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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

You Be Chef. Light Up Your BBQ Game

Posted on by under chefs, Europe, food, food producers

These boxes of deliciousness from the Isle of Wight  are just the thing to make your barbecue sing

Okay yes I know, the weather has been a bit awful. Not that it ever stops me BBQ’ing though because I have the best BBQ in the world, the Weber Kettle, and it has a lid.

In the UK we tend to refer to anything cooked over charcoal as BBQ but, to be more accurate, what we Brits tend to do is grill.


BBQ means the food is not cooking directly over the charcoal, but instead is ‘oven cooking’ with the BBQ lid on, This is what traps the delicious smoky aromas and is perfect for large pieces of meat. That lid also means you can cook in the rain. I also have a remote thermometer so I can monitor the temperature inside the meat without leaving the house. Cunning, eh?

So we got ready to cook with one eye on the sky and the lid at the ready.

You Be Chef comes from the Isle of Wight, via chef Robert Thompson. Not only does he have an MBE, but he also won a Michelin star in 2007.

Robert is a champion of Isle of Wight produce, and is a big part of the Island’s food scene. His idea was to take the island’s produce, write recipes around it, and send the food and instructions all over the UK.

Our trial chilled box arrived on the hottest day of the year (so far) and was thoughtfully left on the front doorstep, in the blazing sun, by a delivery driver who obviously didn’t think it was worth ringing our bell.

Luckily he did at least send me a text and so I was able to call my wife to rescue the parcel before it melted away, or became victim to our local ‘porch pirates’. They will pinch anything round here, even though they have no idea what it is they’re nicking.

Unboxing was fun, each panel revealing a message, and it was good to see most of the items were in recyclable packs, some sort of cardboard material. 

We had the Tandoori Lamb Burger for two. So we had the burgers (natch), and then in various packs – Sesame Challah Buns,  Pont Neuf Potatoes with Garlic and Flat Parsley Butter; Onion Rings – Fried in Curious IPA Beer Batter with Black Onion Seeds; Rose Harissa Hummus; and Crushed Avocado with Lime, Beef Tomato slices, Feta, and Baby Gem Lettuce. Oh and there was Red Onion, Mint and Lime Salad and flavoured grilling oil.

It all appeared good, but for the lettuce leaves, which clearly had not enjoyed their journey and were rather limp and tired looking.

Juggling the oven times for the chips and the onion rings was a bit tricky. After some thought we cooked the rings first in our brilliant Ninja Foodie,  then took them out and kept them warm while we cooked the chips, then we put the rings back on top for the final minutes to get them hot again.

The burgers were a large diameter, I had my doubts they would fit in the buns, but once cooked they became the right size.

Now I am no chef, but I was surprised when the instructions said to give the burgers six minutes a side. I was so doubtful, that after rubbing them with the supplied grill oil,  I only gave them three minutes a side, after which time my trusty Thermapen read 62C in the centre, which is just right. I suspect there may be a typo in the instructions and it really means six minutes in total.

We added, as per instructions, the feta to the top of the meat for the last minute to warm it up, then split our buns (ooo err madam) toasted them lightly, and put the lettuce on the bottom (it’s important to ‘waterproof’ the bun from the juices), then added all the other ingredients to create an impressively stacked burger.


I’m a survivor of the burger craze which swept social media a few years back, ending only when the biggest influencers realised they were killing themselves eating so many monster burgers a week and gave up, so I know what to look for and this burger was perfect.

It had size, but with heavy pressure it was compressed to be eatable. And very good it was too, with the lamb superbly juicy and spicy. The other ingredients all added to the pleasure, particularly the salty feta and the limey avocado. The buns were a bit sweet for me, but fine.

The Red Onion, Mint and Lime Salad was rather like shredded pickled onion, no bad thing and mint is always an ideal partner for lamb.

The onion rings were crunchy and also sweet. We liked them a lot, but couldn’t eat all eight, and the chips were excellent, although dangerously hot inside so we had to leave them to cool for a bit. They were great dipped into the hummus, which was not as spicy as feared.

It really was a great BBQ blow out. Having everything ready made was a game changer and made it all so easy. And it didn’t rain.

Order your boxes at www.youbechef.com

Tacos and Steaks At Number 8

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

This special deal is a cracker, but, like the government,  you have to go to the country

On one of the hottest days so far, we get in the car and head out from South London to Sevenoaks. We can’t stand another sticky evening, or standing over a hot stove, so the lure of the country is strong.

It’s an area I know quite well, all my school friends lived out that way, while I lived a bit further in. Driving out this evening  I drove my wife mad as memories came flooding back of sixth form trips to pubs, to teenage parties and the time we rolled an overloaded Bond Bug down a local steep hill and it broke in half lengthways, leaving us all lying in a field wondering what had just happened.

Sevenoaks is a lovely old market town, the buildings well-preserved above the shop plimsoll line. Why do people ruin perfectly good old shops with plate glass? What do they have inside that’s so wonderful that it requires a clear view? I am talking about you, Nationwide.

In the centre, Number 8 is a venerable building from the outside with a charming open space in front. Once perhaps a rich merchant’s house, or a local dignitary’s

Inside it’s modern and chic, it reminds me of a boutique hotel. Everything is sparkling clean, it’s clearly a tightly-run ship with active staff and a warm welcome.

No surprise perhaps as Stuart Gillies who runs this, as well as the excellent Bank House, was CEO of The Gordon Ramsay Group for seven years and before that was chef at Michelin-starred restaurants including Daniel in New York, Hotel Lord Byron in Rome and The Connaught alongside Angela Hartnett.

The menu here looks very interesting, but we’ve come for Taco and Steak night, Two courses £25 per person, every Wednesday.

I like a simple choice and this couldn’t be simpler. Korean BBQ Buttermilk Fried Chicken, Cos Lettuce, Red Chilli Mayo tacos, or Crispy Beef Rib, Cos Lettuce, Grated Cheddar, Pineapple Salsa tacos. We order each.

Very delicious both, the chilli on the chicken is perfectly judged and all the taco shells are good and crunchy, but the crispy beef wins our hearts. It really is excellent and the pineapple salsa inspired.


Now the steak. Opinions vary on best cuts. Fillet I find boring, it’s okay en croute, indeed it’s the only viable option, but it lacks flavour. Rump, sirloin and all the other midfield players are fine, but if I want the back of the net I want onglet.

Or as I am delighted to see here, Picanha. This is a cut from the rump area, in the UK it can be often called Rump Cap. It’s very popular in Brazil and, let’s face it,  the boys from Brazil know their meat.

Also available are Chart Farm 28 Day Matured Rump Steak (£2 Supplement),  6oz Chart Farm 28 Day Matured Sirloin Steak (£3.5 Supplement), and for the veggies, Black Tiger Prawn, Coconut & Potato Curry with Grilled Flatbread. Sauces are supplemental, but why drown your steak?

We both choose Picanha,  and what a great steak it is. It needs only careful cooking to medium rare, and, if the chef is good, it will have been cooked with its fat cap on which will be removed before serving, and it will have had a sprinkle of rock salt. This is all done right, it’s delicious.

Full marks for the chips too, which have bits of potato skin on them so, unless it’s a very determined piece of forgery,  I’d say they`re home made. A mushroom loaded with garlic is enjoyable.

Number 8 has a really excellent wine list by the way. Nothing too expensive but everything’s a bit unusual. They even have some Orange Wines, but I think that particular trend ship sailed some years ago. We had a Crianza, an up-from-basic Rioja, which was perfect,

Dessert is not included in the set price, but we share a Basque cheesecake with Kentish Strawberries and a basil syrup. Again, really good. We loved that basil syrup against the strawberries.

Number 8 has all kinds of meal deals running all week, so it’s well worth keeping an eye on their website. This steak and tacos deal is a very good one.

If you’re local you probably know Number 8. If you’re not, then get in the car. Just be careful not to roll it down the hill.

8 London Rd, Sevenoaks TN13 1AJ

01732 448088

info@no8sevenoaks.com

Beef Brisket Mondays at Smith’s Bar and Grill Review

Posted on by under Europe, food

Low and slow is the recipe for success with this cut of meat. Smith’s Bar and Grill have pretty much nailed it

BBQ-ing brisket is a kind of religion in the US of A, especially in Texas. It’s a slow process, ten to twelve hours in a hot smoker, if it weighs around five kilos. Anything smaller will dry out.

It’s a labour of love and skill. I tried it once in my Weber Smokey Mountain and well after darkness had fallen the meat still wasn’t cooked and a small rebellion was going in our garden with guests demanding I go out and buy sausages as they were so hungry.

Available only on Mondays at Smith’s Bar and Grill restaurant in Paddington, this Beef Brisket Platter is slow-cooked for 13 hours and served with mac-n-cheese, pickles, corn and sweet potato fries.


I had to try it, to learn something about its cooking if nothing else, and on a hot day sitting by the Grand Union Canal seemed like a very good idea.

An idea that appeared to have occurred to a lot of people, as the terrace was full and the platters were flying out from Head Chef David Reyes’ kitchen at lunchtime.

It’s not terribly easy to find the canal when you leave Paddington Statio  if you’ve not done so before, or it’s been a while. So much has changed in a relatively short time. I went in a large frustrating circuit of the station and found myself pretty much back where I started, before a kind local put me straight.

It’s a lovely location with some houseboats bobbing on the water, some other boats converted into bars and restaurants, and well-heeled locals languorously drifting along what was once the towpath.

So the platter. £40 to share, which isn’t bad at all, and served on a wooden board as these things so often are

The corn has been sliced into quarters lengthwise, which is not a bad idea. It’s a lot easier to eat this way, less butter down the shirt. The mac n cheese is gooey in a good way, and who can resist a pickled gherkin? Not me.

The sweet potato fries I am not sure about, I like the taste, but they’re as limp as a politician’s handshake. I’d have preferred standard fries, but I know that Americsns do like sweet things with their meat.

Well what about that meat? I’m coming to that. I like to see a good ‘burned’ coat on slow cooked ribs and brisket but this didn’t have it. It’s called ‘bark’ and it comes from chemical reactions, as well the Maillard reaction and polymerization with the rub ingredients.

However there was ‘pinkness’ in the outer edges, clear evidence of smoke getting in, and it did taste very good. The meat was ‘cut with a spoon’ tender and with enough fat remaining to keep it all moist. We were actually rather impressed and tussled over the last slices, although there were plenty for two.

At £40 for two it’s a bit of a bargain and you can get a bottle of red or a white wine selected by Head Sommelier, Maurizio Titone, at 50% off every Monday. An opportunity to discover new fine wines at a fraction of the price.

Proper Parmesan Takes Its Time

Posted on by under cheese, Europe, food producers, Italy, Restaurants

If your cheap parmesan tastes terrible it’s because it’s not the real thing. I went to Parma to see how genuine, PDO protected, proper Parmigiano Reggiano is made and why it has a premium price tag.

‘So this cheese is twelve years old,’ says Simone Ficarelli, the international marketing officer of Parmigiano Reggiano, expertly wielding the short, stubby, knife that’s the traditional tool used to break off chunks from the giant wedges.

There are white lumps in it, a distinct mark of a mature cheese. These are calcium lactate crystals, and are perfectly safe to eat. In fact the crystals in Parmigiano Reggiano cheese are a sign that the cheese has been properly aged. When you eat the cheese the crystals spark out a nutty flavour that complements the saltiness.

DOP Parmigiano Reggiano has been made for over 900 years and is only produced in the provinces of Parma, Reggio Emilia, Modena, Bologna to the left of the Reno river, and Mantua to the right of the Po river. This is the area of the farms where the cattle for the milk are fed on locally grown forage. It can only be made with this skimmed cow’s milk, salt, and rennet for curdling.

The cows live in airy open-sided barns, with extra fan cooling in summer, and they eat bundles of the lush grass that surrounds them. Strict rules ban the use of silage, fermented feeds and animal flour. They seem very happy, with plenty of room to move, and their waste is regularly pushed out and used for the farmlands. Water is carefully rationed for cleaning, no more than is necessary. This is an eco conscious process with rainwater collected from the giant roofs

Making milk into magic

TIn the dairy later, suitably attired in hair net and white coat, I learn more. Their milk then travels just a hundred metres to the next door dairy where, after being left long enough for the cream to rise and be skimmed off, it’s poured into traditional copper vats to be heated. It takes about 550 litres of milk to produce one wheel of Parmigiano Reggiano.

Rennet is added to curdle the milk and I watch the expert cheese makers sift the milk through their fingers to check the process. It’s a skill that a machine cannot emulate, only experience can work the magic.

When the expert decides the time is right, a large ‘whisk’, a  traditional tool called a “spino”, is used to break up the curd into smaller pieces. It’s hard work but the men cheerfully put their backs into it. This isn’t just a job, this is a labour of love.

The cauldron is heated to 55 centigrade, and the granules slowly sink to the bottom forming a single mass. After about fifty minutes the large lump that’s formed is divided into two with a  large wooden paddle and these are lifted out in muslin bags. The remaining liquid, the aromatic whey, will be sent off to feed local pigs and give us delicious Parma ham.

The next stage is to put each lump into the cheese moulds. These have a plastic lining embossed with all kinds of details of date, time and place, as well as a number that tells if the cheese was made in Reggio Emilia, Parma, Modena or Mantua 

This information embeds itself permanently into the rind as it forms, meaning the cheese has a ‘signature’ that’s impossible to fake or remove. Apparently though they are also experimenting with putting a microchip in the cheese to make it even easier to check provenance. As I say, there is big money in forgery and this product is so fine that the consumer has to be protected. 


The cheeses then head off for a relaxing salt bath for about three weeks. Here modern machinery is used to do the regular lifting and turning. These cheeses are very heavy at this point, being still full of moisture. In the old days it must have been very tough work.

Age is key

The cheeses once out of their briny bath are never aged for less than 12 months. At this stage the aroma is of fresh fruit, grass and flowers and the cheese is almost sliceable. After 24 months the crumbliness develops, while at 36 months spicier notes arrive. 36 months is usually the cut off point for general consumption, but some cheeses are pushed on to 48 which is a bit of a connoisseur’s cheese.

The cheeses are stored for all this time in vertiginous racks in massive temperature controlled rooms, and regularly tested by tapping them with a special hammer, as has been done down the ages.

The sound it makes is just a dull thud to my ears, but it tells the experts how well  the cheeses are maturing and any subtle tone variation will also reveal any fissures hidden inside the cheese. A fissure means the cheese, while perfectly good in every other way, must be rejected for sale as a whole cheese, the identifying rind will be removed and it will be broken up and used to make high quality ground Parmigiano Reggiano instead.

Cheese to please

The different ages result in cheeses for all occasions. The more mature being ideal for eating on their own as an aperitif, the irregular lumps really spreading the flavours onto the palate. Try some with a dab of honey and perhaps some walnuts.

Of course they are all delicious grated or shaved fresh onto salad or over pasta, but never please over seafood. Pasta with lots of butter, black pepper and grated Parmigiano Reggiano is a simple and delicious dish when made with such a quality ingredient.

It is of course delicious in a risotto, that final addition lifting all the flavours up

To keep a large block, which is a great investment, ideally wrap it in greaseproof paper, vac pack it, and put it in the fridge (never the freezer). It should be brought out to room temperature at least an hour before eating so the aromas and flavours reawaken.

If you have a large pestle and mortar then grate  Parmigiano Reggiano in, then add the best basil you can find, pine nuts, garlic and olive oil to make the very besto pesto.

So don’t just use Parmiggiano Reggiano for your spag bog! This versatile cheese has taken a long time to get to your kitchen, so take the time to make the very best of it.

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