Gertsamtkunstwerk

Lunch at the Riverside

Two years ago, a delightful trio of puddings at The Riverside in West Bay sort of got me back into photographing my food. More importantly, we had good memories of a tasty lunch, in a restaurant where the relatively few children present were under control. We decided to repeat the experience.

When we visited in June 2011 the weather was pretty awful - windy and rainy and not very warm. This time it was sunny enough to take phots, and not especially chill.

Again, we had a very good meal. I started with a seafood souffle

I followed with grilled fish - which variety I forget now, in a leek and mushroom sauce, which was delicious, but, unfortunately, didn't come out well in a photo. I so wanted a pudding, my desire made even more so by seeing the eye-watering temptation of, this time, a quartet of puddings. But I had eaten so well I - uncharacteristically - had no room for any more.

Lovely restaurant, long established, with fresh clean paintwork lending it a nautical feel. We sat with views over the estuary of the River Brit. Pleasant staff, friendly enough but not intrusive. For a second time, we enjoyed Sunday lunch without the perennial South London risk of screaming toddlers running around. It's how it should be (if you want your kids to run around and be generally anti-social and disruptive, take them to McD's, away from civilised people. Or get them to sit at table, leave only with permission, and only with a specific destination, such as the loos. And teach them to walk, not run).

Afterwards we felt we needed a brisk post-prandial stroll. This seemed a fine idea in principle but I felt heavy and lazy. A few droplets of rain fell, and we agreed it was best to return to our holiday cottage and vegetate.

On cupcakes

When I was little, one of the first things any good Brownie - or, indeed, a bad Brownie like me - learnt to cook were Fairy Cakes. Bake some buns, dollop some icing on (icing sugar and water, mix to the right consistency) and sprinkle with sugar strands. This recipe says hundreds and thousands but the illustration is of sugar strands. In my opinion, hundreds and thousands are smething different - tiny metallic balls.

Paul Simon sings 

Hide it in a hiding place
Where no one ever goes.
Put it in you pantry with your cupcakes.
It's a little secret,
Just the Robinsons' affair.

Cupcakes are the American for Fairy cakes

I don't know why but, just a few years back, Cupcakes exploded in the UK. People wrote tracts about why Cupcakes are anti-feminist. Or why it's okay to be a feminist and bake cupcakes. Every you went, cafés were selling 'cup cakes'. I can see an attraction. When done well, the decorations can be a work of art. Have enough cupcakes, with sufficient variation in decorations, and you have an eye-catching mouth-watering display, tempting to the customer who only came in for a coffee. Coffee and cupcakes, living the dream.

It might just be me, but the tide seems to have turned. On the last three occasions I have been up for a sweet snack while out I have drunk good quality strong tea, and eaten on two occasions a slice of good old-fashioned cake - Victoria Sandwich at Lullingstone and Seville Orange Marmalade cake at Sezincote, and an old fashioned toasted tea cake in Chipping Campden. And what can match a scone with clotted cream and proper jam, with tea?

I have to confess that I have tried cupcakes from several places on several occasions and have been disappointed. The visual treat is matched by a let down in the taste. Often the sponge is stale, or tastes of cheap margarine. The topping is over-sweet, sickly, and verging on the unpleasant. The topping helps to keep the bun fresher, but only up to a point.

There is one noble exception to the Cupcake disappointment - Ms Cupcake in Brixton. Vegan and gluten free, but nevertheless packed full of flavour. Jimmy got into a habit of buying me cupcakes from there, and I got into the habit of taking photos of them - with my phone. These are not good photos, so on a few occasions I actually took photos with my real camera.

Eventually, I came to the conclusion that these cupcakes, tasty though they are, were giving me such a sugar rush, followed by a sugar low, that I should indulge only on occasion. I have since rediscovered the delights of the slice of traditional English cakes, but I would still recommend Ms Cupcake as outstanding. And she has a cookbook recently published.

We even pretend that cakes aren't for us, but we buy them just for my Ladies' Maid

 

There again, she just likes cake! (from La Parisienne on Streatham Hill)

Boqueria Tapas

I am so behind with my blogging that before I have got round to writing about my June visit to Boqueria on Acre Lane, I have revisited. We have been three times this year, which is probably an indication of how much we like the place.

It helps that it's very close to home, eminently walkable - but why walk when there's a bus service practically door-to-door! The staff are lovely, can't fault them. Don't interrupt you when eating, in order to ask spurious questions about 'everything okay'* and yet are very approachable. Also, as happened on Saturday, we didn't quite finish everything on our plates. The waiter, who I think is also manager, asked with genuine concern whether there was a reason we hadn't finished. I reassured him that we had been in that awkward position of being hungry but perhaps not hungry enough to eat a full meal, had had rather a large breakfast (and rather a large snack at the Lambeth Country Show). 

Boqueria do some things extremely well. The seafood paella we had in June was exceptional, better than paellas I have had in Spain. I enjoyed the Rape a la Catalana con gambas - monkfish and prawns I ate Sturday (but forgot to photograph!) And you can see from the photo above an excellent example of how to present a simply described 'Mixed salad' with fresh succulent ingredients.

Less successful was Espinacas a la crema gratinada con piñones (fresh spinach with melted cheese raisins and pine nuts). It was eatable and not unpleasant, but I found it to be surprisingly bland - perhaps I expected more of a piquant taste from the goat's cheese. It was a generous portion of spinach, which led to the dish seeming unstructured.

I also enjoyed the Crema Catalana. Although, it  wasn't as delicious as the supreme tarta I ate in January, and, to be honest, it's difficult to find a commercial Burnt Cream to match my own!

On Saturday, I started with a gazpacho, which was perfect, especially given that I had arrived somewhat dehydrated from a trek through the Lambeth Country Show.

As we left, I said to the staff "See you again soon". A welcoming and relaxed restaurant with good food and friendly staff. 

*I hate it when restaurants do that - it's paying lip-service to some artifical notion of customer service. Good restaurants such as Boqueria are sufficiently observant to tell that customers who are chatting away and eating their food are probably very happy. Interrupting conversation diminishes this.

Lunch at Chez Bruce

I wrote about Chez Bruce a few weeks ago and soon after I blogged that, we returned. It seemed a sensible way to beat the dark wet gloomy depressing days of early June. A three course weekday lunch is priced at £27.50, so it's no great surprise it gets fully booked up . We've booked at fairly short notice twice, and have had to make do with times not of our choosing. Which is fine - if I wanted to choose the precise time I'd be more organised. 

One of the things I appreciate about Chez Bruce is they have no airs and graces. I have been in downmarket eateries who take a customer's lack of knowledge as a personal insult. A sign of a good restaurant is when they patiently explain what the strange-to-me ingredients are.

I started with Brandade-stuffed piquillo pepper with a sauté of squid, tomato, chilli and aïoli. Brandade is an emulsion of salt cod and olive oil. Piquillo is a particular form of sweet pepper originating from Northern Spain. Chez Bruce say:

We are not into tricks in the kitchen and there are doubtless some who view our food as slightly old fashioned in this regard. We take this as a compliment!

Whilst I have a fondness for places with tricks - if done well - I also have enormous respect for the Chez Bruce approach. I see it as conservative, in a good way, letting the ingredients shine. Not overly fancy; surprisingly hearty, cooked perfectly. I particularly liked how the fish ingredients accompanied the vegetables*.

Although I love vegetarian food, it's a rare event when I opt for the vegetarian main course in a proper restaurant. This time I chose Pea tortelloni with asparagus, wild garlic and mousserons. A celebration of summer, notwithstanding the gloomy weather. 2012 is the year that I came to regard fresh peas as a sensual ingredient, not just a convenience food.The tortellini was delicate and thin, to melt on the tongue. Asparagus I love for just a few weeks a year. And I learned that mousserons are mushrooms, often known as Fairy Ring mushrooms. For far too long I ate only supermarket button mushrooms. Okay as far as they go, but nothing compares to the various nutty tastes of the numerous different varieties. We shared a bottle of very good white with the meal - I forget what now. And they have such an extensive wine list I can't even refresh my memory!

With my pudding I additionally had a glass of dessert wine. It was probably very foolish to indulge to this extent at lunchtime - but all I had to do was to get the bus home and snooze on the sofa. Strawberries in shortbread with creme patisserie (if I remember correctly) and elderflower jelly. Not the first time I have had jelly and shortbread this summer. They go well together and are surprisingly sophisticated. The fresh elderflower is a great foil for the sharpness of the strawberries.

I like the little touches. Parmesan chips; bread rolls I could happily repast on; chocolate truffles with the coffee. Can't fault the food, can't fault the service - sufficiently formal but not stiff; sufficiently friendly but not over-familiar. I really must go back again soon!

View Larger Map

* technically or botanically peppers and tomatoes are fruit. For cuilnary purposes they are vegetables!

A quick trip down to Brixton

This was ages ago now, but I decided to bring my camera when we went shopping. It was just before the Diamond Jubilee. I am fervently anti-Monarchist, but I always like Morleys' window display, even if it's Christmas in November, or promoting Valentine's Day, the ultimate miserable capitalist corruption of imagined romance. And their Diamond Jubilee display was eye-catching!

A queue formed behind me of other people also wanting to photograph it.

We went into Market Row to stock up on fish and vegetables. At which point, being that it was Friday afternoon, and the start of a long Bank Holiday weekend, it seemed wrong not to go for Cocktails at Seven.

I ordered an Electric Avenue, named after the Eddy Grant song, which was about the famous Brixton shopping street. I was warned that this was pretty much the end of range, because they were bringing in the summer menu and they were to introduce the Guns of Brixton cocktail.

I was also tempted into trying a mushroom boccadillo. Simple but tasty and filling. It's a nice little bar. I understand that there are Art Installations upstairs, although we didn't venture that far. Some people sat out the front on deckchairs, playing board games. It's a good spot to people-watch. I tweeted:

Twenty-something dual-heritage hipster bloke walks past rolling a crystal ball in his hand

Lots of little black kids - but no whites - walking around in cardboard crowns. Seems a pretty cruel act of deception

And later

A cream coloured Morris Minor festooned in Union flag bunting. Suspect a more modern car wouldn't get away with it.

Sometimes I think...Live theatre or the fillums cannot compare with Brixton on a Bank Holiday Friday afternoon

Seven cocktail bar stays significantly this side of hipster wank - someone trying to copy it might end up too far up their own arses. But, nevertheless, I was not oblivious to the elderly, poor-looking, largely Afro-Caribbean people walking by with looks of bemusement on their faces. There is a lot of discussion about the so-called gentrification of Brixton, and much of the discussion ignores the wider economic context, and the housing crisis in London and the South East. But with similar and disparate discussions about everything from opera to Olympic sports, the fact that some people have no disposable income should not act as a guilt-trip and a choker on people who are trying to run a small business or who do earn a living and do want to spend their 'disposable' income. It's almost as if the anti-gentrification hardcore want Brixton to be somewhere that shops lie empty, part dormitory, part ghetto.

 

Blakes Restaurant Bournemouth

When I was picking a hotel in Bournemouth,  a swimming pool was a must, but what clinched it was the description of the restaurant. Not just their own marketing, not particularly the two AA rosettes which is not a system I understand, and not just Trip Advisor rating it number one restaurant in Bournemouth. But they all helped. And as I said, if it's not that great on the first night we'll just eat somewhere else on the second night. We went back for the second night.

It wasn't perfect, but it had some immense strengths. The serving staff were very polite and there were no mistakes, but I felt they were there for (successful) English language practice rather than because of a passion for food or customer service. Minor quibble, and didn't interfere with my enjoyment. Also, it is primarily a hotel restaurant, which seems to lend a different atmosphere than a standard restaurant or one that is only coincidentally attached to a hotel. I can't quite define it, but it seems marginally less relaxing.

On the first night I started with Crisp Brioche-Coated Goats Cheese with Apple Puree, Hazelnut & Watercress Salad. A really clever dish. I've had deep-fried goats cheese many times, but the use of brioche was inspired, adding a sweetness to what is normally savoury. And the salad was lovely, with the apple purée providing the traditional sweet offset to the cheese, itself offset by hazelnut. 

My main course was Pan Seared Sea Bass Fillet with Nero Linguini, Bouillabaisse,and Brown Shrimps. 

It's been a while since I had pasta as a casual accompaniment to a not-obviously-pasta dish: I think over-cooked gloopy tagliatelle in watery cheese sauce in Montmartre rather put me off. 

Thankfully, Bournemouth rescued me! A nice piece of fish nicely cooked. The nero linguini was just right. To my surprise I enjoyed the broad beans. I've always hated them because of the inner shell, but double-podded, they were very nice. But the highlight was the Bouillabaisse. I'm not going to wade in and pretend to know anything about Bouillabaisse, but I've always thought to be basically a big fish soup, so I was confused. This was a richly flavoured, heavily reduced sauce and was the absolute highlight of the meal, a taste whose memory will remain for a long time.

My pudding was lemon posset and shortbread (see above). The shortbread was nice enough but not up to my own standards. The posset was very lemony. Overall, a great success!

Because we were so pleased with the restaurant, and because there wasn't anywhere immediately locally that presented as an alternative, we decided we might as well return the next night. I imagine if we had been staying longer than two nights, we would have wanted some variety, not least because every restaurant has its own distinctive style.

This time, I could not resist the starter that Jimmy had on the first night: Pan Seared Scallop Bouillabaisse Soup with Rouille, Parmesan & Croutons. Partly, I was fascinated by the ritual of service: first, the scallops placed in the centre of the bowl, and then the bouillabaisse spooned carefully around it, and, finally a selection of the three accompaniments were spooned in with a touch of panache. It was the same bouillabaisse as the previous night, so flavoursome, I was desperate for more. And yet, despite being so strong, it did not overpower the scallops.

For my main course I had the "Great British Dish" (of the day) - Poached Smoked Haddock fillet, with poached egg, herb pancake, with a Tarragon and dry vermouth sauce.

I think it was the least successful of the five dishes that I had at the restaurant. It was surprisingly bland considering its component ingredients. If my main course the previous night had been an 8++ or even a 9, this was probably a 7-. Far better than I've had in many places, but disappointing. I ate it without hesitation. And I was quite stuffed when I'd finished, so chose not to have a pudding. In fact, I was quite tired, so we took our wine back to our room and lay in bed watching TV. Which is a great advantage of a hotel restaurant!

Overall, I was very pleased with Blakes restaurant. I've had good and bad experiences in hotels; this was definitely one of the best.  Not having tried any of the others, I'm in no position to judge whether it actually is Bournemouth's best restaurant, but I would certainly recommend it strongly.

Bistro Union

This is newly opened, and, as I write, still doesn't have a website, except for booking.

It is related to the superb Trinity down the road, although aiming at a different slice of the market. I commented to our waiter that I was expecting red gingham tablecloths - the tables are actually bare - and he commented that at Trinity they iron the tablecloths.

They run a very good Twitter account, posting photos of their current food choice, which looks so tempting. This photos is theirs, showing their barsnack menu

They've put a lot of thought into the decor and theme. Clearly designed to be a bit reminiscent of school or the 1950s, or both, but not quite.

The menus are presented in a folder which is essentially a school exercise book such as I remember from the 1970s. The water glasses are like these Gigogne ones. Ours at school were Arcoroc, but essentially the same. The dishes and plates were similar to the odds and sods that still populate mother's kitchen, dating from the late 50s and early 60s.

I noticed on the drink menu that if you wish to buy your spirits by the bottle, you can store your bottle in a locker above the bar - you keep custody of the key. Very clever, I thought. Encourages the customer to return.

The bar is at the front, and you can have the full menu as well as the bar snacks. At the back is a dining room. I think we arrived at 7pm, with twenty minutes or so it was full. A noticeably young crowd, compared to many restaurants.

We both started with mussels in cider, and were very pleased. Mussels aren't that hard to do, and handy for restaurants because they're so quick. But so many places get them wrong. These were cooked just right, juicy and succulent. Good ingredients.

 

I followed with a fish pie. This was reasonably good. It was packed with salmon, and I'm pretty certain it was farmed. It could possibly have contained a greater variety of fish, although the clam decoration was a nice touch. The mash was well done, smooth but with a crunchy top. However, the portion was far too big, even for me, and I rarely have problems tucking things away. And serving it in a metal dish was a big mistake, because it never got a proper chance to cool down to a temperature where you could eat it properly. It was, overall, veering to the slightly too salty. (Note, I have a slight aversion to salt. Note further, this does not affect my ability to enjoy eg salt-caramel, or butter sprinkled with sea salt). 

This photo adds no further info but I like it as a work of art!

Jimmy went for the catch of the day, which on that day was John Dory. He was not impressed. I don't think he'd ever had John Dory before. I'm not sure I'd even heard of it until a couple of years ago. The bones: flesh ratio isn't satisfactory. Additionally, the menu hadn't made clear he should have ordered a side dish, too. It did come with a horseradish type sauce, which he thought was horrible. He noticed the woman on the next table also abandoned her horseradish and was struggling with the bones:flesh ratio. To be honest, I'm surprised he ordered it: there were other dishes on the menu I'd have thought were more him.

We finished with pudding. Again, he chose ice-cream, and again was disappointed. He ordered three scoops, which isn't clear in this photo. Each scoop came in a separate jar. I thought that was a bit gimmicky. One was described as mint, but didn't really have a mint flavour. The others had beguiling flavour-titles, and he confirmed that they tasted all right. But he didn't rate the quality of the ice cream. I think he has finally realised - ably abetted by his new favourite place, Nardulli by Clapham Common - that if you want decent ice cream, don't order it in restaurants.

 

 

 

 

My pudding was blackcurrant jelly, shortbread and clotted cream, which, all things considered, is a perfect little pudding. Everything just right, and so beautifully presented. The shortbread was delicate and mouth-melty. the jelly was the right balance between sweet and sharp. And who can resist clotted cream?

I would go back to Bistro Union again, but I think Jimmy would need some persuading. He feels that - setting aside alcohol prices (and he only had two glasses of wine because he was driving) - it's no cheaper than Trinity. The food is aimed to be more 'cheerful', not 'fine dining' and the service was less formal - although very good.

I've looked at a few 'professional' reviews. Once you've waded through the hackneyed 'I didn't know restaurants existed south of the Thames' crap, or describing Abbeville Road as a 'backstreet', (which suggests the 'professional' critics know less than they think), they seem to concluded that there are some real strengths in the place but also some weaknesses. I hope - and assume - that as a new place, they can address the weaknesses, because, Jimmy's reaction aside, I think it has a lot of promise. And seems like a breath of fresh air.

whatiate-whaticooked

All the Food I Eat

no kitchen orphan

Chez Bruce

Chez Bruce gets consistently high praise from both the professional critics and from normal people who pay for their meals. It's not very far from us, although easier to reach by bike than by public transport. And who wants to bike home from a nice restaurant? Even so, it's just a couple of stations along the railway line.  They do an excellent irresistible lunch offer. We had wanted to book for about 1pm or 1.30pm, but by the time we rang a week beforehand, it was either noon or the tail-end of service. So we actually arrived to an empty restaurant, where the staff apologised that they were running late and said they were still printing the menu!

I had a mixed reaction to that. On the one hand, if I'm obliged to arrive at noon, I sort of expect them to be punctual, too. But it's such a small thing to be churlish about. Far better, too, that they are still printing the day's menu, than handing you a sauce encrusted one unchanged for decades.

I started with salmon tartare with oyster, herb and grapefruit vinaigrette, avocado and crème fraîche. It seemed a bit odd to stress the contents of the vinaigrette, which wasn't really a feature of the dish, when there were all these other lovely ingredients. I have no complaints about the dish, which I think epitomised the restaurant. Very good quality food, prepared and presented with utmost skill and professionalism. I'm tempted to write 'very conservative' but that would imply 'dated', which, actually it isn't. I suppose like classic tailoring which claims to be timeless, although it isn't. There was no wow factor in the dish; all of it was good. Jimmy liked his deep fried lamb sweetbreads with sauce gribiche -  a mayonnaise with cucumber, capers and herbs.

My main course was halibut fillet with buttered spring vegetables, basil velouté and potato gnocchi. Velouté is stock thickened by a roux. (I realise everyone else knows these things, but I'm a bit clueless in the technical terms of classic French cooking; it's about time I learned!). again, absolutely perfectly cooked and presented with ingredients that were fresh and of the highest quality. I couldn't fault it. The gnocchi surprised me. It's not something I'd normally go for, having had some ghastly doughy versions from supermarket. These were closer to fondant potatoes and worked better than I expected. And the veg were just so tender. The sauce was a bigger feature than for the starter, but even so, it was more to provide a connection between the other elements than being a feature in itself. Jimmy liked his cornfed chicken with liver stuffing, tarragon relish, lemon and artichoke, his main criticism being of the unfortunate coincidence of having tarragon as a strong flavour in both starter and main.

We both finished with crème brûlée which was divine. I am somewhat of a connoisseur of this dish, and variations on it, and this was up there with the best. the best, as it happens, is mine, but this was a damn fine close second. No gimmicks, no fuss, no tarting it up. A back-to-basics burnt cream. Pity it didn't photograph as well as I had hoped.

In addition to the dishes discussed, there were several trimmings - parmesan biscuits to start with, a nice selection of fresh rolls. Some shortbread, almost as good as mine, and several chocolate truffles with coffee.

It is clear from the outset that Chez Bruce is a conservative place to dine. Conservative décor, with old-fashioned half-curtains in the window. But also conservative, restrained, appropriate, professional service, not without warmth and charm. It has a Michelin star, which I wasn't aware of when we visited. Different from such restaurants depicted on Masterchef and similar TV programmes, where creativity goes beyond innovation into fussiness - often irritatingly - and sometimes sheer lunacy. Classic food presented in a classic way. There is a modern twist, and it's subtle, not showy. At lunchtime it would compete on price alone - let alone quality - with the better chains. The evening prices seem far from eye-watering, although, like anywhere, one can only afford up to the limit of one's disposable income.

I had been anxious before that I may be inappropriately dressed, especially on a day that was no longer winter but couldn't be sure it was summer either. In the event, I was being silly. Yes, there were Wandsworth Ladies Who Lunch in their acrylic cardigans, flowery skirts and silken hair. And there were two-bottle-men of a certain age who, if they weren't wearing red trousers, ought to have been. Then there were the well-dressed parents with their ill-fitting jeans-wearing slouchy student sons. Some women who were clearly very nice and for whom the adjective 'chav' is more a statement of fact than an insult. As usual, I eventually realised that 'neat and clean and basic good manners' is all that most businesses require from customers paying their wages.

We liked it so much, we have booked to return!

The Fish Place, Battersea

We cycled past The Fish Place when we were exploring Greater Battersea. We weren't dressed for a proper restaurant, we don't like to cycle after a big meal (and wine), and we had food at home. We liked the look of the menu, though, so took a business card. 

The weather was forecast to be dull when we booked Sunday Lunch, but we didn't know it would be quite so dreary, grey, wet and depressing. The maitre d' said they had had a couple of weather-related cancellations. The restaurant was almost empty when we dined at 2pm. Consequently, of course, there was no atmosphere. I was surprised it was so empty for Sunday lunchtime; perhaps it's busier in the evening. It's a lovely riverside location, with an outside terrace, which, obviously, wasn't open in the dreich. I hope it is busy when the sun shines, because such a good restaurant deserves to prosper, but couldn't, if two couples for late Sunday lunch is as busy as it gets.

 So, the criticism is over and done with. There's lot to praise. I like the decor, because it's clean and crisp and reflects its riverside location. The tableware was clinical. An overall impression of sleekness and attention to detail. My slight hesitation is that it may look dated fairly quickly - it's been open a couple of years. I tend to prefer a more relaxed or quirky decor - I've been to lovely restaurants with bicycles or plastic crabbing buckets suspended from the ceilings. But it's relaxing and unfussy.

 

I started with a Crab tortellini in a seafood bisque. A generous portion for a starter. A good balance of flavours - the strong flavour of the bisque not too strong to bury the crab; the pasta sufficiently thin and cooked just right.

We were then presented with an elderflower sorbet. I gather from the internet that they usually  present a sorbet in between courses. It seemed a quaint tradition I remember being quite widespread twenty years ago. I have subsequently been to more places offering an inter-course palette cleanser. Perhaps it is back on-trend. It was just the trick. Also, Jimmy normally hates sorbet because they are usually too acidic. This was an exception that he appreciated. We made a mental note. Elderflower sorbet - cleanses the palette.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My main course arrived. It was wild sea bass with clam risotto. It was a perfectly satisfactory dish. As you can see from the photo it was beautifully presented. Under the fish is potato and, if I recall correctly, spinach. The yellow, which doesn't photograph well, is buerre blanc, which is lovely. I'm not sure what to conclude about a dish such as this, which is a faultless preparation and presentation of good ingredients intelligently designed, but, really, not that memorable. That's actually, for me, pretty high praise, but it does seem conservative. And, ultimately,  I'm pretty sure that without the photo and without Twitter I would have quite forgotten it. 

Jimmy had roast beef with trimmings, including Yorkshire pudding. The Yorkshire was done perfectly; the beef was obviously a good cut, roasted perfectly (not like a boiled beef he had recently for a Sunday 'roast'). Indeed, I think he ruled it the best roast dinner he's had for a very long time!

We also liked the plates and briefly considered stealing them. We lack very large dinner plates at home and end up cramming stuff onto out-of-fashion plates I got in the 90s. Obviously, we don't steal plates from restaurants!

After a suitable pause, we both ordered chocolate fondant with Madagascan Vanilla ice cream. The ice cream met Jimmy's exacting standard, although I felt I'd had better. The chocolate fondant was exceptional, with a strong taste of - presumably - good quality chocolate, and a deliciously oozing centre, as it should be. 

I think the Fish Place has a lot going for it. The process for getting us seated and settled seemed over-fussy, and I was slightly nervous that under-occupied staff would want our company in an empty restaurant to ease their boredom. But this didn't happen - they were highly professional.

Miraculously, the sun broke through the clouds, and there was an increase in activity on the river and its bank. I would imagine that, on a nicer day, a window or terrace seat would provide endless variety. 

Unless you live near by, or happen to have a helicopter you can land at the heliport next door, it's not that easy to get to. A bit of a walk from Clapham Junction and across the busy York Road. York Road is well enough served by buses, but we found it a tedious trawl down through heavy traffic from Queenstown Rd, less so when returning. I guess the best way to reach is via the Thames Path. We will definite return on another occasion.

Other bloggers:

holdtheanchoviesplease

Cheese and Biscuits

Thoroughly Modern Milly

Greedy Diva

Campari & Soda

A Lady in London

Musings of a W8 Housewife

Grumblings from a Greedy Girl

Giant cheesy leek and potato pasty

To commemorate when st George's Day fell on Meat-Free Monday. Perhaps.

The recipe said to use shop bought shortcrust pastry, but, frankly, by the time you've run down the shop and faffed around, it's easier to make your own. Perhaps I should have photographed The Making of the Pastry, but if you're unsure of what that looks like, pop out for shop-bought!

Chop some leeks

Boil some slices of potato

Combine with some chunks of Cheddar, and pile onto a round of pastry laid out on a baking sheet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The recipe actually  said nothing about greaseproof paper, but I don't fully trust my baking sheets, and have taken to lining them regardless.

You really have to pile those ingredients up, it's a precarious balancing act. And make sure you keep that border round the edge.

Cover it with  lid of pastry - that's significantly bigger than the first piece. Neaten it up and give it an egg rinse

 Bung it in the oven for 40 minutes, then take it out

 Naturally, your eyes fall on theunsightly burnt black bits. Aha! Remember when I said I didn't trust baking sheets. There is a reason. All I had to do was lift off the greaseproof paper and bin the ugly burnt black bits. The burnt juices neither ruining my baking sheet not spoiling my giant pasty.

Also this year we have discovered that there is nothing that cam't be transformed from ordinary and adequate to outstanding by addition of a fresh well-dressed salad. (Correlates with the maxim of making sure your food is not totally beige). Ta da

The original recipe

Crap park cafés

I like to walk in a park, find a nice café and sit down, have a cup of coffee, maybe a cake, maybe even a hot meal. If you have a café in a park, you're sitting on a goldmine. Effectively, there's no competition. Customers generally don't have anywhere else to go. Even if there's another café somewhere else in the park, or on a neighbouring street, the customer has to walk there. Easier to go to the park café.

In prosperous areas of South West London, and, I daresay, elsewhere, good or adequate park cafés are great social places for 'types' to congregate. Lonely 'yummy mummies', dogwalkers, pensioners can meet up with similar people to talk about what they have in common. Other people can break off their walks and enjoy the fare on offer. Couples can go for an escape from the rat-race.

On Saturday we went to the café by the Windmill in Wimbledon. We should have seen warning signs. A huge place, but no one was sitting down indoors. Most outside tables were unoccupied. The dog walkers sat alone with their dog, not in groups of regulars. It did not seem familiar territory to the small children demanding ice-creams.

An appalling place, that really should be ashamed of itself. We'd walked quite a way, and this was the first eating place we had passed in an hour and a half. We went in. I decided I would have a cup of tea, and, ooh, why not, a scone! 

The manager - straight out of Jennifer Saunders or Victoria Wood - asked if I wanted a fruit scone. Ooh yes, I said. We then had to move along and instruct one of 'the girls' what we had ordered, whilst the sit-com woman instructed 'no more than one girl on each thing' (filter coffee machine, teapot, microwave) - she was having to micro-manage schoolchildren. The cup of tea was pushed at me, with a mere mention of milk. No oppotunity for topping it up with further milk. And the scone, butter and jam were presented on a paper plate.

Note the lack of fruit in the fruit scone. Note also the plastic pack of strawberry 'jam' - jelly with seeds, never seen a bloody strawberry.

What this photo can't show you is stale saltiness of the cheap scone, mass produced in a factory. Or that the tea was stewed. It's not really too much to ask, is it, to have a cup of tea made properly, to be able to add my own milk without being under suspicion of wanting to steal it. And a scone that was made this month? Last time I had tea and scone, the tea came in a pot. The crockery was crockery: cup and saucer, plate, milk jug. The scone was big, bobbly, rustic and fresh. The jam had pieces of fruit in it, and along with the clotted cream, was served in a little ramekin. Apparently we can't expect such luxuries in Wimbledon.

It is entirely possible that tourists might come to Wimbledon. A town that is famous around the world for its tennis and its Wombles, an Olympic town. Disgusting.

On Clapham Common is a café called Oasis. Someone sat down one day and thoughtfully designed a chilled place. Inside, cushions on benches round a central table. Outside, picnic tables on decking. We should have been alerted on arrival by how empty the decking was - this photo was taken as we left, this woman's man had just gone inside. Don't know if they stayed.

An attractive-looking menu, with mint tea and green tea, with paninis filled with crayfish or mozzarella and tomato. 

The amiable but dim server tried to charge immediately after we (two people) had ordered just one drink. Neither Jimmy's espresso or my latte actually tasted of coffee. Several Clapham types came, took one look, and walked away. They seemed to be doing a roaring trade in selling chips and fizzy drinks to the kids in the new, nearby skate park. Which, by the way, is great. The kids looked happy, and occupied, and I'd hate to see a café that turned kids away for being, well, kids. 

The cushions smelled.

What a waste of a great location and a good concept. We didn't dare eat, didn't have confidence that the current management knew the first thing aboout food hygiene - no certificates on display. Would you buy a crayfish panini in a café that smells as if someone's been sleeping there?

It's increasingly an irritation to me. How do these people get away with it? How have they got the franchise or lease to run these places? There are so many people with a passion, the drive to make a success out of business, understanding of customers, who could make these places a destination, but are denied that opportunity by these complacent dullards who are happy to serve up crap from te 70s, or  who mess up a good idea and drive people away?

Reviews by others:

Windmill Tea Rooms by Wimbledon People

This place provides the sort of customer experience which I thought had disappeared along with Communism!...A cup of coffee and a rather overcooked flap-jack came to over £4...Overall, a disappointing experience which I won't be paying to repeat.

Windmill Café & Tea Room - Virtual Tourist

She had pre-warned me that she hadn't had very good experiences there in the past, so I wasn't expecting much.

Dinner at the Lido

Last month was the first time we'd ventured to the Brockwell Lido café for dinner. It was interesting to see how they transformed the place from a spot for coffee, snack or casual lunch to somewhere to eat an intimate dinner.

Most obvious change was to décor: bare wooden tables transformed by table linen. Candles and dimmed overhead lighting. The play area removed. And a different menu.

We went on the third Saturday of April. It already felt like it had rained for ever, and yet it seems so long ago. Because of the forecast rain, we did the two bus trick, change at Windrush Square. We didn't want to risk a drenching walking across the park - who would - but, actually it didn't rain. Part of me was a bit sad about that, because I had already planned to blog or tweet "Dinner looking out as the rain pours into the pool. Just like being on holiday".

The dinner menu is fancier than at lunch time. They change it every month to reflect the seasons, although some items appear to be perennial, and not every single item seems to change every month.

I very nearly ordered Smoked salmon with pickled beetroot and rye bread as a starter but, in the nick of time, realised this wasn't the wisest starter for my preferred main. I always choose my main first. The starter must fit round that. Instead, I had smoked haddock fishcake, creamed spinach, sorrel and a poached egg. Perfect dish in itself. I could happily live on poached eggs, except that making them myself is so hit and miss. always great to order one when out, and this did not disappoint. I'm also a big fishcake fan, having loved them when I was a kid. They seem to have gone out of fashion for a long time, so it's great to see them back on menus.

For my main I had Sea Trout with crushed Jersey Royal potatoes, White Wine herb sauce and Spinach. Which of course means that I had spinach for both courses. A fate I could have avoided by having both salmon and trout. I see in May's menu, one could have either a pea starter or an asparagus starter, and then an asparagus and pea risotto. Not so much a criticism as an observation. It doesn't bother me in practice as it does in theory!

I couldn't fault the taste or presentation of either dish. I think they have a a splendid combination of elegantly presented fresh food that nevertheless veers to the accessible, rustic or homely - in a good way. It's not pretentious or poncey, and the prices are modest. The prices for alcohol are less so, but I have absolutely no problem with places that hike up the booze prices to keep the food reasonable.

I finished with Almond and pistachio tart with orange and cardamon. This was perfectly fine, with no cause for complaint. But, having declared in February: 

I feel my future lies in roaming round Brixton eating almond cake

this almond cake felt like a poor relation to the ones I had tasted in Brazas or Boqueria. But it didn't detract from the evening, and was at most a minor quibble. I no longer recall the eminently quaffable wine I enjoyed with the first two dishes, but I do recall I started with a Manzanilla, and enjoyed a Pedro Ximénez, as recommended. Service was fine, and ambience was pleasant and relaxed, and far more intimate than one would ever imagine from what is essentially a cafeteria attached to a 1930s municipal swimming pool.

It is entirely possible we ill return to sample May's menu. If not, flaming June!

Amaretto amaretti cheesecake

I bought the book impulsively. When one of your favourite authors writes a book on baking, you buy it, don't you? And, of course, having bought it, you have to use it, don't you.

To summarise, Marion has suffered from depression for years and has tried all sorts of different treatments. But, almost by accident, she discovered that obsessive baking somehow has worked.

Now, I like the book. It has some lovely ideas in it and some gorgeous photos, so it seems almost churlish to be critical. But I do have a major question. Apart from the recipes she describes as having been handed to her by her in-laws, what is the source of the other recipes. Sure, once you've grasped some basics, it's easy enough to experiment. It's easy enough, even when baking, to mix and combine elements of several different similar recipes, and, in effect create something new. But I have read nothing that suggests she experimented. So, I'd rather appreciate a credit to the source of the recipe.

She recommends using muffin tins with an 8 cm diameter. Mine are only 7 cm - at the top. less at the bottom. In retrospect I should have followed mu instincts and made more smaller cakes rather than trying to squeeze all these ingredients into six cavities just because it was convenient.

Other than that, it's very smple to make, but you do have to make it the day before.

Take some amaretti biscuits and bash them into submission, mix them with melted butter, and squash them into the muffin tins. Bake them blind, them cool and then refrigerate for an hour.

In one bowl mix cheese, egg yolks and sugar. In another, beat egg whites.

 

When the egg whites are in stiff peaks fold them into the cheese mixture

At this point, you must remember that you should have added the amaretto to the cheese mixture even before you'd added the egg whites.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No worry, though. Just dollop the resulting mix into the biscuit base. At this point I realised that my earlier instinct was right. Too few muffin tins (or sufficient too small muffin tins). I was just piling the mixture into greater and greater piles, a precarious balancing act entirely dependent on it being fairly stiff as a result as the beaten egg whites.

Bake them in the oven for 40 minutes, then switch off the oven and leave the cheesecakes in there for two hours while the oven cools down. And refrigerate them overnight.

 

 

 

The finished article shouldn't overflow the sides like this
Althugh in practical terms, this really isn't a problem . You just get mushroom-shaped cheesecakes rather than ones suitable for food porn.

And if you want them to look neat, just trim round the edge, like so. But remember to co-ordinate the camera settings and ambient light, like I didn't!

Very very nice. I shall make them again.

Meanwhile, my trusted assistant shows how theu should look!

Bubba's Restaurant, Tulse Hill

We went here in mid-April, a month after it opened. I don't go to first nights, for restaurants or for operas. The critics cast their judgements and this becomes the accepted wisdom. I don't fully trust professional critics, anyway. I read a review of this restaurant which suggested that the customers were 'uncomfortable' with the 'formal setting'. A restaurant that is owned and managed by Black people, with a Caribbean-influenced cuisine, and, going by both their own photos and what I noticed when we visited, quite a lot of Black customers.The professional critic thinks Black people are uncomfortable in formal surroundings. Hmm.

Location. Challenging for professional food critics. With no parking. It's converted out of part of Tulse Hill Station, even having a ticket machine outside. But once inside, I didn't hear any trains and forgot I was near a station. Just along the South Circular from us, but too far (for me) to walk. So we bussed it, because loads of buses pass nearby.

Bloggers who had been before us made a big deal of the blue light. A blue light that makes photos of the food look either washed out or strangely, well, blue. I would say my biggest criticism is the blue light. It's not just about photography; it tinges companion and food (less obviously) with a slight but disorienting blue rinse. If I had one piece of advice, I'd say, get rid of the blue light.

Otherwise, I liked the decor. Clean and crisp and clear. It even smelled of new-ness. Lights that were optical illusions and looked like they were small alcoves with a distant vanishing point. I've been to restaurants where the decor is tasteful, modern and crisp - and bland and impersonal. Take away the blue light and Bubba's would verge on this. I prefer some details or touches that give it individuality and personality. There again, I don't like places where the decor becomes the dominant statement. It's a fine balance to achieve.

I'm not familiar with Caribbean food despite my decades living in South London. Jimmy, on the other hand, claims to be an expert. And this is where I made a mistake. He ate jerk pork and curried goat. Classic dishes with a 'fine dining' twist. Being that I don't eat meat, I didn't have those, but I should have stayed close to what I am familiar with.

We started with cocktails. I had a Gin Smash, which was luscious. My starter was Black sesame, kidney bean camembert fondants with plaintain smalls and glazed boad beans, elegantly presented and interesting to taste. I really liked the taste, but bizarrely, I'm not sure I'd necessarily have it again. A lot of complex flavours battling with each other, satisfying but perhaps rather heavy-going for a starter. Jimmy declared his jerk pork belly with apple and nut crunch and apple and cinnamon puree a great success.

Service was of a high standard, perhaps veering towards the deferentially subservient. The front-of-house manager and the waiter both introduced themselves, but didn't then give their life stories or attempt to engage in unrelated chit-chat. Attentive and prompt, without hovering and intruding. We'd booked for 8pm but arrived closer to 7.30pm, when there was only one other party. By 8.30, the place was full, with a good lively buzz. I've read reviews praising the RnB soundtrack, but I can't say I noticed, which is good, because RnB is one of those genres where I can get very quickly annoyed at the mediocre formulaic offerings.

I made a mistake with my main course. I saw the word 'crab' and pounced, not noticing or processing the words 'soft-shell'. And I have to be honest, I didn't like it. I think that was me, not a criticism of the restaurant. I liked everything else on the plate but really struggled to eat the crab. I just felt that it was a lot of salt water. So many other things on the menu I could have chosen. But I loved the plaintain chive mash and rustic tomato sauce. I ordered a Singapore Sling, but I don't think the drink that turned up actually was. In a fog, I'd recognised the phrase 'Singapore Sling' as something I like but not being able to remember what it was or what I liked about it. (And, no, I'm not stupid. the fog is a side-effect of fibromyalgia; not only does it occur, but it also diminishes one's confidence so you doubt you're remembering properly).

Jimmy was very pleased with his Authentic Caribbean curried goat in a roast petal tuille basket served with avocado puree and plantain rings. The goat was tender and well-flavoured. He didn't eat the filo basket, but, looking around, nor did other people. It makes for attractive serving, but I'm sure isn't really intended to be eaten.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jimmy finished with a selection of exotic ice creams. Yet again. He loves ice cream, almost invariably picks ice cream as his dessert and, more often than not, the ice cream isn't what he expects, and he's disappointed. I'm sure everybody else who likes ice cream would love these, but he only cares for ice creams made from organic unicorn tears and the noble perspiration of passionate artisans. This wasn't!

 

 

 

 

I had carrot cake with carrot and rum sorbet and spiced puree. The carrot cake was beautiful, dense yet light. Too many carrot cakes are stodgy; this was melt-in-the-mouth but substantial. I also enjoyed the trimmings. But the sorbet wasn't for me.

So, I am definitely going back to Bubba's and would urge other people to go, too. Remember, right next to Tulse Hill station, and close to a plethora of buses. And a cab office just round the corner. Next time I go, I shall opt for dishes that are closer to my comfort zone.

I think I concur with several other bloggers that there are a few hesitations about the place, but I feel that these are inevitable when an establishment is clearly ambitious and wants to be innovative. If you want to avoid this go to a chain restaurant or somewhere that has been cooking the same old same old for twenty years. 

Other blogposts:

Noshable

The Picky Glutton - special thanks for photographing the menu

How to Cook in High Heels

Hollow Legs

The restaurant has its website but as I write it's not really up and running. They are active on Facebook

Lunch at the Manor

I wrote at leangth about the Manor Arms Streatham in October, so I won't repeat myself. suffice to say we have been back several times. Most recently for a Sunday lunch on one of those hot days in March that seem so long ago.

I had Jersualem Artichoke soup

followed by John Dory with shrimps and mussels

Jimmy had beef and Yorkshire (he was a bit disappointed that it was slow-boiled beef rather than roast)

I finished with Burnt Cream

Very nice all round.

Ravioli and crème brulée

A new toy for my birthday, a pasta maker. (Not my photo, I got it off t'internet). I used it once but was very dissatisfied with the results. I didn't cry, though, just seeing it as a learning or practice session. And I threw away the resulting tagliatelle.

 

In making pasta, the most important thing is to get the dough right. I've done a bit research, and the consensus seems to be, don't handle it any more than necessary. That is, don't knead it particularly, because the subsequently rolling will give it a good old battering and develop gluten sufficiently.

 

 

 

 

 Very easy in practice. Just get some eggs and flour, and whizz them in the food processor, until the  dough looks distinctly unappetising, then bring it together with your hands, and leave it in the fridge for at least half an hour, or until you're ready.

 

 

 

 

 

Next, decide where you're going to eat out for a meal. This time, we decided we wanted Indian, and we thought we'd be a bit adventurous. We headed to Tooting, home of a lot of Indian restaurants, and chose a Keralan, the Rhada Krishna Bavan. We were lucky to get in there, because it was just about full by the time we received our starters - partly because there was a party of 14 celebrating a birthday.

They seemed mainly to be medical-type staff, unsurprising given its proximity to St George's. 

I liked the place, although I wouldn't massively rave about it, and I would certainly go back if I lived - or worked - nearer. Although there's a door-to-door bus service, it is, nevertheless, a long trawl along Streatham High Road and the arse-end of Furzedown.

Usual poppadom accompaniments but slightly different from my usual

My starter was, if I remember correctly, a Vada. I think I went for the lentil option. It was drier than I expected but pleasant enough and went will the accompanying sauce.

I thought I had ordered a fish curry, but when it came it was prawn curry. That didn't bother me in the slightest, indeed it was really delicious. The picture I took of the entire dish didn't turn out well. This picture illustrates one of my pet hates with a lot of long-established English restaurants - and in that I specifically include Indian. Sad salad.

What is sad salad all about? This really is a case in point. Juicy king prawns, a rich aromatic sauce. Green peppers, crispy and succulent. The right amount of onion. and to set it off, tired lettuce and a slice of lemon. I had no intention of eating either, and they had no aesthetic appeal. Just made the dish look amateurish. Can I make a plea? Please stop serving sad salad!

The next step is to go home and go to bed.

Next morning: 

Mix egg yolks and caster sugar

Heat cream and vanilla essence on the hob

Mix the two mixtures together and pour into ramekins

Gather the ramekins together and put them into a bain marie. When we made egg custard at school, two out of the 16 girls in my cookery group were called Ann(e) Marie (it was that sort of school). Whenever I put custard dishes in a roasting tin of water, I think of them. Weird, because I wasn't close to either and never kept in touch after we left school.

Leave the custards to cool

Then, because it's not even mid-March and it's hot and sunny, leave the house and head out to the Common for a walk.

Pass by the house you've often coveted and yet never photographed.

Decide, after all, not to go to the Common, but, instead. head down to Balham. Why, I don't know? Pleasant enough town, the Spiritual Centre of Nappy Valley.

Wander around Balham and take photos of its Parish Church

And go home.

Once home, the excitement begins!It helps if your trusty assistant has already peeled, sliced, boiled and mashed a sweet potato. All I had to do was crumble some goat's cheese, and mix the two together.

As a novice, I did find rolling and cutting the pasta to be tricky, especially as I was paranoid about the dough drying out. But, conversely, it was easier than I feared.

And, then, simply pop them in the pan for about 5 minutes

However, in this house, food is made for eating. Photographing it comes a very poor second. So no further photos of the pasta, as we wanted to eat it piping hot!

Finally, sprinkle sugar on the crème brulée

Ideally, you should also photograph the finished product, post-blow torching, but there was an epic fail with the blowtorch. It had no adverse effect on the finished product, but the only way to extinguish the flame is to let it burn until the fuel runs out!

Upstairs, Acre Lane

If it wasn't for the hyperlocal social media internet, I would never have known that Upstairs exists. It has been there about five years, and is not very far from home. An interesting restaurant, quite different from anywhere I've been to before.

It's not easy to find, the entrance being a door on a side road with a very small sign visible only when you are actually at the door. Buzz the entry-phone and climb several flights of stairs to the bar. We made a mistake in not going to the bar; I think you're supposed to sip cocktails and peruse the menu until called to the dining room. Part of an attempt to create a more intimate setting than one usually finds in a restaurant.

The dining room is several floors up, and a window seat gives a good view of Acre Lane, and, until the sun sets, the far vista of London. Cocktails and an amuse bouche were followed by our selection from a small menu - which changes every two weeks. I'm becoming more a fan of the tiny menu. Even though my non-eating of meat limits me, I feel more satisfied making a choice from just one fish and one veggie dish than worrying whether I've made the 'right' choice out of several, or wishing I could have this piece of fish with that accompaniment. Also, a smaller menu gives a higher guarantee of the food being cooked fresh, rather than taken from vast reserves in a freezer and pinged in the microwave.

I started with a Warm Jerusalem Artichoke Salad. I doubt I would have chosen this from a vast array of starters, simply because I'm unfamiliar with Jerusalem Artichoke, warm or otherwise.

It turned out nothing to be frightened of! The waiter explained the various ingredients, but this was some time ago, I didn't take notes, and I had a fair amount to drink - hence my current frustration. But note the dainty arrangement of ceps, and an emulsion, which, IIRC, was made from a root vegetable. The Jerusalem artichoke dominated, but the dish tasted as a coherent whole, not a main ingredient indifferently supported by others. Jimmy had Confit Pork Belly & Kumquats and expressed his satisfaction.

  For my main course I went for Lemon sole, Alexanders, and Jersey Royals, a daringly early exposition of Jersey Royals, which has clearly become a 'must-eat' of this season. Is this despite or because of their drought-caused rarity value. Nice to see something so traditional and seemingly humdrum as a potato acquiring almost celebrity status. 

I was not previously familiar with Alexanders, which is, apparently, also known as 'Horse Parsley' and has a flavour between parsley and celery. "It is common among the sites of medieval monastery gardens".  I was not overly thrilled at the prospect of a lump of fish, some boiled potatoes and an indeterminate greed veg, so was relieved and pleased when presented with a thoughtful dish. Again, the flavours all complemented each other. Most importantly, each element was cooked perfectly, allowing the flavours to linger tantalising in my mouth. Jimmy had Blackleg chicken & walnut gnocchi, with a veritable cabaret of additional adorning ingredients, each patiently explained by the engaging waiter.

We were undecided about pudding, changing our minds several time. Against my better judgement, I was talked into having the Blood orange & gingerbread, which turned out to be a delicious combination of all sorts of seemingly random ingredients. They included gingerbread (obviously), fresh and frosted blood orange, quenelles of mousse and sorbet in subtle flavours. There is another ingredient, visible at the front on the far left, that added some extra crunch; again, I can't remember what it was. The surprise ingredient was beetroot jelly. Slightly anxious, not being a big beetroot fan, but this Really Worked. A gently sweet taste and a smooth jelly substance, it didn't really taste like my bad experiences of beetroot. Perhaps close to a blackcurrant jelly but without any tartness. And, of course, adding an extra dimension of colour.

Jimmy went for Mint mousse, chocolate spaetzle & raspberries. Overall, he enjoyed it, including the additional unlisted ingredients, but the spaetzle just didn't work for him. The internet suggests that 'spaetzle' are German dumplings, typically an element of savoury dishes working similarly to pasta. Chocolate versions seem to be one US cook's idea, and, according to Jimmy, not that good an idea. But of all the ingredients in six dishes, this was the only one that didn't work.

We came away with mixed feelings. Very good service and an intimate atmosphere. Good attention to detail. I really liked everything I ate, and found the presentation fun and appetising. Jimmy enjoyed just about everything, appreciating the fresh ingredients and the attention to detail in the cooking. But, I think, ultimately he was disappointed. The dishes were too delicate, too 'poncey', and too much about presenting a variety of different ingredients. He didn't  feel as full as he felt he should have done after three courses. But he's a bit capricious. He referenced another restaurant previously visited as being 'hearty and wholesome' yet just a few days ago he stated he wouldn't go back there 'because it's nothing special'.

We also enjoyed the cocktails, which were different from the usual run-of-the-mill predictable names. He had several of an Irish whiskey based one, with 'Celtic' in the name, and I had a couple of gin-based London ones, which I would definitely have again.

We will definitely return to Upstairs. With an ever-changing menu, I'd happily go every month, if not more frequently, and I'm sure Jimmy will entertain another visit some time this year. Not least because it's so close!

Smoked fish and cider pie

I made this in honour of National Pie Week in early March. I have been told by a Self-Appointed Pie Expert that dishes can only qualify to be pies if they have pastry on the bottom and sides as well as the top. Wikipedia suggests that what I made was a Cobbler, which I find a bit odd, because a cobbler has something more resembling scone than pastry to top it. And, of course, when you say fish pie people tend to assume you're doing a mashed potato topping. It's enough to make a simple blogger sigh.

I sent my manservant out to Brixton market to procure the goods, the fish and seafood ingredients. And I set to spend a great deal of time in 'prep'.

Actually, a very simple dish to cook, especially if you use shop-bought puff pastry. Life being way too short to actually home-make puff pastry.

I soon got squeamish as I peeled the raw prawns. Then I didn't even bother taking a photo of the haddock fillets, smoked or fresh, I was that hard/cynical.

 

But I thought all the effort I put into chopping the parsley and spring onion merited a photo. Even though I did wonder whether I'd chopped too much parsley and it would taste only of that and of nothing else.

The next stage was to make a Béchamel Sauce, starting with a Roux. Thankfully, the recipe didn't phrase it that way, because if it had, I would have panicked, remembering my old O-Level Home Economics teacher (yeah, that's what it was called back then, because 'Cookery' was far too trivial to teach at a Grammar School. Fools.). She impressed upon us how difficult it was to make the classic French sauces, pessimistically assuring us that they were bound to be lumpy. Perhaps thinking lumpy schoolgirls were not worthy to approach the Holy Grail of French classic sauces, which are taken way too seriously for what they are.

So, melt some butter and stir in some flour

Then stir in some cream and some cider, add the fish and the greens, and le voilà

Bung it all in a cooking utensil - in this case a small silicon loaf-tin, for the freezer

Stick some pastry on it, cook it in the oven, and take it out to see your cooking utensil transformed (No, not really. Obviously, I didn't cook the ones that were going in the freezer.)

And, hey, a picture of a pie, which is a pretty rubbish thing to photograph, what with one pastry-covered pie looking a lot like another pastry-covered pie.

And you have to take my word that they taste very very nice. One to make again, for certain.

Thanks to Delicious for the recipe

Exhibition Rooms SE19

We first went to The Exhibition Rooms on Westow Hill soon after it opened. We don't go as often as we might, because it's awkward to get to, but, consistently, it delivers well cooked and well-presented food, with an emphasis on seasonal and English. It seemed like a breath of fresh air when it arrived, but it does seem a bit dated now, maybe four years after opening. 

I think they need to re-think their website. Jimmy is always more enthusiastic about visiting than I am. I am never clear whether they have the current menu on the site and there are usually errors and broken links. For example, as I write, they are currently listing their desserts as Buttered new potatoes, Mixed leaf & herb salad etc; they have a few admittedly pleasant photos of their décor but are surprisingly coy about their food. I suppose they're busy enough so don't need to worry about their website, but it looks tired and lacking in attention to detail.

In actual fact, when I do go there, I am pleasantly surprised by the quality of the food. It's not perfect; for example, on this visit, Jimmy got a roast and the accompanying vegetables weren't worth the effort, and there have been a couple of other minor things of that nature. There appears to be a general criticism of the lack of vegetarian choice - I eat fish but not meat - and often, I feel I could happily eat three or four starters and choose a main by process of elimination.

On this occasion, I started with Caramelised scallops, having being assured that the crisp pancetta was not an integral part of the dish and could easily be omitted. This was served with pea and mint puree,  and hazlenut butter. Very nicely cooked, juicy and succulent. I notice on the photo, and the same goes for the pudding that there was an inelegance in executing what was supposed to be elegant presentation. However, I didn't even notice when it was presented to me, and this probably shows that the camera captures in a sixth of a second what the eye edits out

My main course was Tranche of Halibut in a warm salad of new potatoes & marjoram, confit lemon and salsa verde and fennel seeds. Again, I couldn't fault it, although, conversely, I have to take their word that it was lemon and salsa verde and fennel seeds. The portions are hearty, and generally well-presented. Jimmy used to complain about the portions being too small, but he seems to have changed his tune. I think he's realised that they're well balanced; I think he's also been to more poncey restaurants where the portion size leaves much to be desired.

 

 

My dessert was rum and raisin cheesecake, which actually tasted better than it looked. When I was eating, I didn't even notice the heavy handedness with the toffee sauce - even though my hand clearly shook when I took this snap! The cheesy bit might look a bit artificial, I can assure you it isn't.

Overall, I would give high marks to the Exhibition Rooms. I love the light and airy decor, and I think they make the best use of their space: plenty of tables, but I've never felt that the people at the next table are too close. Unfortunately, on this occasion there was a multi-generational family where pudding was accompanied by running round and under their table, but that seems to be de rigeur almost wherever you go for Sunday lunch, so I can't blame the restaurant. 

I will undoubtedly go back on more occasions, but they need to be aware that there are an awful lot of very good eating places that have emerged in the southern half of Lambeth, and there is no longer the need to go to Crystal Palace to eat. They also need to ensure they keep an eye on trends, because I suspect that they already appear way behind to expert foodies.

Brixton Village Market & Casa Sibilla

Brixton Village is nothing short of a phenomenon. Housed in the market hall previously known as Granville Arcade, and with some overflow in spirit if not in strict technical fact into Market Row. For years, the home of stalls you'd expect to find in any market. A useful if now somewhat dated article from the Evening Standard How Brixton's arcade got a new lease of life explains the background.

For a long time, there was very much a feeling that there's hardly anywhere worth eating in Brixton. I feel the renaissance of the market has had a knock-on effect more widely. I also feel that Twitter, Facebook, and sites such as Qype also help. I know you're supposed to find restaurants by word of mouth, but I've had too many people tell me somewhere's 'amazing', but their tastes extend no further than freezer-to-microwave-to-plate.

One Saturday in February, we made our way to the village. We had already decided on where we wanted to eat, although we also knew that if it were full, there were other options. We had been to Casa Sibilla before, and were pleased that a table for two, inside, came available just as we arrived. It is possible to sit 'outside' - actually under cover of the market, and most of the restaurants provide blankets, but at that time of year, inside is better.

 

I am amazed at how Casa Sibilla and other restaurants (I was similarly struck at Etta's Seafood Kitchen) do it - create a range of gorgeous food in kitchens that are smaller than mine at home. As far as I can see, there was only one person cooking and two serving, hence my biggest 'criticism', we did have to wait a while. I don't mind waiting for a main, but I did start to feel slightly impatient when I felt I'd been waiting an age for our bread selection, wine and tap water. I wouldn't wish to labour the point, though. The bread selection was a nice selection of sourdough, grissini and plain but delicious rustic white.

I opted for the spinach & ricotta tortellini, whilst Jimmy went for roast chicken with veg and roast potatoes. He was perfectly satisfied with his, and he's a hard man to please when it comes to roast potatoes!

I would have thought that there's very little one can say about spinach & ricotta tortellini. A staple of supermarket ready meal shelves, it is what it is. But this a tortellini which highlighted how poor the supermarkets are. Smooth and delicate pasta, filled with a subtle combination of flavours which remained in the mouth to savour after the substance had been swallowed. Simple traditional food, prepared and cooked to perfection. But photographed out of focus...!

Although the pudding selection was tempting, we decided to move on, and savour Laboratorio Artigianale del Buon Gelato, or Lab G, which is what it says it is. I loved my white chocolate and salt caramel combination; Jimmy, a connoisseur of good ice cream, highly rated his chocolate and pistachio scoops. 

Another highlight of the market is Dagon's fish stall, which supplies many of the restaurants not just in the market but in the wider area. They've been there 25 years, so are not part of the new hip Brixton Village sensation. We bought some very nice monkfish, which I had for my Sunday dinner while Jimmy and our guests had roast beef.

 

 

Brixton Village is a remarkable place, even if there are compromises - Metro

 

 

The Lido Cafe & Brockwell Park

One mild if cloudy Autumn day we decided to take a walk across Brockwell Park.

I sometimes describe Brockwell Park as my local park, but it really isn't. Both Tooting Common and Agnes Riley Gardens are nearer, as is Rush Common, which I have to cross to get to Brockwell Park. Streatham Common and Clapham Common can be reached directly by bus. Brockwell Park requires two buses, or, of course, can be reached on foot via some rather boring and steeply undulating residential roads. So, over the years I've tended to ignore its existence too much.

Considering it is a formally laid out and maintained park, Brockwell is full of surprises. Wide open spaces, some of the best views in London. Managed wilderness and areas devoted to specific activities. 

It is currently undergoing a programme of refurbishment, a process that is bitter-sweet to watch, knowing that the money being spent is probably among the last vestiges of the previous Labour government. I wonder how long it will take for our public parks to regress to the derelict, threatening no-go danger areas I remember from my teens and young adulthood.

The ponds are being dredged, re-lined and re-planted. I believe work is being done on drainage. A refurbished adventure playground is due to open in Spring 2012. And, over winter, the secret walled garden has been closed. The model railway isn't running, certainly not on weekdays. The tennis courts are empty, the BMX track barely used. Presumably there is relatively little to do in the Community Greenhouses

A new play area, using water and sand, has been developed, although the water is off during the winter months. We realised after we had walked round that, strictly speaking, as adults unaccompanied by children, we shouldn't have even been in there. Hopefully, as there was only one mother and child there, and we kept our distance, our mistake can be overlooked.

Each time we visit Brockwell Park, we try to take a different route. I often lose my bearings, never quite grasping its vastness and the different communities that abut it. And being high up, and vast, one can see for miles.

Previously, we always used to go into the café in Brockwell Hall, but were becoming increasingly dissatisfied. Basically, we found their coffee undrinkable, which makes one reluctant to try anything else.

It was purely by chance we heard about the Lido Café. We had both been to previous incarnations, but once you absorb the message that it's closed, you just forget it ever existed. But we decided to try it. "I'll have a coffee and some carrot cake," I decided, looking at the tempting display of cakes on the counter. One of the staff suggested we sit down, she'd bring us our coffee, and why don't we look at the menu. One French onion soup later, I was able to exclaim 'No wonder people rate this place so highly!'. I didn't take my proper camera out of my bag but was very pleased at how this phone picture turned out

Fast forward to February. Jimmy was due to have a minor hospital procedure on a Monday, and I decided to take the Tuesday off work just in case he needed looking after. It turned out he didn't even have a general anaesthetic, so he was more or less fine the next day. The next day was Valentine's Day, and neither of us wanted to go out for a Valentine's dinner. Nothing says 'Unromantic' quite like being spontaneous to order from the multinational conglomerates, or even spending an evening among the slight desperation of couples who think a Valentine's Special dinner is the only way to show they care. Yes, I know most decent restaurants do a Valentine's special, unfortunate for the numerous friends and acquaintances who celebrate a birthday that day or work away from home. It's business...

So, instead we booked ourselves a lunch at the Lido Café. We chose to walk there, along the uninteresting and hilly residential streets,

We took a different route around the park, and saw different sights.

The upper most duck pond being refurbished

Pond still frozen

The remnants of the previous week's snowmen: although it wasn't warm on our walk, the snow and the bitter cold of early February seemed distant memories

 

A random snapshot of the trees on the pathway next to Brockwell Park Gardens (a residential road)

Odd traffic signals at Norwood Road

 Mocking the stone-cladding

 I like this view but was too impatient to wait until a train passed. Stupid of me, because the grace and elegance of a train skimming across the sklyline is a sight to behold

 And finally into the Lido Café to fulfill our lunchtime reservation

 Mackerel bap with tartare sauce, crushed peas, and triple cooked chips; & Luscombe organic (medium dry) Devon cider. A simple cheerful meal, tasty and cooked to perfection, with some nice little presentational tricks. Incidentally, the novelty tomato, so often a disguise for cheap and nasty ketchup thankfully contained good quality stuff, Heinz or equivalent.

 And pudding was ginger chocolate pot with orange sorbet. Again, a simple dish most of us could probably make at home, if we could bothered, and presented in an attractive way that complements the tastes.

 Arguably, it's a misnomer to describe the Lido as a café. It's in a different league, and a different priceband, than the other café in Brockwell Park, and in some other neighbouring parks. But you can go for a coffee or soft drink, as well as a three course meal with choice wines and beers. I've never been when the pool's been open, and I've not been in the evening to this incarnation. I guess I'll just have to go back (and have been since I started writing this blogpost!)

These and other photos are in my Brockwell Park album

Brazas, Tulse Hill

I'd read positively of Brazas, and decided that it was worth trying. It's sort of quite close to where I live, but I just never go up Tulse Hill, never have any reason to. Once  upon a time, it used to be the Two Woodcocks, which I've never been in. I like the way that the interior is recognisable as having been a pub, and yet modernised. Accusations of gentrification, of course, because this is Brixton, and Brixtonians are never happier than moaning about Gentrification, which results from Yuppie Flats.

It's a good, local restaurant, and one we intend to go to again, and fairly soon. It was probably not wise going here just a week after going to Trinity. They're aiming at different markets. We went to Trinity for my birthday; we went to Brazas for a pleasant Saturday night out. We paid three times as much at Trinity.

One thing that attracted me on the website was a clear distinction between meat, fish and veggie dishes. It's like they take veggie seriously, not just tack something on grudgingly because they feel they have to. They also had a Specials board, offering a 2 mains for £15 deal

I started with Wild Mushroom Strogonoff in puff pastry sheets; Jimmy had Chargrilled Chorizo w black honey syrup & toasted bread. I'm sorry I didn't photograph that, because it was very eye-catching, even to me, although I wouldn't have eaten it! And their website Gallery is not good. They'd be better off without one - it makes it look like a cold unwelcoming place, which it isn't, and there are no photos of the food.

There was no sophistication in how the stroganoff was presented, but it was very tasty. The puff pastry sheets were noteworthy - a nice crumbly texture - and the Stroganoff was comforting. The right consistency, creamy but not greasy.

 

For mains, I had Chargrilled Whole Filleted Mackerel, crushed potato & fennel w gremolata. I Googled gremolata on my phone, having never previously encountered it. The presentation was rustic, unfussy, good home cooking. The photos don't really do it justice, partly because I didn't use the flash, and partly because their presentation doesn't do the food's flavour, preparation and cooking any favours. It's a moot point, I guess, because too much focus on plating turns it into poncey food, which is less comforting. Jimmy had the chargrilled piri piri chcicken and new potatoes, which he really liked, although he could have done without the sad salad - undressed green bits and only four halves of cherry tomato worth rescuing.

I finished with Blueberry, Raspberry and Amaretto Cake w vanilla ice cream, which again didn't really look all that, but tasted  delicious as it melted softly on my tongue. I also had some booze, so I tweeted 

Like the Flying Dutchman is doomed to sail the oceans forever, I feel my future lies in roaming round Brixton eating almond cake

 

I guess at the time I thought it was poetic!

So, to conclude, a good quality local restaurant that I couldn't really fault. Friendly staff, relaxing atmosphere, well-made lovely tasting food. Good value for money. 

Eggs en cocotte

I kept going into the local independent Department store, and seeing the dinkiest cutest ramekins styled to look like mini-casseroles exactly matching the range of saucepans I already own. I knew there was very little practical reason to get them, but I just adored the cute dinkiness of them. Eventually, I could resist no longer and two were acquired 

Next question was - what to do with them. I concluded that although they can be used to serve soup, dips etc, but there is possibly only one dish which can be cooked in these mini-casseroles: eggs en cocotte.

There are so many recipes for eggs en cocotte with numerous variations, but I plumped for an over-complicated Delia recipe. Now, I love Delia as much as the next person, but even I have to concede she has a habit of making simple home cookery too elaborate and labour-intensive. Here is her recipe for Eggs en cocotte with morel or porcini mushrooms

Note: Start by soaking the morels or porcini about 30 minutes ahead of time. 

And: Let it cook very gently, without a lid, for 25-30 minutes

Now let the eggs bake for 15 minutes

This is not a breakfast dish

Mind you, Rick Stein's is hardly any better, just more coy

Eggs en cocotte, with chopped mushrooms, thyme and gruyere served with a herb salad and lemon dressing

• continue to cook until all the excess liquid has evaporated (erm, how long, Rick?)
• 30 mins to 1 hour preparation time
• 30 mins to 1 hour cooking time

That's why I like Delia - she's clear even when she's over-elaborate

  And actually, despite the half hour soaking and half hour reducing, it wasn't that difficult. Base of mushrooms, crack an egg into the ramekin, spoon on the creme fraiche, stick it in a bain marie, and sure as eggs is eggs, you've got a tasty and filling brunch dish

 

 

Trinity Clapham Common

So many positive reviews exist of Trinity restaurant that combines fine dining with being a short bus ride away from home.

We had been thinking of this as a possibility for my (pre)-birthday meal, anyway. The previous weekend we had ended up in the boozer next door; one thing led to another, and we booked a table. On the Saturday evening it snowed, bringing much of London transport to a standstill. So we felt doubly smug at choosing to dine fine and local.

I was totally and utterly impressed by every single aspect of the experience at this restaurant. Jimmy had a quibble - he found his Terrine of Chicken, Foie Gras and Artichokes, Pickled Apples and Brioche to be quite fatty for a starter; fat combined with wine affects his digestion. But that, I think, is an inevitable consequence of choosing Foie Gras. The restaurant is not cheap, but I felt that it delivered what we paid for. In any case, more than a third of our bill was wine; future visits will probably involve less wine. And they offer a truncated menu as a £30 for 3 course lunch.

We were served an appetiser of radishes and a cod roe emulsion; this was followed by sourdough - they explained that this had been in use for 9 years. I only recently learned about sourdough, and how each batch is made from leavening taken from the previous batch - more in Wikipedia. To be honest, I'm not sure of the objective advantages, but this tasted lovely, especially when served with home-churned butter made of Jersey cream.

My starter was Charred Mackerel, Oyster Mayonnaise, Cucumber and Shrimps, which looked and tasted much better than it sounds! I particularly liked how the shrimps were wrapped in a wafer-thin sheet of cucumber.

Jimmy's main course was Slow Cooked Veal, Truffle Walnut Pesto, Black Pudding and Artichoke. I'm not sure if he's ever had veal before, but we both watched an episode of Countryfile, which explained how modern British veal is reared, with the endorsement of Animal Welfare organisations. I can't say for certain that this restaurant sources its veal this way, but I'd be surprised if it didn't.

 

I opted for Butter Poached Halibut, Crab Tortellini, Crab and Ginger Broth. I had been tempted by a bream, leeks and mussels dish but, concerned about the inclusion of bacon, I asked the waiter how integral an ingredient it was and he patiently explained. He also suggested ways it could be made differently eg for someone who didn't like the overt taste of bacon but didn't mind it being part of a sauce. Which was nice, and has given me more confidence - I noticed in Masterchef the other week, one of the previous winners ie a professional chef specifically ordered a scallop and pancetta dish without the pancetta. 

The halibut dish was just perfection. A chunky fillet that nevertheless flaked away at the slightest touch. Even the bed of julienne veg worked well, densely packed almost as a nest, and providing lots of colour. The broth was the foundation of the dish. I find crab an interesting ingredient. The white meat is so delicate, and the brown meat has a robust flavour, which couples well with the ginger - two strong flavours bouncing off each other. And the crab tortellini was just an extra indulgence!

The food was good, but I also found the service to be just right. Plenty of staff but they never intruded. No over-fussy refilling of one's glass every time you sip, one discrete 'Is everything okay?' not while you're either mid-sentence or with the fork poised at your mouth, and, best of all, an easy friendliness that stopped well short of telling you the details of their personal life, their opinion of the food, or 'you've made a good choice' - I'm sure they were confident that every dish met the same high standards, so there couldn't be a bad choice!

They have a very large wine list, which I initially found daunting. But I figured out that, faced with information overload of wines sorted by region - region of France, say, not regions of the world - the sensible thing for me, not a wine buff, would be to select one of those sold by glass & carafe. We chose a New Zealand Pinot Noir which was fruity and very nice.

We chose the same pudding: Hot Chocolate Pot - effectively, a fondant - with Salt Caramel Ice Cream. The chocolate was very chocolatey - as it should be, and the salt of the ice cream provided a counterpoint to the bitterness of the chocolate and the sweetness of the caramel. We also took the recommended pudding wine, Domaine Mas Amiel  Maury, Languedoc-Roussillon. The waiter suggested it was like port but superior. Part of me agrees, another part feels that, in being lighter, it avoided the treacly nature of port.

So, a thoroughly enjoyable meal with, really, no criticism. I would not hesitate to go back, and would recommend it to anyone who enjoys good food and good service. I had been slightly anxious about whether I would feel under-dressed, but, actually, most of the diners were in more 'comfortable' clothes than me! Maybe the snow contributed to that.

 

Boqueria Brixton

We went here on Saturday 21 January, just a very few weeks after it opened, and I think it has the potential to be a very good restaurant indeed. The decor and setting is pleasing - stupidly, I took no photos. I found the staff to be friendly, especially considering that I did have a grumpy turn, and the food was exquisite. So the fact that there was a mess-up with service won't deter me from returning. I have, however, read another review where the writer experienced a not dissimilar problem with service. Teething problems, I hope, because if it persists, it will detract significantly from a potentially superb place.

It is on Acre Lane, opposite the Grand Union (formerly Hope & Anchor) near the junction with KIngs Avenue, Clapham Park Road and Bedford Road, so neither Clapham nor Brixton, but a short hop from home (if one regards the 137/417 route as a hop!). Until  a few years ago the premises were a butcher's, and they appear to have used the space well: a bar when you enter, leading into the dining room at the back.

As an aide, but also an important observation, I am not sure Tapas works in England. My experience in Spain involves going into a bar where Tapas are served almost as a casual aside to an evening of drink and conversation, whereas my experience in England is plates called 'Tapas' being served as option or alternative to a main course. The only real difference is that 'main courses' are usually (not always) served as a complete product - protein, sauce, starch and veg, whereas a tapas dish is what it is. So, I ordered a fish dish, Jimmy ordered a meat dish and I said we'd share some patatas bravas & grilled vegetables.

First the potatoes arrived, and, ravenously, we scoffed them. Only when they were finished did Jimmy's meat, and the vegetables arrive. I did enquire about my fish dish, which, eventually came only after Jimmy had finished his meat and the grilled vegetables had gone cold. It was explained that the fish takes time to prepare/cook. I'm more inclined to believe that the order was overlooked. Perhaps they assumed we wanted to share both protein dishes, one after the other, and it was a breakdown of understanding/culture. But they conceded that they're not serving them the authentic Spanish way; in future, I shall be clearer in how we intend to construct our meal. It's misery waiting for your main dish while your partner eats his - lest it go cold, as the vegetables did. I was offered a ham croquette on the house, which doesn't exactly do it for me, and they offered to replace the gone-cold veggies, but I had visions of my fish going cold as I waited for the veg! As it was, it went a bit tepid as we were discussing the issue. 

Fortunately, the Bacalao confitado was very nice, but Jimmy pointed out to me I had a long evening ahead of me in the cinema, and this would be my only meal of the day, so I then ordered revuelto de setas y langostino. I have to say this was the most exquisite egg dish I have ever tasted, and amongst the most beautiful dishes I can recall eating - it's basically scrambled egg with mushrooms and prawns, but so very different from what that phrase conjures up. A perfect blend of flavours, each complimenting the other, and just the right form and texture, neither too greasy nor too dry.

I finished with a Tarta de Santiago, essentially an almond tart. And that, too, was beautiful - a delicate melt-in-your-mouth texture with a robust flavour of almonds.

I can't comment on the wine, because, being mid-afternoon and ahead of a long operatic cinema evening, I chose to drink apple juice, while Jimmy had bottled beer.

To conclude, the staff were very friendly, and the decor is very nicely done. I can't forget the unfortunate hitch in service, or communication, but the food was so exceptional that it would be foolish not to return, perhaps for the Arroz Negro!

 

The Manor Arms Streatham

Sunday was a beautiful & sunny day and relatively mild. Ideally, we would have gone for a walk or a cycle ride, but quite apart from my low energy/stamina levels, Jimmy has manged to injure his toe (well, according to the doctor, it's either injured, or gout, or arthritis). So we had a choice of staying in (and ordering takeaway) or going out to eat somewhere.

We were reluctant to go to a pub for Sunday lunch. We did used to think we had bad luck that, so often, a meal out was all-but-ruined by out of control children neglected by their uninterested parents, or, worse a certain type of SmugMarrieds who feel obliged to TALK VERY LOUDLY to show what marvellous parents they think they are. Insecure, much! But one of the beauties of Twitter is discovering that this is a scourge that is sweeping the nation. Twitter also provides information on local places to eat. We decided to risk The Manor Arms.

It's been open a good few months now since refurbishment. Under previous management we have attended family christening, wedding & funeral, but it was a very different place then. We must have looked like the wide-eyed yokels from the up-the-hill when we saw how big the place is, and absolutely packed. It was like we got the last available table - and there was plenty of turnover whilst we were there.

They seem to have found a successful formula. Eminently affordable, and a small menu, they must serve several hundreds on a Sunday. My criticism of the menu was that there were two vegetarian choices, both of them pasta-based, which was a weakness in planning.

Jimmy opted for mushroom soup & olive tapenade, followed by Free Range Pot Roast beef. He didn't have a pud and I let him tuck him rather than wait for me to photograph. He thoroughly enjoyed both courses and was particularly impressed by the roast potatoes, which can be so badly done in pub Sunday roasts.

I started with Mixed Beets, soft quails eggs & Walnut salad, which isn't normally the sort of thing I'd go for, I have mixed feelings about beetroots. I can never properly predict whether I'll like them or not! But obviously, they add so much colour. Very nice, very fresh ingredients, prepared and presented with a light unfussy touch.

We weren't in the best place, positioned between the fireplace and the Ladies loos, so my view of the pub was limited, and my sight-line was constantly interrupted by the trail of women and girls heading off to there. Also, in a niche behind my left ear was a speaker, probably inaudible to everyone else, pumping out grating prog rock. On the next table was a three generational family, the youngest being only a few weeks old. They were fine actually, although only Grandma seemed to know how to hold a baby with wind. I got a bit antsy when Dad went and stood behind me - in my space - swaying in and out of my peripheral vision. I suspect he only did that while Jimmy went to the bar.

They moved off, and the table was taken by a party of two young couples. Until the waitress told them it wasn't their table. They insisted they had booked for 2.30, and although they were late, the restaurant was running late, too. The waitress pointed out that another party had been waiting longer, this was their table. With an enormous sense of wounded Entitlement the Mouthy Woman demanded to know who had decided. The waitress stated firmly "My boss". Mouthy Entitled Woman protested they didn't want to sit at two tables for two, trying to intimidate the waitress. I'll forgive a restaurant a lot if they don't stand for Inflated Senses of Entitlement. Not that there was much to forgive, really.

Main course arrived. I had Grilled Sea Bream, Charlotte Potatoes, buttered Leeks & Shellfish Bisque. A good combination of flavours. Excellently cooked, good ingredients. Froth is obviously a big thing at The Manor Arms, for Jimmy also had froth with his soup. 

I should know better but I'm a sucker for puddings. Again, in an effort to break out of predictability, I opted for bread and butter pudding with caramel ice cream. I suppose, after the first two courses, I had high expectations, which t didn't live up to. It was 'fine' but I don't think it was anything special. And I can't decide which photo I prefer.

 
Although, actually, food on white plates doesn't look that great against the white background of the blog...she realises after 9 3/4 years of blogging...! So I've also added them to my Food and Drink photo album, which has a grey background!

Brixton Space

As we're trying to get out a bit more, I thought it might be a good idea to revive the practice where I write a brief review of places where we've eaten. Although this would be better with pictures, which I didn't take!

Brixton Space is a Cafe Fusion Tapas Wine Bar on Brixton Water Lane just opposite the Hobgoblin pub. It's been open a few months, and we went along on Friday evening. They had a brand new menu and didn't open until 7 that particular evening.

It's a small place, basically a single shop front with chairs and tables. Nothing fancy. I was sitting on a stool with no arms or back support so an hour and a half was about my limit. There were three other parties in the same time as us, butt even though the place was small, they didn't impinge on us.

The place is run by a Polish woman, who has taken the idea of Spanish tapas and has introduced non-Spanish elements. This is something I have wished some bars in places I've visited in Spain would do, so is entirely in line with my thinking.

The menu isn't massive. We ordered olives & feta, organic bread (from Breads Etcetera), and Mexican Toast. Jimmy ordered some meatballs in tomato sauce and I had a goat's cheese and fig tart.

Put very simply, the food was very tasty. Quite simply done, with very little fuss and palaver, just good quality ingredients, imaginatively assembled. I specifically complemented the proprietor on the side salad. It was only rocket and cherry tomatoes; I'll often ignore the ubiquitous side salad as an insult to the main dish, but these were absolutely fresh and lightly dressed. Which doesn't seem a lot to ask but doesn't always happen. 

Overall, I really liked the place, and if I lived closer I'd probably go in quite often, even if just for a snack and a glass or two of wine. I don't know how busy it gets, and what's the peak time but it was full enough for their to be an atmosphere without it being too crowded.

Baan Thai, Brixton

We dined there this evening. The food was magnificent - I had Pad Mamuang Himapan (Stir fried king prawn with roasted cashew nut, mushroom and sun dried chilli), which exceeded my expectations, and half a serving each of coconut rice and egg fried rice which were perfect.

We've been before and will go back again, because the food was so good. The service was strange and were I marking it, I would award a big fat zero. Which is not to suggest a negative - I was bemused more than anything.

To be honest, I got the distinct impression that no one 'front of house' has ever been in a restaurant. It's like they're operating a café whilst serving restaurant food at restaurant prices in a place decorated as a restaurant.

The personal interaction was minimal. They were perfectly civil. No suggestion otherwise. We arrived just before 6, and were the first customers, though several more arrived before we ordered. It was only when we arrived that they bothered to put the heating on. The heating partly comes out of a ceiling vent which they poked with a stick whilst people ate, and from a fan heater which was strung across the floor with a trailing cable and no yellow hazard tape! Jimmy kept his coat on for ten minutes!

While we were eating, we watched the delivery man wheel out his scooter which he had parked in the restaurant. We watched two staff members wheel a (stolen) Tesco trolley through the restaurant and return a few minutes later, to wheel it back through the restaurant stacked with cans of drink etc.

The waiter interrupted me while I was ordering - cut short my words -  to ask if I wanted a starter. The red wine was opened out of sight; it was just poured straight into our glasses, full to the brim, no room to breathe. I thought it had been stored in a fridge; Jimmy felt that it was merely very cold room temperature (perhaps they didn't know winter has arrived).

When serving the food, they first brought out the warmed plates, then left them there for a while before they brought out my choice - and handed it to Jimmy. I'd plated up and Jimmy told me to start before his arrived.

As I say, the food is lovely, and the staff were not rude nor did they make me angry. I would go back again, largely because they don't really have much in the way of competition locally. But their attitude to service was extraordinary in its naivety!

Joanna's Restaurant

We've walked past Joanna's on Westow Hill, Crystal Palace many times but have never gone; it's been open for years and gets good reviews. So what could possibly go wrong?

We arrived and did the usual 'table for two'. The front-of-house bloke asked whether we wanted a drink at the bar. In my experience, one is generally shown to the bar if you need to wait until a table becomes available or if it's the practice to present the menu and take orders before leading you to the table. Neither was the case here, so I just ended up sitting on a too-high bar stool drinking an aperitif I didn't particularly want in a howling draught. Eventually we had to tell Mr FoH we wanted to go to our table - like we had wanted to when we first arrived, and like everybody else was doing.

We ordered and that was fine. The order included 'some tap water', so the waitress brought us each a wine glass of water. It was fine, it was chilled, but I thought it was petty and grudging. Either you use a wine glass with a jug of water, or at least bring half pint tumblers.

We ordered wine as well, which was placed in an ice bucket beyond our reach. It's a long time since I've been in a restaurant that does this. It's very old-fashioned and it's rude to customers to forbid them from controlling the wine they've ordered and intend to pay for. I had taken about three sips from my glass when the FoH came over, poured some more wine in, without pausing long enough for me - cutlery in hand, food in mouth - to react.

I asked for the wine to be put in our reach (they were woefully understaffed and I sure wasn't going to sit around waiting to catch their eye when I did want my glass refilled). His response alone was enough to spoil the meal and make sure we will never return.

"I'll put it in a cooler on the table shall I? None of the staff will lay a finger on it again"

in the most sardonic withering tones of contempt. I thought he was an arrogant jumped up cock; Jimmy's view was that he was an arsehole.

The food was of startlingly poor quality. It was as if they'd tried but not quite understood what they were trying to achieve.

I ordered a Sweet Onion & Parmesan Tart with rocket & walnut dressing. The walnut dressing was a smear of tasteless  sludge far away from the rocket. The rocket had some parmesan grated on it, looking like they'd use the bit of the grater most people would use for cheddar. The actual tart tasted rather nice despite the pastry being burnt. It seemed odd that it came in a triangular lump cut from a whole pie. Just looked very dated and amateur. Jimmy said his marinated ribs were very nice; again, they looked to have been dumped unceremoniously on the plate.

Unfortunately, there is nothing good to say about the mains. I had a crab linguine which tasted mostly of the cheap olive oil the linguine had been tossed in, and I had to abandon it. It looked completely unappetising, just a sludge thrown into a bowl and hope for the best. Home-cooking, I guess, but not in a good way.

Jimmy abandoned his seabass which was undercooked on one side and on the other side, burnt, and imbued with the residue of everything else that had been cooked on the griddle. That was just thrown down on a plate. Separately he was given two undercooked boiled potatoes, with skins still on - but they weren't new potatoes - and some boiled spinach, without any sauce or even a knob of butter.

From where I was sitting, I could see the pass, and most of what was coming out looked burnt and generally unappetising. The chips looked greasy, singed and lack-lustre.

We remained painfully polite, but when we asked for the bill and it was clear we weren't staying, it was thrown down on the table and we were glared at.

This was our first time out for two weeks and the night before Jimmy's first whole day off work in three. The place wasn't cheap - although not especially pricey, either. We were just astounded at how rubbish it was. But even if the food had been acceptable, we wouldn't return because of the rudeness of the front of house man.

Amuse bouches

A supplement fell out of the Radio Times. It was a Jamie Oliver guide to Christmas food. I quickly flicked through it and my eye was caught by something he calls Party Forks, which seems to be a suggestion for amuse bouches. I mentioned it to Jimmy, and he immediately said - oh, you can put them in vol-au-vents.

You cannot imagine how much that annoys me. Amuse bouches seem to be somewhat fashionable at the moment; vol-au-vents were fashionable sometime in the 70s. Okay, I know they pop up time and again on buffets, but I reckon that is so that a tiny quantity of ingredients can be disguised by a great big wodge of puff pastry.

I think there are some interesting ideas for presenting amuse bouches. Skewering them with forks looks fun - the picture that accompanies the article has a selection of non-matching foks with eye-catching handles. Other ways of serving that spring to mind include shot glasses, espresso cups and Chinese soup spoons. I suppose you can also use small saucers or ramekins as well as rather less exciting cocktail sticks and crostini.

But at home, when you're already creating unnecessarily fussy work by creating the amuse bouches in the first place, it seems silly to create even more fuss by stuffing them into a vo-au-vent case, which, basically has nothing to attract the eye. And some of the ideas for mini-appetisers should either be served raw or as liquid!

In so many ways that just sums Jimmy up. And it annoys me!

Pictures from the internet: if I have breached your copyright please let me know and I will remove the picture or give credit where it is due