Restaurant Story

A couple of months ago, a friend and I were walking up Tooley Street when we happened across a sauna-esque glass and wood building with no name. Investigations were undertaken back in the office and we found it that it was Restaurant Story, raved about as London's hottest new restaurant. We don't actually care about such things, all we knew was that they served a ten course tasting menu and are staggering distance from our place of work. So, the table was booked (for two months in advance), and we settled into a state of heady anticipation.

I confess, I wasn't going to blog about Story. I had planned to go, enjoy myself, not take photos and have a bit too much to drink. After all, ten courses, two loveable rogues, and an afternoon off work, what could possibly go wrong?

But the food was so beautiful, and so gorgeously presented that I found myself taking pictures. And wanting to write about it.

The ten course tasting menu:




We got cocktailed up and settled in. And then the food started coming. Tiny little gorgeous mouthfuls of amuse bouches, including an incredible crisply fried cod skin and the beautiful peas and truffle pictured below.





Upon being seated, the waitress had bought over and lit a candle at the table and we'd noted that it smelt ever so slightly garlicky and then thought nothing else of it. Until out came the sourdough bread and we were informed that the candle was in fact the dripping in the bread and dripping course: genius! It's tastes fantastic too, as indeed that much fat should.


Nick puts on his American anchorman face for the bread and dripping photo.







Caramelised gorgeous blackened onions and sweet apricots follow, then on to the scallops, at which point the whole table went quiet with the appreciation of perfectly mingled flavours, fresh shellfish and dill ash. Please note the beauty of the presentation, in particular the tiny courgette, complete with flower.




Onto the mackerel and carrots. Lots of carrots: Tiny baby carrots, slivers of carrot, carrot tops, fish poached in carrot juice. The sweetness of the carrots works perfectly with the oiliness of the mackerel. More appreciative silence, broken with the occasional 'oh wow'.




The next course is my favourite, and I never thought I'd say that about mashed potato. Newmarket potatoes, with dandelion butter and charcoal oil, served with broad beans. It's rich, creamy, interesting and just perfect. I want a whole plate of it.





A little palette cleanser is next up, beetroot, raspberries and horseradish, simple and straightforward, even though the horseradish is a white powder that gives a delightful tingle in the nose (ahem).




The veal is next and it's slightly overdone, but we still wolf it down, even though we're seven courses in by this point.

The come the desserts, which I can't write about, because not having a sweet tooth and being somewhat full, I didn't eat them. I sip a glass of dessert wine and watch the boys wolf their own, and then my, puddings. They tell me they are excellent.

This is fantastic cooking, done really well and using seasonal products without being pretentious about it. It's quirky and fun, such as in the case of the dripping candle and the horseradish powder, and I loved it. We'll definitely be going back as the menu changes from high summer into autumn. Oh, and if that's not enough to inspire you, you can see the chefs cooking in the kitchen. And they are rather hot......

Falling down the rabbit hole

Afternoon tea? How civilised and lovely, a chance to get dressed up and pretend its the '50's again, or some other impossibly glamorous era, where women wouldn't dream of leaving the house without a hat or stockings.

My lovely friend Sabine (who has featured on these pages before) was over from her new home of Tennessee and requested the pleasure of my company for afternoon tea.

A caveat here: I am not a big fan of sweet food, so afternoon tea is always a bit hit and miss for me. But I loved this one, a modern twist on the Mad Hatters tea party from Alice in Wonderland, at the Sanderson Hotel.

Despite a rain lashed June (welcome to London) we arrived and sat outside, albeit under plastic awnings.

We're given the tea leaves to smell in individual jars, I pick the strawberries and cream, and Sabine goes for the rhubarb and custard. The lovely waitress asks if we're upgrading to the champagne afternoon tea. Of course we are, what a ridiculous question.












While we're happily quaffing our champagne, the tea arrives. I love strawberries and cream tea, could drink it by the pint, and proceed to do so. Check out the adorable Alice themed crockery, available to buy there, which I would have done had I had more than two glasses.

And then the food arrives. It's a total OMG moment. We're told what everything is and how it's all edible, and then I get stuck into the sandwiches in the hope that by carb loading and drinking fizz, I can shake off the last vestiges of a mild hangover.





But sandwiches are not the purpose of afternoon tea, a welcome addition though they are. Sandwiches are the sort of thing you can buy in Marks and Spencer. The real beauties are the cakes. And there are two of everything, this avoiding that very British "you have it, no, no, you" scenario.




These sweets are pretty darn fine (high praise from lack of sweet toothed me). I'm not overly fussed on the edible chocolate pot with green tea mousse, but that's a personal choice of not liking green tea. And I confess to not trying the Victoria sponge cake in the shape of a clock, or the sweet scones, although I manage to force a savoury one down.

But this little beauty is my particular favourite. The stripy outside is edible white chocolate, the inside is vanilla cheesecake and there's an 'egg yoke' of mango purée encased in the mousse, just waiting to be broken open with a spoon. It is DIVINE.












To round the calorie extravaganza off, there's also a little sugary potion, entitled 'drink me'. Even I can manage this, despite being stuffed to the gills.




By the end of the afternoon, we can't actually move. We both agree that the tea was excellent value for money at £45 including a glass of champagne, although our bill might have been slightly higher as we may have had more than one glass of champagne. We stagger off to Oxford Street, far too full to try on any clothes and vowing to never eat again.

www.sandersonlondon.com

Location:The Sanderson Hotel, London

What I've been up to instead of writing this blog

Just busy jumping out of aeroplanes in New Zealand. As you do.


Last October, I took a sabbatical from work and my friend Vicky and I travelled the world: 16 countries, 5 months and one hell of an adventure. You can read about it here: www.justalittletriparoundtheglobe.blogspot.com

I'm now back in London, doing loads of fun stuff, which I'll be blogging about. Thanks for reading and posts will follow shortly......


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Liking this American boy...

Call me a food snob (I've been called worse), but I never expected one of the best meals of my life to be in Miami. New York maybe. Or The French Laundry in the Napa Valley. But stumbling across Barton G The Restaurant made me one very happy lady indeed.

The girls and I hit Florida for sunbathing, Miami vice cocktails and general partying early in July. It was hot, hot, hot. We were perusing Time Out as to where to have dinner on Saturday night and found the recommendation for Barton G The Restaurant. It was the description of the shrimp popcorn that sold us. So we booked a table, dressed up to the nines and headed off into the sweltering Miami evening.

We arrive by taxi, sadly not by flash sports car, as many of the other clientele seem to do. The staff couldn't be sweeter, and as the garden a) looks beautiful and b) has air conditioning in the form of spray pumps, we opt to sit outside. Our menu is bought to us. On an i-pad. So cool!

The i-pad that is our menu for the evening. 

A civilised meal always starts with a cocktail. It's a known fact. And although Barton G serves 'normal' cocktails, we're in the mood for something different. So we have the nitrogen cocktails. And they are am-az-ing. The Buddhalicious is pear vodka, lychee and cranberry juice, with a nitrogenised popsicle (ice lolly in the UK!) of pear vodka. It is as delicious as it is potent. And it is served with a buddha on the side. What more could you want?

Buddhalicious, baby.

We then share a starter of shrimp popcorn - exactly as stated, it's popcorn, served in a retro cinema box, with the addition of breaded 'popcorn' shrimp. It's cute, quirky and delicious and we quickly devour the lot.

 While we are awaiting our main courses, we start to notice that very interesting things are happening at the table in front of us. Giant forks are appearing all over the place and we are fascinated. We enquire, and are told that the hen party at the table are having surf and turf, and it's served on a board with an enormous fork as the decoration. It all gets a bit Alice in Wonderland at this point as the cocktails start to take hold, and we notice that several tables are being served their food with the most fantastically presented plates. When ours arrive, we are not disappointed.

Giant forks for the surf and turf.

 I order the Lighthouse lobster because I love it and because it feels right, being so close to the ocean. Plus it's served with lobster creamed corn, lobster fritters and asparagus - just a few of my favourite things! I don't pay much attention to the 'lighthouse' element of the dish, until the lobster arrives. In a lighthouse.

 The thought and presentation that has gone into these dishes is just outstanding. Not only is the food sublime (more about that later) but the sheer imagination that has gone into creating the dishes and serving them at the table is incredible. 

Lighthouse lobster. 

The friendly waiter removes the shell from my lobster tail. 

My companions food arrives in an equally stunning fashion - though I think mine is the most impressive! Amy opts for the salt and pepper calamari, served with the most enormous salt shaker. 

Salting it up. 

More salt, anyone?

I steal a bit of the calamari and it lives up to expectations, soft on the inside (hand up, who hates rubbery squid?) and the salad is great - masses of coriander, my favourite herb, and beautifully fresh and zingy, dressed with lime and ginger. I also nab myself some of Sabine's dish of Blooming sea bass, steamed to perfection and served in a paper bag  to keep the fish perfect until the bag is cut open. Wonderful. The bass is also served with a riot of garden flowers, which leads to much debate about whether they are edible or not.

Sabine and the sea bass

So pretty! 

Back to me. I am eating the world's hugest lobster tail, cooked in butter and just perfect, fresh tasting, meaty, everything lobster should be. The croquettes are great, but the real star of the side dishes is the lobster creamed corn. It's the perfect accompaniment, sweet, creamy, and utterly moreish. I am in heaven. Writing this now, I am struggling to portray it without sounding like Anastasia Steele in 50 Shades of Grey describing an orgasm (and that is NOT a good thing). Needless to say, I stuff myself silly and can't finish it all, in fact I have to be told to STOP EATING, it's that good.

 We are asked if we want to see the desert menu. Despite the fact that I can barely move by this point, we have a look. The desserts look just as amazing as the rest of the menu, and I am particularly drawn to the Big Top Cotton Candy, but alas, can only manage a photo -  I am too full to eat another mouthful.

Declining a digestif, we ask for the bill and it is here I have a minor heart attack. The lobster was market price on the menu and has set me back $125. Ouch. The girls spend the rest of the holiday teasing me about how I spent so much money on a lobster, but it's good natured and quite frankly, it was worth every penny.

http://www.bartong.com/restaurants/

http://www.timeout.com/miami/restaurants-cafes/venue/1%3A2674/barton-g-the-restaurant

I finally get to Brixton Village

I am very good at making lists of places I want to go to eat. There is so much going on in London though, that actually getting to them is tricky. I had been meaning to go to Brixton Village, where on Thursday and Friday nights there is music and good food and general merriment. Had I actually got round to doing this? No. And then I picked up a copy of the Times one Saturday and lo and behold, in the magazine was a piece on the 'foodies favourite hangout', Brixton Market. Even the bloody Times had got there before me. So, off I went one Thursday night, with a hungry belly and the article ripped out of the magazine. The market is down a grotty road just past Brixton tube and I got told off by a big burly bouncer for attempting to walk in whilst smoking (yes, I know, filthy habit, bad for the tastebuds, will give up soon etc etc). First impressions, not good. But then we wondered around, saw how busy some of the food establishments were and the smell of the food made our bellies hungry. So, being the cheapskates that we are, we started off with some tacos for £1, from the very friendly chap manning the taco stall. Sadly, I can't give you his name or the name of his stall as his English wasn't up to much but go and seek him out and have a taco or two, he's very charming despite the language barrier.

The friendly taco man

Whetting our appetite

Having amiably ambled around for a bit, we settled on French and Grace for our supper. Mainly because they had seats outside, but also because we liked the look of what they were serving, with the added bonus of a vegetarian dish for the veggie, who I am covertly trying to convert back to meat, and who will indulge in the occasional lamb kebab when pissed.

The vegetarian.

Menus

The atmosphere

So, we settled in, eavesdropping the uber middle class conversation of the table next to us (well, even the Times has been here) and ordered up some beers and snacks.

I love wine served in a tumbler, like I'm in an old school Paris bistro. I'm easily pleased.

There's not a huge option of starters/snacks, but I'd rather that and they be top notch (as these were) than loads of mediocre dishes. Proper fat green olives and fried corn kept us happy while we awaited our main dish. It's all very relaxed and informal, people wondering by, wine to sup and even a band to keep us entertained.

Snacky treats

The evening's entertainment

And then our wraps arrived, big parcels of yumminess - soft,soft flatbread encasing grilled halloumi or spicy merguez sausage (or in my greedy case, both) with a hummus type sauce and crunchy slaw, dressed in something that we couldn't put our fingers, or rather tastebuds, on. Having played the guessing game of identify the individual flavours for a few minutes, we gave up, cheated, and asked the waitress. Nigella seeds. So there you have it. Warning: This is not first date food,  more like food for wrapping your gums around, getting sauce all over your face and dripping it from the bottom of the wrap all over you plate/self. But very, very tasty.

Halloumi flatbread 

Cheeky merguez sausage with halloumi flatbread. 

View inside the wrap! 

Suffice to say, after all that, we couldn't manage pudding, couldn't even think about it. We both rated Brixton Village highly and strolled off into the night, happily stuffed and making all sorts of promises to each other about going back every Thursday evening for dinner. And have we been back since? Don't be silly, of course we haven't. But we will. And soon.

http://brixtonmarket.net/info/market-cafes/

Lazy lady

I have a confession to make - I have been rubbish at posting blogs recently, and now have a backlog of writing, going back to early July. In my defence, and I know I tongue in cheek refer to myself as lazy in the title of this post, I have been working as a press officer in the Mayor's office during Games time, which involved lots of early starts, late finishes and, as you can imagine, mega hard work. I've also been out and about, exploring all that London has to offer during this 'summer like no other'. Anyway, enough excuses, I'm committed to getting back on it with the blog and so will be posting again over the next few days. Thank you for reading!

Fight for your rights.

The Spectator is currently an advert on trains into London. It reads "In 1952 a woman knew her place. In 2012, she's still there." At first, I thought this was some reference to the so-called 'glass ceiling' then I realised it was meant to refer to the Queen. God Bless you Ma'am, but I don't know may people (male or female) who'd want your job for love or money. And that ad got me thinking. Yes, women are so much better off in 2012 than we were in 1952. Women in 2012 go on holiday on their own, they go to the pub on their own. We earn our own money and we have free reign over our bodies.  We dress how we please and we please ourselves. To be fair,  I  consider myself a feminist (did that word even exist in the 1950's?) The word has been bandied around and used as an insult for a while. But women's rights still matter. 


 We may have never had it so good in the UK, on the first day of these Diamond Jubilee celebrations, but consider other parts of the world. In Afghanistan, there are peace talks which involve the Taliban. Is this peace at any price, and if so, is it worth it? President Obama recently said "We are better off when women are treated fairly and equally in every respect, whether it is the salary you earn or the health decisions that you make,". "Fight for your seat at the table, or better yet, fight for a seat at the head of the table.". Mr Obama, does this only matter in the West? Are you really going to subject Afghan women again to a lack of education, a lack of medical care and a life of not being able to leave the house on their own. The coalition forces are desperate to get out of Afghanistan, seeing it as a war they can't win. But at what cost to the rights of women? "Men are fundamental and women are secondary," the Ulama Council said in a statement on Friday, according to a translation by the Afghanistan Analysts Network. President Hamid Karzai published the statement on his website. So what happens now? Do the Western powers pull out, having given the Taliban some form of power in the new Afghan government? At what cost to the women there? And will a million people march through the streets of London to protest against that? I would certainly. Watch this space.