Berlin

So yes, it was an awfully long time ago that we had our little visit to Berlin, but work has been incredibly busy, and I am now catching up on all my blogs! Even with my ridiculous OCD memory for food though, I am struggling to remembr the exact ingredients of the food we ate there.

I have a real fondness for German food, even when it is so unfashionable to like it. I like a bit of stodge, and am a big fan of sauerkraut. Unfortunately though during our little weekend away, we never found the opportunity to go and eat any wurst, it does somehow feel wrong, especially as I'd even researched where the best curry wurst supposedly is. But the food we did eat was consistently good.

I arrived in Berlin very late on a Friday night, and as much as we loved our hotel, their concierge was rather rubbish at recommending something that was still open at 10pm, especially as I'd insisted on eating German food. We also insisted that we wanted to walk there, so she pointed us to somewhere near Hackescher Markt.

We loved the walk there, taking in most of Berlin's sights in Mitte, but it was only when we were quite near the restaurant that we realised we were walking right through the red light district. It didn't make us feel particularly uncomfortable, but knowing us, we started to overanalyse their business model and started thinking of ways to improve their sales. For some reason, all the girls had almost exactly the same outfits, with the exception that some boots (all equally patented and shiny) were black, whereas some were pink. Maybe men are just not that fussy.

Anyway, we ended up at a place called Lutter & Wegner, which turned out to be a sort of chain restaurant serving extremely traditional German food. Definitely a lot of stodge and soured cream to be had here! I had a goulash with spatzle, and spatzle has become one of my new favourite foods:

I think we had also ordered some kind of wurst and they got our order wrong, which meant some black pudding with apple arrived instead. I really ought not to try my bad German on actual German people:

All in all, it was good, but not particularly exciting.

More exciting was Moses' recommendation of Monsieur Vuong, also in the Hackescher Markt area, which he had described as being like a Vietnamese Busaba in Berlin. We'd also read it in the New York Times, which meant we knew it would be rammed, and even when we arrived at 4pm for a very late lunch, the place was packed!

And to be honest, I'm not really sure what the fuss is about. I did love the decor, quite utilitarian yet chic at the same time, but the short menu was almost too short (probably 6 main dishes in all with 2 or 3 specials), especially as the things on the menu didn't really excite me exactly. There was no beef pho (not sure whether that is a good or bad sign), so we both went for the chicken pho:

It was fine for what it was, but the soup base was a bit weak, maybe I'm just a bit spoilt for Asian food in London. What I was more impressed with was their setup; they didn't appear to have a kitchen at the back, and did everything in a tiny area by the entrance (boiling the noodles, spooning on the broth etc.), which probably explains the tight menu.

Undoubtedly our most exciting dinner was at Schneeweiss in Friedrichshain, also mentioned in the NYT. It wasn't quite as chic as we had expected it to be, it was definitely very white, but also quite down to earth, including some quite amateurish snowflakes on the windows which quite endeared me to the place. The whole idea of the menu is modern Alpine food, and whilst it won't set the world on fire, it did feel right to eat it in what is supposedly the equivalent of the East End of Berlin.

Starters were a goats' cheese tart and a potato and carrot soup - both humble yet very well done:


My memory is failing me slightly on the mains. One of them was definitely red mullet, very light and fresh:

But the other one was another goulash (maybe?) with some pink stuff on the top.

We really liked the Friedrichshain area actually, with some quite interesting bars including one called the Big Lebowski that served (not particularly good) White Russians, and also a very self-consciously grubby place that played good 60's British music!

Berlin is one of those places I can go back to again and again. The first time I went was with a group of 20 raucous consultants and ended in Berghain, this time, it was a much calmer experience. If only I can go there once when it's not freezing cold! Anyway, here is probably the best memory of the weekend :)

The Glasshouse/ Chez Bruce

I recently (re)discovered the joys of taking a day off during the week recently: I had a few days' holiday left over before the holiday year ended, and London is such a lovely place before the weather is good enough that it is flooded with tourists, and there is no-one around!

One of the nicest things we did was to go to Kew on a Friday and eat at The Glasshouse. Unfortunately, I now fear for the survival of the place, along with its brother Chez Bruce in Wandsworth. We went to Chez Bruce on a Saturday night, completely on a whim, and managed to get a booking by calling about 4 hours ahead. Worrying. And when we got there, it was definitely not fully booked. I know it is in the middle of nowhere, but I always thought that reputation would sustain a place like that.

Even more worrying was when they gave us a discount voucher for The Glasshouse with our bill. It was for a half price weekday lunch, 3 courses at £11.75. Yes, a Michelin starred, 3 course meal for less than £12. Even at full price it is ridiculously cheap. Thankfully, the place was quite full on the Friday lunchtime that we went, but we were definitely the youngest people in the place by a good few generations.

The worrying goes on too, as the food was such generous proportions, and the wine by the glass list far too reasonable. I had a gorgeous Slovenian white (must look up what it was) for a fiver a glass! This accompanied some great dishes, but enough food to feed a small family.

I started with a chicken raviolo with a garlic veloute. Whenever I read 'raviolo' on a menu, I start thinking it's going to be tiny and would never satiate my never ending desire for pasta. NOT THIS TIME! Look at how big it was!!!:

As big as a Cornish pasty, just this would have been enough for lunch, especially as the veloute is so thick it's the sort you can stand a spoon in. Fil unsurprisingly went for a salad, this time a wood pigeon one topped with a truffled egg. Again, so big you wondered why they thought following this with 2 more courses was a good idea:

And here is a gratuitous shot of the egg, very truffley it was too:

I am guessing they are making some money out of this by using lesser meats and worser cuts, but that logic goes out the window when they serve you nearly a whole rabbit for your main, which also came with a huge potato gratin thing, Bayonne ham, vegetables drenched in butter:

How we managed dessert is a small mystery, but probably helped by how good they were. Everyone knows I'm not a dessert person, but both Chez Bruce and The Glasshouse had me licking the plate. I had a fig roll with almond ice cream and a poached pear. Another good thing about having lunch at The Glasshouse is being able to take colourful pictures:

Fil found out how amazing trifles were with his black forest version:

We went to Kew Gardens afterwards (very nice by the way, even with its very ugly Asian pagoda), the admission for which was about the same price as the meal! I really ought to stop over-analysing restaurant business models and relax and just enjoy the damn food. I've just remembered the main course at Chez Bruce was this veal and spatzle concoction featuring veal tongue which was probably one of the best mains I've had in a long time. But do I mention that first in the blog post? No. Bad Connie!

Just about worth the hassle

I have wanted to go to Franco Manca, apparently home to the most authentic Napoli pizza in London, for the longest time, but given that it is in the deepest depths of South London (well, ok, Brixton), I knew it would be a trek. But oh what a trek it turned out to be. Obviously Fil and I decide to go when the Victoria line is down, and didn't manage to get our arses ready until about 2pm anyway. Then we had all sorts of fun with the buses, including getting one going the wrong way, so we arrived finally at about 3:30pm. And this place closes at 5pm.

After getting a bit lost around Brixton market, we got there to find this humungous queue, like 30+ people in the queue. Yes, look at it! Fil hilariously went to try and find some sustenance to keep him going, and then bought a plantain without realising you can't eat it raw, hahaha!


We were in the queue for about an hour, I don't really want to think about how much time we spent travelling/queuing for a freaking pizza. And we probably sat down for about 15 minutes whilst we wolfed it all down. F went for the more classic margarita. It was as good as the ones I had in Naples, slightly sweet, slightly sour, a shame that I left it to get a little too cold:

And I should have known better than to order something a little funky. When I first read about the place a few years ago, it only had 3 or 4 very basic pizzas on the menu, and whilst the choice is still pretty tight compared to more commercial outlets, they now have a fixed menu of about 6 with another 4 or so specials each day. The one I went for was probably the most different to the margarita, a non-tomato one with crumbled sausage and some kind of pickled vegetable that I didn't write down:

I must say I struggled with this a little bit, the pickled veg was quite bitter, and I guess I was craving a simple margarita. Trust me to try and get too creative! But even more wondrous was the homemade lemonade:

Yes, looks really dark and oxidised and a bit dodgy, doesn't it, but oh it was soooooooooooooo good.

I hear Franco Manca now have a second branch in an equally inconvenient location of Chiswick. It does hearten me that little places like this get crazily popular, yet they still maintain that 'we don't care that our opening hours are really inconvenient, and yes we do insist on making everything fresh and in our own way' charm.

Unreasonably good (or go there before it closes)

It really didn't need 3 consultants to rip apart the business model at Giaconda Dining Rooms to conclude that the place defies all restaurant conventions:

1. The place only has 32 covers in a tiny tiny space (Charlie was literally wedged into his seat)
2. They do not turn tables
3. They do not open at weekends
4. Last orders is at 9:15pm
5. They have an unreasonable number of dishes on offer each day, including about 12 starters, 12 mains, and another 6 specials of the day
6. You can probably swing a small mouse in their kitchen, which makes the number of dishes on offer even more incredulous
7. The wine list is ridiculously reasonable, with about 80% of the list under £30 a bottle
8. Cover charge of only £1 a head includes free filtered sparkling water, bread, and olives
9. 3 courses with 2 bottles of wine between 3 comes to under £50 a head

The only way I can explain is it that they must own the property, and that the chef and his team are seriously doing it purely for the love of their work. In any case, I am so scared this place will go out of business soon that as soon as we finished our meal there I immediately booked another table.

I guess one of the ways they make the business model work is to use some cheaper ingredients. As is the vogue nowadays, offal features heavily on the menu, and I think the word 'unctuous' must have been invented specially for their crispy pig trotter 'cake'. Definitely my favourite thing we tried that night:

But the use of ingredients is a bit cleverer than just going back to the offal recipe books. The other stand out dish of the day was their crumble of creamed shallots and wild mushrooms. It will contribute to my future heart attack, but what a great idea for a dish:

Annabel's pumpkin risotto was also really worth trying. Unlike most pumpkin risottos, it was all about the pumpkin, with lovely big chunks through it:

The mains were slightly less exciting I guess, but Charlie and Annabel did choose theirs on the basis of spying on our neighbours. Their rack of lamb sounded boring, but is beautifully presented an a 'tian' of vegetables looking very lovely:

My own main was also quite boring sounding, and looked pub food almost - grilled sirlion of veal with coleslaw - but was perfect. Leon needs to stop messing around with their coleslaw and just steal this recipe. Also very good, rustic, skin-still-on chips:

Puddings were less exciting, but all well done. A pear and chocolate sorbet, iced nougat with raspberries, and another crumble, this time pear, quince and apple with a clove ice cream. That clove ice cream was the only thing I was really unsure about during the meal:

And bless their hearts, we were the only customers left when we ordered another bottle of wine, and they didn't even flinch. But we did feel tremendously guilty for keeping them late. It is that kind of place, real family-run feel, even down to the slightly dodgy toilets that they obviously didn't have the budget to renovate when they moved into the space.

So, we're off there again this Friday! I'm already trying to decide what I am going to eat!

Dean Street Townhouse

It was the mention that they do scotch eggs that made me want to go to Dean Street Townhouse. And when I got there, I literally wanted to eat everything on the menu, every starter, every main, every dessert, and even the stuff they have for high tea. There is no pretending that it is to appeal to those of us who went to school in this country, everything is nursery comfort food, and I am not at all ashamed to say that I am already pestering my friends to join me for a return visit.

It was pretty quite on the Sunday evening I went, which gave me time to assess the mad interior. The dining room is very cosy (to the point where I think it would be quite oppressive if you were staying at the hotel and coming down for breakfast, no windows at all!), and strangely decorated with some very random art. Over our table was a quote by Lindsay Lohan. I'm also still making up my mind over whether I liked the toilets. Very cosy again, and I liked that there is a sink in each cubicle, but the mirrors were very self-consciously aged, paired with some comedy looking Cowshed toiletries. Obviously this kind of Soho irony is completely lost on me.

But back to the food. As I said, everything is what you would find on a school dinner menu or Little Chef actually, including fish & chips with 'fat marrow peas'(Dave very hopefully thought it came with bone marrow, hahaha!), 'mince and potatoes', and even a mixed grill. And it was all a lot cheaper than I had anticipated. I had read somewhere that their scotch egg was £7.95, completely ridiculous yes, but most mains came in at around £12-15, not bad for that part of town. You can also order from the high tea menu which had things like scotch eggs and chicken livers on toast, all of which were around £4-5 each.

Dave teased me relentlessly for ordering prawn cocktail for my starter. I don't care how old fashioned it is, I really fancied it! And it was a very good one too, only complaint was that the portion is a big too big:

Dave went for a more adventurous grilled octopus with chickpeas, and managed to take a very arty photo of it. It was a bit meh on taste, however, the chickpeas seeming cooked in a tin of tomatoes:

I had been hankering for roast chicken ever since Canteen decided not to cook any for lunch earlier on in the day, so I was most excited to see it on the menu. It is only for 2, and at £32 for 2 I thought it was quite bargainous, given that you get a chicken supreme and a whole leg each! Definitely way too much food, but this might be the best roast chicken I've ever eaten (granted I don't eat roast chicken that often)!!! The roast tatties were a bit rubbish though, even I make better ones :p

I was thoroughly, thoroughly stuffed after eating literally half a chicken, but I couldn't quite resist the pudding menu (and it is definitely a pudding menu, not a dessert menu). Rice pudding with raspberry jam was so right and so yummy, with an individual bit of skin on top. I also need to go back to try their sherry trifle for two:

Oh, and another thing I liked was that there was a long wine by the carafe list, useful as Dave had overdone it (again) the night before and was feeling a bit fragile. That didn't stop us having a glass of port each to finish though. I have gained a real fondness of a little glass of port recently, I asked for one in a pub the other day and they did laugh at me. Oh well, hurrah for Dean Street Townhouse, exactly the sort of place to enjoy a warming glass of port on a winter's evening.

Quick round up of wonderful places

Quickly before my laptop battery dies, some other lovely places I want to shout to the world about!

First, I probably don't need to tell you about The Eagle, heralded as London's first real gastropub, but I only went there for the first time a few weeks ago, and it does trump even its sisters Great Queen Street and Anchor and Hope. I guess it's because at the two sisters, both of them are deep dark rooms where you feel ever so slightly stressed out from the raucous for a table, whereas The Eagle has gorgeous big windows on two sides, and even on Saturday lunch felt chilled out.

Somehow I managed to restrain myself and ordered only a soup (ok, I did have a pastis de nata afterwards, but you should have seen the menu on offer!). It was probably one of the best soups I've ever eaten in a restaurant, let alone a pub, and so nice to see cheap ingredients turned into something of real glory. Here is their mussel and pollack chowder:

Fil quite uncharacteristically (I thought) went for a pork chop, which came with lentils rather than the advertised black beans, as well as a huge layer of yummy fat along the edge:

Plus, sitting by the window meant I took decent food photos for once :)

Another place I was seriously impressed with recently is Da Mario on Endell Street. When Lindsay told me we were going to an Italian place in Covent Garden for our big girlie night out, I was definitely more than dubious, so what a pleasant surprise to now crave one of the dishes I ate there. It's obviously run by a big Italian family, whose father openly flirts anything female that works through the door, so we us 9 girls were treated to some fabulous Italian hospitality.

Their menu is very very long, which again made me feel dubious, but not one complaint was heard on our table. I started with their stuffed baby octopus on chickpeas: not a combination I would think of, but it definitely worked:

But the thing I was seriously impressed with was their homemade pasta (not sure what the name was, but big fat flat tubes) with a sausage and broccoli sauce. Sounds anonymous enough, but oh my god so so so so so satisfying. The sauce was sparing but very unctuous at the same time, if that makes any sense, the balance of the whole dish was just perfect for me:

Gah, I only ate dinner (a very fat Chinese New Year dinner at that) about an hour ago and I'm salivating again!! Need to go back...

Salad

Salad has entered my life is rather a big and intrusive way recently, which also partly explains my inability to blog for the last month or so. I do think it is mightily strange for a grown man to be so fond of raw vegetables, but I have learnt to love it. Here's one of Fil's magnificent salad creations (and yes, readers, this is a side salad for 2!):


One of the good things about all this, of course, is that I am rediscovering how I love weird and wonderful combinations of salads, as showcased by our trip to Ottolenghi's. I've read Yotam Ottolenghi's recipes in the Guardian for many months now, and generally they are the sort of recipes that sound so good that I will cut it out, put in a folder, and never revisit again. I particularly like that there is a strong Middle Eastern vibe in his food, and everything sounds very zingy.

The Islington branch we went to was rammed on the Saturday night we visited. We got there super early at 6pm and managed to grab one of the last spaces at the bar in an otherwise fully booked dining room, and all night long the maitre d' was laughing at the hopefuls walking in who then promptly walked out again. I can sneer all I like about Islington-ites, but even I have to admit I have very similar taste buds to them.

Potentially my favourite thing was a very simple salad of pumpkin with manouri cheese, a Greek cheese which I've never had before. I was expecting something quite sharp like feta, but its smoothness and slight citrusiness was totally delicious with the pumpkin:

Less successful was their version of tuna tataki, which came with a soggy breadcrumb and a bit too inoffensive wasabi sauce:

Their pigeon (or was it quail?) was a little unmemorable:

But we loved the chicken livers and mushrooms on brioche toast. I like the fact that they can do the funky taste combinations as well as do classic dishes very well:

So it has inspired me to be a little more creative with my salads, but repeat visits will be quite harsh on the wallet. Each little plate (they recommend you order 4 each) costs around £10-12, which I felt was all a bit expensive for something pitched to be casual (the salads are all sat in big bowls in an entrance, for example). I also saw that they do takeaway salad boxes at a slightly laughable £9.95 each. Obviously I'm not rich enough to qualify to be a trendy yummy mummy type yet, phew!