[ducksandwich]

Jin Saint-Honoré: the best in the west, literally.

My titles are usually something I come up with quickly just so I can start boring you with the heart of my article. However, this one is as explained, literal.

I believe Jin, in Paris’ 1st arrondissement, is the best sushi restaurant in the Western World. A bold statement I know, but I can comfortably make it and sleep at night.

 I found this place by chance as I was wondering up and down Rue De La Sourdière waiting for a friend to end one of his many endless phone calls. After the umpteenth walk through this street, I noticed a dark, trendy looking bar. Being myself, I couldn’t help but look up exactly what “Jin”, written on a sign outside, meant.

 I quickly realised the gods of gastronomy had put me on this street for a reason.

The reviews and articles -ranging from silly blogs like these to Forbes magazine- were all raving about Jin and head chef Takuya Watanabe.

 I used the excuse of having my 1-year anniversary in the then near future to grab a couple spots at the counter. Surprisingly the reservation was easy to make (4/5 days in advance), which cannot and will not last, FYI…

 And so, a few days later, I was happily sitting next to my other half, just in front of Mr. Wanatabe, awaiting what had already been described by other sources as Paris’ best Japanese meal.

 I obviously started with a Japanese beer, incorrectly anticipating a menu to choose from; or at least a choice between "long" or "ridiculously long" dinners. No such thing is allowed in this temple of raw. The almost overly-quiet waitress asked -in her unintelligible accent and voice so quiet only a dog could hear it- whether or not we wanted the additional caviar dish for an extra 40€. 

 I’m not a fan of caviar, but I couldn’t quite resist the temptation of tasting it here, and, my girlfriend’s eyes sparkled more than the chef’s beautiful Japanese knife when the word was uttered by the aforementioned canine whisperer.

 And so the sushi chef’s shining show started.

 First, a succession of 5 or 6 dishes, the stars of which were a sashimi of fatty tuna, so pink it was veering towards white, so fat I could have confused it with myself; and of a mousse-like textured tuna delicately topped with enough caviar to repay the French national debt.

 It was delicious, and served in such simplicity and dignity that a Russian in Courchevel would have misunderstood. 

 I also enjoyed the lobster in wild mushrooms, only subtly cooked, packed with flavour one usually misses when gouging down scoops of garlic roasted, shrimp stuffed lobster as it’s usually found in the west.

 Now I shall go on to the next part of the menu, which was, I believe, an important experience in my culinary life.

 A series of nigirizushi (the correct name for nigiri) was served. Including, but not limited to: shrimp, sardine, tuna, fatty tuna, salmon, turbot, oyster, sea urchin roe, squid…

 For those of you who are completely without culture, that’s the type of sushi with a piece of raw meat (usually rectangular, most of the time fish) patted onto a rectangular roll of vinegar rice.

Each of these was served in a specific way. Some were brushed with a drop of soy sauce, dabbed with a bit of wasabi and sprinkled with some salt before being perfectly shaped by the chef.

Others had their own sauces or ingredients, my favourite was turbot sprinkled with yuzu-lemon zest, a powerful blossom-like flavour that I rarely taste and absolutely adore.

The manner in which he fashioned these little pieces of blow-you-away-fresh-fish with his hands was astonishing, almost dance-like. Each movement following the next in a precise order repeated to the millimetre every-time.  

 What I like the most about the experience was the impression of being taken on a journey by a true master of the art.

 The ambiance was almost that of a holy place. Not a word was uttered by the staff, except for the head chef who seemed to take a liking to true amateurs of great food and smiled at us when he painfully pronounced the names of the different fish in his best French before realising we spoke English and switching to it, immediately seeming more comfortable and friendly.

 The nigirizushi phase ended with tamago, that sweet cube of omelette known as one of the most complicated things any chef could make. Again, a delicious preparation better than any tamago I had tasted previously.

 We enjoyed this fabulous meal with a bottle of sake which I let the discrete waiter choose. I was a bit saddened by it being served in classic wine glasses, almost as if they had decided to Frenchisize themselves a bit to satisfy the holier than though Saint-Honoré quarter clientele (some of which uttered the words “sushi-shop” in presence of Mr. Wanatabe, something I wouldn’t have done for fear of being sliced up like an anworthy piece of fish…). Perhaps they serve it like that in Japan, although I doubt it…

 The meal was ended with a desert, which was tasty but not even close to the wonderful fish experience; again the feeling of westernisation was present. I honestly think the chef hurts inside when he sees that happen…

 To conclude, I’d like to say that there are few places, perhaps only one or two, that have given me the wow-factor that Jin has. I was swept away by the precision, professionalism and quality of absolutely every-thing that happened. Nothing was fake, nothing was over-the-top. The air of don’t-say-a-word is there for customers to take over with a friendly nod to the chef.

 Yes, it’s expensive, but you’re paying for quality that you may never enjoy again.

 f you had to try Japanese food once if your life, this is undoubtedly the place to go outside of the fine cuisine’s home. 

[ducksandwich]

Le Cristal De Sel: friendly, honest and creative

It's been a while since I've spoiled you with an article, and what better place to start again than this hole in the wall establishment in Paris' 15th arrondissement; Le Cristal De Sel. 

The two friends that own and run this place met in hospitality school in Paris, and opened in 2007. More often than not, friends working together ends up with kitchen knives being used out of context, but although there must have been an argument here and there in the past, Karil Lopez (kitchen) and Damien Crepu (front) run a tight and agreeable ship to sail on. 

I found out about this place by browsing through restaurants in my new neighbourhood and discovering that one of the best was on my street, Rue Mademoiselle.

To my absolute astonishment, our old friends at Zagat gave the food a mind-blowing 27/30. Those of you in the know will realise just how high that sets expectations. 

Guess what, my expectations were satisfied...

The outdoor is discrete, quite honestly I think most people walk by thinking it's just another Parisian restaurant flogging out over-aged onglets with frozen échalottes sauce.

Not judging a book by its cover is once again an important set of rules to follow. 

The interior is quaint, on the verge of tacky but in fact very cozy. We had a great table very close to the open kitchen allowing me to look closely at the chef's impressive skills and beautiful presentation skills. I was worried that it would be empty, but clearly the word is going around, even on a tuesday night at 9:30 there were 4 or 5 other tables, a considerable amount for a place this size. 

The menu is based on seasonal product, which is something more often said than done. Having tried a total of 7 dishes last night I can tell you that the products are seasonal and wonderfully fresh. I asked Mr. Crepu how often the menu changes, to which he answered about every month or two. Perfect for me to return enough to try everything. 

Right, our food. My high-flying friend went for a charcuterie plate followed by iberico porc chop. My other half had a butternut squash soup followed by an onglet aux échalottes. Personally, I had a soft boiled egg with jerusalem artichokes and chestnut sauce and an exquisite slice of pollock with parsnip purée. 

The originality of the charcuterie plate was wonderful. If I understood correctly, the region of the plate changes with the menu. This time it was from Savoie (east), and therefore hearty, there were quite a few different cuts on there, a superb way to try new things. 

The butternut squash soup was very nice and beautifully presented. The inclusion of onion jam spiced things up interestingly. 

However, I made the intelligent choice with the soft-boiled egg and jerusalem artichoke. Certainly not a dish for everyone: the hearty starter is a heart stopper for most. Regardless of health, it thew me into a country-side wood, and I loved it. 

The mains?

The quality of the Simmental onglet was impressive, the shallot sauce was nice and spicy, a tad too mustardy to my taste, perhaps I need to accept my French-ness a bit more. 

My friends pig chop was as tender as can be. The chef's choice of iberico makes a world of difference. Throwing in some smokey bacon and lentils makes it a hearty basque dish to die for. 

And then the pollock... Again, it will seem like showing off to say that I chose the best dish, but I'm afraid it's true! The fish was panfried and finished in the oven, it's hard to imagine fish being more perfectly cooked than that, Mr. Lopez must have a timer in his head. It was served with a truffle-oil infused parsnip purée and a nice slimy shitake mushroom sauce that brought it all together. If I had to be say one negative thing about this dish it would be the excess of the parsnip purée. Of course, one can chose to not eat it, as did I. Outside of that, I would enjoy it for breakfast lunch and dinner everyday if I could.

One of us had some desert, which came in the form of an exploded vanilla mille-feuilles. Although I was nicely full with my previous two courses I tasted the dish and was shaking for want of more after my first bite. I did, however, manage to resist the wonderful tangy sweet flavour of tonka vanilla. 

So, in a nutshell, I highly recommend this restaurant to locals and, well, anyone. It's a great place to make a habit of, thanks to its changing menu. It's also a good place for a special occasion thanks to Mr. Crepu's extremely attentive and detailed service and Mr. Lopez's interesting food. 

The dishes don't exceed €25, which in Paris is very impressive, and unheard of for this quality.

As you know, I've recently been to Joël Robuchon's atelier Saint-Germain and left there feeling sheepish and annoyed at someone relying on his reputation to keep going. 

This place is the absolute contrary. Two hard working young men that have only their products and service to rely on; they're doing a great job at keeping it up and I shall certainly return to Le Cristal De Sel very often...

http://lecristaldesel.fr

[ducksandwich]

Brasserie Lipp: the heart of Paris.

Last night, I was at Brasserie Lipp in Paris. A place many of you must know by name or by reputation as the epicentre of French Restaurant culture. 

I had visited the Geneva outpost a few years ago and enjoyed it. It is however tucked up in a gallery that doesn't live up to the outstanding ambiance of the Paris restaurant which opened in 1880 and is stuck in time. 

I was worried when I learned that Brasserie Lipp, the Paris version, had been taken up by Group Bertrand in 1990. In most instances businesses taking over an institution is synonymous to destruction of a legacy.

There are oh so many places in Paris, Brussels, and more cities that have been ruined by the idea of making money, not brining something to a community.

I am extremely happy to say that this institution has kept its honour, or at least, my dining partner and I thought so.

I'm sure tourists run here with the prospect of great culinary achievements in their mind, but they are expecting wrong thing. Let me explain my experience last night in the hope of enlightening aforementioned tourists. 

We arrived after having reserved a table only an hour before, you can therefore count on getting into this hallowed establishment without too much trouble. We were then led to our two-top in the back of this beautiful old-fashioned restaurant.  

The tables really are one on top of the other, which is usually something I detest, but in this case it's part of the charm. 

We sat down, and I tried to get attention from one of the classically dressed waiters to get a hold of a famous Lipp Beer while we looked through the menu, which proved impossible. Again, something I usually don't like.

Recurring theme here? Yes. 

But after some reflection I realised. This place doesn't cater to its customers. It tells customers how things are done and how it has been for the past 120+ years. 

The waiter arrived when he deemed it was time, taking our order from drinks to food all in one go. 

I ordered a "frisée aux lardons" followed by "pieds de porc farcis". The menu is however packed with delicious options, from choucroute to leg of lamb, everything is served as it had always been. I can already say I'll be back soon to try more. 

The food was exactly what it had to be.

Classic French food at its very, very best. The manner in which it was served is just as fun. Always bringing a dish from which the client serves himself onto his actual plate, even though it makes absolutely no sense considering how crammed one already is in this mosaic like arrangement of cloth topped tables. 

After a while of enduring a bit of roughness from the waiters, I did what I usually do in Paris: act like you need them and love them. You'll realise that after a while they'll break and be quite nice and act like you're also in-the-know. The worst thing to do here is act like you're feeling uncomfortable...

We ordered a bottle of Saint-Joseph, which I have to say was slightly disappointing. It was the second cheapest bottle on the menu at 50 euros. I'm sure the 100+ euro bottles are to die for, but I simply couldn't convince  myself that brasserie dining was worth such indulgence. I was probably wrong. 

This article is a short one, but I just wanted to explain the sense of being taught that I felt whilst dining at this Paris establishment at which I had a truly surprisingly good time. 

Here, you are a guest in for a ride. The only thing you get to have an opinion on is what you want to eat, and if you're into a green salad and carrot juice, you're in the wrong place. 

So I will conclude this short article that anyone who wants to try French food in the manner in which it was made to be enjoyed should take a trip to Brasserie Lipp in Paris' Saint Germain. 

Enjoy...

[ducksandwich]

The Flying Elk: sunday burger, more to come...

I was lucky enough to be in Stockholm for my other half's birthday last weekend, which obviously gave me the opportunity to check out a few of the local eateries.

In this case, The Flying Elk came recommended by my aforementioned other half, who decided to organise family brunch there on sunday. I think the prospect of a couple bloody maries and a pint of local brew seriously softened my nerves.

However, this  meant that this experience of The Flying Elk was slightly different to that of the articles you may be used to. Here, I was out-numbered by a family of Scandinavians, and I wasn't in control, meaning I wasn't allowed to tell people what they had to order and then taste each dish without getting the hammer of Thor upon my head. 

Anyhow, I should probably get down to my explanation. 

You may know that The Flying Elk is the little sister to Restaurant Frantzén, which is known as one of Sweden's best restaurants, and perhaps one of the world's. Is clear, therefore, that two-starred chef Björn Frantzén will likely have a pretty darn good pub too... 

The menu is quite short and simple, all of the dishes have an air of pub food to them, with the addition of a truffle mayo here or there as well as other uplifting ingredients. 

On sundays, however, The Flying Elk has a special dish on the menu: a burger. It was quite fitting that I was dying for something slightly greasy and heavy to mop up the night before's schnapps and other things Swedish. 

The burger contained a massive list of ingredients none of which I could pronounce (in my eternal fight for local language menus I went for the Swedish and was ordering blind). There was cheese, meat, truffle mayo, caramelised onions, confit tomato, and more.... I gotta say it was one hell of a burger. The one thing I could have done without was the tomato that, in my opinion, stole the flavour from some of the over components. 

Mr. Frantzén served us chips that, funnily enough, were triple cooked. Hmmm. The questions must be asked, is this thievery? We've all heard of Heston's... I must however say that they were very different to Mr. Blumenthal's, and perhaps more Belgian in a way, which is a good thing for a chip. 

Continuing in the local-is-best optic, I asked my host -who incidentally bore similar proportions to that of a viking, which didn't make meeting the other half's family any easier- to suggest a beer.  I ended up having a Danish IPA that was extremely tasty. I was more impressed however with the beer menu which even in the aforementioned viking proportioned hands looked gigantic. If I ever return in the evening, I shall have to try more of them.

I'm afraid I can't tell you much more about the food as the ambiance at our table was more that of catching up than being self-procclaimed food critics.

I have to point out that finishing an IPA after having destroyed a burger with a bunch of happy Swedes and the sun setting into the water just outside the pub (at 3pm...) was a lovely heart warming feeling. Therefore, the Flying Elk did to me exactly what a nice sunday lunch at a pub in winter should do. 

I will return to this place, and I will tell you more about it when I do. 

Take care. 

[ducksandwich]

L'atelier St. Germain De Joël Robuchon: disappointment.

I had visited Mr. Robuchon's London and New York ateliers on several occasions in the past. In fact I had enjoyed both enough to make an effort to come to the Paris location which, it should be noted, is recognised with 2 Michelin stars and as the 24th best restaurant in the world.

Before going, I had thought the first come first serve element was quite intelligent, but that's not at all what goes on... 

We arrived between 6:45 and 7:15 as recommended by the person I had had on the phone that morning. only to be told that all the tables were taken until 9:30. "I thought, ho-hum", and couldn't really blame a place for its endless success. When, however, we said we were interested in the 9:30 table, he said we should come at 8:00 to be sat at 8:15 but couldn't put our names down. I know this is making absolutely no sense, but nor did their system. One bad check for the place already. 

Regardless, we ended up sitting down at 8:45 with our stomachs excited at what I thought would be one of the greatest meals of my life, especially considering my memories of previous Robuchesque experiences. 

Evidently, we went for the tasting menu... And it was simply not what I had in mind. 

Amuse bouche: Crabe Royal was very good. Refreshing, simple, although a tad dry, a nice little appetiser for what was ahead. 

Le Caviar: was, well, caviar and sour cream above a tad of potato soup. A nice dish but nothing worth special mention, in my book. 

La Saint-Jacques; contained an interesting combination of jerusalem artichoke and scallop, but was seriously lacking in salt, at least in most of the dish, I found a bit here and there. 

Le Gyoza: was a good gyoza, bathing in an interesting broth with hibiscus and mint. But I don't go to "one of the world's best restaurants" to eat a gyoza. Not if it doesn't talk. Or dance. Especially at these prices...

Le Foie Gras: I admit the pan frying execution here was flawless. The wonderful combination of crusty caramel like outside with smooth inside was shining through the room and beyond. Good job there boys. 

L'Oeuf: was very strange. I've had this signature dish of Mr. Robuchon's several times at his other venues. I remember being in awe of it. This time, the layered trifle-like parsley, mushroom and egg "cocotte" was a disaster. The egg was undercooked, which for me essentially means raw as I love myself runny eggs. The layers were completely confused as if they each individually had identity crises. Most of all, however, it was served in a martini glass which made it impossible to get all of the flavours in one go. So what oh what went wrong across the atlantic and then the channel to make this beautiful mushroomy country-side breakfast on steroids so terrible? Don't ask me...

Le Saint-Pierre: the second in list of failures. I'm sure the simple tomato dressing would have been lovely if it weren't paired with fish that was cooked for anywhere between one and two centuries. Seriously it was overcooked; I reckon that's a big no-no at a michelin starred establishment, especially one with this name. 

L'agneau de lait: wonderful. Superbly cooked tiny lamb lollipops with their jus and some thyme, all of that paired with Joël's insanely brilliant mash. All of a sudden my mood improved. 

Parfum des iles: was essentially an espresso mug filled with a banana and passion fruit cream on the bottom, rhum granité to the top, then a gallon or two of coconut cream. Again, I'm not super impressed by the execution here. It got messy to say the least. 

Le Chocolat Tendance: a combination of lots of different textures of chocolate, really. I mean it was delicious, but my dining friend couldn't finish it, I think it really lacked in finesse. Honestly by the time I had mixed it all up it was just a very good chocolate mousse. So not brilliant. 

Right. So you see I'm not totally pleased with my evening here? 

What was the issue? The fact that the head-chef (who incidentally is Belgian) wasn't there? The fact that the entire restaurant is living on its past success? I couldn't tell you.

But quite frankly, the disappointment in food followed by the service completely ignoring us once someone they knew better had walked in, topped with the air of a glass house morgue without air conditioning in our hotel room the next day, really doesn't encourage me to suggest you pay it a visit...

[ducksandwich]

Le Comme Chez Soi: if only it were chez moi

Don't be fooled by the slightly old-fashioned decor or the names of famous guests that only your grand-parents react to. This is a modern restaurant that is worth a visit, if not several, by everyone, young and old. 

The story itself is quite sweet really. In 1926 George Cuvelier started a restaurant in Brussels called "Chez Georges", which was  frequented by business men of the time. The menu was simple, filled with Belgian classics: tomates au crevettes, mussles in white wine...

It became known as the "Comme Chez Soi" (meaning like at home) because people used to say that eating at George's is as good as being at home. 

Now, three generations later, it is owned by the son in law of the son of George's son in law. Get it? It amuses me. 

The restaurant was brought to world-wide fame by Louis and Pierre Wynants, father and son, whom worked together hard enough to get their first, second michelin stars in 1953, 1966.

The third Michelin star came in 1979 when Louis Wynants had passed away, the kitchen then being run by Pierre who was also rewarded with 19.5/20 by Gault Millau. You must remember that back then, stars weren't being thrown around like ninja stars, especially outside of France. 

The man now behind the stove now is Pierre Wynants' son in law, Lionel Rigolet who runs the establishment along with his wife Laurence. From what I understand after some chatting, Pierre Wynants is still very much involved. 

I believe Chef Rigolet has brought Le Comme Chez Soi back into the spotlight in a world where menus look nothing like they used to and youngsters expect their meal to jump right out at their faces.

Now to our meal last night.

It took place in the kitchen, where there are a few tables that aren't always easy to get a hold of. These aren't set up so as to have a direct view of the kitchen while eating, but it does make the trip to your seats slightly more interesting and turning your head 90 degrees every now and then will certainly fill any gaps in the conversation. In my case, it gave me a beck ache and the strange fact of knowing that the person sitting across from me is now extremely familiar with my right ear. 

The place isn't a text-book tasting menu restaurant, as it has been around far too long to throw an "à la carte" option out of the window. There are however menu options: 5 or 6 dishes.

Some of my dining partners were weak in the face of danger, I therefore had to wave my white napkin and declare forfeit to the 6th dish. 

And so, after a bottle of champers and some excitement, the meal started.

I should mention I had been here a few times before, and always found that although the meal was both flavoursome and technically wonderful, it lacked a little umph that the aforementioned youngsters require. You will understand then that I was surprised to see that our first dish was oysters with vodka espuma suspended in a glass cloche over a sort of deconstructed "anguille au vert" (look it up if you don't know...).

It was delicious. I loved the vodka thing, the oysters were just right, I was down right surprised at what had just happened. 

The second course brought me back to earth, in a very good sense. Pan fried scallops along with local snails (as in, Belgian, not from the street...) and a cabbage salad topped with a velvety buttery shell-fish curry sauce. 

I was a snail's shell width away from leaping out of my seat and taking Chef Rigolet into my arms in tears. Seriously it was great stuff. Imagine the look on my face when one of the waiters came round asking me if I wanted "more sauce".

They say you only need so much of a good thing, but they never mentioned how much of a perfect thing is allowed; so my scallops were allowed one last swim...

Our main course was to follow. 

In my mind this was the star of the show. In fact, you could say it stole the show from under the non existent feet of our old friends snail and scallop.

Out of a choice of venison or fish, I went for the latter. Roast pike-perch with beef and leffe sauce, potato and jabugo (spanish ham) purée. The fish was very well cooked, the sauce was beautifully flavoursome and the purée was velvety and packed with that jabugo taste. Yet another dish I don't want to describe, mostly because it would be too complicated. You'll just have to try it. 

The two desserts that followed -poached pear with Sichuan pepper and chocolate velours cake with citrus marmalade- were not only as impressive to look at as they were to taste, they also fit perfectly into my final argument. 

The point I want to make is the following. We've all heard of how hard it is to follow in one's footsteps. It's even harder to want to modernise said footsteps without ruining any heritage. If that is so, what must it be like to be the fourth in a line of chefs that have kept an establishment going and brought it to world-wide fame?

Well, ask Lionel Rigolet what it's like, 'cus he did it just right. 

Chef Rigolet managed to keep the air of established traditional cuisine (i.e. poached pears, grilled scallops...) whilst making a menu that even the hippest of diners would find innovative (sichuan pepper, beer and fish...). I couldn't tell you exactly what he does to make it so, and I don't know if he could either. I do know that I am in awe in front of this establishment and am already gagging for a trip back. 

Le Comme Chez Soi is the incredibly story of four generation each infusing their je ne sais quoi into what I think is easily the best gastro-restaruant in Brussels. 

So, I say, bravo Mr. and Mrs. Rigolet for making me a happy, happy man!

Last note: there are certainly many classic dishes that I haven't mentioned, but I shall do so on my next visit where I will opt for the à la carte option. I'll just need to raise the necessary funds, which I should mention, aren't unimportant...

[ducksandwich]

Marcus Wareing: Refreshingly normal

I was slightly apprehensive before going to Mr. Wareing's restaurant in London's posh Berkeley hotel. I felt this way because I was scared that I wouldn't be impressed due to a lack of smoke and mirrors. I was however completely wrong. 

Chef Wareing is impressive because of his ability to impress without having machines one would usually see in a chemist's. His skill, technique and attention to detail are simply mind blowing as is spending an evening at his flagship restaurant. 

We had walked in after having a drink in the hotel's Blue Bar which is quite nice, as are most of London's posh hotel bars. This one however is a bit younger and less uptight. I  recommend it. Drinks are nice too! 

I have to say, the interior of the restaurant isn't really to my taste. But that's not too important. It's a bit too nouveau with shades of, well, black, being the predominant theme...

The ambiance isn't exactly rock 'n' roll either. However, this, in a sense, prepares the diners for the extremely sensible and strangely down to earth meal ahead. 

My dining partners and I obviously went for the tasting menu with matching wines, although in this case it is a sample of small versions of the à la carte menu as opposed to a collection of different dishes. I think that in itself reflects Chef Wareing's belief in his work. He's right. So right. 

It's hard to describe exactly what he does. In a sense, he ingeniously refreshes classic food without breaking any barriers, all while introducing his guests to unknown experiences. I know that's  contradictory. If I had to give it a name: nouvelle classic cuisine...

I'll describe a couple of the dishes...

The first course was a slap in the face and a great introduction to the refined meal. Mackerel, cockles, artichoke, fennel. The extremely gentle flavours paired beautifully well into a refreshing pallet cleansing first appetiser.

Chef Wareing's talent was obvious from the get go: we knew this would be a serious meal that didn't need showing off to prove itself. 

The second course then came, perhaps a bit too much time had passed, which was a tiny recurring issue during the meal. But it was always worth the wait. 

Foie gras, venison, date. The dish itself was wonderful. The date acted as the sweet agent that is usually seen in the form of a jam.

However, the sommelier's work came into play in a big way here, another recurring theme of the evening. 

We were served a rosé sparkling wine: Innocent Bystander's Moscato. It was sweet, light, and ruddy delicious. On top of that, it made for a seriously good partner for our friend on the plate. 

As I said, the sommelier was one of the stars of the show. Not only were the pairings interesting, he also described all the wines in amusing ways: comparing them to girlfriends and things of the like.

It's often a bit daunting to be faced with some of the world's greatest pallets; it makes it all the more agreeable when they're approachable and understand that your a foodie before a wine-o. So that was a serious plus...

The hen's egg with potato and truffle was another star dish in terms of taste. However, I found that there was a little lack of complexity in the texture of this dish, my friends agreed. To be honest I would still do a lot for another spoon full of that airy, foamy deliciousness. 

Yet another proof of Chef Wareing and his team's talent came, very simply, in the preparation of his fish dish. The halibut was cooked quite literally perfectly. Not a second less or more of heat was needed. I think I'd only seen something so beautiful and simple and Hedone out west of London. 

The last dish I'll explain was certainly the super star. Not only did it prove that Chef Wareing is a master of balancing flavours, it also brought simple ingredients into a new world, which is exactly what I loved about the entire dinner. Stilton with figs and rye. The scary amount of stilton was perfectly compensated by the deliciously sweet figy jamy preparation and crunchy rye which I believe was fried in butter. I can assure you I'd never ate so much blue cheese in one sitting, or day, week, month for that matter. But I could have had more. 

There you have it! I don't want to go into too much detail. That's a lie. I do, but I simply don't have the mental capacity to explain how Marcus Wareing makes such beautiful tasting wonderful looking dishes out of ingredients all of us can pick up at our local (albeit slightly posh) food store. 

Again, I can only recommend that you go ahead, save up for a dozen years and try it out. 

Check it out!

http://www.marcus-wareing.com

[ducksandwich]

The Hind’s Head: Heston’s treat to mankind.

You will certainly have heard of Heston’s Fat Duck and his hotel restaurant Dinner By Heston in London’s Mandarin Oriental. It seems however that his pub ventures: The Hind’s Head and The Crown, both in Bray, are less famous. 

In my view, the Hind’s Head in Bray deserves as much attention as Dinner By Heston, and perhaps even as the Fat Duck. 

What is The Hind’s Head? It is actually a very simple pub with excellent food all designed by our old friend Heston and prepared by his head chef Kevin Love.

As you walk in it is clear that the Hind’s Head is really nothing more than a pub. There are tables with people eating to the left, and locals drinking to the right. Certainly, the choice of drinks is slightly more interesting than your bog standard London pub. Some drinks are in fact the work of Heston himself, with cocktails involving tea, gin, grapefruit, and very cool purposefully designed glasses. But is this the Hind’s Head being an exceptional pub, or the rest of the world’s pubs being lazy and uninteresting (ie. Amstel, Bombay Sapphire, Guinness, etc.). Granted the glasses are a bit much for a normal pub… But you see what I mean.

Before we had even thought of what we were going to eat (that’s not true, I had…) we were already in a different world and having a great time. There’s something special in the air on several levels. First of all, this is a real country pub, with beamed low ceilings, locals that are dressed up for their weekly (hourly) pint with mates others wearing the best track suits and barely standing by themselves. I think, however, some of this is due to the fact that a lot of the people there are preparing themselves for a trip to the Fat Duck, which is literally across the street. A sense of preparation like before a show or a battle eerily floats around the room. There are also those that have already enjoyed their trip through Heston’s crazy mind and are now relaxing after the aforementioned enjoyable battle, rewarding themselves with a Monkey 47 & Tonic, already thinking back to an experience they will never forget.

But, this isn’t about the Fat Duck. You’re here to read about the Hind’s Head. Well, you can now picture the ambiance around the bar. Where we all enjoyed drinks I mentioned before, and of course, we each had Heston’s world famous Quail Scotch Egg. A simple dish to most of you, but again, Heston has taken it to a new level and made it the world’s best: perfectly moist sausage meat with lovely herby flavours rapped around a still runny inside quail egg. Unbeatable and certainly unforgettable.

Essentially, that’s what this place is all about. Taking simple dishes and either bringing them back to life or giving them a luxury life they’ve never enjoyed or worse, one that was enjoyed but was stolen by chain pubs that by definition destroy beautiful dishes such as: fish & chips, scotch eggs, pea & mint soup, the list goes on.

So, after a couple drinks each and with the air of anticipation exhibited by future Fat Duckers now rubbing off onto us, we were guided up a few steps to the second level of dining tables. Honestly, if you can, I suggest you ask for a table downstairs: the ambiance is nicer. 

After ordering a bottle of South African Merlot and enjoying a couple sips whilst contemplating the menu, I managed to get all three of my guests (two of which were celebrating their Bday!) to order different things meaning we had four different starters and four different mains, my idea of heaven!

Starters: snail hash, pea and mint soup, venison carpaccio, scallops with white chocolate.

Mains: Stonebass fillet with red wine sauce, oxtail & kidney pie, pork belly, veal fillet.

The snail hash, the pea soup, the Stonebass and the kidney pie were the stars of the show for me. 

Snail hash is a dish from centuries ago that Heston, in his typical style, brought back to life. It’s essentially a delicious country toast covered in mushroom ketchup, snails and fennel salad. It’s really a superb starter that oozes flavour and in today’s world is very, very original. Like a breath of fresh air to boring menus we’ve seen so many of.

Pea soup is not a difficult dish as such, but making it like they do at the Hind’s Head cannot be easy. It’s absolutely ram packed with smoky savoury flavours from the ham and sweet smooth flavours of peas along with zingy minty freshness. It really is an exceptional dish that gives a new name to soups, which I generally avoid in restaurants.

I enjoyed the idea of raw venison, and the sauces that accompanied it were good, I just felt that there wasn’t enough vinaigrette on the plate (incidentally a board) and it may have lacked a bit of punch because of that, this may be a poor observation, I’m not sure and will need a second try before I can confirm any wrong doings.

I thoroughly enjoyed the white chocolate scallops, and although it is an extremely subtle match, it really does work. My issue here is more with the setting not matching a dish of such obvious complexity as opposed to a simple soup that is made complex only in its preparation.

Now for the mains:

The stonebass fillet was delicious. I’ve mentioned this before I’m sure, but I really love the combination of red wine sauces and white fish, especially when the execution is so good. The skin of the fish was perfectly crispy and contained just enough flavour. While the sauce itself stained the white fish beautifully. Good job Misters Love & Blumenthal, you’ve hit a nerve here.

I should mention the Oxtail and Kidney Pie because it is a classic of the Hind’s Head and, well, it is quite simply a pleasure to eat. The oxtail itself is cooked sous-vide for a few hours. 64 I believe. The kidney are then added towards the end of the process and only lightly cooked until pink inside. The pie is then assembled in an insanely rich sauce and packed into a pastry made of suet, which itself is fat from around the loins and kidney: perfect! I usually dislike the strong taste of kidneys, but I really enjoyed my one lonely bite of this pie.

My friend’s pork belly was very nice, as was my others guest’s veal, but I don’t think they came close to the other two dishes. Certainly order as we did if you can, tasting them all was great! Just try to be the one in control of either the pie or the fish. 

I should explain that we enjoyed a couple servings of Heston’s triple cooked chips along with all this, and loved them. They are so perfectly crunchy (almost crystal like) on the outside, whilst the inside remains soft and fluffy. It really is a stereotypical description of the chip, but there’s no other way of describing them.

By now, we were so very full that the idea of dessert was discouraging, but I suggested we share one for four along with a half bottle of ice-cider, which we did. I was going to order the chocolate wine slush, a signature dish of fame in the Hind’s Head, but the machine being broken destroyed all hope. We therefore went for what the kind waitress described as their other signature dessert: Quaking Pudding. This dish that was apparently famous in the 17th and 18th centuries, is close to a pana cotta in texture with flavours of vanilla, cardamom and importantly cinnamon. It came wobbling to the table along with a salad of acid apple slices that really complemented the desert. The ice-cider was darn good too!

I’m going to wrap it up now. But I strongly suggest you guys take a visit to this one, it’s a great excuse to get out of London, and there are hotels all over for you to stumble back to after your 12th drink. Try to mix it with a trip to the Fat Duck or the Crown… You could also stay  at the Waterside Inn, another hotel with a 3-star restaurant in the same town…

What’s exciting, is that a lot of these dishes came to fame via Heston’s different TV programs and books. You can therefore learn a lot about their history or the techniques behind them before going. I suggest his book “Heston at Home” and shows: How to cook like Heston or in the search of Perfection

So, again, you’ll have to trust me… Go!

[ducksandwich]

Union Street Café: fine for what it is.

Our good friend Gordon has opened a new place in Southwark! And, well, it's not too bad!

Incidentally he's my current favourite chef: much more than the yelling TV personality he's become known as. 

I heard about this opening through a friend who managed to get me a table on the same day, which is quite a feat considering people are already waiting several months to see Mr. Ramsay's new kitchen work. I say Mr. Ramsay, it's actually a young man called  Davide Degiovanni who's in charge of the kitchen.

And that might be why this place is good, but not great. 

There's been a lot of noise around this place as famous intellectual and philosopher David Beckham was said to be investing in it. That didn't happen in the end, which honestly can only be for the best. 

Now upon entering this uber-hip concrete walled Brooklyn basement kind of establishment, you can already see that it ain't the usual gastro-Ramsay establishment.

And I think that be why this place is good.

There obviously a lot of London's rich and famous surrounding the nice wood tables. The women to see and be seen as their stature suggest they haven't eaten in twenty years. The men obviously there for the food, their stature suggesting they haven't stopped eating the same amount of time. 

You know the scene I mean. 

The mostly Italian staff kindly bring you to your table, no pretension, just the right amount of politeness. They then hand you a small menu. 

This menu is said to be Mediterranean, it's not. It's Italian. We shared four antipasti: beef carpaccio, calamari fritti, burrata, sardinian artichoke salad.

For mains, the three of us ordered the most interesting things we saw and wanted: a mushroom risotto, venison ragu rigattoni, veal saltimbocca. 

The food was good, nicely prepared and very honest. The pasta was perfectly cooked. The saltimbocca came with a mound of zucchinni fries that even a hobbit would have a hard time climbing. 

Neither of the dishes jumped out of the plate in an extraordinary manner, in fact some of them had minor issues that only some would care about. Too much cheese in the saltimbocca, ragu was a bit dry...

However, it is extremely important to note than none of these main courses exceed 20 pounds. Which, for London's hottest hippest new venue, is quite extraordinary. And as I said, they were perfectly respectable.

The wine list is worth a quick mention: it contains wines from all over the world with a concentration on Italian varietals. It also contains prices that satisfy people from all over the world, which is yet another rarity in today's London.

So my conclusion to this short article is the following. 

Chef Ramsay has managed to create (hold your breath): a very good version of Jamie's Italian. Yes, it's pricier, mostly because of the posh wine you'll likely indulge in or the colourful drinks you'll have before.

The food, obviously, is much, much better than than at Jamie's, as is the professional service. 

That's my point. Ramsay's new venture is a professional and meticulous version of what, honestly, is just a restaurant the kids enjoy: Jamie's Italian. He's ironed out all the kinks and made it a place people will want to go to for other reasons than the sharing platter. 

It's a bold statement, I know, but it's still true in my mind. 

http://www.gordonramsay.com/union-street-cafe/menu/

[ducksandwich]

Le Pied de Fouet: Stripped down.

We all love the posh grub I keep raving about with emulsified this and deconstructed that.

Every now and then, however, one needs to get rid of all that and go to a simple, easy, honest brasserie, bar or café.

 That is exactly what this place is.

There are three in Paris: 7th, 6th and 11th arrondissement.

I usually go to the one in Saint-Germain: Paris’ hip and posh area in the 6th which has been like that for ages and will likely remain it.

In fact, on a side note, if you feel like splurging on outrageously expensive beer in compensation for the extremely cheap meal you can enjoy at this establishment, go to “Les Deux Magots” round the corner on Boulevard Saint Germain and treat yourself to the opposite of honest food: an 11€ pint that has absolutely nothing special about it.

 Anyhow, back to the point here: Au Pied de Fouet. 

Head there early or late, not at peak dinner time, as there’s almost always a wait. You’re not the only person in town that wants a 20€ quality meal.

As you wait, however, the owner will likely treat you to a glass of Kir to enjoy with an oh-so-Parisian cigarette outside.

 Once you are given a spot, if you manage to slip into the two inch gaps between yours and your neighbour’s table, I suggest you automatically order a bottle of the monthly wine, which won’t be something out of this world, but it’ll be perfectly fine and will drain down the outrageous amount of food you’re about to take in. Go for a red: you’re in Paris, not Nice, fish don’t live in the Seine.

Right, so, the starters are all simple, but great stuff. Eggs Mayonnaise, Salade de lentilles, pathé maison… The list goes on.

 I would go for what ever you feel like, it’s all good and honest and about 5€, which is nothing for Paris. Trust me. It’s essentially as close as you can get to a free meal.

Main courses are in the same vein. Delicious French classics prepared in a kitchen the size of a napkin. The confit de canard is great: nice and crispy with a tough but juicy edge to the flesh. Yum.

Personally, I tend to go for the  ever alternating specials, which there are a lot of and have a seasonal touch that always tickle my fancy. 

 Last night, there was a button mushroom gratin (gratin de champignons de Paris), amongst others, which was great! It’s not insane gastronomy, but the chef pulled out the earthy mushroom flavour nicely and filled me with nice creamy béchamel, which isn’t something I regularly complain about.

 I then went for something I must jump on whenever I have the opportunity. Proper nice thick black pudding sliced, fried up and thrown over a slightly outrageous amount of potato mash along with the meat’s juices and a couple quarters of sweet, delicious caramelised pears.

 You can probably tell I’m still salivating over the dish. It’s one of those classic combos that may have lots its place on the top of many menus over-time, but it certainly deserves to remain there and does so in my heart. The mix of sweet and meat is something to die for regardless of the variation.

Plus, black pudding is a bit like sex: people are disgusted and scared of it as kids, but as soon as you try that great big sausage, you can’t get enough of it.

 You certainly won’t want a desert after all that, but you can be sure that if you are able to take in anything else; the classic French deserts such as crème brulée or tarte au pommes will be perfectly fine, if not wonderful!

 My point is, you will have downed a starter, a main, and the better half of a nice bottle of red. You will then ask for the bill and have to fork out no more than 30 € each.

 There can’t be more than 10 places like this in the entire of Paris, three of them float the “Peid De Fouet” flag.

 So there you have it, a short article about a simple place that is worth being recognised by the poshest authorities.

 On a side-note, just in case you miss it, there are signs all over the restaurant forbidding cigarettes in between courses. Which I think is pretty cool. Plus, the 2 minutes in between your courses won’t give you enough time.

 Take a look at their website!

 http://aupieddefouet.com

[ducksandwich]

Le Chateaubriand: tiny kitchen grand food

From the other side of the street, Le Chateaubriand looks like any of the other trillion café-brasseries around Paris where one runs in and orders a croque-monsieur from a menu with a Russian, Japanese, English and strangely, also American flags on it. 

However, this is not one of them. Not only are there no flags on the menu here, there are in fact no menus at all, really.

Inaki Aizpitarte (tuffest wird I’ve ever spelt), Chef, and from what I understand, owner of the Le Chateaubriand, Le Dauphin and Le Cave (yes, “Le”) brilliantly designs daily menus that consist of 5 dishes (outside of the 3,4,5 surprises you get here and there) for the equally brilliant price of €60.

I would have a hard time pin-pointing a style to Chef Aizpitarte’s cuisine. The “50 best” San Pellegrino list calls it “Inventive Bistronomie”. But that’s a mistake. They’ve only put it under that umbrella because they’ve soaked in the very bistro atmosphere which is a definitive feature of the place.

If I had to pick a category, I would call it Nordic gastronomy. BAM! You’re all thinking Noma aren’t you? Well let me tell you, it ain’t that far from it… 

Getting a table is still easy, and walk-ins are welcome starting at 9:30, but expect a serious wait.

Couple things you should know from the start. The staff of this place produces a great meal, but importantly, they do so for at the very least 100 people a night, in a kitchen the size of a dodgy downstairs club’s toilet. Seriously, that alone is worth all the recognition they can get.

You’ll see below that I loved the food; but to produce it in those conditions for so many people blows my mind out of space. I honestly believe it’s the only place on earth that’s capable of doing that.

So the meal.

I’ll describe the dishes below but I’d like to mention beforehand that we took the wine pairing which I would probably say was the best I’ve ever had. It’s certainly the first time I think every dish enhances and is enhanced by every wine.

Really a great pairing in every sense of the term. Also, quick and easy explanations by a young bearded hipster made it more enjoyable than boring essays by aging sommeliers.

Now I’m sorry Miss. H, but this is going to be a long article, quite simply because I can’t miss a single dish on the menu…

We started with two amuses bouches, one of which was a slightly disappointing cheese puff. The other was a very interesting slightly pink ceviche soup. Really good. What was more interesting with the amuses bouches however, was their respective paired drinks. The aforementioned disappointing cheese puff was violently transformed into a heavenly cheese puff when paired with a cider, the name of which I must admit I don’t remember.

First “surprise” then arrived in the form of crab with chives and beans (See what I mean about the Nordic minimalist thing?). This dish was fabulous. The texture of the beans somehow enhanced the flavour of butter that in and of itself goes really well with crab.

All that topped with a slap in the face chive marinade the like of which I’d never set eyes or taste buds on before. 

First real course arrives: veal, cream, pomelos, trévise. Pomelo “cells” brought a rice-like texture to the dish while adding a nice bitterness that complemented that of the trévise perfectly. All that with some cream and raw veal to sweeten the mix and let me tell you buddy, it’s bang in the middle.

Chef Aizpitarte then made us another surprising dish (of fish) that was delectable. Bass, meat jus, ceps. This dish was proof itself that those who don’t believe in a surf and turf vibe are simply stupid. The smoky earthy jus and mushroom combinations brought the fish right out of the depths and into my mouth in a superb way.

So those were the starters, the main now arrived. It was lamb, cooked in a superb manner that gave the little cubes of fat an almost cheesy flavour with a crispy skin. Amazing. This came with a pepper sauce that the table next to us described as “jalapeños”, which they certainly won’t.

Perfectly balanced with a tiny kick that tickled our fancy nicely after our wine pairing had subtly numbed our senses.

So that’s it for the savoury. Quick mention of the two little deserts that also set Chef Aizpitarte apart from the rest.

First, a wone bite wonder (ha!). A whole egg yolk caramelised by, according to our trendy tattooed waitress, marinating it; above of a pastry with some meringue-like crumbs. Although I had just taken in 6 other dishes, this was so intense in flavour that I went from slightly full to obese. But it was worth the next 6 months of running. Seriously good. Almost too intense but hey, one’s gotta be brave.

Last on the list, delicious, refreshing coco sorbet with mint granité, classic but nicely executed and a good idea after what was a rich meal.

There it is: my run down of the menu. It really was exceptional, and according to the aforementioned list, the 18th best meal in the world, which I’ll happily accept.

The boil down:

 Mr. Aizpitarte is a very, very talented man working in a very cool establishment in a city in which it seems to fit perfectly. The place is trendy and gets packed by 9:30 with people hoping to try his food and sit in the uber minimal brasserie ambiance for the 2-hour meal. The service is hip, they don’t mind getting familiar with us youngsters, which I think is quite cool. They do however, seriously, know their stuff. The food is brilliant, and sometimes impressively original which is something one doesn’t see often these days. 

Go for it. 

[ducksandwich]

NOTOS: Gorgeous Greek Gem

I can't say I've always been a fan of Greek food. In fact I would go as far as saying that I usually avoid it. 

Well, I regret that point of view and have flipped it over thanks to this great restaurant in Brussels: NOTOS. 

RestoDays is a concept in Brussels which a friend of mine introduced me to. Quite simple, and already present in other cities in the world under different names, this concept basically introduces users of this website to participating restaurants around the city (and country). The fix (or limited choice) lunch and dinner menus are only 21€ or 28€ respectively. Often a great deal considering the regular prices of the venues on the list. (Not always...)

I visited NOTOS using this system last night. I was extremely happy to have done so! This place in Ixelles, initially opened in another location in '95, is ran by Constantin Erinkoglou whom started as the chef but is apparently more concerned with running the front of house now. HIs influence on the kitchen, however, is still very much there. 

As you walk into to this old building with modern décor, a sense of trendiness that I rarely feel in Brussels hit me right in the face. Rustic tables, white table cloths, open spaces: super cool blend of old and new, that I soon realised was also in the place's food.  

The 4 course menu changed my opinion on Greek food. 

We were introduced to Mr. Erinkoglou's cooking with a Greek Tarama, the classic fish egg purée. Let me tell you it was sensational, nothing to do with what one usually buys in super markets or even upscale markets. First of all it wasn't the regular bright pink that burns one's eyes. The fishiness was subtle and the texture was spectacular. 

Then the show started, four courses of very honest original flavours in classic dishes that made me happier than I've ever been in a Greek man's house. 

We started with a home-smoked salmon along with a bean, artichoke heart and pepper bulgur in a light white saucy vinaigrette. The dish was light and refreshing; very well executed and frankly a pleasant first surprise. I literally felt like it was a nice summer day. 

The second course was a puff pastry quiche sort of thing that really tickled my fancy. Super dense and flat stuffed with intense dark cured meat and beautiful subtle gruyère-y cheese. Loved it. 

So far, I was half way through a bottle of Greek wine the name of which I couldn't pronounce before I had taken it in and could certainly not attempt after. I was with a good friend, enjoying good food and was slowly falling in love with Mr. Erinkoglou's venture. 

After what was a bit of a long wait, the last savoury course was running from one side of the large open space to the other. Chicken stuffed with raisins and foie gras. Rich dense flavours with a deep sauce to top it off and a purée of autumn veg. I'm not a Greek-food pro, but I reckon this would be more of a winter dish down there. It was impressive and eye-opening, completely shifting my image of Greek food. 

Lastly, two pastries: an orange flower pastry and an almond cream cheese cake. Lovely. I go crazy for orange flower. 

So there you have a run down of what I enjoyed during my hour and a half  at NOTOS in Ixelles, which keep in mind was in the frame of a 38€ promotion dinner (10€ extra owing to its above 15/20 grade of Gault Millau), therefore giving the chef relative limits. I am dying to go back and try other dishes on the menu. 

Greek food is often set into stereo-types that ruin its reputation. From kebab shops in downtown Brussels to my dining partner's constant will to break plates, the images don't exactly make this cuisine shine. 

This place, however, is a superb representation of a food that is broader than people think and can offer fine dining experiences to die for without a feta, cucumber or olive in sight.

Take a leap of faith, skip your regular Italian restaurant and visit NOTOS, you'll run back. 

[ducksandwich]

Belgium Taste: not bad at all!

It's the first time in a while I try a new place in Brussels and am pleasantly surprised. 

Since the birth of Duck Sandwich, I have been sent here and there by friends, to places that are meant to be the best at what they do. 

Most of the time, especially in Belgium, I end up in a really quiet room with a short sleeved waiter serving me packaged butter and describing, in lengthy sentences, dishes that are either as interesting as the pastel yellow of his aforementioned shirt or as poorly put together as the decor behind him. (See La Tortue du Sablon for details).

This place, however, is as honest and fair play as its name is terrible. 

At this point I should probably point out that the only reason this place has any recognition at all is because of its location. That is, on top of the Atomium, a structure initially presented to the awed public for the 1958 world fair. Or something in that genre. 

Anyhow, I'd been hearing this and that, so I decided to seize the opportunity of having to see Puggy play round the corner to grab a bite. And I was happily surprised!

This rather uninteresting menu contained unexpected twists that turned classic dishes that one doesn't need to run up a tower to enjoy, into fun and interesting modern plates!

I started with a Scallop carpaccio which was lacking a bit in lemon but nicely presented and topped with a great cole slaw sort of salad. Good. honest. 

I followed with a very nicely dished slice of oven cooked cod which was happily leaning on top of a "au vert"risotto and jus (au vert being a typical belgian mix of 11 herbs traditionally served along with eel) and some mussels. In this case the dish was slightly under seasoned but again, I think the Chef had some good ideas and executed them honestly without all the unnecessary fussiness nowadays so often confused with quality.

The view helped, as did the kind young service, although a uniform wouldn't go unnoticed.

I also enjoyed a bottle of Belgian white wine, honestly, it wasn't bad at all. I'm trying to find the vineyard online, keep you posted on that one.

The meal for two cost a little over 150 yoyos, which I don't think is bad at all for two courses a beer and a bottle o' wine, especially considering the prices these high up restaurants usually dare charge. 

So there you have it, a very short introduction to a place that is really worth stopping at if your visiting the country and it will give you a little idea of what us Belgians stuff our faces with, without boring you to death in classicism. 

I get criticised for repeating myself. But I can't help but emphasise that this place was refreshing in its honesty in comparison to most new hip places around town. Or at least this one... 

Let's just say the chef is better at his job than he is at grammar. 

I'm taking my girlfriend there soon.

http://www.belgiumtaste.be

[ducksandwich]

Locanda Locatelli: Luscious & Luxurious

If you’re slightly good-looking or slightly famous or insanely wealthy, you’ve either been here or are planning to do so. There are few places on earth that bring together so many of these people in so little space. Is any of this usually a good thing? Probably not.

However, the glitterati of Mayfair are reuniting in this place for extremely good reasons. They come here to experience what is probably some of the world’s finest Italian cooking. 

Giorgio Locatelli has been around for a while now; people are starting to know of his existence around the world. In fact, I’m told that he’s got a joint in Dubai. There is another place in London that, although more discrete, is said to be under his control as well. Locanda Locatelli, however, is the poshest of his venues, with ambiance, décor, service and prices that go with it. 

Walk into this uber-trendy place to find uber-trendy everything. More often than not a beautiful 6-and-a-bit foot tall lady will greet you with a smile which will increase in intensity when she’s checked her backlit desk and confirmed that you are worthy of entering this mecca of Italian cooking and part of London’s créma della créma as opposed to an imposter trying to fit in.

Although there are great cocktails to be had -including the Chef’s bellini which I have come to think of as the world’s best- there isn’t much of a bar scene. Certainly, go in 15 minutes early for a drink, but don’t come in at 6 for a table at 8.

The interior is very dimly lit, although that’s all the rage these days, in this case it’s a bit of a pity, Mr. Locatelli’s food is often beautifully presented! On the other hand the effort put into décor is almost palpable. Everything is clean, all the waiters could be models, the tables are lavishly set and wonderfully imposing.

Anyhow, down to the thick of it. 

I went this past Thursday with a friend at 8:30pm and somehow we found ourselves at the biggest best and brilliantly situated round table in the middle of the restaurant sharing a massive couch for two whilst staring at the scene of waiters gliding around with dishes that teased us as they floated by.

As we sat down, I obviously ordered a bellini which I enjoyed whilst discussing our dining options with my dining partner. We decided to go for two savoury courses: an antipasti and a pasta. 

I have to insist that you follow my advice on this for the following reasons: The antipasti are fabulous and in my mind a perfect size to begin a meal. If I’m perfectly honest I think the antipasti are slightly more interesting than the main courses. This is not an insult on the main courses, merely a praise of the antipasti.

Secondly, Mr. Locatelli is quite simply a genius whet it comes to pasta. In any shape or form accompanied by anything from sauce to broth, it will smack you right in the taste buds and have you coming back for more.

Lastly, if you manage to eat anything after these two courses other than a small dessert to share, you have to go see a doctor. Perhaps that’s just me, but considering the number of chins I can count as I see my reflection in the computer screen, I don’t think that’s the issue.

What we ate?

I had: Calves’ foot salad followed by chestnut pasta with wild mushroom. 

My dining partner: Quail salad & liver toasts followed by pheasant ravioli.

Everything, I mean everything, was delicious. At least I couldn’t find a single complaint. I could go into lengthy descriptions of each course but there are a few things I’d like to point out in detail: my courses and an element of my friend’s starter.

The liver toasts in his quail salad were quite simply insane. Not too strong, not too mild. Not too wet, not too dry. It seems an easy task but it ain’t, you must trust me on this. 

The calves’ foot was cleverly breaded into little croquettes (which by the way do not look like trotters, making it easier to eat and saving my from using my fingers and soiling my shirt). The salad had a certain acidity to it that cut right through the rich almost creamy aspect of cartilage. 

My pasta was what I call brilliant. The sauce had that little punch of garlic that you want with cream and mushrooms, but it was subtle. I suspect it was blanched several times, perhaps in milk. The nutty pasta perfectly complemented the mushrooms taking the dish to levels far above that of normal mushroom pasta. The inclusion of chives as opposed to the now more commonly used parsley was also enjoyable and lively. 

We then shared Mr. Locatelli’s signature dish of chocolate tasting. At this point it was pure gluttony. But it was delicious, as delicious as the rest of the meal. 

So there you have it. That is my complete run down of an evening at Locanda Locatelli in London’s beautiful Mayfair. I think this is one of London’s great establishments. The proof is in the pudding: it’s been around for ages.

Mr. Locatelli has been awarded with a star, which is well deserved. In fact I think he is deserving of more.  But, does one want classic and beautifully executed Italian food to be over done in the goal of satisfying grumpy French reviewers? Mr. Locatelli serves Italian food at its best. He isn’t taking it too far by emulsifying everything or deconstructing the rest. I do love some gastro-craziness, but I think a great Italian should remain down to earth. I know Giorgio would love a second star, but I think he’s brave and intelligent in staying where he is now.

Plus, who gives a shit about Michelin stars when you’ve got the world’s best pasta?

Does that make any sense?

Let me know, but more importantly, go!

[ducksandwich]

La Grenouillère: absolutely fantabulous

When I write these articles, I like to look for something slightly negative to say about the place. Or at least a little mistake here and there. In this case, that is going to be extremely difficult.

I had dinner at La Grenouillère in Northern France yesterday, and spent the night in one of their “huts”; in which I am writing this article so as to keep the flavours and experiences as fresh and exciting as the menu and its ingredients were.

A little note on the huts & rooms: the former are nicer and newer (2011). They’re also a bit of a novelty with lots of little hidden drawers, a bathtub with a view, and a touch of romantic and independence with only the scarcest of electrical amenities. Highly recommended! The rooms I didn’t see.

Dinner:

There are two options as you walk into this strangely lit, extraordinarily minimalistic and out of place dining room: the 9 courses or the whole 11 courses. That, already,  pleases me. The menu is the same for everyone, and you can see if from the get go; although the names of the dishes are mysterious enough to not give it all away as you sit down, which I like too. You’re essentially just deciding whether you’re silly enough to spend €115 for two extra courses instead of the original €85.

Well, I was stupid enough (sacrificing myself for my dear readers), and man was I happy to have been. 

There is also an à la carte option (starter, main, deser), which frankly had some interesting dishes, but I would rather shoot myself in the taste buds that miss the culinary adventure that was Mr. Alexandre Gauthier’s 11 course tasting menu. 

The wine pairing system is also clever, simple and down to earth. Essentially you can chose to get a bottle of wine, or, pay for 4 or 5 glasses, €45 or €60 respectively. These glasses are paired with the courses, and you fill up at your own request as opposed to paying for 11 glasses of wine and ending up sloshed and not tasting a thing.

  Now, ladies, gentlemen, let me tell you about the menu. Let me explain why it is I believe that this place will become famous for being one of the very best restaurants in the world.

The cooking is original, yet still follows the current continental European fashion of making one or two ingredients shine. There is a bit of show, but not too much. 11 courses, with a couple surprises here and there, is the perfect amount. 

Let me tell you about the food itself.

First course was a cube of “goat’s cheese tofu” with shrimp. I hate tofu. I like goat’s cheese, a bit. I love a good shrimp. I am crazy about this dish. The texture of tofu is the only good thing there is about it. The saltiness of goat cheese is what I like about that. Mr. Gauthier managed to get the best out of those two ingredients and pair it with extremely good local brown shrimp. Awesome.

Another course worth mentioning (although really, they all are) was the 3rd. Steamed Saint Pierre (a white fish, I don’t have internet right now so don’t want to look up a translation) with smoked spinach. This is the perfect example of a dish that I have a hard time explaining, probably because the magic of it is from a world where little chefs live and come up with these ideas. But let me tell you my friends it works. Very, very well. The textures were wonderful and opposing and the flavours combined magnificently. There were little wild garlic flowers too, which were a nice surprise and gave the whole thing a little kick.

Since I don’t want to write forever, for the sake of a Swedish reader of mine who’s complained about the length of my articles, I shall only mention one more course. You’ll have to try the others for yourself.

Both my dining partner and I thought the following was genius.

When I say genius, I mean the kind of dish that is remembered and mentioned along with “sound of the sea”, Eric Ripert’s sea urchin spaghetti, and others of that grandeur.

“Ravioli rouge” was the fifth line of text on our menu. I was lucky enough not to see one go by in the direction of another table; the surprise was therefore perfect.

A red parcel arrives at the table, the waiter says “ravioli rouge, haddock”. Never having had ravioli with fish, I enthusiastically glare at it for a second before plunging the side of my fork into it in a failed attempt to perfectly cut it in two and get a good view of the cross section. At this point you may wonder why my attempt was failed. Simply because there was in fact an egg yolk at the inside of this red ravioli which ran all over the deep dish in which it was served. I therefore had to scoop some of it up with my spoon, in doing so, I also picked up a bit of beetroot sauce that was hiding beneath the ravioli. That is when it happened.

The classic combination of haddock, egg yolk, butter with the addition of sweetened beetroot and a strong red wine ran to my head via my, at this point, shocked taste buds. It was heavenly. There’s little else I can say about it. 

The menu kept going in this magnificent manner.  I don’t want to ruin anything, so please go and check out the rest of the story.

Look out for this chef and his place. They’re going places.

[ducksandwich]

Recipe: crab, asparagus & scallop "tower" with artichoke heart.

This really is an easy recipe that looks fabulous and is perfect for most of the year!

I had something similar at a wedding not long ago, and decided to take inspiration from it to make it my own...

I don't recommend holding back financially, this recipe is only worth it if you go for the best quality ingredients; it's not a cheap recipe. 

You can also make it a couple hours in advance and keep it in the fridge if you have the space. 

I recommend serving this as a starter, or a light main. It's not a large dish, but artichoke and crab are two extremely filling ingredients. 

For four, you'll need:

-dijon mustard, 2 egg yolks, vegetable oil for a light mayonnaise

-best quality crab meat you can find, about 600 grams should do it, claws only if possible

-12 very thin green asparagus, which you can find during most of the year these days, chopped up into half centimetre slices,

-4 artichoke hearts (the tinned type is more than fine)

-4 scallops, sliced into carpaccio thin slices

-leek "Seeds" (see photo), salmon eggs for decoration & chives

-one of those steel circles to make things look nice. 

-posh olive oil

-"fleur de sel"

Let's get started. 

Make your mayo, ensuring it's stays quite light and liquid, you don't want too much of it. I'd say three or four good table spoons should do it. Don't forget to season!!

Get your crab meat into a bowl along with the asparagus. Mix it all up whilst adding mayo bit by bit. You don't want it to be a slushy mess so be careful. Also make sure you mix well, you actually want the crab to "disintegrate" into filaments, without making it a mush. 

If you haven't managed to get your fish guy to cut your scallops for you, do so with an egg cutter, making sure the scallop is standing on its side. It's a great trick!!

Taste your crab and asparagus mix. Make sure it's got a bit of a mustardy tang to it, I like it that way. 

Plating! Place the artichoke heart in the middle of the steel ring and surround and cover it with the crab mix. You essentially want to hide the artichoke heart within the crab tower.

Remove the steel ring, make sure the whole thing stands nicely. 

Cover it with the scallop carpaccio. If you're serving immediately or soon, you can sprinkle the top of the scallops with good quality sea salt and olive oil. 

Get your leek "seeds" into a ball and gently place it above your recently created masterpiece; lastly, spoon a few salmon eggs on the top of that. 

If you want you can sprinkle some chopped up chives on and around the tower. 

I really recommend you make this a couple hours before as it is a bit tedious to make. It will however impress your guests and is delicious. 

[ducksandwich]

Senza Nome: Sezational!

I think by now, most people will agree, that the cuisine with the most representation in the western world is Italian. From Brussels to New York, it's impossible to walk for over half an hour before running into a pizza joint, a pasta masta' or something in between. 

How much of this cuisine really is Italian, is another matter. I would say less than 50% of the world's "Italian" restaurants really are. Is this a bad thing? Not necessarily. A slice of great New York style pizza is one of the best things on earth! A great meatball sub with cheese from Boston's famous T. Anthony's? Brilliant!

It does, however, get a bit worrying when Domino's try to sell you a bread bowl full of pasta. 

My point is: most of the fake italians are fake because they are down market. I don't mean that it the negative sense. I'm just saying that a dollar slice in New York isn't exactly haute cuisine, nor should it be!

Senza Nome has done something that personally I have never seen before. Inverting the world wide trend. 

I booked a table in this joint last week to take a special young lady out for dinner. I was told by several friends that the food was exceptional. They were correct. I am extremely impressed by what Giovanni Bruno has done with classic italian food. That is, taking it slightly outside the box and changing things up a bit. 

Although I didn't try it, Chef Bruno is famous for his tomato sorbet and burrata emulsion. Get the general idea?

There is a tasting menu, which we didn't take, simply because we found that what we wanted (we had antipasti, pasta, main) was more exciting. 

And so, I shall describe our meal as I believe it is the best way for you to grasp the place.

I started with a beef carpaccio, which was excellent. The meat was literally melt in your mouth, and Chef Bruno made it a bit original by making parmesan ice-cream instead of the classic "copeaux". The texture was fabulous, removing that usually slightly disagreeable dryness of the parmesan. Not only that: adding a very cold ingredient to a carpaccio actually really works. 

My dining partner started with a slow cooked egg which came with something which I can't quite remember (parmesan foam?). It was very good. I'm a sucker for slow cooked eggs though. That texture drives me crazy. 

Next: the pasta. 

I ordered an all time classic: linguine alla bottarga. For you die hard fish amateurs out there, you'll know what this is. Literally solid gold. Although it's actually pasta with preserved smoked fish egg pouches. Here, the chef concentrated on slices of the stuff underneath the glistening oily pasta without any grated ontop, which I'm not really used to. I have to say though, it was fantabulous in every way. 

The cute blonde across the table from me ordered a shrimp risotto. Again, my new best friend Giovanni Bruno spiced this up a bit. The risotto was perfectly executed and contained a very special type of hard goat's cheese which is actually famous for being perfect with a risotto. Obviously I can't remember. The shrimp, brilliantly, came in tartar form rather than chewy warm and oily. I love the hot-cold play and think it brings a freshness to a dish that could use it!

Last but not least (we were too full for desert) the main: 

I went for a beef tagliatta which is something I have a hard time resisting. Again, Chef Bruno was really good at modernising this all time classic by making a parmesan sauce and roquette oil instead of including these in their usual form. You know that kind of thing will drive me insane. 

Mrs. S went for a veal saltimbocca. From what I can remember there wasn't much "different" about this. Still, it was very, very well executed. I mean, who can resist a saltimbocca? 

So there you have it in a deconstructed nut-shell. 

I am a huge fan and would recommend this place to anyone who likes the idea of modernising things and bringing classics back to life. 

The wine list is extremely extensive, you'll have to know a bit about your italian wines to get anything out of them. The sommelier is a tad arrogant too so don't let yourself be impressed!

If I was picky, which I am, I would have to point out that the place is in a terrible area on the outside, and pretty boring on the inside. It's one of those places in which everyone seems to feel obliged to remain extremely quiet. My companion and I had to down a couple bellinis before we dared utter a word. Bellinis which, by the way, weren't the best. 

The boil down:

Senza Nome is undoubtedly the best Italian in Brussels, granted you'll need to be open spirited. The chef brings an original twist to classic dishes without forcing anything. The place isn't exactly the most rock 'n' roll joint in town, but take a fun group and break through the silence to enjoy what was, to me, the best surprise I've had in a long time!

Enjoy.