delivery to the following postcodes: SE1 . SE4 . SE5 . SE8 (part) . SE11 . SE14, SE15 . SE16 (part) . SE21 ., SE22 . SE23, SE24 . SW2 (part) . SW8 . SW9

The menu is here. 
0207 642 5566 

Posh Breakfasting: The Electric Diner

The Electric Diner is a cool place. Owned by Soho House, it is attached to a cinema of the same name where you can enjoy your film on the comfort of a sofa or an armchair. The restaurant looks like it was built in a big archway; a long bar is lined with stools, where chefs grill, fry, deep fry and assemble. Banquettes line the walls, with tables so wide they make dates awkward, though perfect for groups of friends. I've been once for dinner, and we sat at the bar sipping strong cocktails and eating shaved beef sandwiches, with plates of fries covered in cream sauce, topped with fried eggs. Sparkling crystals of salt adorned most of the Americana-style dishes. It was noisy and dark, boisterous and fun. 

We came back on rainy Sunday morning, the only place open at the ungodly hour of 9am. We were jet-lagged and hungry, confused by the hour of the morning that is so often unknown to us. Perched back again at the bar, the scene was quite different; couples feeding unruly children was the order of the morning. 

The breakfast menu reads like many; porridge and granola (why? why would you order that?) with fresh fruit, pastries, danishes. More to my tastes are the eggs benedict, the omelettes, the waffles. It was an easy decision to make. 

My eggs benedict was made using top quality eggs, those with the startlingly, deliciously orange yolks. Muffin halves were toasted and - joy! - the ham was shown some time in the hot plate before being flopped on top, so that they were nice and crisp around the edges. Hollandaise was light and tart, generously covering the eggs. They still do the flakes of salt on top. 

Afraid that the avocado on toast with a poached egg would be a little virtuous, we ordered the thickly cut peppered bacon to go with my boyfriend's breakfast. It was sweet and crisp, salty and thick. Not your average bacon. It defeated us.  

Not one to be able to resist hash browns, I wondered what would warrant the £5 they cost. I found out - there was a veritable boat of them. I'm not complaining. 

I didn't eat again until 4pm.

Electric Diner,
191 Portobello Road,
London, W11 2ED

Back in Bangkok

We went to Bangkok at a weird time. The anti-Government protests were just kicking off, and large parts of the city's roads were closed. Taxis drivers shook their heads and drove off when you asked tentatively if they'd take you somewhere, and any taxi you could get into would then get gridlocked in traffic. Our hotel, The Metropolitan by COMO, was an oasis of calm amidst the chaos, though we were told hotels had suffered, with only 40% full as opposed to the 90% norm at that time of year. It did mean we had the pool largely to ourselves, though. 

The jacuzzi, usually a place of awkward glances, was also deserted, and I was able to bubble away, uninterrupted. Our room had the biggest and most comfortable bed I've stayed in, and the temptation to sit around in those fluffy dressing gowns was intense. But we had things to eat. 

Our first day in Bangkok saw us eating in two swanky restaurants; firstly, Nahm in our hotel. David Thompson cooks there, and it was placed at number 32 at The 50 World's Best Restaurants in 2013. I had dinner there on my last visit to Bangkok in 2011, and standards haven't slipped since. From the lunch menu, a clear and innocent-looking tom yum goong was as fiesty as hell, the heat of the chilli building until I couldn't bear it any more. I sought refuge in the (pictured) fresh water crayfish with Asian pennywort salad. The plump shellfish with young coconut was sweet and mild, herbal and soothing. 

Only available at lunchtime, the khanom jeen noodles (a type of cold noodle made with fermented rice) was served with a bundle of herbs and banana blossom, with our chosen curry of chicken and young ginger. It was a right faff to balance those noodles on a spoon, spoon some curry on top and garnish it with the herbs for the perfect mouthful, but once achieved, it was indeed delicious. The heat of the young ginger prevailed, while the rich red curry coated the noodles smoothly. Service was formal but friendly, and our lunch revived us from the staleness of the 13 hour plane journey.

We headed out to look at some temples and ride around in tuk tuks until we were peckish again and under a bridge, with not much else going on, we found a lone cart selling noodles; a sweet, anise-scented broth with slivers of pork dominated this particular bowl. It was a case of point-and-nod; rice noodles? No. Egg instead? Yes. A few splashes of chilli from the condiments tray made it one of the best bowl of noodles we had on our trip. 

Jet lag kicking in, we dozed off on the ferry, bobbing our way down the Chao Prao river back to our hotel. A short cab ride later, we arrived at Bo.Lan, recommended to me by many when I asked for restaurant recommendations. Decked in wood throughout, we were seated at a disappointingly dark table (though, given what happened later, probably a good thing). To avoid having to do any decision-making, we opted for the Bo.Lan Balance - a tasting menu devised of dishes that encompass the salty, spicy, sweet and mild flavour spectrums. 

We started off with a martini glass of Thai whiskey, washed down with a pandanus water-like drink and some nibbles. A tray then followed, and the waitress pointed at each bite in turn. "This? Not spicy. This? Spicy. This? Not spicy." We munched away happily until we encountered Mr. Spicy. A little cup of tangled vegetables, seemingly harmless enough. My boyfriend spluttered and went bright red. Water that looked suspiciously like tears leaked from his eyes. I raised an eyebrow and ate my portion. A rising flame spread throughout my mouth. It hurt to breathe out, as my breath was warm and it inflamed my tongue. We started sob-giggling hysterically, euphoric from the chilli. The lady on the next table offered us her tissues sympathetically. 

The rest of my meal at Bo.Lan was nice; the flavours were bright and punchy, the dishes plated beautifully. A mackerel-like fish in red curry sauce stood out particularly. I liked that they offered both brown and white rice. But the residing memory was of my mouth suffering, my insides protesting, my forehead lightly sweating. The rest of the meal passed by in a bit of a blur. A £100-odd blur. I wished that chilli-bomb had come last to obliterate.

The next day, we got up early and took to the streets for breakfast. A wander down Soi Convent in Silom revealed a wealth of noodle stalls, and we got to the end of the road before we turned back to make our breakfast decision. There really isn't much better than a 9am bowl of noodles to fortify you for the day. This time, it was fish balls in a clear broth, with slices of char siu (Chinese-style barbecue pork) and fish paste-stuffed tofu puffs. Topped with deep fried shallots, sliced spring onion and a halved boiled egg, this was a wonderful breakfast, and all for 40 baht (£1). Later we discovered that Soi Convent really comes to life at around 5 - 7pm, with stalls selling not only noodles but grilled meats, bowls of fried quails eggs and other such delights, for the large number of hospital workers going home from work nearby.

We headed off to Chatuchak Weekend Market, the largest open air market in Asia at a whopping 27 acres, for a day of haggling. 

We ploughed through the stalls, buying gifts for our families, clothes for ourselves and all-important bowls to fulfil my crockery obsession. Little pots of cendol kept us going and cooled us in the heat, and eventually we sat down at one of the cafes for this grilled pork neck salad, topped with roasted ground rice, while a man next to us shredded papaya deftly for som tam. We touched upon maybe 15% of the stalls in the 4 hours we were there.

Across the road from Chatuchak is Or Tor Kor, an enormous fresh food market. Hundreds of stalls are in the undercover area, selling fresh fish, meat and an incredible array of fruit and vegetables. There are stalls selling curry pastes, and stalls selling things cooked in sauces and curry pastes ready to be scooped into a polythene bag, tied up and taken to be eaten at home. It's incredible what the Thais can do with a plastic bag. Near the centre is a food court, where you can plonk yourselves down and graze from a selection of stalls. We started off with the rice dumplings, above; we were drawn in by a lady pouring a thin rice batter on a hot plate, scooping it round and adding pork to the centre, before topping it with fried shallots. Alongside you get lettuce leaves and herbs to wrap them in to form a big parcel. Check the lettuce for caterpillars... 

We also had some excellent chicken satay, served with a spicy peanut sauce and chopped cucumbers and chillis. Duck over rice had a disappointingly sweet gravy, and much of the rice was abandoned. Despite the dazzling array of food to choose from, nothing else took our fancy and we headed off for Chinatown. 

After a mooch around the markets of Chinatown, we headed back to the hotel, eating everything we came across. Around Sala Daeng BTS station was a hive of protest activity, and where there's lots of people, there is good food. Little crispy pancakes cooked on a hot griddle and smeared with coconut cream were addictive and one of the best things we ate. The one on the left is garnished with sweet candied pumpkin, the right with spring onion, giving it that savoury edge. Later on in the trip we came across these topped with quails eggs, and even wrapped around a tiny cocktail sausage. There's a stall now selling them at Borough Market, Londoners! Though substantially more expensive at 5 for £6. 

Grilled meat on sticks is a huge thing in Bangkok; the meat is cooked on the skewer over a charcoal grill, and when you come to order they are reheated on the grill back to piping hotness. Chunks of chicken were nice, pork even nicer, and soured fermented sausage with garlic was honky goodness. The skewers on the back left there? The squiggly ones? Chicken intestines. Like hollow chickeny tubes. I ate them with trepidation, but I needn't have been as they were well prepared. 

On our last night in Bangkok we opted for a bit of swank at the Moon Bar at the top of the Banyan Tree. Located on the 61st floor, it is open air and is the stuff of vertiginous nightmares for those who suffer. It has an amazing view, and the drinks are priced as one might expect from a rooftop bar. 

We headed off for some sustenance, and somewhere in the recesses of my mind (or my iPhone notes) I recalled that Silom Soi 9 was good for some street eats. We happened upon this place, where large groups were sitting enjoying steaming plates of seafood. A nearby car was blasting out some tunes. We pointed towards our dinner from a tray of seafood on ice and nodded along to the cook's questions - garlic? Spicy? Rice?

A whole bream-like fish came steamed, covered in coriander and lime. Poached perfectly so that the flesh came away easily, I didn't mind so much that it hadn't been scaled - the skin was easy enough to pull away.

These crayfish were covered in a mound of deep fried garlic. They were outrageously delicious, and we got stuck right in with our hands extracting all the meat from them. With some rice, a salad I don't remember, and enough beers to make me forget the salad, the three of us paid a meagre £10 between us. 

Something of a creature of habit, I directed us through a huge site of protest (it was a bit bum-clenching, that), harping on about "hey last time I was here I had the BEST mango sticky rice everrrr" at Sukhumvit Soi 38. Thank god it was still the best mango sticky rice ever. Even the creepy man behind me can't resist having a gawp at my mangoes.

I don't think I could ever get bored of Bangkok. 

We dined as guests of Nahm, but paid for our stay at The Metropolitan. All opinions are (obviously) mine.