The Long-Expected Party – Duck and Waffle

“What happend[sic] when the man said hello lovely to the lady?

He got sent to jail because he travled[sic] back in time to a place where it is agenst[sic] the law to say hello lovely.”

– Bad Kids’ Jokes (.tumblr.com) – 2013

I’ve been to so many ‘Blank and Blank’ restaurants recently that it’s actually become something of a joke at work. Hand and Flowers, Burger and Lobster, Duck and Waffle, and then, when asked what I was up to this weekend, one colleague suggested ‘Beer and No Sex’? Real talk. I’m aware the regularity of these posts has somewhat fallen off a cliff recently, but I have promised Charlotte that this one will be written and published before the weekend is out, so I have paused Ripper Street, closed badkidsjokes.tumblr.com, and I’m getting on with it at 1:15am on Sunday.

I really liked Duck and Waffle. The views are extraordinary, even if our table did look out over northeast London, which, incidentally, has nothing of note for miles and miles and miles. Like, seriously, fuck all. It might as well be Milton Keynes. (Fucking Milton Keynes). But if you happen to be looking in the right direction, it’s mind-blowing – I didn’t think this kind of restaurant existed in London, presuming it was exclusive to the more glamorous (and warm) capitals of the world: Tokyo, Bangkok and New York (not a capital, I’m not an idiot). Madison has some amazing views, particularly of St Paul’s, but it’s nothing like the 40th floor of Heron Tower in the heart of the Square Mile. The journey up in the lift is gut-wrenching – in the literal sense as your large intestines fight to stay on the ground floor as the rest of your body is hurled up at about 4 floors per second.

Charlotte, Jyoti and I went to D&W, largely so that Charlotte could coerce me into writing this post, so that she can get another hit of this super-addictive blog (go on, read the Magdalen Hall one again, you know you want to). Originally it was going to be Bocca di Lupo, but it is cray hard to get a table there less than a month in advance unless you want to eat at 5pm with the tourists and old people, so I suggested this place instead. D&W seems remarkably inclusive considering the style of restaurant; I imagine most rooftop restaurants in the financial district of the capital of a first world country have a no-jeans-or-trainers, what-do-you-mean-you-want-an-Australian-wine, sorry-we-only-accept-Amex kind of policy. The service was good, although a bit creepy: one guy who was wiping our table kept trying to join in the conversation we were having, and the waitress stroked Charlotte’s back while complimenting Jyoti’s clutch (not clunge, that would be really creepy).

The food was delicious. The raw tuna dish was served on a block of pink Himalayan salt, which with hindsight, we all totally unnecessarily freaked out about; I just kept licking my finger and rubbing it, which was, again with hindsight, an incredibly strange thing to do to someone else’s plate. The duck and waffle tasted exactly how you’d expect it to taste – really good – although I have to say, I don’t like eating bird’s legs. It’s difficult, and there’s always a bit of meat left in the corner, and I alway end up knocking something over, and sometimes there’s a stringy bit of blood vessel, and I HATE IT, I WANT SOMEONE TO SHRED MY DUCK’S LEG FOR ME PLEASE OK THANKS that’s much better. Like pulled pork. Mmmmmm. Pulled pork.

So, most interestingly, it’s open 24 hours; and a friend of a friend takes girls that he meets in clubs there as a kind of post-lash, deal-maker kind of gig. Which I think is an inspired move. I mean, really it’s just showing off, but I think I would love it if someone took me to the 40th floor of a skyscraper in the city for duck and waffle at 4am. Or even just to Ahmed’s to be honest, have you heard they do pizza now?

əˈnänəməs – lunchable

Duck and Waffle, Heron Tower, 110 Bishopsgate, City of London

An Ode to a Bagel

“The 24 hour bakery, Brick Lane

Impasse reached when it transpired we had gone to the wrong bakery (sneaky bagelry next door also running for 24 hours)

Went to the one next door ANYWAY GOD DAMNIT so ended up having two bagels

Abundance of meat, optional pickles

Flavoursome, gelatinous chunks put up a fight against dense bagelbread and mustard that was fiery like the sun

Tough to eat without getting messy

The other stuff looked nice too but we didn’t have it because their deceptively generous bagels (but…they look so small?) were filling

Conclusion: a good time had by all”

– Archer Von Fox (nom de plume) – Just now

Merry Christmas all! I recently tried the two 24-hour bagel places on Brick Lane with a new friend (BFFs 4 lyf), and she kindly volunteered the above poem in place of a review. I tried to review it properly, but Archer was on in the background, and I couldn’t concentrate. Incidentally, watch it, it’s hilarious. “The lovechild of James Bond and Garth Marenghi”. 

I’ve had numerous complaints about the lack of posts recently, so I’m going to take this opportunity to declare my whole-hearted indifference to my substantial fanbase, and maybe write one later. LOVE YA.

əˈnänəməs – lunchable

Brick Lane Beigel Bake – 159 Brick Lane (kosher)

Beigel Shop – 155 Brick Lane (not kosher)

A Wanker’s Guide to Lunch in the City

“Lunch is for wimps.”

– Michael Douglas – Wall Street, 1987

Man, that quote is just so damn good. I’m feeling really proud of myself. All of the relevance. Anyway, I work for a big shiny bank in the City of London now (all opinions are my own, etc. etc.), and so have had multiple excuses to try the myriad delights of lunch in the City. This week in particular, we have some colleagues from abroad in London for training, so I’ve been acting as a bit of a tour guide to the EC2 culinary bonanza. This week I had ‘street food’, pasta, burger, sushi, and falafel (note the Oxford comma here, otherwise on one of the days I would have had sushi and falafel, and that wouldn’t have been nice at all). I didn’t even have time to have the many other things on offer that I wanted: green chicken, noodles, burrito, suckling pig salad, teriyaki salmon, pie and mash, the list goes on.

There really is no excuse to bring a packed lunch, unless you can’t afford to eat out, in which case I feel like a right twat. But if you can manage the (admittedly extortionate) prices, then here are some of the highlights to a week of lunches:

Pilpel – Probably my favourite. Freshly fried falafel, tasty houmous, and vibrant, crunchy salad with a fresh, warm pitta is just superb. Even with a queue stretching outside and round the corner (not uncommon), you’re normally served within 10 minutes, and whilst intimidating at first, the ordering system is incredibly efficient. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am, have a free falafel dipped in tahini while you wait. What? You don’t want one?! Why not?! Why are you in my falafel shop then? Why don’t you want my tasty falafel? This is an excerpt from a genuine conversation which ended with a rather sheepish-looking businessman accepting said falafel while the guy from Pilpel watched him finish every morsel. So yeah, go to Pilpel, get a container, and get extra tahini and chili sauce. Yum yum yum.

Fernando’s – This small café serves overcooked pasta (microwaved for your enjoyment) and greasy salads. But they’re soooooo good. Except they’re not, at all. I don’t even like the pasta, but that doesn’t stop me going back. You choose two pastas from big metal trays under heat lamps (lasagne, bacon and mushroom, pesto, etc.), and they’re slapped in a polystyrene box and microwaved, before being served with incredibly stale bread. I’ve not tried the salads because they all look like sadness. The woman who takes the orders for the pasta has absolutely the worst voice in the entire world. It’s comparable to Janice from Friends. But it works, because you’re so desperate for her to stop shouting so your ears will stop bleeding, that you order really damn quickly. Aside from my unavoidable cravings for carbohydrates drenched in a salty fatty sauce, there’s really no reason to go here.

Wasabi – It’s a chain, it’s everywhere, the sushi is overpriced and bland, and the hot food is downright nasty, but you go, and you eat it, and it’s sort of fine, and then you wish you had gone to Pilpel.

GBK – Emma chose this for lunch on Wednesday, and so I blame her entirely for the fact that we returned 30 minutes late for the afternoon’s classes. If you will try and walk 15 people to Spitalfields, get them sat down, order, receive your food, eat it, and then get back in an hour, you are going to end up apologising. I don’t even like GBK. I think that I like GBK, right up until the point when I sit down, and remember that all of the burgers either have one thing I don’t want on them, or are missing the one thing I do. Also the chips are crap, because chunky chips are always crap, and the skinny ones are just these. The Oreo milkshake is good, but I feel a bit weird ordering that whilst wearing a suit, and so I just ended up with a burger that wasn’t very good, and some crappy crisp things. All for £11. What a, um, bargain?

Street Kitchen – This metal food van in Broadgate Circle is a revelation. They serve things like slow-roast pork, hot smoked salmon, or fillet of sea bass with crushed new potatoes, salad, coleslaw and red cabbage. It’s not complex food, but it’s just really well executed. The potatoes are buttery and warm, the coleslaw isn’t over-mayo’d, and the pork (of course I get the pork every time) is good and meaty, and they don’t scrimp on portions. I didn’t go here during my internship because it looked a bit boring, but I’ve already been twice in a few weeks now, and I’m a big fan. It sure isn’t cheap, but it’s delicious and convenient.

 

I have some exciting plans to go to exciting restaurants and eat exciting food over the next couple of months, so I will let you know how these go. I’ll probably do some name-dropping too, since Hannah is going to be in London, and also I did sort-of promise Charlotte (number one fan) that we would go out to dinner with Jyoti and I would mention her.

əˈnänəməs – lunchable

Pilpel – 38 Brushfield Street

Fernando’s – 13 Devonshire Row

Wasabi – 157-158 London Wall

GBK – 5 Horner Square

Street Kitchen – Broadgate Circle

Don’t Worry, I Know A Guy – Free Company at The Endurance

“Urm, Tom, your bowl is broken. Do you have another one I can use? I need another bowl.”

– David Boycott, having just broken my bowl – 2010

A close friend of mine and co-founder of the Magdalen Mallards Dining Society became a chef when he left university. A 2:i in history from the University of Oxford, (vice/acting-) captain of the college rugby club, an exciting and prosperous career ahead of him (well, maybe), he put it aside and threw himself into a culinary career. Despite no formal training or experience, through incessant (and no doubt intensely irritating) pestering of various restaurants and culinary institutions, David has found himself a (demi-)chef de partie at a respected London tapas restaurant, The Opera Tavern. Not only that, he was also recently selected to assemble a small team of chefs to showcase their culinary talents for one month only at The Endurance, Soho. Joining him are Josh, another friend from university who is Lord Chief Megaboss of Everything at the Turl Street Kitchen, and Billy, another chef from The Opera Tavern, who I’m afraid I don’t know at all, and as such cannot gently mock.

The trio form Free Company – “Food Creative” (eugh), and as I mentioned above, they are currently starring in a one-month production of “come and try our food at the Endurance in Soho it’s quite tasty, honest” (working title). I followed the instructions in the title to the letter, and went along for lunch the other day. A nice concise menu, with the option of either small or large plates of most dishes was the order of the day (well, lunchtime). In the evenings, this gives way to a variety of bar snacks and junk food, including savoury donuts and chicken wings, except on Saturdays, when you can splash out on a tasting menu. I’m looking forward to trying both of the above, and you can probably expect 2 more reviews in the coming weeks.

Now, enough waffle (mmmm, waffle). We ordered the chicken leg with garlic gnocchi, pork cheek with cauliflower and pumpkin, mackerel tartare, and neck of lamb with pearl barley and goat’s milk curd. The chicken leg was beautifully cooked and obviously well-seasoned, but the real triumph of that dish were the melt-in-the-mouth garlic potato gnocchi. I normally hate gnocchi but these were marvellous. The pork cheek was good, slow braised and heavy with meaty flavour. I’m not sure the accompaniments provided enough to cut through the flavour though, and maybe it could have done with a sauce. Don’t get me wrong, the dish was still great, but I feel like I ought to be holding it to the standard of the other dishes. The lamb neck was soft and flavoursome, the pearl barley deliciously farty (yeah I said farty, AND WHAT), and although the curd was a slightly odd texture, the flavour was good. The mackerel tartare was an absolute gem, delicious, citrusy, slimy fish, topped with fresh aromatic herbs, and served with a crispy puffed mackerel skin. The contrast in texture was great, and the only thing I can find to complain about was the fact that the square of tartare was off-centre on the plate, which I’m sure was intentional and is therefore WANKY AS FUCK.

The Endurance is a cool venue, with slightly creepy stuffed animals staring down at you, and the staff were efficient and friendly. The food was absolutely delicious, and beautifully presented, easily as pretty as any dish I’ve seen on Masterchef or in a Michelin-starred restaurant. I will concede that it isn’t the cheapest lunch, but it is London, the food is plentiful and well worth the price. And they also offer all-you-can-eat bread for £1, if you feel the need to pad the meal out with some fresh sourdough. I believe almost all of the ingredients are sourced (relatively) locally, or at least from Britain, with the bread in particular coming from Mr Bread’s stall right outside the restaurant. The Free Company pop-up is there until 29th September, and I for one will be making the most of it while it lasts; and I think you should too. Whilst I would hate to inflate their (already fairly puffed-up) egos, Free Company really are jolly good at cooking, and have a very bright future ahead of them. Again I’m afraid I can’t really speak about Billy, but Josh will soon be involved in opening another Student Hubs restaurant in Cambridge, and David will surely soon be shooting up the ranks at the increasingly more high-profile Saltyard Group. So go along and try their food while it’s still £7 a plate, and remember their names – I reckon you might hear them again in the future.

Free Company – The Endurance, 90 Berwick Street, London

Give ’em a follow @FreeCompanyFC

əˈnänəməs – lunchable

Separation Anxiety – East Street

“You can take the boy out of the [SE Asian] country, but you can’t take the [SE Asian] country out of the boy.”

– B. Baer, in a caption to a caricature of James Stewart – 1938

A family friend that we see every Christmas owns a chain of pan-Asian restaurants called Tampopo, with locations in Manchester, Reading and Bristol. Every year we promise to visit one of these places, and every year Dad has to bumble through an apology, because we have, once again, forgotten to go. Then last Christmas (or maybe the one before), we received the exciting news that there is a new, rebranded version now open, just at the bottom of Charlotte Street, next to Tottenham Court Road. The new place is East Street, with the same menu as Tampopo, but designed to be an authentic southeast Asian dining experience, transporting you back to your hedonistic days taking extraordinarily uncomfortable sleeper buses up the coast of Vietnam. Since I’m moving into London imminently, I finally made the effort to go along and try the place, with a promise to our friend that I would let him know whether they had attained the authenticity that they are striving for.

The first thing I spotted was this:

I was immediately sold. One of my overriding memories of Asia were the tiny stools at the street kitchens everywhere we went, which were immeasurably uncomfortable, but alas the only option if you wanted a steaming bowl of pho. Thankfully the interior didn’t feature the same stools, this would have been too much authenticity to bear. Instead, we were treated to a bustling, exciting, and obnoxious interior, bedecked with everything from beer, go-go, and tailor signs, wall fans, and small plastic baskets filled with bottles of soy, fish sauce, and Sriracha chili sauce. Everything from the corrugated iron walls to the delicious beer Lao screamed SE Asia.

The menu is bedecked with small flags in case you weren’t sure where a pad Thai is from, and is filled with deliciously exotic-sounding dishes, but what really got me excited was the drinks menu. Beer Lao and Sangsom. I wouldn’t have thought it possible to get that stuff out here, and was expecting the standard Singha, Chang and Asahi, but beer Lao was easily the nicest beer I tried, and I have two beaters to show for it. Sangsom is a dangerous Thai whisky, most commonly served to westerners in buckets with red bull, or simply neat if you fancy going native, and it was a nice surprise to see it available, in a bucket no less. We tried it, and it was as exactly as I remember, truly vile. But I still finished it, because buckets are buckets and rules are rules, and when I say vile I sort of mean delicious.

Now most importantly – the food. We started with the Tampopo sharing platter, with chicken satay, beef with kimchi, fresh spring rolls, panko prawns, and a couple of other bits. Unfortunately I didn’t like fresh spring rolls the first time I tried them – too much powerful coriander and mint for me – and once again I didn’t like them. Fuck authenticity. I hate authenticity. But everything else was delicious, the prawn crackers were crisp and spicy, the beef tender and the kimchi spicy. The chicken satay was fantastically moist – it tasted like it may have been thigh or leg meat, or maybe just underdone breast meat. Ho hum, I’m still alive. I can’t really comment on how true to form the other bits were, as they were mostly Japanese and Korean (I think), but they were very good. We had originally just ordered the platter, but I don’t really know who I thought I was kidding not ordering a main, and sure enough I was ready to eat just about anything (read: everything) on the menu. I went for Panang curry, since I’d learnt how to make this in Chiang Mai, and I wasn’t disappointed. The cooking teacher had described it as a “baby curry”, with ground peanuts added to the paste, which dilutes the heat somewhat. But the one he made was plenty spicy enough, and East Street’s Panang didn’t shy away from spice either. Emma had a prawn and glass noodle salad, which looked a lot like a salad, so I didn’t try it. She said it was good, but very spicy.

I would happily recommend this place to anyone, especially if they had ever been to any of Thailand, Vietnam, Malaysia, Singapore, Japan, Indonesia, The Philippines or Korea. It was a fantastic memory jolt, but with none of the street hawkers, food poisoning, or best-friends-abandoning-you-to-live-in-Hanoi. Unless you’re from Manchester, and you go with a friend and they like the restaurant so much they decide to decamp to London and work there for the rest of their lives. That could happen. It really is a very good restaurant.

East Street – 3-5 Rathbone Place, London

əˈnänəməs – lunchable