I’ve shamefully neglected to cover vegetarian restaurants on this blog despite the fact that two of my most trusted dining companions, The Flame Haired Squelchie and The Prancing Hippy, are vegetarians. That’s easy enough to rectify though as London has a respectable selection of vegetarian eateries, including Orchard, a spin-off of the more formal Vanilla Black.

Although Orchard is open for both breakfast and lunch, the place is only open until 8pm so if you want to eat dinner you’ll have to get there early. That didn’t deter the Squelchie and I from eating at Orchard shortly after it had opened. The small, discretely sign-posted establishment is located on Sicilian Avenue, a vaguely Italianate street not far from Holborn Tube station. The management hasn’t aped the Mediterranean aspirations of its location though, going for a bare, kitchen-like decor. Service was chatty, polite and efficient.

Orchards do bloom, even in winter time.

I was content to quench my thirst with some pear juice which was gently sharp and sweet, but with none of the cloying sweetness which blights some lesser pear juices. The Squelchie quaffed down a few glasses of Limney Horsemorden 2008-2009, an English white wine which she found to be refreshing, light and crisp without being too acidic.

Definitely not pear shaped.

Wined and dined.

The menu is very short with a rotating selection of daily specials. Both the Squelchie and I had the same starter of celeriac soup and we were both very pleased with its sharp, creamy taste. The crunchy chestnuts added a bit of texture, but their flavour was a little muted – walnut oil may be a better way of adding a more strident nuttiness. The accompanying brown bread was fluffy, but the hard, refrigerated butter should’ve been rested at room temperature before serving.

Scoop me up.

Butter up.

The Squelchie isn’t a vegan so she had no qualms with the Yorkshire cheddar and cabbage pudding served with potatoes, more creamed celeriac and a drizzling of red wine. The idea of Yorkshire cheddar may offend Somerset loyalists, but the sharp, mature taste of the fluffy square of cheese was warming, tasty and complimented well by its firm cabbage wrapping. I wasn’t sure what the point of the red wine was, but the potatoes added some much needed carbohydrates.

'Yorkshire cheddar', eh?

I could’ve done with some extra carbs with my main course of roasted broccoli served with pickled mushrooms, white beans and braised swede. The dish could also have done with a unifying element to tie together its disparate elements, but that shouldn’t detract from how tasty the dish was. The soft, yet moreishly tangy broccoli was very satisfying and was complimented well by the slightly soft, buttery beans and the sweet potato-like flavour of the golden swede chunks. The pickled mushrooms weren’t as boldly flavoured as their counterparts at Pitt Cue, although that’s a rather unfair comparison given how vegetarian unfriendly Pitt Cue is. Still, I could happily have eaten a second helping of this dish and perhaps even a third.

More please.

I was mildly worried by the moans of pleasure coming from the Squelchie’s end of the table as she wolfed down her pudding of winter fruit stew with whipped cinnamon cream. I’m not usually a fan of whipped cream, but I’d happily make an exception for the distinctly spiced version here which complimented the sharp, syrupy sweetness of the stewed apples and pears.

Don't be stew-pid.

My own dessert wasn’t a disappointment. The golden syrup pudding had a fluffy yet dense scone-like texture with a strong brown sugar-like taste indicative of a generous measure of golden syrup. The cream is described on the menu as ‘burnt satsuma’, but the muted zestiness wasn’t as striking as that evocative description. The small dollops of the sharp and very tangy quince jelly turned out to be the perfect accompaniment to the golden syrup pudding and I only wish there had been more of it.

A golden opportunity.

The Verdict

The deceptively simple food at Orchard is delicious and reasonably priced too. There’s a danger that the very short menu may grow tiring after a while, but I’d rather run that risk than deal with an unwieldy menu of mediocrity. My only real wish is that this humble little eatery was open for longer in the evenings. Despite its quality, bigoted carnivores will probably give Orchard a wide berth but that only leaves more room for the rest of us.

Name: Orchard

Address: 11A Sicilian Avenue, London, WC1A 2QH

Phone: 020 7724 2262

Web: temporary holding page with sample menu

Opening Hours: Monday-Friday 08.00-20.00. Closed weekends and bank holidays.

Reservations: not taken.

Total cost for one person including coffee: £21 approx. (£33 approx. including alcohol)

Rating: ★★★★★

TPG

Even with the old Hamburger Union fittings, Soho Joe feels like the merger of a student common room with a canteen given the profusion of local theatre posters, the counter at which you place and pay for your order and the bustling hordes of bright-eyed, bushy-tailed clientele.

Few come more bright-eyed than Higgs-Boson who appeared to have some sort of vendetta against vegetables that day, noshing on  meatballs in a tomato sauce topped with parmesan and accompanied with nothing more than a chunk of ciabatta bread. There were no complaints about the warm fluffy ciabatta and its crispy exterior. The meatballs, which were ready to go mere seconds after ordering, were rather ordinary though – mildly coarse, but quite dry and lacking in character. The puddle of rather bland tomato sauce wasn’t very impressive either.

Higgs-Boson likes her meatballs.

Socialist Worker derived sustenance from the symbolic food of the capitalist overlords – the hamburger. The split ciabatta did a good job of holding the burger together, but Socialist Worker wasn’t impressed with the quality of the beef patty. Cooked well-done and smooth in texture, the patty was far too dry and bland. At least the chips were cut from whole chunks of potato and weren’t dripping with oil.

Burgers. They're like sandwiches but better. Except this one.

Both Templeton Peck and I opted for the chorizo pizza, but it seems there’s little to distinguish chorizo from pepperoni when used as a pizza topping. The only differences that I could discern, and they were slight, was that the slices of chorizo were a bit thicker and saltier than the average slice of pepperoni. The thin base was crispy in places and soft and pliable in others. The red peppers were distinctly sweet, but the olives felt like an afterthought and were lacking in zing. The mozzarella didn’t leave much of an impression either.

Chorizo pizza. The harder to pronounce and therefore more aspirational cousin of the pepperoni pizza.

Porn Master’s Napoli pizza appeared to be almost identical to our chorizo pizzas, but lacking the olives and with the chorizo replaced by chunks of chicken breast. Porn Master didn’t seem to have any complaints, but he didn’t seem especially enthused either.

Breast meat.

While the others were content to slurp down the usual assortment of soft drinks, my eye was drawn to the selection of flavoured iced teas and I went for the dansom plum option. It was piss poor though – watery with only a slight artificial saccaharin-like sweetness to relieve the mundanity of it all. A selection of wines, beers and even Pimm’s is available if you’re so inclined.

The aristocrat of iced teas - mildly plummy and ineffectual.

The Verdict

Soho Joe is cheap, but it’s not especially cheerful. The pizzas can’t hope to match the accomplished beauty of the similarly priced pizzas at Franco Manca, but they’re not bad and are certainly edible. Plus Soho Joe is in a more accessible location for most. The burgers, on the other hand, aren’t worth bothering with at all, especially when better quality options such as Byron and Meat Liqour are mere stone throws away.

Soho Joe isn’t a restaurant – it’s a filling station for your stomach in the middle of a working day or just before a heavy night out and sometimes there’s nothing wrong with that.

Name: Soho Joe

Address: 22-25 Dean Street, London, W1D 3RY

Phone: 07534 1343985

Web: http://www.sohojoe.net/

Opening Hours: seven days a week 07.00-00.00.  

Reservations: not taken.

Total cost for one person: £10 approx.

Rating: ★★★☆☆

Following my stiflingly average experience at Banana Tree, I wasn’t enthused about trying another budget pan-Asian eatery but the need for a cheap meal after a hard day’s slog at work prompted me to visit Kin. This new restaurant, located on a side road you probably wouldn’t stumble across, servers a ragbag menu of Chinese, Japanese, Thai and Indonesian dishes. Although that unfocussed selection doesn’t sound very promising, Kin does at least have the benefit of good looks – the modestly sized dining room looks like a cross between a trendy furniture store and a common room inhabited by Japanese students. The effect is slightly ruined by the takeaway counter for the office lunch trade.

That bucket on the table was for a leaky pipe. It was fixed by the time of my second visit though.

Although the waiting staff were sometimes a little inattentive, that couldn’t be said for the friendly, informative and chatty proprietor. I found that he was more than happy to talk about the intricacies of Vietnamese coffees or the level of Scovilles in Thai salads of varying spiciness.

More exposed brick walls than you can shake a pair of chopsticks at.

First things first

I was famished on my first visit to Kin, so I skipped the pleasantries of having three courses one after the other and just plumped for two main courses. I was expecting a lot from the Thai green papaya salad following my visits to Suda, Covent Garden’s self-proclaimed Thai salad specialists, but Kin’s version was disappointing. Although there was plenty of shaved green papaya, there was also more carrot than I would have liked and the whole mass of overly refrigerated orange and green was chilly and bland. There was some relief in the form of the chewy and salty dried shrimp and the dry heat from the sliced chillis, but this wasn’t enough to redeem what felt like a rather slapdash salad.

It is green.

Things picked up a little with the chicken katsu curry which arrived in an oddly deconstructed form – the rice and chicken separated from each other with the curry sauce in a bowl. Although the strips of chicken had an oddly smooth texture to them, the crisp, unoily batter made them a joy to nosh down on. The curry sauce tasted heavily of onions and off-the-shelf curry powder which may be preferable if that’s how you like katsu curry, but I prefer Ten Ten Tei’s more balanced sweet and peppery version.

Curry deconstructed.

The highlight of the evening turned out to be the Vietnamese coffee which was drip brewed at my table. I wasn’t expecting much from it, so I was pleasantly surprised by the mellow, chocolate-ish, slightly nutty flavour which is best savoured with slightly less condensed milk than would otherwise be served in a Vietnamese coffee. It’s not particularly strong, but then you wouldn’t want it to be in the evening.

Drip, drip, drip.

Going back for seconds

I had heavily mixed feelings about my first meal at Kin so I headed back the following evening. Following a more traditional system of courses, I started off with the bun cha – a Vietnamese dish of grilled pork wrapped in lettuce with cold noodles. The pork wasn’t chargrilled to within an inch of its life as tradition dictates, but it was pleasing enough with a sweet, caramelised taste. The cold noodles were a little too soft for my liking, but the real let down was the ‘spicy’ dipping sauce which was tart, but otherwise disappointingly tame and lifeless.

Sorry for the slightly iffy photo folks.

Against my better judgement I ordered the salt and pepper stir fried tofu which turned out to be quite yawn inducing. The bland, boring and chewy cubes of tofu would need to be doused in a vat of salt and pepper to become interesting – that or a heftier serving of the caramelised onions and shallots that occasionally perked up an otherwise tediously dull dish.

I can't believe I put this into my mouth.

My taste buds perked up again with the arrival of the pad thai. The firm noodles had been cooked in a zesty, moreish stock but the prawns were far too soft with little flavour, so it was left to the scattering of crushed peanuts to add a little texture. It was thankfully not as oily or as stodgy as the many lesser pad thais I’ve had. Not a bad pad thai overall, but it’s let down by the overcooked prawns.

Surprisingly decent.

Kin’s green tea ice cream is addictive with the distinctive green tea taste coming through. However, it’s not quite as good as the best green tea ice creams which have a gelato-like waxy tautness to them.

Icy dollops.

The Verdict

The menu at Kin contains a couple of duds as well as a few average and merely satisfactory dishes, but the gems are few and far between. This isn’t likely to bother the office workers and students whom I suspect will make up the bulk of Kin’s lunchtime clientele and will lap up the very reasonable prices. For everyone else however, there’s little reason to seek out Kin unless you happen to be in the area and are either short on cash or can’t get into anywhere else.

Name: Kin

Address: 88 Leather Lane, London, EC1N 7TT

Phone: 020 7430 0886

Web: http://kinstreetfood.com/

Opening Hours: Monday to Friday noon-15.00 and 17.00-22.30. Saturday noon-22.30. Closed Sundays.  

Reservations: yeah, if you want to.

Total cost for one person: £22 approx.

Rating: ★★★☆☆

Attempting to find a particular restaurant in London usually involves squinting at Google Maps on your phone and periodically glancing upwards at door numbers. That isn’t a problem with Bibendum though. This restaurant is hard to miss as it’s situated inside an iconic art nouveau/art deco-ish building that was formerly the UK headquarters of tire company Michelin. The ground floor hosts a small florists and fishmongers as well as a casual oyster bar, while the more formal restaurant is located on the top floor.

They used to store tires in here.

A more stately and pompous-looking Michelin Man than the one we're used to.

Among the building’s many motoring motifs are the stained glass windows of Bibendum himself, more colloquially known as the Michelin Man. At least two of the windows visible from street level form part of the decor of the dining room itself. Whatever your feelings on corporate logos, the stained glass windows look gorgeous and are naturally best appreciated on a sunny day. The dining room itself is decorated with plenty of other Bibendum memorabilia from posters to small statuettes and the whole place has a light and airy feel thanks to the high ceilings and skylight.

He knows when you've been good or bad...

Dining a la carte at Bibendum can be quite expensive, but, as with many of London’s other glossy eateries, the set menu is a more affordable way of appreciating the kitchen’s charms. I tried out the weekend lunch menu, which changes fairly frequently and is also available on weekday evenings. It costs £30 for three courses with coffee and petit fours, but this rises to £40 once you factor in the service charge and soft drinks.

Airy.

Things did not start out promisingly. The game ragout starter consisted of some unsatisfyingly small flecks of game, which might have well have been reconstituted mince given their lack of character, in a bland and watery tomato and herb broth. The only saving grace was the light and fluffy gnocchi, although even these were chewier than I would’ve preferred.

Rag out.

Thankfully, my main course was significantly better. A large fillet of coarsely textured and aged pork had a slightly nutty flavour that was complimented well by the lightly spiced harissa marinade and tart, gently spicy yoghurt. The coarse and creamy hummus was a well-chosen finishing touch to a beautifully well-rounded Middle Eastern-inspired main course. In case you’re sad at the lack of vegetables, a small side dish of green beans and potatoes is thrown in.

And this little piggy...

Yeah, why not.

I was looking forward to the rhubarb crumble parfait for dessert, but the fruity sweetness of the icy parfait tasted more like strawberries than rhubarb, although there was still a touch of tartness to it. The fine grained crumble added a nice crunch without getting in the way of the parfait’s smoothness. Not a bad effort overall, despite the lack of pronounced rhubarb-ness.

Perfection?

The rather anonymous coffee was nothing to write home about, but the tart orange zestiness of one of the petit fours was a nice finishing touch.

Move along, nothing to see here.

The Verdict

If everything on Bibendum’s set menu was as delightfully accomplished as the harissa-marinated pork then I would have no hesitation in recommending the place unconditionally and awarding a four, or perhaps even five star rating. Sadly though, the rest of the dishes in my meal weren’t in the same league. Although I’d much rather have Bibendum’s set menu than the full a la carte menu at some other London restaurants in the same price range, it’s likely the kitchen’s full efforts are devoted to the a la carte menu and that’s what I’ll be having next time.

Name: Bibendum

Branch tried: Michelin House, 81 Fulham Road, London SW3 6RD

Phone: 020 7581 5817

Web: http://www.bibendum.co.uk/restaurant/

Opening Hours: Monday to Friday noon-14.30 and 19.00-23.00. Saturday 12.30-15.00 and 19.00-23.00. Sunday 12.30-15.00 and 19.00-22.30  

Reservations: highly recommended.

Total cost for one person based on three-course set menu including soft drinks and service charge: £39 approx.

Rating: ★★★☆☆ (set menu-specific rating)

Gastropubs should combine the excellent cooking of a restaurant with the more casual and easy going environment of a pub, but many of the gastropubs I’ve been to have failed in this mission – usually in the cooking department. The Harwood Arms is one of the most respected and vaunted gastropubs in London, so I had to visit the place and check it out for myself.

The plainly decorated pub is located on a quiet residential street in Fulham. The service was polite once they deigned to notice my presence – it took 33 minutes from being seated to having my order taken which is a personal record. Although the place was bustling on my weekday lunchtime visit, this really is no excuse – especially when some of the staff feel it’s more important to polish glasses than to take my order. Being ignored did at least give me an opportunity to study the menu, which changes fairly frequently and features specials, and catch up on my email.

My grumpiness wasn’t helped by the watery orange juice, although it did at least have bits in it. At least I had a basket of soda bread to nibble on. Things started to pick up with my slice of game pie which had a dense, terrine-like texture and a meaty, slightly salty taste although I couldn’t pinpoint which game animals went into the rather anonymous melange of meat. The sweet and tangy jelly added an interesting edge, while the crust was surprisingly dense despite its thinness and the salad added some much needed refreshment. Not a bad opener to a meal, but I wouldn’t order it again.

Sorry for the iffy photo folks.

If I was non-plussed by the game pie, then I couldn’t have been more blown away by the cheek and jowl of Middle White pork. The dense, slightly salty cheeks contrasted beautifully with the tender, fatty, herby and sweet bits of jowl. The crisp crackling and the sharp and fluffy celeriac mash were the only accompaniments and they were the only ones necessary. A truly impressive pork dish and should be force fed to anyone silly enough to think that pork is a bland and uninteresting meat.

Cheek by jowl.

Just as impressive as the pork was my dessert of cinnamon buttermilk pudding with poached pears and marmalade cake. The small madeleine-style cake was forgettable, but the cool, distinctly flavoured and creamy cinnamon pudding was addictive and was even better when paired with the warm, sharp and sweet taste of the poached pears. I’m getting bored of poached pears, which have become a cliche of modern European cooking, but their presence is justified when incorporated into a dessert as well executed as this one.

Cinnamon buttermilk pudding with...

... poached pear and marmalade cake.

The Verdict

Despite a shaky start, I came away very impressed with the Hardwood Arms. Although the attentiveness of the service needs a swift kick in the pants, the quality of the cooking rivals that of many more formal and more expensive restaurants. I’ll definitely be back.

Name: The Harwood Arms

Address: Walham Grove, Fulham, London, SW6 1QP

Phone: 020 7386 1847

Web: http://www.harwoodarms.com/

Restaurant Opening Hours: Monday dinner only 18.30-21.30; Tuesday-Saturday noon-15.00 and 18.30-21.30; Sunday 12.30-16.00 and 19.00-21.00 (the bar opens and closes slightly earlier and later respectively).

Reservations: essential.

Total cost for one person including dessert, soft drinks and service charge: £41 approx.

Rating: ★★★★☆

Soho used to have a large contingent of Italian restaurants and cafes, but many of them have since closed or faded away. Although there are a couple of new Italian places, such as Polpetto or Bocca di Lupo, that are worth visiting in the area they are the exception rather than the rule. It’s left to mostly dire chains and chintzy independents left to fly the Italian tricolour in Soho. That could all change with the arrival of Mele e Pere, a new Italian restaurant headed up by Andrea Mantovani. The presence of Mantovani, an Arbutus and Wild Honey alumni, was enough to get me excited about Mele e Pere, but I came away with very mixed feelings.

If nothing else, Mele e Pere has an unmistakably stylish presence. Situated on the site of what was once a far more cheesy and chintzy Italian restaurant, the ground floor looks like a modern art installation. One window is dominated by shelves of glass apples, while the interior is dotted with wine racks, funky lighting fixtures and a couple of armchairs. The display menu, rather than mounted in an illuminate display case, appears to be freshly printed off an anachronistic printing press. Stairs lead down to the actual basement dining room.

You can't take a bite out of these apples.

This is not the Apple Store that you're looking for.

The display menu is at the far right, emerging from the printing press thing. Yes, really.

Despite the enticing tiles at eye-level as you descend downstairs, the actual basement dining room is far more subdued than the ground floor. Wall-mounted angle poise lamps provide the lighting and raised benches sit next to a handsomely tiled bar, but most of the seating consists of seemingly random wooden, formica and copper tables. Even though it’s a basement, it doesn’t feel claustrophobic due to the high ceiling and the very generous spacing between the tables. The latter, combined with the decadent use of the ground floor, suggests that the actual kitchen may be quite small and can only make a small number of plates at any one time – whether the management will be tempted to cram in more tables once Mele e Pere exits its soft launch period remains to be seen. Even though we were one of only three or four parties, the place did become surprisingly noisy due in part to the wooden floorboards and high ceiling (and the gaggle of burbling Friends rejects seated just behind us).

Descent

Anglepoise

I had dinner at Mele e Pere with the help of the Euro Hedgie during the soft launch period and our meal started out very promisingly. The bread basket, while not show stopping, was pleasing with a mixture of fluffy white and brown crusts and a moreish cheese and nut slice. Both the Hedgie and I have never seen the point of breadsticks though. The Hedgie wasn’t fond of the slightly bitter olive oil accompanying the bread, but I enjoyed the edge it added to our carbohydrates.

Our daily bread.

I don’t drink booze, but the Hedgie does and he enjoyed the pear-like, semi-sweet aperitif (sorry folks, no photo of this one).

I started off with the hand chopped veal – the smooth mass of raw veal superficially resembles steak tartare. The tender meat is very light and almost fluffy. It tastes almost sweet, no doubt thanks to the fruity olive oil dressing but is otherwise very plainly seasoned. This meant that the dish lacked depth, but it was still pleasing especially when paired with the crisp bitter leaves which was a nice contrast in both texture and taste.

Raw.

Although I was generally pleased with the hand chopped veal, I wish I had opted for the Hedgie’s starter of tripe instead. Served with grated parmesan, the soft strips of tripe were soft with a gently offaly flavour that was accentuated by the light and sweet tomato sauce and the small, but perfectly judged shavings of cheese. Great stuff.

It may not look like much, but it's really rather good.

Pasta is such a common everyday staple that’s it hard to get excited by the stuff anymore, but my pasta dish here was intriguing. The orecchiette shells mirrored the shape of the clam shells and the firmness of the pasta was complimented well by the salty squishiness of the clams. The dominating flavour was one of bitterness though, which may have been due to the presence of either the mini spiral heads of Romanesco broccoli or the padron-like friggitelli peppers. Although not unpleasant, the bitterness is definitely odd and won’t be to everyone’s taste, but it is at least different. There’s enough in the small portion that you probably won’t need to go for the larger size option.

No, I don't know how to pronounce orecchiette either.

The Hedgie was unequivocally happy with his risotto though. The small chunk of dense, slow-cooked lamb neck was so tender it was falling apart and was complimented well by the firm, large grains of rice. Thankfully, the excessive creaminess of most risottos was replaced here by a refreshing minty aftertaste.

How do you pronounce risotto? The British way or the American way?

Unfortunately the winning streak started to falter with our main courses. Although my dish of rabbit was very herby with its accompaniment of pine nuts, sage, root vegetables and mildly salty olives, the meat itself varied from tough and dry to excessively soft, losing much of the denseness that distinguishes rabbit. It was at least still quite gamey and you get plenty of bunny for your money. All of the main courses come with your choice of a side dish and although my choice of Borlotti beans in chilli sauce wasn’t spicy in the slightest, the beans themselves were firm and nutty and went surprisingly well with sprigs of parsley.

Elmer Fudd finally caught his quarry.

Chilli my ass.

The Hedgie was also unimpressed with his plaice a la plancha. He was disappointed by the blandness and lack of flavour in the fish while the accompanying beans were firm if overseasoned. His side dish of grilled peppers, aubergine and courgettes was far more impressive. Although a bit too oily, the well-grilled vegetables were far more satisfying than the fish – especially the buttery courgettes.

The plaice to be?

Eat your veg and wash behind your ears.

The Hedgie was so disappointed with his fish main that he was tempted to skip dessert entirely, despite the presence of some enticing dessert cocktails on the dessert menu. I managed to turn him around though and he opted for the the apple cake with honey ice cream. Although he enjoyed the honey ice cream, comparing it favourably to the signature version at Wild Honey, he was scathing about the apple cake likening it to a Sainsbury’s ‘Taste The Difference’ dessert in terms of quality. Plus it looks more like a tart.

No glass apples were harmed in the making of this apple cake.

Although initially tempted by the ice creams and sorbets, I eventually plumped for the intriguing Zuppa Inglese. Literally ‘English soup’, Zuppa Inglese is apparently a traditional northern Italian dessert inspired by English trifles. At the risk of being reductionist, Mele e Pere’s version is like a cross between a trifle and a tiramisu with alternate layers of chocolate, blood orange jelly and a cold, dense milky cream. The top layer of chocolate had an annoying habit of sticking to my gums and the top of my mouth, I wasn’t sure what to make of the dense milky cream while the blood orange barely had any presence beyond a slightly citrusy aftertaste. An interesting experiment, but a failure nonetheless.

English soup eh?

Like our meal, the service was a game of two halves. Our main server was exceptionally attentive and helpful as well as chatty. The Hedgie speculated that he was the maître d’ which would be very surprising if true – most maître d’ I’ve encountered tend to be aggressively snobby. The rest of the waiting staff were rather mute and timid in comparison and seemed to enjoy standing around rather than clearing away our finished plates and taking our dessert and drinks orders.

The Verdict

I had high hopes for Mele e Pere. My meal started out well, but the main courses and the desserts were disappointingly average lacking the finesse and sophistication that I had been expecting. Mele e Pere isn’t bad, but it needs to be far better with competition like Bocca di Lupo on its doorstep.

Name: Mele e Pere

Branch tried: 46 Brewer Street, Soho, London, W1F 9TF

Phone: 0207 096 2096

Web: http://www.meleepere.co.uk/ (website not working at time of writing)

Opening Hours: Monday to Saturday noon-23.00. Closed Sundays. 

Reservations: highly recommended.

Total cost for one person based on four courses including free tap water, service charge and drinks: £55 approx.

Rating: ★★★☆☆

Updated 11/02/12 – incorrect price originally displayed – price amended (sorry folks, copy and paste error)

I love fine dining and the meal I had at Tom Aikens Restaurant was one of the best of its kind. Sometimes though I’m just not in the mood for fancy food, but Tom Aikens has that covered too. Tom’s Kitchen is a much more casual and affordable sister restaurant serving up a fairly large menu of mostly British, French and Italian classics such as fish and chips, steak tartare and risotto. It’s advisable to book on Fridays and weekends though as the place quickly filled to capacity on my Friday lunchtime visit.

Tom’s Kitchen is aptly named considering its kitchen-like decor. The service is efficient, if a little cold and muted. If, like the Euro Hedgie, you think that Kensington and Chelsea is too far out, there is a second branch in Somerset House but with a somewhat different menu.

The Kensington/Chelsea branch of Tom's Kitchen is just around the corner from its more high-end sibling.

I wasn’t expecting much from the mushroom ragout and although the ragout itself wasn’t as earthy as I would’ve liked the dish came into its own when the quail egg yolk is mashed in. This gives the soft, subtly herby ragout a moreish richness that’s enhanced even further by the crisp butteriness of the brioche toast. Very satisfying.

This dish wouldn't work nearly as well without the quail's egg.

Looks unappetising, but tastes great.

My main course of calves liver, bacon and onions was a very traditional rendition of this classic dish despite its unusual stacked appearance. The calves liver was dense and slightly chewy, but tasted just as you would expect liver to taste like. I wasn’t a fan of the streaky bacon, but the sharply flavoured onions and onion gravy went very nicely with the creamy mashed potatoes. I failed to see the point of including onion rings though, especially when they were too soft and bland with a batter that’s just a bit too oily. It’s overpriced though at £19.

The winning streak ends here.

The fruit crumble allegedly consists of stewed raspberries, plums and pears but the dominant taste was of sharp, gritty raspberries. Although I’m a big fan of raspberries, a more balanced and layered concoction would still have been preferable. The bitty yet crunchy crust was remarkably reminiscent of breakfast cereal, which will either be ecstasy or heresy depending on how you like your fruit crumbles. The toasted almond ice cream felt like a tacked on afterthought and tastes more like a plain ice cream studded with large flakes of almond than a fully conceived ice cream in its own right. Overall, average.

You could've had it so much better.

Most restaurant coffees are totally unremarkable or sometimes just plain bad, but the double espresso here had a dark smokiness to it and was also smooth with very little bitterness or acidity. A very pleasant surprise (sorry folks, no pic of this one).

The Verdict

My meal at the Kensington Tom’s Kitchen was a mixed bag to say the least. Some dishes are great, some are just average and others are overpriced for what they are (although that likely won’t matter to the moneyed locals). Although a minimalist menu wouldn’t suit the homely, comforting feel the place is aiming for, the menu is certainly in need of paring down and refocussing to fully justify its relatively high prices. The Kensington branch gets a cautious three stars for now.

Name: Tom’s Kitchen

Branch tried: 27 Cale Street, Chelsea, London, SW3 3QP

Phone: 0207 349 0202

Web: http://www.tomskitchen.co.uk/chelsea

Opening Hours: call to confirm. 

Reservations: probably a good idea, especially around weekends.

Total cost for one person including free tap water and coffee: £43 approx.

Rating: ★★★☆☆

http://uk.finance.yahoo.com/news/How-split-restaurant-bill-yahoofinanceuk-14224902.html

My favourite part of the article is the bit on what to do when eating out on a date. Classy.

What’s your preferred method of splitting the bill? Let me know in the comments.

TPG

Pitt Cue is a new barbecue restaurant in Soho, just around the corner from Carnaby Street, but it originally started out as a truck underneath Hungerford Bridge on the South Bank. Despite these humble origins, the new Soho Pitt Cue has been one of the most eagerly anticipated restaurant openings of the year due to its low prices and the poor/mediocre quality of other London barbecue restaurants.

Root beer! In a London restaurant! OK, it's only A&W root beer, but I'll take what I can get.

Visiting Pitt Cue does require a bit of advance planning though. Reservations aren’t taken and the the tiny number of 30 covers, split between bar seating on the ground floor and a handful of tables in the basement, are snapped up quickly. The small space is undoubtedly cramped, but when combined with the blues music, dim lighting and numerous varieties of bourbon available on the fairly lengthy drinks menu, a generally convivial and clubby atmosphere emerges.

Most of the tables in the basement seat two. The lone table for four is almost literally underneath the stairs.

While the drinks menu has a wide array of cocktails and bourbon to choose from, the food menu is short and to the point. All the meat dishes come with pickled vegetables, a crusty chunk of bread and your choice of side dish for around £10. More meat or sides, as well as a small selection of ‘extras’ and desserts, cost just a few pounds more. Apart from a rotating array of daily specials, such as pig’s head or sausages, there are four meat mains – pulled pork, beef brisket, St. Louis pork ribs and beef ribs (the first two are also available served in buns). Given the small menu and the numerous visits I’ve made to Pitt Cue, this review will follow the structure of the menu itself rather the course of my individual meals. Without further ado…

The Meat

Pulled pork is a deceptively simple dish of pork slow-cooked over a barbecue so that the meat becomes tender enough to be ‘pulled’ apart, but it’s difficult to do well as the paucity of good pulled pork in London attests. Thankfully Pitt Cue’s version doesn’t disappoint – tender, moist strands of meat with a sweet, gently smoky flavour that doesn’t have the sickly artificiality that often plagues Bodean’s version. Good stuff.

Sorry for the grainy photos in this review folks - this is what happens when you get a phone to do a camera's job in dimly lit conditions.

The beef brisket isn’t quite as accomplished as the pulled pork. The brisket has a grainy appearance and a flaky texture to it, as well as a gently smoked flavour similar to that of the pulled pork. It’s at it’s best when you bite into a streak of fat or tenderised collagen, but these were sadly few and far between in my serving. Although it’s more satisfying than other attempts at beef brisket in London, it doesn’t have the same visceral fattiness and saltiness as the best US versions. Still worth having at least once though.

You're a total brisket case.

If you’d rather have your pork on the bone, there’s the St. Louis ribs. The strips of meat are incredibly tender and can be sheared off the bone using your teeth with minimal effort. Even more remarkable is the sweet, tangy molasses-like flavour which really is reminiscent of the ribs I had in the city of St. Louis itself only a few months ago. The tanginess could be bolder, but overall very satisfying.

Porky Pig encountered the wrong type of rib tickler.

As good as the St. Louis ribs are, they’re overshadowed by the beef ribs. Although they’re not as meaty or as fatty as the pork ribs, they’re not worse off for it. The lovely moist bits of collagen and slightly chewy connective tissue are very addictive. The rest of the meat is a touch on the dry side, but the lovely woody, smoky flavour more than makes up for this.

Fred Flintstone wants his dinner back.

The Sides

Ignoring the baked beans in favour of one of the other side dishes would be understandable, but it’s worth giving them a chance – these aren’t your typical tinned baked beans in luminescent orange tomato sauce. The soft beans have been cooked in ham stock and come with flecks of pork mixed in. They taste sweet and mildly tangy – their moreishness grew on me the more I ate.

Everything comes served in jars or on metal plates.

Sprouts don’t come to mind when one thinks barbecue. The braised sprout tops here start off with a very buttery, salty taste, but this quickly gives way to the usual bitter flavour which seemed to increase in intensity as I worked my way through my serving. The green leaves have just the right amount of firmness – neither too soft nor too stiff. Still, if you’re not a fan of Brussels sprouts, Pitt Cue’s version won’t change your mind.

A braising ordeal.

The hock, beets and pickle salad sounds intriguing and unusual, but it’s nothing more than ham hock mixed in with pickles and thin slices of pale red beets. While the juicy, tender and very meaty strands of hock are complimented well by the pickles, the beets are surprisingly muted and add little to the dish (sorry folks, no photo of this one).

The vinegar slaw is essentially the same as the pickled white and red onions you already get with each helping of meat, but the burnt end mash is something else entirely.  Although it looks like a demented tiramisu cooked up by Yosemite Sam, the smooth mash is made memorable by the lightly smoky, slightly chewy burnt ends which almost resemble beef jerky in their flavour and texture.

Why do I keep typing vinegar as Virginia?

All mashed potatoes should come with burnt ends.

The Extras

Pickled vegetables dominate the small selection of Extras at Pitt Cue with good reason – their refreshing tartness is much needed after a comparatively heavy dose of smoked meat. The jar of pickles contains numerous pickled vegetables, but the clear stand-out are the pickled shiitake mushrooms which are a revelation. The soft, delicate texture and taste of the mushroom has been preserved, but with an added sharp sourness that compliments the richness of the mushroom rather than ruining it or overwhelming it. If I could just have a jar filled with just pickled shiitake, I would be a very, very happy Glutton.

Moar mushrooms plz.

The pickled shiitake mushrooms pop up again, this time as the star of their own Extra dish. Here, they’ve been battered and deep fried. The crispy, remarkably unoily batter gives way to reveal the soft mushroom underneath with its rich, buttery, sour flavours intact. Marvellous.

This is quite a pickle we're in.

Almost inevitably, the smoked hot wings with pickled celery aren’t very satisfying. If you’re not a fan of spiciness, then you have nothing to fear from these hot wings – they’re very mild with only a slight spicy kick in the aftertaste, although the tingly numbing sensation on your lips does accumulate as you eat more wings. The soft chunks of pickled celery are sharp and sour, but this effect, like the spiciness of the wings, is rather muted. The kitchen would do well to offer a more kick ass version of this dish.

Celery. The under appreciated vegetable.

The Desserts

As of this writing there are only two desserts at Pitt Cue and I wasn’t expecting much from either of them given the small size of the kitchen which is just visible from some of the basement tables, but I was pleasantly surprised by both of them. I’m not sure if they’re prepared onsite or brought in from elsewhere, but there were some surprising variations in each dessert.

Pitt Cue has given sticky toffee pudding a slight twist. On my first sitting the cake was moist and slightly chewy, especially around the edges, and the chewy, plump bits of prune added some delightfully syrupy sweetness. The toffee sauce and ice cream were surprisingly bland though.

Don't prune the prunes!

There was almost a complete reversal when I tried the sticky toffee pudding a few nights later – the cake was much softer and lost much of its chewiness, while the prunes were saldy entirely absent. The toffee had gained a noticeably boozy bourbon kick though and the ice cream was rum and raisin flavour. If Pitt Cue can combine the best elements of both then it would be onto a winner.

There's no rhyme or reason to rum and raisin.

The rhubarb mess, on the other hand, came close to being an unqualified success. The quivering pink slivers of rhubarb have a lovely sharp and sour taste that’s not buried underneath a mass of cream, but instead sits in a gently sweet and fruity sauce. The chunks of meringue are crisp and break apart easily, providing a contrast in texture without getting in the way with excessive crunchiness. There may be problems with consistency though as on one subsequent occasion the rhubarb was a little too soft for my liking, but making up for it was the surprise addition of ginger in the bottom of the glass adding a nice spicy finish to the dessert.

A glorious mess.

Messing around.

The Verdict

It would be easy to complain that the BBQ meat at Pitt Cue isn’t quite as good as the best barbecue joints in the US. While that’s true, it’s still far superior to any other attempt at American-style barbecue I’ve had so far in London and at bargain prices too. Plus, the brains in the kitchen are concocting dishes you’re unlikely to see at other barbecue restaurants from bourbon-infused sticky toffee pudding to all sorts of pickled vegetables and a constantly changing array of evocative specials.

In other words, if you like barbecue then there should be nothing stopping you from eating at Pitt Cue – apart from the size of the queue.

Name: Pitt Cue

Address: 1 Newburgh Street, London, W1F 7RB

Phone: not listed

Web: http://www.pittcue.co.uk/

Opening Hours: Monday-Saturday noon-15.00 and 18.00-23.00 (kitchen closes at 22.00). Closed Sundays.

Reservations: not taken (so arrive early or bring an attractive female friend).

Total cost for one person including dessert, soft drinks and service charge: £23 approx.

Rating: ★★★★☆