Tag Archives: Food

Mignonette. Restaurant Review

Posted on by under chefs, Europe, food, Northern Europe, Restaurants

I’ve always said that if you want a decent French meal in France you should head to England. I was wrong, you should head to Richmond

Yes I know it’s rage baiting to say the French can’t cook anymore, but outside of places like Paris and Lyon standards have gone down. I say that with over twenty years of owning a shack in France and visiting multiple times a year.

Young French people seem to only want pizzas and fast food, perhaps because their parents have forgotten what grandmere taught them and nothing is being passed down. Local restaurants serve steak frites, or a dish that might as well have the supermarket label still attached. And as for the ‘serve yourself’ hors d’oeuvres stations…

I’d heard Mignonette was good, as one would expect from John McClements, a Michelin-starred chef, who runs the bistro with co owner Glen Toromeni, and his son James, but it is better than good.

The parade it sits on is not the nicest, despite being Richmond. An awkward roundabout had me going round twice before I managed to take the right exit and then, by a gift of fate, I found not only a place to park, but one just a few doors down.

We were a bit worried that at 7pm on a Tuesday the place would be empty but not a bit of it. It’s already almost ‘complet’ with more people coming in. Okay, it’s a small place to begin with (30 covers), but it’s good to see such busy-ness.

I like the decor immediately, leather seats and an intimate, friendly atmosphere. I can see the kitchen at the end, which seems no bigger than a wardrobe. I’ve had some of my best meals from such kitchens, ones where chef can reach everything without moving.

I take no pictures, I feel it would be a bit rude to do so. It really isn’t a place to ‘create content’. That said, every plate is gorgeously arranged as some random pictures I obtained from the restaurant testify.

So the menu, so many good things on it and immediately I see rabbit, hare and sweetbreads. Now that’s proper French food.

I start with Orkney scallop, perfectly cooked, which means introduced to the hot plate only enough to lightly caramelise the outside. A miso celeriac puree has a umami led richness that complements the scallop’s sweetness, whilst slivers of kumquat give sharp contrast.

A slice of maple bacon is a bit too chewy, I like my bacon friable. I also like the Sake beurre blanc. There are quite a few Oriental touches on the menu, see next paragraph.

Nothing says France quite like a terrine of foie gras, here the foie part is encased in ‘drunken chicken’, which is chicken poached and then soaked in Shaosing wine. My wife loves it, as well as the lovely duck fat brioche accompaniment. The mini preserved pine cones are something neither of us have ever seen before. Quite charming. Delicious.

Now you may not be a fan of foie gras, even fiercely opposed to it, in which case you probably won’t like what I have next: roasted Limousin sweetbread. This is, in case you don’t know, the culinary name for the thymus or pancreas, typically from a calf.It’s classed as offal.

It is absolutely gorgeous. Smooth and creamy and basted in a buttery caper sauce. A quenelle of perfect pommes puree plus cubes of aniseedy celeriac partner perfectly. I eat it very slowly.

What can you say about Cornish halibut roasted with red prawns and fresh crab crust, sauce bouillabaisse, saffron rouille? I’d eat the printed words. It sounds so good. And it is, P loved the prawns are perfectly plump and soft,  and the halibut a white delight. The bouillabaisse is superbly rich from the slow cooking of fish components, or what you might even call scraps.

And that’s what  I particularly like and admire about the cooking here- no ingredient is wasted. If a dish calls for one part of a vegetable or protein, the unused parts are repurposed into another. This is how a proper chef makes dishes affordable, while still making a profit.

We head into dessert and, whilst I always like the French habit of cheese then dessert, I pass on it  today. Instead I have a tarte tatin made with pears, because it’s a classic. Gloriously sticky caramelised pastry, plus pears that are unctuously soft but also hotter than a care home in Hades. To be fair, the waiter does warn me about that. The cream laced with Calvados helps douse the burn.

Baba a Grand Marnier for P. It’s not rum-laced, obviously, but the waiter brings a bottle of Grand Marnier to liberally soak the ring shaped savarin. The chantilly creme is classic and red fruits cut the sweetness just enough. I get a spoon and help drink the remains.

What a great meal. Classic French cookery done with practiced flair and a keen eye for making the most out of the best ingredients. All well priced too, and apparently even better at lunch.


Allez vite à Richmond sur Thames!

www.mignonettebistro.com

Cô Thành. Review

Posted on by under Europe, food, Northern Europe, Restaurants

The  ‘legendary’ street food of The Lunch Lady, Nguyễn Thị Thanh, is to be found in London’s Covent Garden.

Cô Thành in Henrietta Street mimics Vietnam’s street dining culture with everything apparently sourced directly from Vietnam, including hand-painted signs, exposed brick and dark wood.

It’s bright, cheerful and very no nonsense. The seats are a bit hard on the buttocks, but then it’s the kind of place you sit, eat and leave and don’t linger. The food is fast and tasty and from what I could see, very popular with the Vietnamese in London.

We slid onto our seats and took a look at the simple menu – Bánh Mì, Bún and Phở plus sides/starters. If you’re unsure what you’re getting, a QR code  brings up pretty pics of all the dishes.

The difference between  Bún and Phở is that Phở uses bánh phở, which are flat, translucent rice ribbon noodles while Bún uses vermicelli or thicker round noodles. I’m told that in Vietnam Bún is not always as popular as Phở, which tends to be a bit hotter.

I am sure we all know what Bánh Mì are though,  the love children of France and Vietnam, delicious Asian things in a baguette.

The set lunch menu is a choice of Bánh Mì or Bún alongside a side for £20, but we wanted to go a bit deeper than that, so ordered up some ‘starters’. 

Firstly Cánh gà chiên, which French speakers might be a bit worried about, it is in fact beer battered fried chicken wings, roasted peanuts, nước mắm and smoked chilli glaze.This we found a bit odd. Enormous wings wrapped in a very sweet batter that fell off the meat immediately. All the flavour was in the lettuce underneath. We didn’t eat much of it. Not a winner for us.

Much better was Bo Bla Lot – Grilled beef rolled in betel leaf with roasted peanuts, spring onions and nước chấm dipping sauce.This had all the zingy flavours I expected from Vietnamese food, whereas the wings had seemed more Chinese in style. These rolls are very big in Vietnam and it’s easy to see why. Tender meat in that peppery leaf with the sharp fishy dipping sauce going perfectly with it.

We then had a Bun and a Pho. Mine was Bun Mam made with a fermented fish and shrimp paste broth, shrimp, fresh squid, roasted pork belly, aubergine, okra, pineapple, chives, vermicelli. This was excellent with the broth having all the punch you’d expect from pungent shrimp paste, which when fried can clear a room in seconds..

The squid was tender and the pork belly good and crispy on the outside. The lavish chives were Asian, longer and flatter than European, and I really liked the slice of pineapple for its sweet sharpness. There was a bowl of chopped fresh chili on the table, so I recklessly threw a few in, a bit of a mistake as they were a lot hotter than I expected and I was reduced to gasping for air

The Pho was very fine too: a beef bone broth, a beef patty of brisket and chuck, a fritter, spring onions and flat rice noodles. J was unsure how to deal with the patty by using just his chopsticks, and I had no idea either. 

So he put it on a plate, reduced it to pieces and then put it all back in. He said the whole thing was then delicious. Both of us by now were going through napkins like combine harvesters, partly because of the stock splashing about and partly because both dishes gave us runny noses.


Dessert is not always a strong point in Asian cuisine. I quite liked my Iced Vietnamese dark roast coffee, fritters, condensed milk. Very refreshing. J’s was a bit unsure of his omemade banana and coconut ice cream, roasted peanuts (peanuts again!), lime zest, saying it was more banana and cream than ice-cream, but perfectly pleasant all the same.

We enjoyed Cô Thành rather more than we now enjoy the Pho chain. There’s definitely a more authentic feel to the food and the relaxed atmosphere makes it a good choice for a quick lunch or an evening pitstop.

16 Henrietta Street, London, WC2E 8QH [1]

www.cothanhrestaurant.com/london

The Third Monkey, Farnham

Posted on by under Europe, food, restaurant reviews, Restaurants


Farnham isn’t that far from London and with food like this it’s well worth the journey, especially with the warmer days arriving and a terrace on the top floor

Farnham is popular with well heeled commuters who desire a country house with real hedges for when they’re all done with hedging funds. I saw a lot of brand new Defenders and Porsches cruising about the surrounding roads as we drove in.

Such people want finer dining and it doesn’t come much finer than  The Third Monkey, the new project from chef Adam Fisher (Coworth Park, Pennyhill Park), and his new chef-led gastropub.

The Third Monkey, once the Liberal Club, is handily close to the large town car park and presents itself well on the street, with the inside also being extremely attractive. Some serious money has been very well spent here, from the bar at the front, to the smart dining space at the rear, all the way up to the bar and roof terrace now opening for summer.

This lunchtime it soon fills up. The lunch menu being a big draw, a reasonably priced £32 for three courses. The piped music was a little loud at first, but as the tables filled it became less obtrusive. Mind you, we were sitting right under one of the speakers.

We went a la carte. I wanted to see what the ‘big’ menu had in its locker. Big guns, as it turned out. I genuinely did want everything I saw, apart from the steaks, even if ‘cooked over Japanese embers’

A pre-nibble of Sticky Beef & Bone Marrow Gougère, pickled mushrooms, and truffle custard sounded so good we had one each. Absolutely delicious and gone all too soon. I noticed a man dining alone at the next table ordered two for himself, it obviously wasn’t his first visit. The rich meat and marrow was perfectly cut by the pickled mushrooms, the truffle was subtle and the gougere chewy. Two? I could have eaten a plateful.

Starters proper gave us Spider Crab, squid ink hand-rolled pasta with Sauce Americaine, and a Smoked Devonshire Duck Parfait, potato cigar, pistachio, cherry. The crab was served in its shell, which was a good piece of plating. Very ‘crabby’, which was good and the Sauce Americaine, a classic French sauce for lobster, sang out beautifully.  I didn’t see much black in the pasta, but it was well made

The duck parfait was also very well plated, very GBC and more than I usually expect from places out of town, which are often a few years behind the dining curve. It was perfect parfait, rich and flavoursome and almost mousse-like texturally, while the crunch of the potato, plus the bite of the cherry sauce, made for great mouthfuls. This was all very promising for mains.

Iberico Secreto, aka “the butcher’s secret,”is the most prized piece of pork in Spain. It comes from black pigs fed on acorns and is a muscle found between the shoulder blade and the loin. In some ways it has the same mystical properties as beef onglet. Not much of it per beast and it must be eaten rare.


This means it comes to the table pretty pink, which to generations of British diners means ‘run away!’ We have a national habit of overcooking pork out of semi-justifiable paranoia of food poisoning. No worries with secreto. Here it is sliced thinly and beautifully marbled because, just as with Iberican Jamon, the main flavour is in the fat.

A dusting of brown mustard seeds over the secreto gave a popping texture that played well with the soft meat The chorizo and potato croquette was a little leathery on the exterior and the chorizo muted, but the mini porchetta was excellent, most of the fat rendered away but still moist.

Cornish Monkfish, curried mussel velouté, crispy hen’s egg, pomme cocotte, leek was also very good. Curried mussels is a dish I came across in the Charente region of France, they use classic curry powder, not seen in the UK since the 1970s, and it really works well. It made me rather nostalgic for my mum’s curries which, looking back, were otherwise something of a disgrace.

Lovely fish, the crispy egg was like a Scotch Egg without the pork exterior, and the pommes cocotte were beautifully basted in butter. A little bit of foam was visible, which annoys some people but not me. Very fine cooking all round.


Are we sick of Sticky Toffee Pudding in gastropubs? Kind of, but then again it is hard to turn down. Here ​​it’s swimming in salted caramel and wears a‘Baked Alaska’ ice cream like a comedy hat. It is no joke though, the baked Alaska is perfect and so is the pud. The lovely salted caramel was a bit too rich for me, I struggled to finish it, less would have been more.

Lighter was a radically reshaped Lemon and Thyme Cheesecake with honey ice cream, the citrus cleansed the palette and the thyme being slightly lemony itself helped too. The flowers decorated it all very prettily.

We were pretty full by now, sticky toffee pudding always does me in, but we took a breather to check out a very good looking Sunday menu. Specials are also displayed on a board, this week with a bit of an Indian slant, it seemed.

The Third Monkey, in folklore, ‘spoke no evil’, but perhaps the name comes from the third monkey to board Noah’s Ark, he had to fight hard not to be left behind. It seems appropriate, this gastropub is pulling no punches when it comes to excellence.

thirdmonkeyfarnham.com
46 South St,
Farnham GU9 7RP

San Hao Restaurant Review

Posted on by under Europe, restaurant reviews, Restaurants

Guitar god Nigel Tufnell once asked “How much more black can it be? … None. None more black”. I’m looking at K’s chilli chicken cappuccino but replacing black with white. It’s like gazing into an open tin of Dulux, albeit slightly frothier. It’s rather mesmerising.

It’s called New-Age “Cappuccino” Chicken Noodles. The cream is really a topping, and underneath is rich chicken broth and, when stirred, fat noodles break the surface along with portions of roasted chicken. The noodles are hand made, silky smooth and have more bounce than Eeyore. It’s not my dish,  but I love the flavours so much that I keep dipping in my spoon, much to K’s annoyance. I love the pricks of chili, just enough to fire up the palate not so much as to extinguish all the other lovely flavours, especially the flavour of roast chicken skin.


Located in the very heart of Chinatown and spread over three (possibly even more floors, these Chinatown buildings are bigger than the Tardis inside) San Hao is a new kid on the Gerrard Street block. It may also be the only one that hasn’t got a staff member outside hassling passers by to come in, instead it relies on word of mouth and a man making Baos in the window, to advertise itself.

Billed as San Hao Noodle Atelier, or ‘workshop’,  its avowed aim is to do something different with noodles while respecting tradition and leveraging British produce. It’s the first joint project between Daren Liew (Hakkasan, Duddells, Nanyang Blossom) and the people behind the YiQi, The Eight and Dozo.

It’s modern inside, and the staff have headsets, but I got 90s Deja Vu when they told us to go upstairs just as Won Kei always did back in the day.

The range of inventive noodle dishes, wet and dry, is compact but very tempting. When we get upstairs there are a fair few Chinese, or Chinese heritage, people eating which is a good sign and one man appears to be eating a dinosaur bone in broth, but it’s probably Black Garlic Herbal Pork Bone Soup Noodles.

We share  the Four Flavor Bao Platter, and there are four of them. This is not usual as Chinese dining rules usually dictate odd numbers only, which makes sharing fairly – fairly difficult.

Not here though. Each was different, so we picked randomly. All delicious and with “nicely browned bottoms”, as they would gleefully say on Great British Bake Off, no doubt courtesy of the cast iron pot they were cooked in. A side dish of chilli oil was useful.

So I told you about the ‘cappucino’, but what else did we have from an extensive menu? Well we share Salted Egg Salad Cream with Fine Bean  – translated as ‘crispy green beans tossed in buttery salted egg glaze’. To be honest, this seems to simply be French  beans deep fried in a light batter. I believe the salted duck eggs are supposed to add a savouriness  but I don’t  detect any or much help from the garlic and chilli. A pleasant dish but underwhelming.

There is a slight lack of heft in my dry noodle dish, Golden Roe Chilli Crab and Salted Prawn as well. Lovely pieces of crab and prawn in a sauce that is tasty but overly sweet for my liking. I expected more saltiness from the roe and the prawn,  and the obvious pieces of chili are surprisingly muted, considering the dish’s name.

 For a Chinatown place, San Hao seems a bit Western timid in its spicing. Great noodles, just the right bite and the sauce sticks to them lovingly, so perhaps though I should have had Hot ‘n’ Spicy Roasted Yellow Chilli Grouper Noodles?

We don’t have desserts. I rarely do in Chinese (or Indian) places, but the two on offer sound quite interesting.

I like the concept of San Hao, a Chinatown restaurant that’s not offputting to Westerners. It’s clean and crisp looking, and there are plenty of unusual dishes that are clearly explained on the menu. Just as well, as  I think we’ve all at some time ordered something from a Chinatown menu that made us feel a bit shocked, if not ready to scream, when it arrived.

3 Gerrard St, London W1D 5PD

www.sanhao.co.uk

Sycamore Restaurant Review

Posted on by under Europe, restaurant reviews, Restaurants

Hotel restaurants, when not stand alone specials, can get a bad rep. The challenge is to provide food for everyone of any race, creed or colour. And, of course, their kids. Sycamore has got it right.

Sycamore, is an Italian restaurant at the five-star Middle Eight hotel, Covent Garden. It’s not quite in Covent Garden to be fair, it’s east of the architecturally gruesome Masonic Temple, but it’s only a few minutes walk away and not much further to Theatreland.

It’s a super modern hotel, all glass fronted and with sliding doors that cleverly open just before you crash into them. The bar is very large, an island surrounded by seating, with a ceiling that’s all ducting camouflaged by thousands of gilded sycamore leaves. 

It’s a good space, warm and welcoming despite its size. We ate here, as the restaurant proper is at the back and a little less welcoming. Everyone eating was in the bar area and there were a lot of people for a Wednesday. Many were guests, I assume, but all the same it was a good sign.

Real napkins. I know that seems a small thing, but it’s a good sign in my book. They’ve gone for the extra expense of laundry to make the dining a bit classier.


The menu is, obviously, Italian. There’s plenty of choice for starters that range across mushroom arancini with basil aioli;  mac and cheese croquettes with marinara sauce;,  garlic king prawns with chilli and fresh herbs and more. Small plates, so you could easily make a meal out of these alone. There are pizzas too, of course, but personally I don’t trust restaurant  pizzas, I only eat pizzas in pizzerias.

We share chargrilled chicken skewers with lemon, thyme, smoked paprika, and golden calamari with lemon aioli. I always tell myself I won’t order calamari yet again, and yet againI always do. I have some kind of addiction to these things.

These are good, if a little overbattered which makes them quite filling, and a bit more lemon in the mayo wouldn’t have gone amiss. 

The chicken skewers are moist, not always the case with grilled chicken, and the paprika spiced mayo swirls are helpful. I do like the pea shoots, still a trendy garnish, the crispy stems a good contrast. As you can see from the photos though, pea shoots got rather a lot of airplay across the meal. I began to wonder  if I’d get some on my dessert as well.


I press S not to have steak, not on a review, anyone can cook a steak, but he really insists. Rather an expensive Flat Iron steak, but it’s a good one. Medium rare and well rested so that the pink is smoothed out, and it’s pre sliced against the grain too, which I think makes it always look a bit more interesting as well as easier to eat. Flat Iron is probably the ​​next most tender cut of beef after fillet, with the all important marbling that means flavour.

The smoked salt fries that I repeatedly steal are delicious, and the chimichurri sauce is well made so he doesn’t need to open the little pots of tomato sauce and mayo provided,  presumably intended for less sophisticated diners to ruin their chips with.

For me it has to be pasta, and while truffle carbonara tagliatelle with pancetta, cream, and pecorino would have been glamorous, and king prawn linguine, with garlic, chilli, parsley very fancy, I wanted ragu, slow cooked beef ragu with pappardelle.

This is just how it should be, the beef ragged and scrappy from its long cooking and the sauce rich with the smooth wide pasta having absorbed some of it. No parmesan at table, but enough already added and yes, more pea shoots. They must have bought a job lot of them.

Tiramisu to end. Very nicely done, kind of deconstructed and modern, plenty of chocolate, plenty of mascarpone but B all Marsala as far as I can tell. I imagine alcohol is not included because of children, there should be two versions  – one for the little darlings and one for grown ups.

Panacotta is wonderfully wobbly and unctuous, we love the vanilla in it and the strawberry sauce and crumbled shortbread are good dance partners. Pea shoots have been replaced by edible flowers and look very pretty.

Conclusion? Hotel guests unwilling or wary of eating out in the wilds of Covent Garden won’t be disappointed, especially if they have kids in tow. A nice classy place with prices within reach especially if you look for daily deals.

It’s also ideal for theatre goers who want to eat something first without being ripped off and still be within easy reach of the show. No need to go full on, three small plates or bites and a glass of wine is £25 which seems very reasonable.

 66 Great Queen St, London WC2B 5BX

www.middleight.com

No 8 Sevenoaks Sunday Roast

Posted on by under Europe, food, restaurant reviews, Restaurants

Sunday Roast in the country. You can’t beat it, especially when it’s in a restaurant that knows how to cook beyond the beef. Nick laps it all up

One of the great reasons to live in South London, aside from it not being North London of course, is how easily you can reach the real countryside of Kent. And then carry on to the coast, if you want. Or indeed France.

Fancying a Sunday Roast that wasn’t in a pub overwhelmed by uncontrolled toddlers, while their parents hid behind copies of The Observer, we fired up the planet destroying ICE car and pointed the SatNav to Sevenoaks.

Within a short while of leaving vibrant Brixton, we were barreling down cheerful A roads winding between fields, the car astonished at for once actually making it all the way to fourth gear.

It took just over an hour to reach Sevenoaks, it is only 21 miles from Charing Cross after all, it would have been quicker, but for some Sunday road closures. It’s a pretty little town that has suffered a bit from the plate glass window rash that spread throughout the UK. As someone once said, what’s so exciting about the inside of a Building Society that you want to display it to the street?

Parking is quite easy, if restricted to a few hours, but we managed to get close to Number 8, a 16th century building next to one of the classic old Lloyds Banks and set back from the road to allow al fresco dining in the summer.

Number 8 is run by chef/restaurateur Stuart Gillies with his wife Cecilia, and Stuart is a well-seasoned pro, having run the Gordon Ramsay group globally as MD and then CEO, so you know this is going to be proper and professional. People like to have a pop at Ramsay,  but I’ve never had a bad meal at any of his spots.


Inside it is very pleasant, warm and very full, the locals obviously know a good thing and these look like prosperous people used to high quality. I wore my quilted gilet to fit in and it was a good choice. I am not the only one sporting farmer-core fashion today.

Not being a pub, No 8 can offer more interesting starters than your local boozer and we share a gorgeous whipped hummus topped with sesame seeds and chives, scooped up with (slightly oily) toasted focaccia, along with deliciously creamy Iberico ham croquettas on a lively smoked chili salsa.

So the roast, obviously there is beef, aged Chart farm beef to be precise, chicken, mushroom tortellini for the vegetarians, and fish for those not fancying a pure roast.

Which happens to be my wife today, so she goes for seabass, mashed potato, lemon grass coconut sauce and buttered greens, while I go classic on the beef with green veg, roast potatoes, and Yorkshire pudding. And gravy, definitely.

Both are winners, the beef the best I’ve had for a very long time. Thickly cut, which is a good sign as pubs are inclined to slice the beef thin as they know it’s going to be chewy. This is anything but, very soft and packed with flavour. Generous amount of it too.


The spuds are also good, they are not faked by being deep fried, which always annoys me, but properly roasted. This means they aren’t as crisp as they might be, but they’re really nice inside. Soft and mashable into the gravy, as well as the unadvertised but very welcome sweet potato puree. Broccoli is bright green and al dente, while the beans are a trifle squeaky but better than being overdone. Very good

The gravy is my one criticism, there’s nothing at all wrong with it but I prefer it to come jugged on the side and not floating my dinner. It’s messy, as my shirt now testifies. I prefer to make my own gravy decisions. Lovely Yorkshire Pud, not a monster but crispy and fluffy.

P’s decision to go for the fish bears out. She says it’s great, the mash creamy, the fish skin crispy and the sauce delicious. Once again, this is a benefit of eating Sunday lunch in a restaurant and not a pub, you get proper cheffing.

And good desserts, too. Lemon Posset with a cinnamon and sugar tortilla is very unctuous, and  Glazed Banana and Walnut bread with a toffee sauce and creme fraiche, is just what Sunday ordered. We’re happily stuffed and leave just in time before our parking runs out.

Did I mention the price? A very reasonable two courses for just  £29.95, and 3 courses £34.95 Or just have roast chicken or beef for £24.*

Anyone who fancies a nice trip to the country for a decent Sunday roast dinner should consider Number 8 as a Number 1 option.

*Prices correct as of February 2026

no8sevenoaks.com

8 London Rd, Sevenoaks TN13 1AJ

Hankki Restaurant Review

Posted on by under restaurant reviews, Restaurants

Hankki means ‘one meal’ in Korean, but when Nick and K went in they ate enough for an army. 

Just on the fringes of Chinatown, a few doors down from my once beloved Wong Kei ( it eventually got too self-aware and ironic), Hankki is the kind of place Instagrammers love. It’s not completely traditional Korean, the full on cooking can be a bit challenging for some, and it has made sure it’s brightly lit with a very youthful vibe out front. The staff took one look at K and me and directed us out to the back, we were far too old and vibe killing.

Actually though this was a good thing as we got to sit at a nice large table, and we were going to need all that space as the dishes soon started piling up to satisfy our venerable greed. The centre of the table had a BBQ skillet which our waiter, sensing our intentions, fired up straightaway to get good and hot.

There are various set menus available, from £31 to £46 per person and they’re all generous in choice and taste, but we dive straight in to a la carte with some prawns in batter which are properly crispy but not overly exciting, whereas the fried squid is lively with, I assume, gochujang, Korea’s marvellous fermented chili paste. 

This is perfect for knocking  back in quantity with cold beer, so that’s what we do. I really like the fact it is all in odd size pieces, the tiniest and best bits being almost all batter, just like it used to be in UK fish and chip shops.

Talking of batter, the seafood pancakes (Haemul Jeon) feature a lot of batter around a good selection of seafood and the all important spring onions, nice and crispy on the outside, a little bit oily inside, but very delicious. We then have to drop  our follow-up slices to deal with Kimchi Tofu soup.

It’s more kimchi than soup and that’s fine by us as we both love kimchi and its full on funk. This hot and sour soup is often made with pork, but this is cubes of tofu along with garlic, ginger, spring onion and daikon. Spooned onto rice it’s frighteningly addictive and we shovel it down like it was going to run away.

But hold on, there is now Chicken Noodle Cheese. A tangle of bouncy noodles with lots of chicken thigh and topped with cheese. Plenty of Gochugaru and Gochujang are pumping out heat with a hint of sweetness to balance it. The cheese topping binds it and there is a fried egg included, although it’s hard and I think it should be soft so it can be broken and stirred in. Absolutely delicious. 

We really could call it a day and roll out happy, but there is the BBQ to be dealt with. Plates of raw Hankki beef, Bulgogi Wagyu Sirloin, spicy chicken and sweet soy octopus to griddle and eat along with more kimchi, cucumber, daikon and other assorted pickled vegetables and sauces.

We do our best. The Wagyu is of course divine, the basic beef great, the chicken tender and soon charred,  and the octopus, depending on how long we leave it on the grill, nice and tender or overdone.

And we’re done, lolling back in our seats and groaning slightly with no room for the IG special, Yuzu cheesecake in the shape of a miniature dog. We see it being served as we leave soon after and it is so realistic it’s a bit unnerving.

We absolutely loved our Hankki feast and with so much on the menu it’s a place to go back to again and again. Bold flavours, plenty on the plate and a great atmosphere. ‘One meal’ indeed, but what a meal.

www.hankki.co.uk

7 Wardour St, London W1D 6PE

Greek Pig Panigyri Feast: A Unique Dining Experience

Posted on by under Uncategorized

Just because it’s winter, doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the summery warmth of a Greek Pig Panigyri Feast

They’ve got the electric heaters going full blast at Pyro tonight, Mad Ed Milliband would be livid if he knew about it in his luxury hotel in Brazil.

They do need them though, because even on this unseasonably warm November evening, I blame Climate Change of course, there’s a bit of a chill breeze blowing around our legs.

Pyro’s veranda is not a bricks and mortar structure, but a kind of large ‘beach hut’ with walls made of clear plastic that roll down for the winter. This would be effective, were it not for the fact that the one next to our table stops a good thirty cm short of the ground and the breeze is making my trouser legs flap like sails.


I don’t care, we’ve soon got cosy rugs wrapped around our legs and we’re enjoying ourselves too much to be put off by a draft. The whole place is welcoming, warmly lit, charmingly decorated and with a great Greek feel to it. If the sun was shining you really could be in an island taverna, and not simply south of London Bridge.,

Chef Yiannis Mexis is the man behind Pyro, and he cooks on live fire, which is always a good way to cook. I can see the practical benefits of induction hobs in modern kitchens, but they add nothing to the flavour.
At Pyro every Wednesday from now and going forward, it’s the Pig Panigyri Feast, a Greek village festival. Inspired by Gournopoula, the Messinian tradition of roasting suckling pig over an open fire.It’’s a set menu designed to be shared with friends, although couples can also enjoy it just as much. We actually sat with two strangers and it couldn’t have been nicer, as we bonded over crackling, pork fat and Greek wine and the terrace filled up with other pork afficianados.


There are two cocktails for the set price. Pre feast was a Midas, a great combo of cinnamon infused tequila and aperol which set us up nicely for the arrival of sourdough potato pittas cooked on the griddle and with a good helping of syglino, a smoked pork fat.

These pittas are fat and round and delicious and prove perfect for loading up with the creamy sheep’s milk labneh with pork and a smattering of chick peas. Superb, as is the smoked aubergine puree with roasted garlic, this time scooped up with perfect crispy tranches of crackling. A dusting of pomegranate seeds add colour, but do get caught in my teeth.

If you only know souvlaki from the excellent album by Slowdive, you can’t have been to Greece where you find it all over the place. Meat grilled on a skewer over charcoal, it’s often served in a pitta with toppings. Here some Iberico pork’s goodness is further enhanced by sweet smoked prunes, almonds and an inspired topping of sour apple and radicchio. Another winner dish.


And from out of the fire comes more, this time a ‘Mykonian’ style sausage, curled like a Cumberland, it’s porky perfect and you can taste the fresh herbs embedded inside. An accompanying stew of butter beans, or ‘gigantes’ offers up super soft beans infused with flavour and cheerfully doing the backstroke in a rich tomato sauce topped with barely cooked kale and lots of lovely sage.

And the main event arrives, suckling pig (s) have been spit roasted over myrtle, an evergreen shrub found all over Greece. Suckling pig is not something for anyone who’s in denial about where meat comes from, I find it a bit hard to look at myself so I didn’t watch for long and waited for it to arrive portioned at our table.


Succulent, quite fatty, very tasty and set off by burnt clementine chutney and partnered with potato cooked in pork fat served with skordalia, which is a garlicky puree with potatoes and nuts, plus a fat-cutting salad of bitter leaves it did a great job of leaving us sated.

We managed to still eat Greek walnut cake, or karydopita, with creme fraiche before washing it down with Aegina, a crazily creamy vodka cocktail bursting with Greek yoghurt foam.


It really was a proper  feast and a celebration of pig,  and I really recommend you get your trotters in the trough asap.

53b Southwark St, London SE1 1RU

pyrorestaurant.co.uk/

Lilibet’s Restaurant Review

Posted on by under restaurant reviews, Restaurants

Opulent and impressive, with a side order of slightly camp, this restaurant celebrates the past and feels guaranteed to have a glorious future

An IKEA TV campaign, not so long ago, urged everyone to ‘chuck out their chintz’. It seems that much of it ended up in Lilibet’s. I’ve not seen so much of the stuff since my maiden aunt died at 97, the same day as Elizabeth II, and her house hadn’t changed since the 1940s.

This new restaurant is on the site of the building where Elizabeth (Lillibet) II began her life, although the actual house was demolished years ago.


Internally Russell Sage Studios have created what can be either called a loving homage of interior design trends back then, or an affectionate parody of the same. There are handwoven Gainsborough silks on the walls, and even the sort of fake fireplace once found in stately council homes. Usually accompanied by a car up on bricks outside.

I like it, everything about the place has a wry smile on its face and it’s extremely welcoming, comfortable and, yes, it is actually elegant. There’s nothing else like it in an area that has become very blingy, majorly catering to Russian and Middle Eastern tastes.

It’s not perhaps what you’d expect from Ross Shonhan, once Executive chef at Zuma London, and who created the iconic Bone Daddies ramen bars that for years were the talk of blogland, with people scrambling to get as much oily broth inside themselves as possible..

Here it’s fish, fish  and more fish across a very large space divided into zones. A bar, a marble topped seafood bar, (oysters and caviar feature, of course) a fish grill, and traditional seating to eat whatever you want. These seats are extra plush, and whilst the tables have no tablecloths, they are dark wood and so still feel upper class.

It’s a menu that could have you indecisively flicking back and forth for a month, but we know what we want.


Anchovy éclairs and crab tarts are more nibbles than full on starters, but they are both rather wonderful. I love anchovies, particularly the tinned brown fillets, but they do repel some people. The important thing is to get the best you can find – cheap anchovies don’t have the rich texture and deep umami that’s so present here.

I saw a recipe for these in the The Official Downton Abbey Christmas Cookbook (don’t judge me). So as a savoury they have been around a long time in posh circles. They’re usually made with puff pastry, here though it’s proper choux with the hollow space inside piped with anchovy parfait and on top sharp/sweet sauce. Gone all too quickly, but the memory lingers.

The crab tarts are equally impressive, small works of culinary art, super-fresh sweet crab enlivened by citrus and cosseted in pastry shells that are as delicate as the porcelain  Liz 2 probably had her afternoon tea served in.

Did I mention it’s a big menu? Well we dither over the Ricotta agnolotti,  lobster spaghetti, whole turbot pil pil as choices, but the “fish triptych,” fish served in three different ways – a crudo, a grilled main and a soup  – sounds too unique not to try.


From the fish of the day we have the Sea Bream. This arrives first as crudo – raw – dressed with olive oil, salt, lemon and perhaps vinegar, and liberally scattered with herbs. This really showcases the fish which is firmly ‘cooked’ by the acids to a divine buttery texture. My only caveat being that the fresh chili was rather too fierce at times.

Next from the same fish comes its fillets, cooked in the searing heat of the bespoke wood oven. A perfect piece of fish, the skin crispy and golden, the flesh gorgeously creamy. It is so naturally excellent that the mojo verde sauce is in some ways not needed,  but in other ways I need lots more. And a spoon, too. I could also do with some chips, but then I am common.

Lastly, the remains of the fish are cooked fast in a pressure cooker to create one of the best fish soups either of us have ever tasted, and yes we have been to the South of France.

It’s ladled out tableside, which is posh, and we boat it back with little oohs and aahs. There is some left in the tureen, so rather than summon a footman I top up our bowls myself. Sometimes one simply cannot wait to be served.


I now have to mention the Lobster Mash, after all everybody else has. Firstly it gave me an annoying earworm; I can’t stop hearing ‘Monster Mash’ in my head, and secondly it really is very good. Buttery, creamy, mash anointed with a lobster bisque? How can it fail?

It’s served after the soup, I’d have liked it served with the #2 fish, although that may not have been the best way to showcase either dish. Anyway, it is decadent, depraved and delicious. It’s a must have, a right royal treat.

They do a rather odd dessert here, a Prego sandwich. It’s a garlic steak sandwich, the word ‘prego’ in Portuguese means ‘nail,’ perhaps the nail in your coffin? It is actually a well-loved Portuguese snack that is often eaten after a seafood meal. I don’t really fancy it, but a twist on crepes suzette does sound good.

It arrives rolled up, topped with a sauce of caramelised sugar, orange juice and butter, plus thin candied orange peels, and yes, it is torched (or flambeed as they say in more refined circles) at the table. It’s a blast from the past and a very welcome one.

Lillibet’s really is something special in London; its interiors, its staff, its food all remind me of why I go out to eat in the first place, not to greedily catch a trend but to relax and enjoy time with friends and family in a place that believes in the basics. 

Lillibet’s I am sure will become as much a part of London’s history as Liz 2 was, and hopefully live just as long.

17 Bruton St, London W1J 6QB
lilibetsrestaurant.com

Porte Noire Review

Posted on by under Europe, restaurant reviews, Restaurants

There’s dog on the menu and a lot more besides at this cool wine bar slash restaurant beside the canal in Coal Drops Yards.

Okay I admit the dog bit is pure click bait. There is indeed a dog at Porte Noire but he’s very much alive and wagging. After a fraught, irritating, windswept search for the restaurant located in the base of one of the old gasometers, now fancy apartments, his happy face behind the glass doors waiting to welcome us cheered us up no end.

His name is Cooper and he belongs to the co owner  David Faber, the founder of Connaught Wine Cellars and his presence rather sums up the wine bar’s character – warm, welcoming and cheerful. The other co-owner is Idris Elba, by the way, also a bit shaggy and loveable and curator of his very own champagne brand, Porte Noire, after he and David visited the Sanger Viticultural School in Champagne in 2018. His Porte Noire champagne and cognac are on the drinks menu, of course.

David has taken his own vast wine knowledge and placed it in a restaurant setting and the result is a place that is a wine lover’s ideal spot, but  the food makes it not just a banlieue for the bibulous.

The curve of the old gasometer makes the room pleasingly unusual, while the metal of its construction blocks out mobile signals. This was not deliberate, but it does have the effect of making people put away their phones and concentrate on wine, food and friends. Given the amount of tech types in the area this may be the only oasis they have away from their screens. I don’t think there is any guest wi-fi available, at least none showed up on my ‘phone.

Outside is seated and canal facing and I can well imagine how nice it must be come the summer. Incidentally if you follow Google Maps from Kings Cross you will arrive from this direction and you won’t get as lost, as we did. Once at the door you pass by an impressive wine wall at the entrance, where you can also catch a glimpse of cabinets of cured meats

The menu is short, compared to the wine list, which is long. I believe there are over 800 wines in the cellars. I do like wine, but I make no pretense of knowing a lot so we gaze at the wine list rather blankly, while eating from an excellent charcuterie board. There are cornichons, I do love the crisp vinegary tang of cornichons, but  I would have also liked some sliced baguette and a big cold lump of butter as well.


Wine help is at hand from the sommelier, who doesn’t make us feel ignorant, but is friendly and keen to find us wines we’ll enjoy. Prices are reasonable I suppose for London, but one can still wince a bit at £12.50 for a small glass. Still you can pay close to that for rubbish wine in many places, and these wines are very good, Plus what does a pint of cooking lager in a London pub cost these days? Almost £7.00.

With the charcuterie devoured we turned our attention to Truffle and mushroom arancini n and truffle mayo, and Devonshire hand dived scallops , Bresaola crisps which we drink with Chateau Paillas, Cahors. This  pairs well with both the shellfish and the arancini. The scallops are butter soft and creamy, with a gently spicy sauce buoying them up, the bresaola a salty texture contrast.

Arancini are crispy fresh and the bosky flavour of the mushrooms is set off by the rich truffle in an unctuous mayo. When no one is looking I use my finger to scoop up the last of it.


We move to a glass each of Lyseras Blanc 2023, a soft yet zesty white which is parfait with my stuffed squid. Not the most elegant of dishes, it looks like a Zeppelin has landed on my plate, it’s a powerfully flavoured dish thanks to a rich stuffing of chorizo and a bed of sun-dried tomato tahini.

The squid is a little bit tough, nothing to worry about, but it could have been softer. It’s a good bistro-style dish overall and I like the crispy cavolo nero on top. Cavolo nero is a type of kale and baking the oiled leaves makes it very palatable. Boiled or steamed, it usually comes out as more of a penance than a pleasure.

M is on, Shropshire duck breast, chestnut puree and a pinot noir jus. He really loves that puree, mentioning how nice it is several times. The jus is jus(t) great too, he reckons and the duck is perfectly cooked, a hint of pink and no more. He also gets those cavolo crisps and likes them as much as I do.

Unsure what to have on the side, we order the ‘famous’ chickpea chips to share. Like panisses, the south of France street snack, these are based around Gram (chickpea) flour. A thick batter that once set is deep-fried. Delicious and addictive, especially when we dob them into the thick luscious mayo served generously with them.

We end with Burnt Matcha Cheesecake  on a raspberry puree, and a chocolate cremeux with Calabrian olive oil and Maldon sea salt. The latter was a bit too heavy for me, although chocolate fanatics would love it. The olive oil worked surprisingly well, but personally I would hold back a bit on the salt. The cheese cake was gone in seconds, so that was clearly well liked.

Cooper came round on his patrol, seeking more head rubs and praise, which we were more than happy to give him. Praise to David and Idris as well, they’ve created a lovely little place at Porte Noire that has a lot of taste and a lot of style.

A bit hard to find (again, use Google Maps and not Apple), it’s hard to beat for a relaxed glass or two and some highly competent food.

Valentines’ Day sees a candlelight dinner at Porte Noire with live music

Wine is available to buy both in the ‘shop’ and online and there is a set lunch every weekday.

Gasholder 10 , Unit A 1 Lewis Cubitt Square