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.

A Postcard from London Pt. 2

Day two of our London feasting began with a breakfast of epic proportions. We were staying at No. Ten Manchester Street in Marleybone, which houses the Italian restaurant Dieci, so out with your usual buffet brekkie, and in with a naughty menu of all the Benedict's, pancakes and meaty eats. I had Italian poached eggs, which had the darkest yolks imaginable, served on english muffins, with Norcia black truffle ragout on top. Truffles for breakfast, I really can't think of a more extravagant start to the day.

Bermondsey's Maltby Street Market (with a friend, pictured above!) was our main aim of the day, and after seeing it on Tom Kerridge's programme last month, we couldn't wait to go check it out. Unfortunately, the weather was not on our side, but brollies up, we made it in time for Monmouth Coffee catch-ups before lunch. The market on the Ropewalk, has a number of stall holders, both outside and under the railway arches, and is a more concise version of the famous Borough; less crowded and seemingly more sincere. The smaller scale makes it a little easier (not much) for greedy folk like me. When there's too much choice, it becomes almost impossible to decide what to eat (usually I want it all).

Anyway, Monty's Deli has a bit of a reputation - Jewish style, pastrami, swiss cheese, rye, pickles kind of thing - and with a sign on the door saying 'sold out' and a queue still poking out of the archway, there was no chance. We plumped for Market Gourmet's big brioche buns instead, with a tumbler of red wine from the stall opposite. Beef brisket with rarebit and horseradish, and a mean pulled pork with onion/apple/cranberry. If I had to pick, the beef was the winner, and with a 72 hour sous-vide recipe, I'm not surprised.

For dessert, which we had to take away with us for laters, we made a b-line to Poppy & Sebastian's domed delights. I'd seen and heard of the perfectly made patisserie before, mainly thanks to The YBF's (Young British Foodies), in which Poppy won the baking category earlier in the year. The chap had a take on a 'Snickers' (seen above); creamy, chocolatey, peanutty, with a luxurious salted caramel and chocolate pastry base. I had a pistachio green coloured one with a yellow flower on top; it was autumnal, with quince and custard, and almost too pretty to eat. Easily the most exciting patisserie I've ever seen/had.

As we hit the evening, drinks before dinner took us to Beard To Tail; 'Shoreditch Sisters' with Callooh Callay (award winning cocktail bar) but focussed just on meat and whisky, simples. There's a dirty Americana vibe; big meats, big flavours, pickles, bourbon, rye and whisky spelt with an 'ey' - we'll forgive them for that - and it's all very industrial chic, you know the sort. With an impressive looking bar as you walk in, filled with eager boozers, and stuff to look at on the walls, we made ourselves at home. I chose an 'Elegant Illinois', FEW Bourbon, black cherry and violet liqueur, topped with champagne, whilst the other half had his spirit straight up. Down they went, and off for our dinner reservation.

Rotary Bar Diner was our restaurant of choice tonight, if that's what you'd call it. In their words, it's an all day until late-night bar/diner/music; great food, serious booze, and a DJ busting out the tunes in a 70s-teak-retro-kitchen-get-up. It's a pop-up of sorts. It's had it's home here near Old Street for quite a while, but sadly, after a 10 month stint, the building is going to be demolished and re-developed at the end of the year. You'd better go now or regret it later - there's only 21 days left!

Working with Carl Clarke from Disco Bistro, they serve US style food - buns, BBQ, grills - which you can eat in or take away, alongside craft beers and pint sized cocktails for a tenner. They also do a flight of six Mezcals, which, if you polish them off, you get your name up on the hall of fame. The idea of fried foods, dips, slaws, and the likes, doesn't sound like it could carry itself with much finesse, but Rotary goes against those presumptions, and the hype behind it is most certainly deserved.

Armed with a margarita that was bigger than my face, I went for one of the specials, Dexter Veal sirloin cooked on wood, with fermented kimchee and crispy onions. There were so many interesting flavours and textures on the plate, and I had a very generous amount of rosy veal; I'm salivating just thinking about it now. The chap chose Hickory Smoked Belly Ribs, which had a Korean twist, and came with pickles, potato salad and jalapeno cornbread, then some naughty dripping chips on the side. Instantly I had some jealousy, and demanded I try some. Frankly, it was perfect. I don't know whether it was because we weren't expecting it, or what, but it blew us away and we both agreed it was the best food we had eaten out in a long time.

Following that, we had one last mission - Hawker House. No doubt you'll have heard about Street Feast; London's pioneering night market, where the best street food traders, chefs, restaurants and bars come together to take over car parks, warehouses, builders merchants, old tube stations, to 'create a haven for lovers of great food and drink'. Well, this is the latest venture; found somewhere between Hackney and Broadway Market, it's a warm, indoor, knee's up every weekend in the run up to Christmas.

We didn't have any room for anything remotely solid, we were only here for liquid top ups, but if we did find ourselves peckish, there was plenty of choice - BOBs Lobster, Breddos Tacos, Slider Bar, Smokestak, and more. It's free to get in before 8pm, but after that it costs 3 bucks, you do get a 'Hot Shot' on entry though, and you can stay til 2am, so it's a done deal. Drinks wise, Rotary man the main bar, serving up all the staples and more giant cocktails. Street Vin take charge on the wine front, and there's a hot bar, dishing out steamy beverages; boozy hot chocs, hot buttered rum, and the most delicious orangey mulled wine.. Quite festive if you ask me. The main attraction is the whisky bar, choose from a list of 50 or let the Gods decide with the Random Whisky Generator. Or, if you're like me, go for a cocktail - sours, manhattans, old fashioneds - the classics, all served in big milkshake paper cups with a straw.

All year I've been following Tweat_Up/Street Feast on Twitter, absolutely green with envy because of the momentary happenings, effortlessly stylish food and creatively crafted drinks. Now, finally, I've managed to get to one of their events, and it was everything I hoped it would be. I only wish I had a bigger belly to fit all the goods in.

Eat responsibly. Drink dangerously. That's my motto. 

A Postcard from London Pt. 1

Earlier this month, the chap and I hit The Big Smoke for a weekend trip. We only had one aim in mind: to eat and drink ourselves silly. So, where I'd normally plan an itinerary of art galleries and 'must-see's, I replaced it with a lengthy list of bars and restaurants. A gourmet getaway if you wish. Anyway, not to bore you with all the details, I'll just tell you where we went and what we ate, with lots of visuals.

First stop, Honey & Co, a Middle Eastern jewel in Fitzrovia, which recently won the award for 'Best Newcomer' at the Observer Food Monthly Awards. We were one of the first there for lunch, and sat in the window of the tiny restaurant, we watched as, one by one, it filled to capacity. We had a selection of homemade bread and olive oil to start - milk, brioche and flatbreads - all light and fluffy, and to drink, I went for one of their own iced teas; it was orange blossom, and it was divine. The chap had moussaka with a big leafy salad for a main course, whilst I had chicken, braised with lots of spices and currants, all wrapped up in a flatbread, and served with a parsley/pomegranite/sumac salad. It was perfect. I only wish that I had saved some room for dessert as their cake/pudding selection looked ace; think pistachios, honey, cherries, rose, almonds.. I'll be back

We ventured to The Experimental Food Society exhibition in Shoreditch; a culinary arts event featuring a number of pioneering foodies. Greeted with a meadow of sugar flowers and a cake constructed to a life size version of The Queen, we went on to try breathable tea, bread made from brocolli, boozed up chocolate bars and smoked liqueurs. The Meringue Girls had their colourful 'kisses' for sale, and there were odd ice creams from Lick Me I'm Delicious; I had a quinelle of port and stilton on a savoury cracker, whilst the chap had a scoop of salted caramel whisky in a bitter dark chocolate cup. Our favourite experimentalists were The Robin Collective, who have created Winston Churchill Historical Bitters; bitters infused with moisture extracted from the walls of Churchill's underground bunker. Fancy a taste of the iconic figure? Apparently we did. The bottle's now sitting on our shelf. Oh, and we tried some of their 'Medicinal Marshmallows' too - an 'aphrodisiac', rose, chilli and ginger, and a 'remedy for a broken heart', red wine and black pepper.

Next on the list was to find Upstairs at Nancy's, a little London pop-up above The Crown and Shuttle pub, serving the likes of Borough Wines, Boodles, Sipsmith, Partizan and Redchurch Brewery. The main reason I wanted to go was for their barrel aged cocktails, I had my heart set on a Negroni made with Kamm & Sons Ginseng Spirit and Sacred Vermouth, but it wasn't open. The pub was really lovely though, so it didn't really matter, instead, I had a strong Botanist gin and tonic as the rain pummelled down outside.

After a spruce up, we galloped to The Running Horse Mayfair, a recent re-opening just around the corner from Bond Street tube station. With the face of Chase Vodka behind the bar, along with the ex-bar director of Sketch, it's obvious this place will do well. It's early days at the moment, a very British drinking den - filled with modest tables and chairs, wood panelled walls, and pubby green tiles - but the pair have big plans for the place, particularly the upstairs area. Watch this space. It has a limited menu, but it's all top quality, and pre-dinner bar snacks of a pork pie and scotch egg, washed down with a 'healthy' gin, beetroot and lemon balm sours, was spot on.

Dinner was a grand affair, the much talked about Duck & Waffle atop Heron Tower, which I had booked months ago. Shooting skyward in a glass lift felt a bit like Charlie and The Chocolate Factory; I'm not used to big city living and hoofin' skyscrapers, so going 40 floors up at a very fast pace, peering over London's landmarks, was a breathtaking experience. We arrived a little early in order to soak up the surroundings, and I'd already heard about the bar's inventive cocktails. If there's something a bit weird on a menu, you can be rest assured that I'll probably pick it, so my drink of choice was a Verde; gin, chartreuse, agave, rosemary, citrus and kale juice. Yep. Vivid green in colour, quite sharp, with a savoury/kale-y aftertaste. A new take on the Bloody Mary perhaps. Predictably, the chap chose a gin martini with a lemon twist. Even if you don't come here for food, I'd definitely recommend coming just for a cocktail; leave all your troubles at street level and enjoy the ride, it feels magical.

For eats, we were persuaded into trying their freshly baked bread, a spicy sausage and gruyere combo, which taunted us as it arrived, as it was too hot to eat with all it's molten cheese and oozing oils. The idea is that you get a few dishes to share but, being in a two, it makes it a bit awkward as you don't want to over-eat/over-spend. We started with a raw plate; yellowfin tuna with watermelon, balsamic and basil; presented on a block of salty-marble-rock, which we were told to rub the fish on to get added flavour. There were five nibbles, so we fought over the last one. We then asked for the rest to come together so we had lots to pick at and taste; roasted octopus/ chorizo/ potatoes/

lemon/ capers, pollock meatballs/ lobster cream/ parmesan, and the duck and waffle. To be honest, I was a little gutted that they had sold out of the spicy ox cheek doughnut, but I'll have to try that another time.

Neither me or the chap were very keen on the fish meatballs, everything about them was a bit bland; rich but without flavour. The octopus had it all though - salty, sour, smooth, chewy, crispy - all the tastes and textures you'd want in a dish, so we were able to forgive. And as for the duck; it lived up to expectations. A duck leg confit sitting on a picture-perfect waffle (though I doubt the Belgians would approve), topped with a fried duck egg, and mustard maple syrup on the side. Its the breakfast dish turned badass, the humble bacon sarnie just wouldn't make it in these waters. Sweet, savoury, and super indulgent; I'm glad it was to share. So, whilst I don't think it was the best food I've ever had, I'd go as far as to say that it was possibly the best restaurant... What a view.



Part 2 Coming up..