Silverbrow on Food

Pierre Koffman at Selfridges

I've thought long and hard about whether or not to write up tonight's dinner because frankly the place was overun by some very good bloggers and a very good reviewer and I'm not sure what more I can add to what they will inevitably write. UPDATE: See the comment below, turns out Jay was there for fun as well.

However, I've decided to because I want to make a point that I assume, although can't be certain, the others will make.  The food was excellent, but most importantly the evening was great fun. 

Maybe it was because I was taking my Mum out for dinner, perhaps it was the venue, a pimped-up marquee on a balcony at Selfridges.  Maybe it was constant shuddering of the floor - not sure if it was the wind, or the aircon - that made us question the safety of the venture.  Maybe it was the service that didn't quite live up to the food.  Or maybe it was the sheer delight of those eating there to be tucking in to Koffman's scoff once again.  Whatever it was, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.

After having a chat with Pierre's lovely partner Claire, I figured out it was the best part of 15 years ago that I ate at Tante Claire.  I don't remember anything about the meal other than the wedgwood blue walls - a feature that has been replicated at Selfridges - not that Claire had noticed until I pointed it out.

She said that one of her favourite things was to stand in the bar and listen to the hum of the restaurant.  She was enjoying herself.  If the deft touches on the plate were anything to go by, so was the kitchen.  My starter of leek terrine was summer on a plate - sweet, light and carefree.  My cod was good but not exceptional.  My pistachio souffle and ice-cream was outstanding.  Shame about the false alarm of a hair lurking - turned out it was a bit of a pastry brush. I'd have thought modern technology could overcome such issues.

Sometimes we forget the dining is about pleasure and therefore fun.  Koffman's got it right at Selfridges.  There's little doubt he's looking to return to a full time kitchen after the hiccups at Brasserie St Jacques and guest spots elsewhere.  If he can bottle the pleasure factor and food of this quality, he's on to a winner. 

It reminds me that that was what Ramsay's shtick was in the early days: serve great food and keep the punters happy.  It's not a quadratic equation, but a sum that is nonetheless easy to get wrong.

Google Maps

Pierre Koffman at Selfridges, 400 Oxford Street, London, W1A 1AB UK
Tel: +44 (0) 20 7318 7778

Not letting sleeping dogs lie

To rehash an old argument, if a blogger had got a top chef to cook for them for the sole purpose of writing a review on a restaurant that isn't yet in existence, it would have caused a right hoo-ha. There is no way any of us could replicate this meal as it is a one off specifically requested by Giles so he could write a review.  It also reignites the hoary issue of the anonymity of reviewers. 

Nonetheless, it did suitably whet my appetite for my imminent dinner at La Tainte Claire so I guess everyone wins: Giles for getting the master's attention and what sounds like a fantastic meal, the restaurant for the PR and the diner for being on tenterhooks. 

It reminds me that yes reviewers on national papers are in a priveleged position and no they may not experience the same meal as us.  But it doesn't make their copy worthless or any less interesting.

Ginger & White

Hampstead.  As place names go, it's pretty evocative: money, culture, the Heath, swimming ponds, miscreant ministers, European fishermen.

Yet this money and culture does not buy good food.  Jin Kichi does fairly good sushi and The Horseshoe is a solid gastropub.  But the majority of the restaurants in 'the village' are chains, ditto for the cafes. 

I can't help but feel ever so slightly embarrassed eating in Hampstead.  It's like farting at a dinner party.  Whilst the act itself might make you feel a bit better, you feel dirty and sullied and frankly you've darkened an otherwise enjoyable occasion.  Restaurants are Hampstead's festering, suppurating wart that lie hidden beneath the Hermes scarf.

It was with a high degree of certainty therefore that I was able to argue with Gemma at BouTea (very good tea by the way, in Covent Garden, not Hampstead) that no, there wasn't a really good new coffee shop in Perrin's Walk that sold handmade cakes and Square Mile Coffee.  I pointed out that she was confusing a rather non-descript greasy spoon on Perrin's Walk and Gail's, the very commercial purveyor-of-excellent-chelsea-buns on Hampstead High Street. 

Turns out Gemma was spot-on.  It's not often I'm so catastraphocially wrong and it's rather depressing when I am.  But she was right.

Ginger & White is, it has to be said, an almost perfect, relaxing, if rather self-consciously trendy cafe on Perrin's Walk.  And they serve Square Mile coffee and Montezuma chocolate. 

Writing this I'm suddenly struck by a mixture of guilt and reticence.  I realise I've only had toast and coffee there - lots of both, but still that's it - and a bit of yoghurt and fruit.  Can I give the place a fair outing?  Maybe the cakes taste like poo.  The home-smoked baked beans might just be Heinz a la fag. 

But the coffee was very good and the toast was pretty fine as toast goes.  And there's the peanut butter.  It's homemade.  They add some honey.  And kids turn away now, it's FUCKING AMAZING.  Seriously good.  There is no bread on this earth that can't be improved with lashings of the stuff.  Actually, sod the toast and ignore anyone watching you, just use your pinkie.

I imagine making peanut butter is not tricky, but how many people go to the effort?  It says a lot that the Ginger & White bods do, almost enough to allow me to stop here and ignore the fact I haven't worked my way through the menu.

At last, there is somewhere in Hampstead that is not an embarrassment. Sir Arthur would have approved.

Google maps

Ginger & White, 4a Perrins Court, London, NW3 1QS, UK
Tel: +44 (0)20 7431 9098

The Bull & Last

Thomas Friedman's Golden Arches Theory of Conflict Prevention has been discredited, but I feel that the academic field of peace studies has a lot to learn from my contribution. 

I've never claimed to be a social scientist (although I am by training, but let's ignore that) so I want to revise my thesis and argue that in fact toasted cheese sandwiches are the answer to peace.  A great cheese sandwich is the apotheosis of a great civilisation. Think about what goes into it: the right bread; cheese that melts to the correct extent; cooking time - do you want bubbling or burnt cheese? and finally, condiments if any.

And I think that The Bull & Last's cheddar and spring onion toastie might just be what the world is after.  You might feel a cheese sandwich is a bit prosaic for the high-brow Silverbrow, but good places get the basics very right.

What I got was two not-quite doorsteps of toasted granary, between which was oozing cheese and onion.  Admittedly it turned up on a rather fussy wooden board that wasn't big enough to stop oniony cheese streaming onto the table, but the sandwich itself was delicious.  Maybe I'm not sufficiently inventive, but I'd never thought about combining spring onion in a toasted sandwich.  It's far from the craziest combo, nonetheless, not one I'd considered for a toasty.  And it works so well.  So well.  And the sweet pepperiness of the sandwich was nicely offset by the not-too-sweet onion pickle.

Now, although I say getting the simple things right is the sign of a great restaurant, they do sometimes get things wrong: my green beans with garlic were overcooked, tasteless and a oily.  But I'll ignore that because at the same time as delivering my very spicy tomato juice, the very sweet waitress also put on my table a jug of water WITH ICE and bread and butter.  Very cold water, bread and butter are all things that make me a happy diner.    

Oh and good ice-cream only makes things better.  I had wanted one of the cartons of chocolate ice-cream but was told I wasn't allowed them as they are for take-away only.  I had to stay on-menu.  I found this slightly odd as I was there mid-week and there was barely anyone else around, they weren't about to run out of take-away pots.  Nonetheless, I was convinced to try the Ferrero Rocher ice-cream when I was assured by the bar man that it wasn't ice-cream made from Ferrrero Rocher, but ice-cream flavours that constituted the chocolate ball (chocolate, gianduia, hazelnut nibs) and it was very good.  Someone in their kitchen is a dab hand with frozen custard.

What was supposed to be a quick working turned into a thoroughly enjoyable meal that promises a lot for bigger, better experiences.  At long last North London has a gastropub it can be proud of.

UPDATE: I had dinner here last week and it was just as good an experience as my cheese sandwich lunch.  I implore you to try the anchovy beignets if they're on the menu.  Large anchovies, deep fried in a perfectly crunchy, unsoggy batter, served with the best tartare sauce I can remember eating - a reminder that sauces should be more than an afterthought to pep-up dull ingredients.

Google Maps

The Bull & Last, 168 Highgate Road, London, NW5 1QS, UK
Tel: +44 (0)20 7267 3641

What others think

Giles Coren - I’ve been back and back and back. Ten, maybe 12 visits.
Dos Hermanos - The Bull and Last is an absolutely terrific gaff.
Gourmet Chick - The. Best. Chips. In. London.

Casa Brindisa

While lunch was all shades of bad, dinner at Casa Brindisa was a revelation.  The meal was organised as part of the Dine with... series that the Dos Hermanos boys have been organising.  I'm going to leave it to Simon to explain in large part about the meal and how good it was, go read his write-up and see Jon's photos.

The one thing I'd add to Simon's write-up is that being the only non-pork-eater I had a bit of a different experience to everyone else.  Or at least, I had different dishes.  One was seabass in a paprika sauce, that was very good.  But the truly exceptional dish was a fried egg, some grilled asparagus, three slices of hard, manchego like cheese, and drizzled with truffle oil.

I know the last ingredient is sine qua non of verboten ingredients for us gastrosexuals, but this was a worthy addition to an extraordinary dish.  I'm disappointed to say that I felt compelled to offer it up to others on the table to try as it was so good.  I was even more disappointed at just how much they enjoyed it.

Google Maps

Casa Brindisa, 7-9 Exhibition Road, London, SW7 2HQ, UK
Tel: +44 (0)20 7590 0008

What others think

AA Gill, The Sunday Times - None of it was terribly expensive, but then it’s not very nice. But that’s not what’s wrong with it. Tapas is meant to be bar food...
Londonist - It's not novel food but everything was delicious and well cooked and no one batted an eyelid when we ordered tap water to keep costs down.

Why open kitchens in crap restaurants are a terrible idea

I had lunch at Cantina Vinopolis today and I saw:

1. a cook rubbing a nasty looking zit
2. another cook drop a piece of fish on the floor, wash it and then cook it
3. several cooks 'surreptiously' stuffing their faces with food that was lying around

I know that all of these and far worse go on in normal kitchens - #3 hardly being the crime of the century.  But the whole point of an open kitchen is that the chefs are on show to add some theatre.  What I saw today is not the kind of theatre most sane diners want to see.

To add to the agony I was enduring, the food was appalling.  My tortelloni were thick, leathery, dry dumplings, in a vomit-hued 'tomato-pesto' sauce (I was reminded of my stag night and my attempts at re-floweing a bush following a very good dinner of penne arrabiata).  Pesto, is pesto is pesto.  It hasn't got tomatoes in it.  Also, a note to the kitchen: balsamic reductions were 'out' before they ever came 'in'.

Normally, I end my posts about restaurants with contact details and a little summary of what others have written.  In my role as a public service blogger, I'll spare you.

Is pleasure possible without passion?

A warning before you start, this post is a bit rambling, but it's something I've been thinking about and I decided the best way to get it right was to get it written.  It's not perfect but I'm getting there.  Then again, I might be about to disappear up my own fundament.

I've just finished reading Simon Majumdar's Eat My Globe. It's clear he is a man with a passion about food.  I wasn't oblivious to his love of food - I've been reading the blog since the start and emailing and IM'ing him for some time - but in the book it becomes clear just how much he reveres great food and how good food comes together in a great meal.

That passion makes him a pleasure to read.  He reminds me of Nigel Slater and Kevin McCloud.  It is their respective passions for food and design that make them a delight to read and watch.

Passion is contagious, which is lucky as it's one of the key ingredients to producing the best food, the other is generosity.  I genuinely believe that without both of those one's treatment of food is never going to be anything more than mediocre. 

To be clear, I am not talking about quality of food as deigned by Michelin or A N Other ranking system.  I'm talking about good food as defined by the quality of ingredients, the taste and most importantly, the result of the love of preparation and the joy of consuming what is on the plate.  Nor am I talking about innovative food.  Innovation does not necessarily equate to passion.  I don't buy into the hoary old argument that innovative food is good food.  I appreciate there is a necessity to innovate, to push the boundaries of what we know as gastronomy, otherwise how do we learn to enjoy new things.  Some people do this very badly, probably more so than those that do it very well.

A perfect example of it all coming together was a recent meal at Locanda Locatelli.  I chose it for my wife's first Mother's Day since our daughter was born.  From experience I knew it would be sufficiently relaxed to not mind an eleven month old eating there - not true of all Michelin 1* restaurants in London - and that the food would be excellent and not pandering to the Mother's Day hordes.  I've never been disappointed by a meal there and I wasn't this time. 

I know that LocLoc is not the culinary apotheosis of London restaurants, but it is a great place to have a meal: the food is always excellent and the service is relaxed.  And that clearly comes from a passion at the top.

Throughout the course of our meal, Giorgio Locatelli was in and out of the kitchen, checking up on the restaurant and showing off his recently trimmed haircut.  When he first saw my daughter he smiled at her and she smiled back.

When she virtually finished off an entire plate of their specially prepared pasta (tomato sauce, no salt) he cooed at her and said he'd bring some ice-cream.  True to his word, ten minutes later he carries to the table a plate with three lozenges of sorbet: apple, raspberry and mandarin.  He talks her through them explaining the importance of eating them in the right order.  She sits there in wide-eyed amazement, seemingly listening to every word.  He then stands over her, with a look of consternation on his face as she tastes the apple.  She loves them all.  He relaxes and coos some more.  Mummy, Daddy, baby and chef are all happy.

Of itself this may seem like a minor incident.  But in the two hours we were there, this was the only dish that Giorgio brought out of the kitchen, let alone served.  His eagle like surveillance of the dining room indicated an obsession with making sure things are running well.  But the sheer pleasure he took from someone enjoying his very good food was palpable.  Even more so when that someone has never eaten anything like that before and therefore it is a defining element in the progression of her taste-buds.

The more food I experience (whether produce or in a restaurant), the more I believe that passion is a requirement and it is obvious when it is heartfelt.  The result, for the diner is always good.  It is the same with design, an area I'm becoming more intrigued with.  It seems that truly great design is the result of someone's passion.  It's the inverse of GIGO, it's PIPO, passion in, passion out.

In these straightened times we shouldn't be retrenching to an austere attitude to pleasure or passion.  I firmly believe both are imperative to happiness - and let's not be afraid to be happy. 

So whilst we might not be able to be as generous as we would otherwise like, can it be so wrong to be passionate?