Le Pain Quotidien, South Bank

Not gonna be too many words on this post, mainly because the pictures speak for themselves, you probably have a fair idea of what the items ordered taste like, and also because the waiting staff who served us was rude, smug and made us feel like we didn’t deserve to be there so the whole meal kind left a stale taste in my mouth.

Enjoyable, salty, as good as it could be.

Betty Bought Some Better Butter – Love the way the butter is presented (I love geometric-shaped food)

As much I as do find the food here enjoyable, and the setting usually quite relaxing, I find the smugness of some of the waiting staff (obviously not all of them) quite insulting. Anyhow, lots of other similar restaurants in London, so I guess if I don’t like it there, there’s always somewhere else to go to!

Rossopomodoro, 50 - 52 Monmouth Street, Covent Garden, WC2H9EP

http://www.rossopomodoro.co.uk/

So the hubs and I decided that Day Two in our Two Day London Adventure was to be Date Day. This meant that we could eat, drink and spend as much as we (I) liked without considering the costs (within reason, of course). This, to someone in my profession, is something quite foreign and hard to comprehend. Because my profession kinda pays peanuts.

But since the rules were established, Date Day could begin.

After having had a brunch served up by the comfortingly rude waitress with just the right amount of scorn on her face for us (customers) from Le Pain Quotidien (story for another post, and yes, I shall post about that), we hadn’t eaten much else that day.

The idea was that since our train leaving London was around 9pm, we’d have dinner around 6-ish before heading to collect our bags from Waterloo station. But because we had to go to Selfridges to get one of those coffee machine thingees, and because we didn’t want to be carrying that thing around London, we had to eat our dinner first before going to Selfridges.

How now, brown cow? Oh well, gimme a glass of that prosecco.

We ordered the Affettato (£8.90) to share.

Black provolone Auricchio cheese, spicy Neapolitan salami, pecorino cheese from Bagnali, Mordadella cubes with cherry tomato jam and freshly baked bread in the brown paper bag.

The salami was salty and full of texture, but my favourite part of the meal was the cheese. Tomato jam was good, but didn’t taste tomato-ey enough to me, so I actually wondered, for most part of the meal, what it was.

Bread with olive oil and balsamic vinegar was a welcome nibble, but the bread was one of those gum-nemesis ones which just would not get soft no matter how much oil and vinegar was used. Enjoyable, on the whole, but it made the jaw ache a little after.

Tough on the outside. Tough on the inside.

The Carbonetta (£12.50) – seafood carbonara ‘spaghetti ala chitarra’ with crispy pancetta, eggs, clams, pecorino cheese and parsley. While the pasta was cooked perfectly, I found the taste to be slightly lacking in salt, as well as cheese. The cheese used in this dish is meant to be quite strong from the other carbonaras I’ve had, but this one didn’t really taste of anything. I suppose I could’ve added salt to it, but that’s not the point of this, so while I enjoyed it OK, I wouldn’t have said this was one of the better example of a carbonara I’ve had.

Fru Fru (£14.00) – Oval shaped three season pizza: buffalo ricotta cheese and Neapolitan salami, mozzarella cheese and tomato sauce, Parma ham, rocket and Parmesan cheese.

Really enjoyed this pizza. The base was perfect – not too chewy, but chewy enough, and the taste of the slightly salty dough managed to come through despite the strong-flavoured topping. The ricotta cheese was fluffy and just melt-in-the-mouth, and the chef must have been feeling generous that day with the amount of salami thrown on but I’m not complaining. Enjoyed this pizza in every way.

We’ve been here in the evenings before and also during lunchtime and it gets pretty crowded, so if you’re interested in making a visit to the place, best either make a reservation beforehand, or come when we did (around 5pm) and you can have pretty much the whole restaurant to yourself.

Dinner by Heston Blumenthal, Mandarin Oriental Hyde Park, London

Website here. Nearest tube station: Knightsbridge. Full set of Flickr photos: Here



OK - first things first. The real reason we actually found the courage to book a table here was because of the Set Lunch Menu available only on weekdays from 12-2pm. The most important feature of this Set Menu was the Set Price of £28 for 3 courses. As I didn't fancy taking out a short-term loan from Wonga for the purpose of this lunch, this was pretty much the closest we'd ever get to eating anything that comes out from a Heston Blumenthal kitchen.



Of all the things we could've done with our free, unemployed daytime, we chose to do this. Yes, it has been my dream for many years to be able to take advantage of all these mouth-watering, money-saving lunch deals that seem to taunt most decent, wage-earning people stuck in an office from 9am to 5pm. Deals which do not exist when these hard-working people leave the office, and deals which never are valid at weekends. (Yes, I also understand why this is so, but never you mind.)



So, in our first week of free-time-dom, we put on our finest finery and got ourselves on the Tube towards Knightsbridge. I'd never been into the Mandarin Oriental before, so those really grand doors were really quite imposing and a little intimidating.



Thing is, though, everyone at that hotel is just so friendly. From the doorman to the lady at Dinner's reception counter thing, to every single one of the waiting staff who served us during lunch. All so very friendly, very welcoming, and always ready with a pleasant little chat whenever they came to our table. Rarely had I ever encountered such genuinely pleasant and warm waiting staff from 'posh' restaurants like this one.



This possibly contributed towards the first time I'd ever felt like wanting to actually pay the 10% discretionary service charge added on to the bill. Heck, why not even 12.5%.

Plus, they have jelly mould lights.

There wasn't much point in debating what to order because there was only 2 items to choose from per course, and since we were going to try every one, we just kinda said to the waitress "One of every item, please". And, because we'd seen it on telly many times before, we decided to order the Meat Fruit too (more on this later). With nothing much else to do in between ordering and waiting for the food to arrive, I looked wistfully out the window at the orange autumn leaves scattered all over Hyde Park.

They really should do more sweeping.

As with all good restaurants, complimentary posh bread.

Or as I call it, "A Minute On The Lips, And Somehow Things Don't Fit."

Now before you think I'm being all mathematical with my circa this and that, the numbers after each dish represent the year in which the recipe or dish was first discovered. Or so I'm told.

Lemon salad (c.1730) Goat's curd, Buckler Sorrel & Raisins

OK this was not a good start to the meal, but luckily this was not representative of the items yet to be tasted. Blame my unsophisticated tastebuds, but to me, this tasted like some goats cheese had been whacked on a plate, drizzled with some lemony tangy drizzle and made a little more interesting with some plump, juicy raisins. Finished it all anyhow. Like I was gonna leave any of it unfinished - come on ... it would have cost easily £15 or so if it wasn't on the set menu so I was gonna inhale every bit of it even it it did taste like goats cheese on a plate. Which it was.

Ragoo of Pigs Ears (c.1750) Anchovy, Onions and Parsley

Now I really liked this. Earthy, very full-flavoured, and interestingly crunchy yet soft - this tasted like something very familiar. I've had pigs ears before but never like this. The Chinese method of serving pigs ears is usually either the cold, stewed version of it sliced finely, or in some sort of (disgusting) jellied terrine. This version was surprising and introduced a very refreshing spin on a part of the pig so commonly overlooked. It went ridiculously well with the thick, absorbent and chewy slice of bread sat comfortably underneath the saucy mountain of ear slices.

OK OK - now comes the exciting bit. I mean, come on, this IS Heston Blumenthal's restaurant. And come on, I HAD to try it. So, don't get too excited (I know I did), but here it is.

The MEAT FRUIT.

Meat Fruit (c.1500) Mandarin, Chicken Liver Parfait and Grilled Bread £14.50

Possible like every other person before me (and after), I'd ordered this simply because I'd seen it on Heston's Feasts programme and it looked so darned good. The chicken liver parfait ball is dipped in a jelly infused with mandarin puree (recipe here) before it's left to set and cool.

Had to give it a squeeze. Come on - you would've done the same. It just looked so ... squeezable. You'd be pleased to know that it did not maintain the original shape after being squeezed, and sat there forlornly looking quite squashed so we quickly ate it.

Because as some people always like to say (and I am NOT one of them) - you eat with your eyes first or something along those lines - I had expected the parfait to taste of something orange. Or at least a hint of orange. But nope. I know the recipe said mandarin puree, and it's been written on other places about this being a mandarin chicken liver parfait but I didn't manage to taste any citrus in it. Not a criticism because who am I to criticise this genius of a chef who can pummel me with his Michelin star, but just sayin'.

Aside from that, it sure tasted good. In fact, MORE than good. Good-er?

It tasted like a hundred chickens had been put into this dish. It was meaty, it was intensely smooth, it was so many things. And it was the best chicken liver parfait I'd ever had.

Smothered on to the delicious piece of toast, this was not only a fabulous specimen of a starter, but, dare I say it - it was almost worth the £14.50 we paid for it. Portion-wise, nothing to complain about. Taste-wise, definitely nothing to complain about. Price-wise ... hey, I'll always complain about the price so let's be realistic and leave it at that.

Sure is a popular dish.

Cured Salmon (c.1670) Beetroot, Sea Aster and Olive Oil

Part-way through chewing on this, the husband and I consulted one another on what we thought of the dish. It's tough trying to look like you're thinking, while munching, so with quite an amusing-yet-thoughtful look on his face, he said something along the lines of "Mmm. Mmm mm ... mmmmm?"

Where as I went, "I think it's good, but I prefer the texture of the one we had at Casa Mia" (bearing in mind that it's a completely different dish, made by completely different chefs, and so cannot possibly be compared but hey).

This salmon was lovely and fresh, with natural sweetness and a lovely flaky texture to it, with the texture slowly changing towards the middle of the piece of fish. Thing is, unlike the poached version we had at Casa Mia, where I really liked the spongy, resistant texture of the fish, I couldn't really tell the difference in texture in the different bits of this fish.

Even though I could tell by looking at it that the textures were meant to be different, I just couldn't distinguish the difference when chewing on it. So, while it tasted nice and all, perhaps it didn't quite achieve what it set out to achieve? Or maybe I'm just being over-analytical on a piece of fish. Such pretentious behaviour really has no place on this blog. I shall shut up on the topic of fish.



Bath Chaps (c.1860) Savoy Cabbage, Lardo, Ham hock and Robert broth

Lardo and Robert Broth sound like quite fun guys, don't they.

This dish was easily my favourite of all the items we had. It was simple to eat, and it had all my favourite things in it.

Meat - yup. Cabbage - yes please. Delicious gravy which tasted like it contained all the best intense meaty juices of the last century condensed into one tablespoon of gravy goodness - uh huh. And as an added bonus, the texture of the meat was tender and yet chewy.

Prune & Tamarind Tart (c.1720)

You know how if you've been presented with loads and loads of amazing, tap-dancing gold fish, and suddenly a 'common' goldfish is just not so impressive anymore? Yes, that is indeed described commonly as 'being spoiled'.

Which is exactly how I felt when this was brought out. I don't know what I was expecting but it sure wasn't a slice of what looked like creme brulee in triangular form. But this is being rather harsh on a dish so lovingly created by the chefs working hard behind the glass-covered kitchen so just disregard all that I've said in the paragraph above.

The sugar-crust thing did crack when tapped on like a creme brulee, and the consistency of the tart filling was creamy and thick like in a creme brulee. And while the taste of it was also slightly creamy with a hint of rich egg like a creme brulee - this tart had a base to it which no creme brulee has ever had.

We finished it, we enjoyed it, and it was not creme brulee.

Orange Buttered Load (c.1630) Mandarin & thyme sorbet

Also described as 'Husband's Favourite Dessert Of All Time Except For His Mam's Apple Crumble Which Cannot Ever Be Relegated'.

Mmm warm and squishy and all things comforting - this was deliciousness in a loaf. Bready and soaked through and through with all things citrusy, every spoonful yielded the most tantalising, tangy mouthful of doughy goodness imaginable. And then, like a little burst of sunshine, the sorbet with its curiously-sweet-yet-slightly-indescribable-but-wonderful taste cleansed the palate to ready it for the comforting orange buttered loaf again.

Maybe it was because we looked like we weren't full enough (if the belly-rub isn't a universal sign of being full, I don't know what is), or maybe we were just nice to the waitress that day, they brought over this little cup of chocolate mousse infused with Earl Grey Tea.

Which I couldn't say no to. So here we go again.

It was amazing. It was like molten chocolate which somehow someone had managed to blend in with some Earl Grey Tea. I finished it. Very full. Can't type.

Brick Lane Beigel Bake, 159 Brick Lane, London E1 6SB

Brick Lane, huh? The stuff of novels, mediocre curries, and 24-hour bagels. You heard right - 24 hours, 7 days a week, bagels on tap.

Where do I get this tap, you ask. Why at the Brick Lane Beigel Bake, of course. Don't you use Google?

Famed for being one of those places in London loved both by the locals and also tourists who come from afar just to say they've been to this legendary bagel-producing takeaway, it remains to this day, one of the places we'd never quite made our way to.

Until now, that is. Veni vidi vici.

It also seems to be one of those places untouched by the Disgusting Claws of Inflation. These prices look acceptable in the eighties. How much for a piece of cheesecake?!? I almost was afraid to ask if the prices were actually valid - fearing my complete lack of self control but even after I'd ordered about half the board, it only came out to about £8 so I can safely say that yes, those prices are in fact, real and valid.

By the way, for those of you reading this who're not British, and not too familiar with the way things are priced here, the numbers on the board represent the amount of pennies you'd have to shell out for the item. For example, to avoid any doubt, 70 means 70p, or £0.70.

That amount buys you about half a piece of toast in a normal establishment. Here, it gets you a slice of cheesecake, or chocolate fudge, or even a carrot cake.

It's not just the prices that're stuck in the decades gone by - the interior is, too. Not necessarily a bad thing though as it does create a nice, comforting sense of nostalgia as you walk into the shop from the (sometimes) bleak Brick Lane vibe outside.

By the window is a huge slab of hot salt beef - just tantalising those tastebuds and anyone who walks by (scroll to last picture below for a quick smile). Guarding these meaty treasures are 2 As-East-End-As-You'll-Get ladies who exude the personalities of dinner ladies with attitude. Brisk, brief and bustling - they ask for your order, hand it to you, and off you go. None of that pansy "How're you today, love" nonsense.

For £3.50, you get this doorstop of a beefy, boffy bagel. What I liked about it was the fact that these bagels were oh so darn chewy! Chewy chewy chewy. Each chewy bite was such a pleasure to bite into - cheeeeeeewy. Then, as I sank my teeth further into the meaty treasure, I bit into MORE chewy - in the form of the hot salt beef. Chewy in a good way though. It was moist, it was meaty, it was flavourful, and it was oh so chewmazing.

A little zingy zing from the English mustard so generously slathered on and we were set to want more.

And because this chicken bagel cost £1.50, I couldn't resist. While the chicken was literally just that - chicken - it was kinda enjoyable in its own way, too. The taste was clean, uninterrupted, and if you like chicken, you're in for a good bagel.



This was the pastry (1 of 2) that I somehow managed to order in the time between deciding which bagel to have, and actually saying those words out loud. Nothing amazing, but for that price (under £1), what more could you ask for.

How could you walk by and not bagel?

This lil guy looked hungry outside the shop.