Wahaca

Wahaca, Pork Scratchings
Originally uploaded by Suzi Edwards

Oh Thomasina Miers. You’re so clever. First you win Masterchef and then you make a book about soup. Everyone likes soup. Then you decide to start a restaurant. You begin with modern British, but come to realize that this is what every other pub is doing at the moment and the market is too tight. I can see you now, scouring the internet food forums to see what everyone thinks that London is missing.

And of course it’s authentic Mexican food.

You open in a big space in Covent Garden. You don’t take bookings, because this is casual street food. You make the portions right for sharing, because that’s what we’re all doing these days. You make sure your fish is sustainable and the pork and chicken free range, because we at the top of the food chain need to be nice to the things we eat.

And then you ruin it all by Anglicising the spelling. We’re not idiots. We can work out how to pronounce Oaxaca. You call it Wahaca. I gnash my teeth.

But it’s really not bad. The fish pastor taco is a bit too sweet and too oily but the salmon ceviche tostados are a real winner with great balance between hot chile, sweet salmon and sharp lime. The guacamole needs more salt and more spice, but the Mexican pork scratchings turn out to be one of the best things to dip into anything since food began. Crispy pork skin dipped in avocado or some refried black beans. What do you mean, you can hear my arteries hardening? Pass the salsa.

A quesadilla with broad beans, mint and feta wasn’t half as light and summery as I had hoped, but it was still a delicious cheesy treat. Another with chorizo and potato disappeared quicker than you can say mole. They make a mean margarita, but serve them in champage flutes, which means soon we all have salt rimmed noses. But it’s all fun, in a continental kind of way. World domination is next, with plans to open in a new shopping mall in Hammersmith. I hope they can keep it up, this is a worthy, if a bit posh-mex, addition to the London Mexican food scene.

Wahaca is at 6 Chandos Place, Covent Garden.

St John and the rise of the London Gastropub

Sweetbreads
Originally uploaded by Suzi Edwards

One of the things that I love has been the evolution of the gastropub in London. It has democratized dining by creating a reliable middle tier of restaurant. It wasn’t that long ago that your choices would be either high-end fine dining, or scampi in a basket from the brewery-owned pub down the road. Not that there’s anything wrong with scampi, but there was something wrong with pub kitchens making sole use of the microwave or the deep-fat fryer.

Of course it’s not all good, and for a while there wasn’t a boozer that hadn’t stripped its floors, painted the walls white and put a terrine on the menu, but generally speaking, the gastropub has raised the standard of casual dining across the country. You no longer need to go all white linen and fish forks to get a good meal.

So I make a concerted effort to get to some of the gastropubs in London when I am here. Partly because when you earn Australian dollars and the credit crunch is in full-flight, you can’t afford to eat high-end every night, but also because I like this casual dining thing.

Strangely enough, any look at gastropubs begins, not with a pub, but with a restaurant. It’s called St John and when chef Fergus Henderson opened the doors in 1994, he caused a bit of a stir. St John is now always in the world’s top 100 restaurants list, which is amazing when you consider that many people wrinkle their noses when you tell them what you ate there. I still don’t think Frog has forgiven me for eating that squirrel. What St John did was to reinvent the London restaurant. The menu reads like paired down Hemmingway, with no place for adjectival fripperies such as “pan-fried” or “on a bed of”. You get what you order, so “langoustines and mayonnaise” or “lamb’s sweetbreads”, (pictured) will be just that. Luckily this is sourcing and cooking of the highest order and the langoustines are so fresh and sweet that you don’t really need the raspy mayo, so I just smear that, quarter inch thick, on their exceptional bread. The sweetbreads are seared and served with a hint of wobble and their frying juices. “Salad” offered some contrast. It takes big balls to serve a plate of butter lettuce with spring onions, but when it’s dressed with the best salad dressing you’ll have all year, everything is elevated.

Most gastropubs follow the St John menu taxonomy, with starters blurring into main courses, some dishes meant for sharing and those sparse descriptions. The great thing about St John is that it has been around for long enough to have spawned some imitators and for its chefs to have moved on to do their own thing. The former head chef at St John Bread and Wine, Tom Pemberton, has recently opened Hereford Road and, based on my lunchtime experience there, is going to do very well. It’s St John but in a less austere room, with a wonderful skylight and burgundy walls. We shared most of the starters, including some great crab on toast that was more tasty brown meat than white (a Good Thing, in my book) and some great sand eels. The chips were superlative, all scronchy and golden and perfect to mop up the blood and juices from an onglet. This is simple, seasonal food with nowhere for mistakes to hide, although I was a little underwhelmed by the globe artichoke.

Medcalf in Exmouth Market was one of the first St John-a-likes and is always a reliable place, especially if Moro is unable to accommodate. The battered old metal tables always annoy though, especially when they flake rust onto your hands. Head Chef Mark Spence has moved on from here and opened Market in Camden, a place that has been crying out for this sort of thing for as long as I can remember. The service is charming, the chairs all old wooden school chairs and the slip soles were as good as any I have eaten. Portions are massive though, so be warned.

The Anchor and Hope, with its no bookings, wait in the packed bar like calves waiting to be crated across Europe-vibe was on the Binky boycott list for a long time, but I relented at Christmas and had a wonderful game pie. I completely understand why restaurants go down the no-bookings route, but it still irks me. Luckily the food is wonderful and the hectic atmosphere makes this a buzzy, fun place to eat. They opened Great Queen Street at the tail end of last year, and it’s basically Anchor and Hope, but with bookings. Last night’s hastily grabbed meal shows a restaurant that almost knows what it’s doing, but lets itself down with distracted service. I’m not sure you can ever serve potato soup with cockles and laver bread to a Welshman and expect him to not complain at paying more than 50p and my terrine needed more larding, but this is a reliable place in the West End. I’m not sure I’ll be rushing back but it’s a massive improvement on the Thai place that used to be there.

Hereford Road is at 3 Hereford Road, W2. 020 7727 1144. http://www.herefordroad.org

Great Queen Street is at 32 Great Queen Street, WC2B 5AA. 020 7242 0622.

Medcalf is at 40 Exmouth Market. 020 7833 3533. http://www.medcalfbar.co.uk

The Anchor and Hope is at 36 The Cut. They don’t take bookings, so there’s no point calling. Get there at about 5.30pm for the 6.00pm tables.

Market is at 43 Parkway, Camden. 020 7267 9700

St John has two branches and a very helpful website http://www.stjohnrestaurant.co.uk/

Introducing the NomNomNoms

NomNomNomsGroup Pic
Originally uploaded by Suzi Edwards

So it all really started when we discovered that I know two people called Giles. Actually, I know five people called Giles, but it turns out that the bloke from Buffy the Vampire Slayer doesn't count.

It was clear that we needed to get these Giles' (or should it be Giles's?) together, to see if the world would implode and what are the correct rules for possession and pluralisation of names ending with an 's'. Oh yes, and to eat some good food. People called Giles like to eat.

So Damana came up with the name, because we're all greedy weasels and are likely to make ravenous noises when eating. There was *a lot* of discussion about where we would eat first. Emails like this flew about:

"Right, I love the B theme too. So the nominees for the first dinner are:


Bilsons
Billy Kwong
Bistrode
Balzac
Becasse
Boathouse on Blackwattle Bay

Three votes each. You can put all three onto one restaurant or spread them out. Idea is to get the broadest possible idea of where people want to go.

Rah."

Votes were purchased, gauntlets thrown down, handbags parried at dawn. Bilsons won. The fact that I wait until last to vote and was collating the results, means that one day I'll probably end up being dictator of a small African nation.

And then it all gets rather interesting. Bilsons had a dish on the à la carte menu that I had wanted to try for years. Lièvre à la Royale, or Hare with black truffles, foie gras and a sauce made of the hare's blood.

Calls were placed. Hares were caught. Bilsons ended up substituting the dish onto the Menu Fin Bec. We were hoping they'd actually create a whole new tasting menu for us, but they didn't seem to want to go that far. Either way, we were having a special menu created for us at a very special restaurant.

We've created a group blog about the NomNomNoms. The idea is that we'll all contribute. I still need to organise my thoughts about the meal but you might like to check it out.

Oh, and if you'd be interested in joining us, please let me know by either leaving a comment with your contact details or emailing me. Am sure we'll enjoy dreaming up a devilish hazing for new members