On Sunday I dined at Gold in Notting Hill, a restaurant that had been on my list for some time. The atmosphere downstairs is much better than up, we were unfortunately seated up, where the atmosphere was more subdued. I enjoyed the octopus carpaccio, although found the grilled pepper vinaigrette on it to be excessive in quantity, yet a little shy – a more concentrated flavour would have lifted the dish. The feta salad with radicchio and muscat grapes was a delight, and something I will recreate at home. Like all people with good taste I’m a big fan of cheese and fruit, but in this case the radicchio was very necessary and added a much needed bitter third dimension that gave this plate perfect balance. The delica squash with farro, pomegranate, walnut and radicchio (someone, I suspect, had ordered too much radicchio, as it appeared on the menu in places where it didn’t need to) was disappointing, with nothing in the recipe to give it the salt, fat, or acidity, that you need to make this type of vegetarian plate amount to more than a something you wish you were having with meat. The braised rabbit leg tortelloni with porcini butter was what you hope from a bowl of rabbit pasta. Five fat tortelloni stand proud in a bowl of mushroomy, herby butter. I don’t have to share them, (my dining partner is vegetarian) all the better, for this is the type of pasta you feel you must consume alone and at pace. Nearly a week later I find myself fantasising about double sized portion of this pasta with a glass of Pinot Noir and no interruptions.
To drink I had a Pomegranate & basil fizz which I feared may taste too much of basil but ended up not tasting of basil at all and had the irritating addition of pomegranate seeds which of course ended up stuck inside my softening paper straw. I abandoned the straw and finished the cocktail not feeling inspired enough to order another. Leaving, downstairs was very busy and had the air of an entirely different restaurant. Should you visit, be sure to dine downstairs. The evening ended unexpectedly in the Cigar Lounge at the Lanesborough, a place I thoroughly enjoyed despite having no interest in smoking. My poison of choice was a Ron Zacapa XO, which holds a special place in my heart as the first rum I ever truly loved.
Sadly Zacapa does not love me back. I awoke the next day with a sore head that was somewhat mended by a fresh mint tea with mint leaves from my garden. The second thing I ate this week that I didn’t have to cook myself were the canapés at an event I attended by Van Cleef and Arpels. These were not inspiring but were good – little blinis with a blob of creme fraiche and caviar, another was a savoury biscuit topped with avocado mousse and petals, but my favourite was a very, very fine little cheese and tomato tartlet. I wish they gave me more of these but in the never ending rotation of canapés these only did the rounds once. These were enjoyed with Billecart Salmon, a champagne I (foolishly) always overlook.
That evening I returned very late and having not eaten succumbed to the sleazy promises of Deliveroo. I ordered patatas bravas with prawns and was bitterly disappointed. The bag the order arrived in was simply too heavy and I knew something was wrong. Opening the cardboard container revealed a 15mm deep oil slick that covered the entirety of the dish. The vegan aioli had an aftertaste I can’t forget but wish I could, and bizarrely for a dish that had prawns on it, there was no non-vegan alternative to this sham of an aioli. The potatoes themselves resembled ones that had been roasted the day before then reheated – they were too big, dry, and without even the faintest hint of crispness. It was the saddest of takeaways and I disposed of it immediately and fixed myself some crackers and cheese instead. My cheese of choice was peralzola – an aggressively blue spanish cheese, a thick slice of which remains in my fridge, to be chipped away at in times of need.
Promising myself to never get caught out like this again, the next day I made a giant bowl of tzatziki, so at very least I can enjoy some cold chicken, tzatziki and olives, should I end up home late and without the will to cook. I used confit garlic in my recipe, an ingredient that has become such a staple in my life I find it hard to imagine life before it. That gentler, sweeter roasted garlic flavour is fantastic with just about anything and the softness of the garlic means no chopping is necessary- it melts into your preparation with satisfying ease. If you’re in the mood to get slapped around the face with flavour, smear onto a cracker of your choice and top with anchovy and chilli flakes.
On Wednesday evening I had a somewhat disappointing steak dinner at Gordon Ramsay Bar and Grill. I have dined here before, and am not sure why I returned. The steak was excellent – I picked the USDA ribeye and stand very firmly behind my view that American beef is tastier than ours (not to be confused confused better than ours). The completely unnatural yet commercially savvy use of corn in the American feed makes for a sweeter and more tender beef. My dining partner ordered the British ribeye which had more character and texture, but we both agreed was objectively less tasty and far less tender. The peppercorn sauce was one of the better ones I’ve had. I didn’t photograph my French fries as I was totally ashamed of them – no fry exceeding an inch long, I felt sure I was being served the very bottom bit of a frozen bag of fries. They were also oil logged. The French have started revolutions over less. My starter, calamari, was tasty but didn’t arrive hot. The portion was exceptionally mean (6 pieces) although reasonably priced. I would rather pay more, for more, which is my summary of the restaurant. In this restaurant they have two large screens which play the football live – I found the location, the food, and the atmosphere to be 3, incompatible concepts.
Between these rather hefty meals I’ve been eating plenty of that tzatziki with chicken or prawns, as well as one of my favourite (lazy) autumnal lunches – tomato soup with cheese on toast. Yorkshire provender does a fantastic tomato, red pepper and Wensleydale soup, which is the only pre-made tomato soup I enjoy. They’ve managed to preserve the vibrancy of the tomatoes. Paired with some ciabatta topped with the award winning Godminster cheddar and hastily shoved under the grill, this is a lunch I have twice a week and will probably never grow bored of.
I made a lighter Caesar dressing, using a standard recipe, but substituting mayonnaise for yoghurt. I added twice the recommended amount of chopped anchovy because I’m very much that type of person, and yet again, my confit garlic came to the rescue. The dressing is very delicious and I enjoyed it for lunch over romaine, with streaky bacon and parmesan.
That evening I enjoyed a glass of champagne at the bar at the Connaught Hotel, one of my favourite sports for a sophisticated drink. The quality of the olives they give you has declined since I last visited – they are now the type that are pitted and brined and no doubt arrive at the Connaught in large catering jars. The crisps they give you would benefit greatly from not being stored out of the packet and in open air on a shelf all day. Mine were soft. They were replaced with another bowl of crisps from the shelf which as a result were (of course) also soft. I’m being pedantic perhaps – these are freebies they give you to to compensate for the price of the drinks, whilst simultaneously inducing a level of thirst that can only be quenched by yet more drinks. It worked, I enjoyed my glass of Laurent Perrier, so we ordered a bottle.
Last night I accidentally made two dinner reservations with two different friends so made the selfless decision to honour both engagements and have two dinners – one at 6pm and one at 9pm. The first of the two was excellent, a new opening on North Audley Street in Mayfair (a very solid street for good food), BiBi, an Indian small plates restaurant that was so impressive I’ll be returning again next week for lunch. I will review this restaurant after my second sitting, but in short, its one of those counter top dining open kitchen concepts that works so well, and delivers so much. The paneer was the best paneer dish I have ever tasted, the chicken with fermented chilli I could eat every day, and the okra… I can’t stand okra, with the very notable exception of the BiBi okra, in a peanut and sesame sauce that I’d quite happily drink. Head chef Chet Sharma was at the helm, and the food was executed and explained perfectly.
A quick taxi and on to Opium in China Town. I haven’t visited China Town in the evening for some time and was surprised to find it absolutely heaving with people, every restaurant offering outdoor dining and many diners making the most of these uncharacteristically warm October evenings. Opium is one of those bars that at street level is no more than a doorway and a man with a clipboard. Should you be on the list or they have enough room, you’ll be permitted to climb several flights of stairs and be warmly welcomed into a subversive and dimly lit series of cocktails bars sprawling over two floors. It’s a good place for a date or two friends. My first cocktail was too sweet and very simple. My second was better – Tequila with pear, crab apple and lemongrass. I noticed the bars serving dim sum and have made a mental note to return for the dumplings. We had to make haste as I was now running late for my second dinner of the evening.
J.Sheekey welcomed us 20 minutes late and was not as busy as I would expect for 9pm ln a Friday. The restaurant has had its capacity almost doubled by a smart (covered) outdoor dining space. I opted for one course only, save the house bread, the warm waft of which was impossible to resist. My skate wing arrived under a heap of brown shrimp and dill and excessive amount of brown butter, which I very much enjoyed soaking into that delightfully warm house bread. I had this with the parmesan-fried courgettes and tomato relish which were everything the name suggested they should be: crunchy, salty courgettes, best used to scoop up the cool, sweet relish and paired with a swig of the house champagne.
Sheekeys has always delivered for me. Never over delivered, but you get what they promise and what you pay for – quality seafood from our coasts cooked exactly as it should be, with unadventurous but delicious sides, smart service, and ample people watching opportunities.
