Prithvi: The Bath Road Gem

It was The Chap's birthday last week; given the freedom to choose whatever and wherever he wanted to eat - my treat - he predictably chose Indian. You could probably put the most expensive cut of steak in front of him, but next to a plate of curry, he'd always go for curry.. I've given up.

Anyway, we'd been desperate to try out 'Cheltenham's Number 1 Restaurant' (on Tripadvisor) for ages, Prithvi on Bath Road, and as luck would have it, it's Indian cuisine. Two birds, one stone. I'd heard it was pretty tricky to get a table on a weekend, so having an excuse to go out mid week for dinner, because of a birthday, worked out perfectly. What with it being race week, Cheltenham was heaving, and as flocks of people were making their way through town, we quickly darted over the road into Prithvi. The serene environment, with murmurs of people eating and relaxing after a lengthy day at the racecourse, was a far cry from what was occurring on the other side of the door.

The restaurant, just 2 years old, prides itself on being 'all about the detail', offering a sophisticated approach to dining Indian, and upon entering, you immediately get these vibes. Decor is minimal, no ghastly gold printed, tacky/ornate stuff hanging on every inch of the walls (those things have their rightful place in many other Indians, just not here); tables are well spaced out, so even though it's a small restaurant, you don't feel as though you're on top of anyone; it's low lighting, very moody, and the wine glasses are a decent size - hooray! It's probably my biggest pet hate when going out to eat/drink; small, stubby glasses, with thick stems, are just horrible to drink out of. End of.

We went for the tour of Prithvi, a five course tasting menu of a selection of their favourite dishes, which at £39 per person, was such a good deal; in reality, with all the little in between nibbles, it was more like a 9/10 course dinner. To go with it, we chose a bottle of Viognier, which our waitress said was the perfect match; fragrant foods with lots of spice generally go best with white wines, and it's best to avoid ones which are very sharp and acidic. So whilst Viognier is predominantly dry, it has a much smoother, fuller finish. (.. see, I'm learning!)

In true Indian style, our dinner began with poppadoms; first, a tiny 2 pence piece sized one, which was presented to us on a slate, with a dollop of spicy chutney spooned on by the waiter table-side, then out came the big guns with a selection of dips that we demolished pretty quickly.

Our 'amuse bouche' was a cube of marinated chicken, served with a swipe of coriander sauce; there are a lot of swipes, splashes, smears, blobs, edible flowers and micro herbs here, which I wasn't really expecting, but I love all that jazz, so I was in my element.

Next was the first dish off of the menu, a cayenne pepper coated scallop, a tandoored butterflied prawn, with a coriander and mint coulis. If I were to be picky, I'd have liked my scallop to be a bit caramelised, as it was it had a very raw texture; but eaten with the charred prawn and herby sauce, the textures and flavours balanced out well.

Following this was The Chap's favourite of the night, a piece of smoked lamb fillet, sauteed okra, fried onions, with a coriander and chilli chutney. The lamb looked a bit unfamiliar, I don't think I'd seen a thin rectangle of meat like this before, at least not one which hasn't been processed within an inch of it's life, but it was super tasty despite appearances. And as for okra, I've had it way too many times where it's been flavourless and a little slimy - gross - but Prithvi has converted me, and I'll not bad mouth it again.

Another in-between-er came out: a crisp like puff, filled with something that I really cannot remember, but, it was brought to us in a little tear drop shaped bowl, a sauce was drizzled in by the waiter, and we were to instructed to eat it in one. It was kind of like eating a non-oyster.

The next course was one of two 'mains'; a plate of monkfish, potato juilenne, and fried purple sprouting brocolli; 'whole mustard jus', as they called it, was poured over at the table, and it was served with lemon saffron rice. I think this was probably my favourite, maybe the addition of edible flowers swayed my judgement, but there was something so delicate about it, and the citrus scented rice was the perfect accompaniment.

Having had our glasses topped up throughout, and being fed pretty much constantly, I didn't have a clue where we were up to on the menu, so the other main came as a bit of a surprise - we were getting full! Braised duck breast, cumin and honey crust, and chantenay carrots, in a creamy coconut 'jus', served with the most melt-in-the-mouth nan breads I've ever tasted. Though the duck looked a bit grey and dry and, it was actually really succulent, and it basically fell apart as soon as you got near it with a knife. The sauce; sweet, spicy, and if I'd have had any more bread, I'd have mopped up every last drop.

Our dessert was a saffron scented doughnut, saturated in syrup and served warm, with pistachio kulfi and a lime-y sauce. It was sweet vs sharp, and warm vs ice cold, the only thing missing was perhaps something crunchy to counteract all the soft elements. I tend to associate doughnuts with 'stodge', and would definitely not choose one after an lengthy meal, but this was just the right size, and the saffron infusion made it an interesting dish.

In all the theatrics of dinner, we'd not noticed how busy and noisy the restaurant had become; champagne was popping at the big table at the back, and tweed-clad gents were sinking beers with their curry behind us. The fact that we were unaware of the stream of people that had come in says a lot about the food; it was stunning. We asked for the bill, and in a sneak attack style, out came a couple of truffles; milk chocolate and hazelnut, and white chocolate and raspberry; a deliciously creamy ending to a spice-tastic dinner.

A late night curry feast takeaway - where you've over-ordered massively, and you spoon as much of each thing as you can on your plate - will always have a place in my heart, but for something fancier and more refined, I'd recommend Prithvi. The Chap was happy, and no turmeric stained plates for me to wash up either. Winner.

London Lunching

It's become apparent that London brings out the greed in me. This is by no means a bad thing; I love reading up on all the latest places to eat and drink in preparation for my visit, but it leaves me with a lengthy list that I have to somehow schedule in to fit with my other plans. More often than not, things don't quite work in my favour and I go home dreaming of the stuff I've missed out on.

My latest venture to the capital took a more laid back approach. Arriving early, we were able to go for breakfast - it was 11, so could probably be classed as brunch - and after our recent Peruvian feast (see my Senor Ceviche post), The Chap and I had been craving more; hello Andina in Shoreditch! Martin Morales, the main man behind Ceviche in Soho, has just opened his second restaurant, focussing on delivering healthy, Andean cuisine all day long. Inspired by the traditional 'picanterias' in Peru, Andina has that social-eating, open-kitchen, popular dishes kind of vibe, with visually attractive interiors to match its beautiful food. It’s a sanctuary from the 'dirty burger' trend, its quinoa burgers here, and menus are graced with heaps of superfoods and smoothies.

To drink, I had an espresso made with their own fair-trade coffee blend, and an Ekeko juice (carrot, melon, pear, lime, maca, ginger) - uniquely savoury and fruity - whilst The Chap had tea and Supay (orange, pomegranate, goldenberry, limo chilli). To eat, I went for the Choclo Corn Cake - a corn and fresco cheese cake, with a poached egg, avocado, salsa and a creamy spiced sauce - and he chose the Full Peruvian - two fried eggs, confit pork, potato rosti, wild mushrooms, grilled tomato and a side of avocado on toast with salsa.

If that wasn't enough we shared a Lengua De Suegra (which I'd spotted on Tweat Up's best breakfast in London list); puffed up Peruvian filo pastry with a dulce de leche filling. Bliss.

The Chap had a date making gin at The Ginstitute on Portobello Road, which was his Christmas present, so we parted ways and I ventured off to The Royal Academy to see the Sensing Spaces exhibition with some chums. It was enjoyable, but we felt it could have been more adventurous; the 15 minute video at the end is definitely worth watching.

A spot of Carnaby Street window shopping, then it was about time for a late lunch - perhaps drunch? Anyway, Foxcroft & Ginger on Berwick Street was our venue of choice, and at just after 3pm it was still crazy busy. Perched next to a pommel horse - yes, you heard correctly - we waited until a table became free. Three of us squeezed round a two-seater, not that we minded, and ordered off of the all day brunch menu; it was a double brunch kind of day.

I went for the naughtiest thing imaginable (please don't judge me); two massive pieces of French toast with banana, bacon, walnuts, mascarpone and drizzled with syrup. It’s a rare occasion that I leave the daintiest morsel of food on my plate, but this defeated me. A strange combination, but one you must try. With a constant flow of customers, F&G is clearly a popular choice amongst Londoners, and whilst they may have cocked up our order – which led to a delay – they rectified it with a free slice of cake. If they hadn't have said anything, we really wouldn't have noticed, but who turns down free cake?!

As darkness descended, drinks were needed, so we pottered to Mayfair to meet up with The-slightly-sozzled-Chap at The Running Horse (mentioned in a previous London post). Rumour had it that their 'race-y' cocktail bar, The Whip, was open upstairs, and with Cheltenham Festival fast approaching it seemed only right to go and check it out. Mint green racing stripes decorate the walls alongside jockey silks and traditional equine paintings, and the vintage leather chairs and velvet sofas are a luxurious touch. It’s quiet when we arrive, 6pm is hardly prime cocktail time, but the 'feel' of the place is excellent nonetheless. It’s dim lighting makes it feel exclusive, smooth tunes infuse the atmosphere, chatty staff make you feel at home, and the menu is succinct; all drinks - with names like Frankel's Fizz and Final Furlong - are a tenner each, no faffing.

Juleps are the signature sip; a mint and bourbon based drink, famed for its popularity at the Kentucky Derby where over 120,000 are drank over just a couple of days. Served in traditional pewter tins, and taking up half of the cocktail menu, The Whip are championing a Julep revival. I opted for the house favourite, a julep made with a blend of Chase Rhubarb Vodka and Williams GB gin. Having to bury my nose into the sprigs of mint sticking out of the top in order to drink it, it attacks the senses; smell, taste, and there's something quite nice about the feel of the ice told tin in your hand. With seriously good booze behind the bar, inventive mixes, swish settings, and a central location; this is a place I could see myself visiting again and again. My bets are that The Whip is going to be big, so get galloping over there before you're queuing at the door.

The next morning saw a stroll to Columbia Road's flower market in East London. A lovely chilled out Sunday thing to do, you might think, but it's so popular with both locals and tourists, that you have to wrestle your way down the street, trying to avoid being poked in the eye by the mahoosive bunch of flowers that the guy in front of you is nursing. That said, I like the flurry of browsers, photographers, foodies, dog walkers, hungover folks inhaling carbs, posho's quaffing coffee; you get the works. Lily Vanilli's bakery is what drew us here (see my previous cake inspired post), though as we had lunch plans already, we couldn't gorge ourselves on cake like we did last time we visited. A simple - but bloody amazing - slice of sourdough toast it was instead; topped with courgettes, mushrooms, red onion and cheese, then strewn with a few stems of watercress to add freshness and a mustardy tang. Breakfast should be like this more often.

Hawksmoor was our eating agenda for the day; a previous winner in the Observer Food Monthly Awards 'Best Sunday Lunch' category, it was also a runner up in 2012 for best restaurant, and voted the 'Best Place to Drink' in 2013. It had a lot to live up to. We opted for the Seven Dials branch, a short walk away from Covent Garden, as the building - which was formerly a brewery - looked stunning. It's a dark, unassuming entrance; you take your coats off and leave it with the staff to put in the cloakroom; there's nothing but a desk and a set of stairs. Down you go, and you find yourself in an unexpectedly large space; a long bar lined with stools, not a single one empty, high speakeasy style tables – it was standing room only - tables dotted right round the edge, seating two to four, then loads more tables, the kitchen, and wine room through a set of doors. They've crammed as many people as possible in here, which is fine if you like that kind of buzzy ambience, but I wouldn't suggest this as a place for an 'intimate dinner for two'. Fortunately, this is the kind of thing we like about coming to London; our usual Sunday roasts involve serene country pubs, where the most noise comes from a dog sat under the table, begging for a mere crumb of his owner's yorkie pud.

An apéritif? Oh go on then, we were on 'holiday' after all. I had a Garden Party; White Port, Redcurrant Campari and Prosecco, stirred with cucumber. Apparently this drink was created accidentally, through using sparkling wine in a Negroni instead of gin. The bartender should make mistakes more often if this is anything to go by. Anyway, Hawksmoor's got beef - and lots of it – there’s a variety of cuts and weights you can choose from, but it's got to be a roast on a Sunday. A thick piece, flushing pink in the middle, came sat on top of the veg; a huge Yorkshire pudding masquerading as a bowl to house the crispy potatoes; roasted onion and garlic, a nice addition, and some glistening gravy. We asked the sommelier to suggest a wine within our budget to go with the food, to which he picked Château de Ricaud, Cadillac Côtes de Bordeaux 2010; a well structured Cabernet Sauvignon/Merlot blend, with lots of juicy dark fruits and velvety tannins; a great match.

Dessert was a toughie; salted caramel always leads me astray, but this time I stayed strong and chose a buttermilk pannacotta with poached rhubarb and spicy ginger-bread biscuits. With the silky pannacotta flecked with vanilla, and the luminous pink stems, it felt pretty girly. The Chap had a manlier banana and bourbon tart; ice cream and lashings of toffee sauce - job done.

Having to move to the next notch on my belt, it was definitely home time. Another successful, weight-gaining, liver-pickling, London trip. I look forward to our next encounter, but I best make sure I'm hungry.