Union Jacks

For sometime now I’ve been aware that age has finally caught up with me and I simply cannot keep up with blogging about the endless stream of new openings in London. It’s actually quite a relief that the task is now eagerly undertaken by a nimiety of younger food bloggers who possess enough energy and fire to frantically race each other to the line with the first review. And when the plethora of reviews concerning a half-decent joint materialises- we’ll always expect the same positive and tiring outcome (endless aplomb, effusive gush, comped meals etc). These reviews invariably become so overly saturated that they simply put me off visiting or writing about places like Roganic, Jose in Battersea, or The Young Turks (MEATliquor being an exception and with post to come). Call me an old grumpy git if you like but I’ll stick to my own agenda and maintain a bit of that ‘contrarian rebel’ tag that has been bestowed upon me.

So if I’ve contradicted myself by posting this review, then so be it, because I needed to jump the gun and share the experience tout de suite. I actually admire Sir Jamie a great deal but I’ve never been to any of his restaurants until today. Saturdays mean lunch with feisty daughter and today was an exception; she had to meet her friends at their beloved hangout and our lunch-date venue had to be well within da hood. The piazza of Central St. Giles has somehow transformed itself into a cosmopolitan food courtyard and before you snigger Zizzi was unbelievably rammed whereas Cabana was deserted and the same kind of dead calm was also noted at Byron’s. The half-full Union Jacks was chosen because feisty daughter wanted fish and fish fingers were conveniently on the menu.

The lunch we had today was faultless and that’s saying something, as I’m not even that keen on pizzas. The architect responsible for Central St. Giles as a whole, Renzo Piano, is largely responsible for the charming and comforting ambience of all the said restaurants. The service unlike most new openings was excellent and there was never an instance whereby a self-centred tattooed waitress would appraise the level of hoi polloi-ness within you before granting a smile.

BUILDERS TEA
with sweet tea cosy

We shared three starters of the following-

1- BY-CATCH FISH FINGERS & TARTARE SAUCE
2- POTTED PRAWNS, MORECAMBE BAY SHRIMPS & DEVONSHIRE CRAB
3- WOOD-GRILLED SAUSAGE & BACON, ALE & SAGE MUSTARD

Nothing can replace Heinz Tomato Ketchup but our Jamie has managed topple Birds Eye with their fish fingers. Beautifully seasoned and fresh tasting, the by–catch fingers were outstanding (breadcrumbs or not). The tartare sauce was also good enough on its own as a moreish sandwich spread.

The potted prawn and crab was equally impressive- it was sweet, nutmeg-gy, and luscious. But Michel Roux Jnr would shriek at the shrapnels of crab shell I encountered. Serving this trio of fish at room temperature (it was after all fridge cold) with fresh wholemeal bread (instead of the Melba toast of granary bread) would’ve been immeasurably better.

The sausage or rather a coil of chipolata-sized Cumberland was obviously made by a ‘local’ food hero- it was peppery, herby and first-class. A few of my Eastern European friends have been pretty damning about Blighty sausages but they’ve yet to sample a true Cumberland, Lincolnshire or this one for that matter. And what little bacon that came with it was smoky, sweet and crispy. One of my usual dislikes is grain mustard but the ale and sage mustard suggested otherwise.

If this place were to serve breakfast then I can expect a tremendous Full English on the menu.

And as far as small plates are concerned, the Riding House Café need to go back to the drawing board and follow Union Jacks’ take instead!

The OLD SPOT flat
Roast shoulder of pig, quince & Bramley sauce, Cropwell Bishop Stilton, crackling & watercress.

The pizza Taliban would flip at this...wot no effing mozzarella and toms? Obviously to save his bacon Jamie had to call his pizzas flats. Well f**k that because it’s still a bloody pizza and a bloody good one to boot. The thin crust faithfully complied with the hallowed Neapolitan doctrine. The sweetness of the quince and apple gracefully embraced the tender shreds of pulled Spot and the addition of the world’s greatest cheese was pure genius. Jamie Oliver, you bugger, you’ve just created a world class pizza and it’s British!

We ended our meal with a RETRO ARCTIC ROLL.
Another well researched and developed dish. It brought memories of an Abigail's Party moment and a lit sparkler to go with the pudding wouldn’t go amiss. The addition of the honeycomb chunks was a clever touch. Unashamedly lovely jubbly.

Union Jacks is seriously good and if this is to be the pilot of many more branches to come then I’ll be saddened if complacency begins to creep in. Recommended.





4 Central St. Giles Piazza
London
WC2H 8AB

www.unionjacksrestaurants.com

SanXia RenJia

SanXia RenJia is the only restaurant in London serving authentic Hunan, Hubei and Sichuan food…or so its website alleges. But as an insurance it also caters for the uninformed masses with such tired classics like crispy duck and pancakes, beef chow mein, sweet and sour pork plus the usual irrelevant dishes consisting of Singapore fried noodles, cheeseburger curry allsorts, chicken satay and wait for it, Thai fishcakes! The name SanXia RenJia is indeed a mouthful and certainly a perfect one for a tip-of-the-tongue phenomenon, but the translation (although longwinded) is easier to grasp with- Home of the People of the Three Gorges.

It would be useful to remind you readers of the differences between the three Chinese regional cuisnes-

Sichuan- numbing spicy.
Hunan- fragrant spicy.
Hubei- the Nick Clegg mate of Hunan’s Dave.

SanXia RenJia’s location is a perfect pull for the PRC students attending UCL, University of Westminster or the various TEFL centres dotted in and around the West End. The layout and ambience of the dining room possessed very little salvation and grace…the woeful Tsingtao sponsored lanterns take the biscuit! The helpful and pleasant service was thankfully devoid of any grimacing or gloating that’s generally expected of most Chinese restaurants.

Reverse chronology commenceth- personally I cannot think of anything more socially engaging (and delicious) than a steamboat or Chinese fondue meal. A hotpot meal at SanXia RenJia well set one back 20 quid per person. The baffling thing about the offer here is there are absolutely no limitations or restrictions as to how many of the boxes you wish to tick. A win-win situation I hear you holler. But going 'tick' crazy caused by gluttony is a no-no and utterly pointless, for there’s only so much one can eat in one sitting. It would be wiser to limit five to six ingredients initially per person and besides the waitresses are hardly harebrained, as they’ll never overload your table with everything that you’ve hoped for…they’re watching you all the time! So keep calm, eat to your heart’s content and if the grub runs out they’ll top it up accordingly. Lastly if you happen to callously opt for the bleeding Singapore Noodles or Special Fried Rice as well and by which time your over-indulged tummy decided to call it a day, I’m sure that your waitress will happily let you take it away instead (lunch sorted for the next day).

Some lost in translation moments-
Sliced pork is simply luncheon meat or Spam
Bibble should be bible (yes two types of tripe are offered at SanXia RenJia) Ribbon is this

The soup-stock options are spicy, clear, vegetarian (dubious methinks) or witches’ brew herbal.
Various dipping sauces range from sesame paste to raw egg yolks.

Certain rules apply when chucking in the ingredients. I suggest that the Spam, any strange offal and Chinese cabbage go in first, you don’t have to eat them but they do enhance the flavour and provide depth to the broth. Next the black fungus (cloud ears), tofu, dry beancurd and springy seaweed. Followed by some fish balls and meatballs, and as soon as they float, proceed with some prawns, squid, fish, various vegetable leaves and beef slices. Please don’t overcook any of the latter, scoop them out immediately when ready and enjoy. Repeat the procedure until the simmering soup is flavoured beyond the realm of utter umaminess.

About 90 minutes later (this is one rare Chinese meal that cannot be rushed) the soup is now ready for the finale, noodles of your choice are finally added to complete the meal.

A good steamboat dinner depends on the freshness and quality of the raw ingredients served but unfortunately SanXia RenJia fell short and the overall experience was in no way as good as here or here.

A few months’ back I came here for the first time. My dining companions and I were reasonably pleased with our a la carte meal.

What we ordered (with pics from the menu and what actually turned up in reality)-

Fish Head and Tofu Soup

Do not be put off by the main ingredient of fish head, as it is the most flavoursome part of any fish and the Chinese are renowned with curbing fishiness by adding ginger and rice wine. The milky cloudiness of the finished article is not due to any addition of milk or cream but a result of regular cooking oil and water mixing at a particular temperature. The main stock was quite clearly concocted using heads of salmon (two a penny at your fishmongers) but augmented by chunks of sea bass to make it look and taste more authentic. I loved it.

Braised Winter Melon.
It was ok but the kitchen was too heavy-handed with the MSG.

Double Cooked Pork Hotpot

This is a dish I’ve cooked successfully with relative ease at home but I must concede that the version at SanXia RenJia was outstanding and considerably better. It’s also a kind of dish that makes no difference to the kind of pork used (be it expensive Gloucestershire Old Spot or intensively farmed Danish porkers). This is due to the overwhelming flavours that come from the reddish Pixian bean-paste and hot chilli peppers…any importance to do with the pig’s provenance is soon obliterated. So whatever pork is used the meat will always end up tender and melt-in-mouth.

Hot and spicy prawns

The picture on the menu showing around 30 prawns was tempting enough for anyone to place an immediate order. But we were presented with nine king prawns instead. The Trade Descriptions Act was clearly violated here. That said, the prawns were well cooked and as prawns will always be prawns, they tasted excellent.

Beer Stewed Duck in Hot Pot

This was the highlight of the meal. The origins of this rustic dish stem from the Miao (or Hmong) people living in the Hubei and Hunan provinces. The inclusion of the beer simply tenderises the morsels of duck to great effect. A word of warning if I may; since a copious amount of dried chilli peppers was used as well as the fresh ones the Beer Stewed Duck is not for everyone as it was exceedingly spicy! This wonderful dish is pure winter fodder.

With over 60 dishes to choose from the Three Gorges’ menu, I think it’s good enough reason to come back for more. For my next visit I would need to gather some like-minded diners and feast on nothing but offal. With the exception of the steamboat SanXia RenJia comes recommended.




29 Goodge Street
Bloomsbury
London
W1T 2PP

www.sanxia.co.uk
scoresonthedoors

Malina

The last time I had a Polish meal was also my first and that was an inexcusable three and a half years ago! Judging by the guesstimates of between 500,000 to a million Poles working or residing in the UK, it’s rather sad to see that Polish cooking has made little or no impact on us. Our perceptions of Polish cuisine as being stodgy and heavy have undoubtedly dented the progress of its culinary heritage in Blighty. We also presumed the Poles only ate potatoes and pork- ‘Oh how bleeding grey and boring that sounds, gissa a chicken tikka masala any day!’ And admittedly if you’re on a low-carbohydrate diet or simply conforming to whatever religious constraints, then you might find this kind of food all too challenging. But its satisfying attributes of both fuss-free flavours and hearty cooking are reasons enough for us to reappraise our thoughts and reconsider Polish cooking as a vital contribution to decent eating in Europe. Let’s face it, it’s certainly more creative and inventive than let’s say the Scandinavians and very nearly on par with ours (coz we do pies and they don’t), and looking on the bright side, that spineless FROGue dissed nowt about kuchnia Polska! There’s more to Polish foods than the dried-out kabanos bought from Lidl.

I’m no authority on the authenticity of Polish cooking but the dinner I had at Malina was extraordinarily pleasant. Malina is located somewhere between Shepherd’s Bush and Hammersmith, and that ‘somewhere’ is apparently Brook Green (never heard of it either). The restaurant is the baby of two ladies who gained enough know-how from managing London’s oldest Polish Restaurant to carve out on their own. The dining room reflected a vague input of homely Swedish influence but abruptly restricted by the use of conventional wooden chairs and the lack of pretentious white tablecloths. Pretty motifs of raspberries are strewn on the walls towards the back of the restaurant and that can only be appropriate; malina is Polish for raspberry. The restaurant was very nearly full by the time we were tucking into our mains, the service was friendly, efficient and panic-free. The aforementioned ladies were simply indefatigable.

A shot of bison grass vodka got the ball rolling.

Now take note, Malina doesn’t surprise the diners with a needless cover charge but they’re prepared to make you smile with this gratis while-you-wait.

Rye bread and smalec. The bread was superbly fresh and fragrant, it was hardly dense and certainly not acquired in taste. The lard spread, despite its questionable contribution to do with coronary issues, was outstanding. The smoky bacon, the herbs, the onion…bloody thing was crack-like! This freebie belonged to the on-cloud-nine category of comfort eating.

Barszcz z uszka- Borscht and mushroom-stuffed tortellini.

Like my chum, I’ve never appreciated the humble beetroot but this clear broth managed to address a perfect balance of acidity and umami (bacon again?). My first spoonful of the soup provoked a road to Damascus moment- ‘beetroot I shall no longer persecute you for I’m now yours…’ It was excellent, but the addition of the bland tasting tortellini was sadly perfunctory.

Pierogi- Polish dumplings. However one of my dining companions, Pete, insisted as they were too pretty and dainty to be called dumplings they should instead be ravioli, he was of course right.

Five for £5.50 or ten for £9.90 and choose from any of the following (the flexibility of being able to mix and match was thankfully encouraged)-

Mięso - pork and beef
Ruskie- cheese and potato
Kapustą z grzybami- cabbage and mushroom
Kasza z boczkiem- buckwheat and bacon
Kasza z wątroba- buckwheat and chicken liver
Szpinak z zoltem serem- spinach and cheese

The pierogi came liberally lubricated with butter (or was it bacon fat, my memory’s failing me…) and topped with chives and fried onions. Each and every one of them was cooked to perfection and tasted delectable but an additional kudos goes to the morerish buckwheat and chicken liver filling.

NB pierogi are also available as a pudding course with the appropriate ‘sweet’ fillings.

Our main courses-

George’s Zrazy- rolled rump steaks filled with onion, gherkin and more bacon, served with gravy and kopytka (heavy-going gnocchi shaped like hooves). George totally approved of his rich dish and quite rightly licked the platter clean.

Pete’s Grilled Chicken- the fillet was marinated in lemon and thyme, and served with garlic butter, green beans and mashed potatoes. Hardly Polish or let alone Eastern European you might indicate but Pete is my most unadventurous dining companion…he’s an MTV geezer. Apart from the mean rationing of green beans he too gave the thumbs-up for his mains and licked the platter clean.

And my Golonka...

...or pork knuckle by any other name. First thing that comes to mind was how the hell does one tackle a gargantuan monster like that! Easy, a majority of us love a bit of pork so starve yourself for 48 hours and piggy heaven eagerly awaits you. The golonka was roasted in beer and served with sauerkraut, roast potatoes, mustard and chrzan (a mild tasting Polish horseradish). This was basically a DIY pulled-pork dish and quite unsettlingly never-ending. As expected the dish was substantial but wholly satisfying; the rich layer of fat was sinfully sumptuous. Golonka is a dish of champions.

When defeat is inevitable, it is wisest to yield*…I failed to lick the platter clean. This dish has to be shared methinks. With hindsight I should’ve requested a doggy bag and make an ideal lunch of pork sandwiches the day after.

The desserts were unfortunately less successful-

Pete’s Tort Czekoladowy- chocolate cake. He thought it was ok but I thought it looked and tasted like plane food.

George’s Szarlotka- homemade apple pie and vanilla ice cream. The pie was an equivalent to a Grade C in GCSE Home Economics but the ice cream was rather good.

I abstained from the puddings because I was still recovering from being pork-knuckled. But if I’d had the opportunity I would've ordered the sweet pierogi or the off-piste Makowiec without fail.

Now what better way to end the evening than with some complimentary shots of moonshine home-concocted raspberry flavoured vodka. Especially so when the other two dining companions were hopelessly averse to spirits. Thank you Malina, you made my day.

Malina is a right little gem and it's also impossible to leave this place still feeling hungry. It impressed us all with its honest cooking, inherent warmth and decent value for money. 500 Restaurant was a strong contender for my restaurant of 2011 but I think I may now be swayed instead by Malina taking the crown. I thus urge you, please go and enjoy.

*Quintilian



166 Shepherd's Bush Road
Hammersmith
London W6 7PB

scoresonthedoors
www.malinarestaurant.com

The Admiral Codrington

On settling the bill:

Fat Les- ‘Erm, what’s the cover charge for?’

Young Inexperienced But Obliging Waiter- ‘Bread’

FL and dining companion in unison- ‘But we didn’t have any bread!’

YIBOW- ‘Oh but no but there was the ketchup, sugar…’

FL- ‘What? You pulling my leg?’

YIBOW- ‘I don’t write the rules’

F**K!³
Gobsmacked, we paid and legged.

On re-inspecting the bill three hours later in my bath:

FL- F**K me! They actually charged me for a pint of Caledonian 80/- I never had!

Fat Les’ Imaginary Friend- You what?

FL- Well I did initially order a pint of the beer but was told they had ran out so I opted for a bottle of Michael Winner’s favourite instead.

FLIF- Pox on him.

FL- No, pox on the management for the lack of training and insight!

F**K!² x F**K!² x F**K!²

Ad Cod is located in a swanky part of London and so by default, its purposefulness of being an upmarket pub is understandably valid. In spite of the couple of hiccups, Ad Cod serves up seriously good no-nonsense food. My only reason for coming here was because of its praiseworthy burger mentioned by Tom at Honest Burgers. But the sheer number of positive reviews and gushing tweets surrounding Ad Cod’s burger have been alarmingly off-putting and as a result I could see my burger ambitions in SW3 thwarted in no time (think Bar Boulud). But I relented in the end and was rewarded with a damn fine meal.

The impression I got from Ad Cod’s homepage was it somewhat encourages all potential diners to book ahead or you’ll soon be sorry. This I duly did but it was all quite unnecessary (and embarrassing as well) as the restaurant was almost deserted on the Sunday evening we visited. The ambience had an air of stuffiness about it which unfortunately doesn’t bode well as a pub restaurant, in fact the dining room was more like a discarded wing from the nearby celebrity-haunt that’s Daphne’s. If talking with a normal voice approximate to a sound pressure level of 70 dB then the atmosphere at Ad Cod’s certainly suggested we should all utter at no louder than 65 dB. A good example of a pub serving top-notch food without any plaguey pretensions to do with interior design or hush-hush dining is The Harwood Arms.

However the service courtesy of YIBOW was polite and helpful. For wine connoisseurs you’ll be pleased to know that the restaurant possesses an enviable list of one of the greatest wines in the world. All the different vintages of Sassicaia available are priced at no more than £250.00 a bottle. The same wine at either Locanda Locatelli or L’Anima would set you back up to £800.00!

We started off with a snack of Scotch Egg.
Although it lacked the yielding and runny yolk that’s characteristic of most established standards like here and here, it was simply scrumptious. I believed the secret of Ad Cod’s effort was due to the sausage meat filling, in itself beyond compare. The next time I’m here, I would quite happily order three eggs and without an ounce of guilt or constraint, devour all of them in one go.

We shared a starter portion of Caesar Salad.
This came with crispy pancetta and a poached egg. Now I’m au fait with the latter for not being runny (yet again) as the dressing for the salad was probably made with raw yolks in the first place and to have more of it we’ll all panic and end up like Eggwina! I’ve always thought the best Caesar Salad I’ve eaten in London was at Le Caprice but I’m happy to report that Ad Cod’s version surpassed it. The relative formula of the crucial ingredients combined was spot-on but then again this could be down to the wonderful dressing. So whilst not the most purist of Caesars, Ad Cod managed to impress with their renditition, it was the best salad of its kind and done so without the addition of either chicken strips or anchovies. Brilliant.

The Dining Companion’s mains of Smoked Haddock and Salmon Fishcake with Steamed Spinach, Tomato Chutney and Sorrel Sauce.
For a dish that has been made with "leftover fish" and "cold potatoes"* I believe most of us have accepted and taken the ordinariness of fishcakes for granted. But not so at Ad Cod, like the Caesar Salad, the kitchen’s aptness in balancing the ingredients to create a standout dish shone through again. The smokiness of the haddock worked beautifully with the gentle sharpness of the sorrel and unlike most other fishcakes, the mashed potato within played an absolute second fiddle. This dish deserved to be put on the map.

The Ad Cod Burger

Or an 8oz cheeseburger served with pickles, lettuce, tomato, secret sauce and faultless chips. The burger was perfectly formed and proportioned. And it would be poncey to use cutlery to tackle the sandwich, so down on all fours please and get your paws dirty!

It was also the most medium rare of all medium rare requests. The burger nazis would balk about the brioche bun and the use of a non-American cheese, well they can ‘thcream and thcream and thcream 'till they’re thick’ because I’m having none of it, so-

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This was a kind of burger that no matter how hard I tried to nit-pick with every single bite, I failed. Everything about it was correct, precise and most importantly, delicious. The chap who conceived it must be a consummate master of burgers. I’ve decided to introduce tenths into my scores for the best burgers in London, the Ad Cod's version thus reigneths at 9.2. It would also be interesting to see how this scoring system pans out when I embark on my Hamburger Tour in 2013.

We ended our meal with a shared crumble of raspberries and summat.

It too was excellent, but too small to share; four spoonfuls later…absorbed.

The meal at The Admiral Codrington was by no means cheap, but both the execution and cooking of everything we ate that evening were consistently good enough to garner a must-visit endorsement. Let’s just hope you enjoy the home of London’s ace burger as much as I did.



* Mrs Beeton



17 Mossop Street
London SW3 2LY


scoresonthedoors
www.theadmiralcodrington.co.uk

The Rib Man

Brick Lane

A great deal has been blogged, tweeted, discussed and bantered about The Rib Man so I’ve decided to keep the post brief. Like here, here and of course here, The Rib Man has successfully marketed himself as a decent food hero by way of mandatory networking.

The Rib Man’s stall thrives on rib meat rolls or wraps and racks.

The meat is tediously pulled by hand. I suppose the relative ease of the meat coming off the bone is a testament to The Rib Man’s mastery of slow cooking baby back ribs.

As handed over by Mrs Rib Man and I gulped at the size of it!

Heavenly succulence and gratifyingly delicious. Melting, sweet, porky and gently chilli hot. The rib meat was so well concocted; it didn’t need further dousing of the BBQ or hot sauces on offer. The filling was way too generous and alas I couldn’t finish the sandwich. I declared to Mark and the Missus that I was a wimp after all. Nevertheless it was five quid well-spent.

The only annoying thing about The Rib Man is he’s forever blowing bubbles whereas I’m a trophy-starved gooner. Get on down and prepare to be blown away. Highly recommended.



theribman.co.uk