Ondine

I have just returned back from a gut-busting, gastronomic weekend in Edinburgh. It is a testament to how much I ate over the weekend that today I was perfectly happy with some cereal for breakfast and a Be Good to Yourself sandwich from Sainsbury’s for lunch, usually a guilt-induced chore.

The weekend got off to a disappointing start at Ondine. Voted Scottish Restaurant of the Year in the Good Food Guide 2012, I had reasonably high expectations.

The best bit of the meal was the part they can’t really take any credit for – oysters au natural. Well, they have good suppliers, I’ll give them that, and they were fresher than fresh but that kind of goes with the territory – if they weren’t I would’ve spent the weekend glued to a toilet seat, rather than dining in better restaurants.

There were 3 oysters on and I had one of each - a Dorset, a Maldon and a Carlingford. The Dorset was largest so I ate it first, because they are usually my least favourite. I must have had them out of season before because usually the intense creaminess is too overwhelming for me, but this time it was the selling point. If it had even a hint of the metallic bitterness that an off season oyster can have it would have been too much, but this was clean, fresh and bright.

Click to read more ...

Dinner by Heston Blumenthal

When Dinner by Heston Blumenthal opened it seemed the whole culinary world was talking of nothing else. Bloggers and critics alike were singing its praises; not even A.A. Gill could find a negative word to say about it. Getting a booking was like a local trying to get a ticket to the 100 metre final at the London Olympics.

Now, almost a year on, the hype has died down but dinner at Dinner is still an improbability. So I opted for a lunch booking and in the end a leisurely lunch (four hours!) was the perfect way to savour the experience. And who better to share it with than the only person I know who loves Heston more than me, Alex – aka Blumenthal’s Biatch. 

I have had a lot of fine meals in my life – but not because my life has been especially privileged by western standards; where other young women might have spent their first earnings on the latest fashion, I spent mine on dining out. This was definitely in the top three meals of my life.

Part of the attraction for me was that it had all the thought, finesse and elegance of a fine dining meal, without the ponce. There were no fancy foams or mousses, the portions were generous, the presentation was carefully considered but never at the expense of taste, and not one of the ingredients was superfluous, each had its proper place. 

Still, there is theatre here – Ashley Palmer Watt’s is Heston’s protégé after all. The signature dish, and probably my favourite, not least because it managed to live up to expectations, was the Meat Fruit,  a chicken liver parfait encased in mandarin jelly and modelled to look like a mandarin. It was astonishingly realistic, even the jelly was textured to look like the skin. A.A. Gill described it as “A perfect mandarin orange that smells like mandarin, even minutely examined it looks like a mandarin, but, cut open, it is immensely fine chicken liver parfait.”

Click to read more ...

Two for ten Tuesday at Public House

It is rare that I get round to writing up a casual dinner date in a local restaurant. It is even rarer that I do so the next day, but I just couldn’t believe the amazing value I experienced at Public House last night.

As I said, it was a casual dinner date and so I did not take notes or spend a lot of time making sure I got the right photos, but looking back on the meal this morning I felt it warranted some attention.

I have only recently started using Top Table; as someone who usually knows exactly where I want to eat and who is willing to pay a premium to eat there, I didn’t think the deals would appeal. I was wrong.

Last week I was supposed to be taking someone to dinner in exchange for their worldly wisdom. It had to be easy to get to from Kings Cross and not too expensive, since I haven’t got a lot of money at the moment. I was pondering various cheap and cheerfuls I know in Islington when my friend, Jen, piped up:

“What about Public House? They often have really good deals on Top Table.”

Suspicious.

“Any good?”

“Yeah, I’ve been there a few times. The food’s great and they do nice cocktails, which I suppose is where they make their money.”

Hmm...

Click to read more ...

Neal’s Yard Dairy, choice cheese retailer

Updated on Wednesday, October 26, 2011 at 9:02PM by Vix

It is strange the things you miss while travelling. As I got ready to depart Lima for London, after three months on the road in South America, I found myself looking forward to a proper cup of tea, fresh milk and cheddar cheese.

My Dad, Chef Has, would think it blasphemy that my idea of a proper cuppa these days is not the carefully prepared pots of loose leaf tea he reared me on: cups and pot warmed with boiling water, a spoon for each person and one for the pot, drawn for no less than five minutes, milk first and NO strainer: “I’m not scared of bits!” (I never got more than a 6/10 despite my studiousness). No, give me a builder’s any day, lovingly prepared with PG tips. Yes, Dad: tea-bags. 

He does, however, approve of my taste in British cheese and, more specifically, my cheese retailer of choice, Neal's Yard Dairy.

I was lucky enough to discover this prime providore the very week I moved back to the UK four years ago. Foodie friends had told me that Borough Markets should be top of my agenda and so I headed there on my first Friday in The Big Smoke. (I had been advised that Saturday’s should be avoided because of the crowds. Sound advice; I later made the mistake of going on a Saturday and left in an emotional state bordering on suicidal.)

I was blown away by the quality and range of the produce on offer and spent a long time walking back and forth trying to take decisive action but failing miserably. In the process I stumbled across Neal’s Yard Dairy and what can I say? A love affair was born.

Click to read more ...

Jamie's Italian, for a balanced perspective

“Don’t let facts get in the way of a good story” my Dad has always said, and I have to say I quite agree. It is common practice to take a bit of poetic license when recounting an anecdote, particularly if it will lend comic value.

If you read my last post on The Nut Tree Inn you may see where this is heading. In that post I did not so much exaggerate the truth as leave out certain facts that would have given context to the boyfriend’s mood that day. I did make reference to his efforts to keep me happy in the food department but, since the small window where he showed his frustration provides more humorous material, the reference was fleeting and is likely to have been overlooked.  Therefore, I thought it only fair to follow up that post with the details of a meal earlier that weekend; this time the jokes on me.

Another perk of the boyfriend’s job is that he travels a lot overseas and so he also stays in a lot of hotels. As a member of the Intercontinental Hotels group this means he clocks up lots of points towards free accommodation. One of the facts that went unmentioned in Tuesday’s post was that he kindly used one of his free nights to treat me to that weekend away.

Now the boyfriend knows well that I have a one track mind and if I am to be convinced to set foot outside London food will have to be fairly high on the agenda. And he almost always acquiesces to my demands, often going well beyond the call of duty to appease me. Our trip to Jamie’s Italian was such an occasion.

Click to read more ...