It was on an occasion I was turned away by Asakusa for the umpteenth time (You! One place…sushi bar and you, no win lottery…actually they were magnanimously more polite than that) that my Dining Companion and I decided to seek tummy solace elsewhere in the vicinity. Luck doesn’t always abandon me without a cause for I remembered reading the great Terry Durack’s review of
I would without much R&D classify Market as Modern British but interventions on the menu like chorizo, risotto and onglet (hanger doodah FGS!) suggest otherwise. Market is thus a tad Modern European but without the straying into the bigos or pierógi territory. However the waitresses, who provide a decent service, are from the latter and they speak English miles better than Camden’s own N-Dubz. The ambience during dinner is particularly suited to those who are aversed to bright lights and conforming to first-dates rituals but not so for photography. FYI, the rendering of the photos shown took me a couple of days to make them vaguely presentable but the usual flawed text as with all my posts, never more than ½ hour.
The shot that did no justice to the bread served. I sincerely hope this was homebaked at the premises because it was one of the best I’ve had in memory. The butter accompanied was served at a perfect room temperature (rare and indifferently ignored at most places).
A wonderfully executed dish and beautifully seasoned. I love tongue dishes and this is in spite of a psychological trait to injure one’s own when eating them. These fritters put to shame to the ones I had at Peter Gordon’s Kopapa recently.
She was utterly praiseworthy of this dish and thought the chef deserved a triumphus like Cicero and Pompeius Magnus. I tasted a bit and concurred, but felt the rice was slightly undercooked.
The duck was as good as it gets; crispy, tender and salty enough without the aid of the Dead Sea. The potatoes (think dauphinoise but baked in meat stock instead) were a revelation. The red cabbage, for once not over marinated in vinegar, was subtly sweet and heart-warming
The shared poached pear and ginger ice cream confirmed that Market is serious contender for one of the better restaurants I’ve been to this year. The well-cooked fruit had the right amount of watery crunch that boded well with my elderly gums. And the excellent ice cream tickled imagination of strong ginger beer without ten teaspoonfuls of sugar and the fizz. Another 5* deemed.
Market is an overlooked and unheeded joint, maybe it should stay that way, at least you can get a table here without the fiasco that’s associated with Asakusa. Market is not entirely without faults, the coffee served was crap and the grim single page website is food and wine menu-less. But it’s still a splendid place. A big hearty recommendation is warranted.