More from Cheese and Biscuits
This is not going to be a long post. Not because Luna - a cosy little new wine bar from the people behind Legare just over the road - isn't good, but rather because it really isn't going to take me long to describe why it's good. Because it's really not rocket science - take an lovely old converted Shad Thames warehouse building, put a good-sized open kitchen on the ground level and a light (if ever-so-slightly cramped) and attractive dining space on a mezzanine level, fill it all with enthusiastic and capable staff and put together a menu of enticing and accessible small plates. The result is the kind of friendly little space that everyone wishes they had on their doorstep. Everything we ate was at least good. Oysters - cool, fresh and lean - came dressed with ginger and finger lime, a combination which enhanced the natural salty minerality of the bivalves without being too strong. They were also cleanly opened with no little gritty bits, which I know isn't a dealbreaker but still isn't a given everywhere. The Aberdeen Angus carpaccio with pistachio was boldly seasoned and full of flavour, with the petals of beef having a good solid bite and healthy, dense texture. This was clearly good beef, prepared and presented well. Lamb cutlets were cooked nicely pink inside and though I would have liked a bit more texture - the crunch of a fiercely-grilled piece of lamb fat is the kind of thing that haunts my dreams - they still had an excellent colour and disappeared quickly, the charred onions and yoghurt providing a perfect accompaniment. But never let it be said that I don't occasionally allow myself simple pleasures because my favourite thing overall was probably the simplest - these matchstick fries covered in Old Bay, which had a deliriously addictive dry-crunch and a good hit of that famous Southern US seasoning. If you came in just for a glass of their excellent wine (a blend from Tenerife was their daily special the day we visited) and a bowl of Old Bay fries you would still leave happy I'm sure - although I bet it would be difficult to resist ordering more. 8/10 I was invited to Luna and didn't see a bill. The dinner above would by my rough calculation have cost about £50pp if we were paying, so not bad really.
I have eaten at El Moli a number of times over the 40 or so years I and my family have been visiting this part of the world. The first couple of visits were pre-blog and pre-camera phone and I don't remember much about it other than being sat in those same ancient vaulted rooms (some parts of the building are 12th century) and being bitten by mosquitos. I went back with a couple of friends in 2007 and had a dreadful meal - it's possible that the food had been terrible on previous visits and I just had lower standards, or maybe we were just unlucky this time, but you can read about how awful it was here. Decades passed - understandably - before I was willing to give it another shot, but in October last year I had a genuinely lovely meal of interesting seafood and seasonal home-grown veg (El Moli have their own kitchen garden nearby) but thanks to a suspiciously cheap SD card reader picked up on the streets of Girona, managed to lose all my photos and so couldn't write it up. Before that though, the snacks. L'Escala is famous for its anchovies, and so you'd expect one of the town's leading restaurants to showcase these lovely salty little fellows in various different ways. So here is gorgeous crusty homemade anchovy sourdough served with anchovy butter... ...anchovy-stuffed olives which had a brilliant balance of soft savouriness and saline punch... ...and anchovy and truffle seaweed crackers, possibly the most distressingly addictive snack I've come across in the last few years. Even a couple of under 10s on our table who usually eat little else other than white bread and chocolate managed to gobble a number of these down, a testament to their universal appeal. From the starters proper, first to arrive were smoked sardines, something that had become a bit of a theme of the trip thanks to the discovery of a place in town that made their own using north Atlantic fish. I'm not sure where El Moli source theirs, but they were still very nice, accompanied by green beans and a gentle herby vinaigrette. White asparagus, carefully grilled to get a few dainty char marks but not so much to make them tough or dry, were served in another light vinaigrette which made the most of the veg. El Moli do have a slight tendency to add one or two more ingredients than strictly necessary to a plate - the usual Spanish style is to have the main item and nothing more - but this dish was a model of restraint, and all the better for it. White prawns next, from Llançà, a little fishing town just around the coast near the French border. Dressed simply with olive oil and salt - which is all they needed really - I'll forgive them the slightly redundant sprig of frisée lettuce on top partly because it was nice and crunchy and fresh and also because it soaked up the leftover dressing very well. I've never had grouper before in any form and though this arrangement of sashimi was perfectly pleasant, I'm not entirely sure there was enough flavour in the raw product to justify serving it raw. That said, I don't know where else you can get grouper sashimi so life experience ticked off there. Now it was time for the larger plates, but not before one of the more excruciating moments I've ever been through in a restaurant. We had, during ordering earlier, enquired about the smallest available Cap de Creus spiny lobster, a rare and expensive beastie with a short season, hand caught in the waters around Roses bay. We were told initially that they had a 300g specimen, which at €18/100g mean that we could have a taste of this delicacy for €54 - punchy, but not ridiculous. However, they later realised that the smallest lobster they had was in fact 700g (and brought it out still kicking to show us), meaning a significantly more damaging outlay of €126, so we reluctantly turned it down. Now, two things to say about this. Firstly, the staff couldn't have been nicer about the whole thing and swiftly and graciously took the lobster back kitchen-side, presumably to make for some rather more extravagant than normal staff dinner. So they could not have handled the situation any better from that point of view. And secondly, although you'd be tempted to blame such lack of communication on the language barrier, I can promise you that our waiter spoke better English than most front of house in London, so that wasn't the issue either. It was just one of those things, an unfortunate combination of us (probably) not quite rejecting the thing as forcefully as we could and them misreading our English politeness incorrectly, which if it had been an extra portion of chips or a plate of croquetas would have been unfortunate, but regarding a €126 serving of some of the Costa Brava's finest seafood became something else entirely. Anyway, I'm happy to say that the mains we did order were definitely worth our while. Scorpionfish came whole-roasted, boasting a lovely crisp salty skin and bright white, meaty flesh inside, alongside some more grilled vegetables from the kitchen garden. This was partly ordered out of curiosity as I don't think I'd ever tried scorpionfish before, but it was a lovely thing indeed, rather reminiscent of hake in texture. And it wasn't all about the seafood - this is a 500g "Txogitxu" Txuleton on the bone for an astonishingly reasonable €37.50 - bargains are to be found in all corners of a Spanish restaurant menu. The Txogitxu website proudly states they specialise in "Fat old cows", which can be both an amusing turn of phrase and completely true at the same time. We had all the desserts, too - well, apart from the Recuit goats cheese and honey which had run out. Torrija is a kind of Spanish French toast, buttery and crunchy on the outside and complimented by a rich homemade ice cream... ...Mille-fuille of seasonal citrus fruit was gorgeous to look out and incredibly easy to eat, with layers of lemon curd binding together delicate flakes of pastry. We probably should have ordered two of these, it disappeared so quickly... ...Basque-style cheesecake, of which we did order two, which had a fantastic creamy flavour and texture topped with sugared hazelnuts... ...chocolate mousse with toasted "garam bread" (fortunately not nearly as weird as it sounds) with olive oil and salt... ...and a strawberry pavlova hiding under a blanket of mousse-like meringue which was full of the joys of summer. There was also a cheese course, all excellent needless to say, but don't ask me to tell you what they were because I forgot to make a note and they were all super-local varieties that you probably wouldn't see outside of this corner of Spain even if you looked for them. By this point, aided by a couple of bottles of nice cava (a ludicrously reasonable €20 each) and a glass of treacly Pedro Ximines, we had largely put the Unfortunate Lobster Incident behind us and were further cheered by a bill of €522.30 - pretty good indeed for 11 people. Admittedly the under 10s mainly ate chicken fingers and bread (as well as those puffed seaweed snacks) but a couple of the older kids had oysters and roast hake and chips, and there was definitely plenty of food and drink for everyone. So when I say the spend per head was only just over €47, well, I'm only stretching the truth slightly. The point is, I can recommend El Moli de l'Escala with endless enthusiasm. Their style of food and service is unpretentious but considered, rarely overcomplicated and always bursting with flavour and charm. They offer a range of exciting and unusual seafood throughout the year (if you ever see Palamos prawns, get them - this applies to any other restaurant too) at prices that feel moderate bordering on bargainous. And when Incidents arise, they handle them with grace and charm. I do hope they found a willing customer (internal or otherwise) for that Cap de Creus lobster. And either way, I hope this post serves as enough of a thank-you. 8/10
Hard as it may be to believe from my supremely easy-going and liberal attitude these days (no laughing at the back), there was a time when I was, well, if not completely anti-vegan then certainly vegan-skeptic. To someone who once considered vegetarianism radically restrictive, veganism seemed like vegetarianism with the few remaining good bits (butter, cheese, cream, eggs) taken out, a path taken only by people who didn't really like food in the first place and were looking for a more socially acceptable word to substitute for "dietary neurosis". And certainly, there are cuisines that (for want of a better word) "veganise" better than others. Most of the SE Asian and Indian subcontinent handle veganism supremely well - certain subgenres of Indian food are largely vegan anyway, and I have it on good authority from a vegan friend who went on holiday to Thailand recently that he ate extremely well almost everywhere. Just don't try being a vegan in France - one member of my family recently asked for a vegan alternative to a set menu starter and was served pâté de foie gras, a substitution very much from the Nana Royal attitude to hospitality. Sushi, with its focus on fresh fish, doesn't seem like an obvious cuisine to lend itself to going vegan, but then chains like Pret and Wasabi have done so for a number of years already with their avocado and cucumber rolls. What if it was done properly, with a chef's attitude to detail and with real presentational flair? Studio Gauthier attempts to do just that, making excellent sushi that just happens to have no animal in it. Can it really work? Well, in a word, yes. The first thing to arrive to our table was this cute presentation of plant-based "caviar", the deception strengthened by being served in a little custom-printed caviar tin. The "caviar" itself was remarkably realistic - certainly the equal to the lumpfish roe you can get from Tesco, probably even nicer - and underneath was a layer of creamy, salty plant-based crème fraiche of some kind (probably made from nuts but don't hold me to that). It was all rather lovely, despite the vegan blinis perhaps not working quite as well as their butter and milk-based counterparts and also being somewhat burned. Passing the huge open kitchen a little later, I noticed one of the staff despondently picking through a pile of burned blinis for the occasional one that could be salvaged and used, so clearly something had gone wrong in the preparation that day. I'm sure they're normally a lot better than this. When it comes to accurately describing the actual sushi, I'm going to have a bit of an issue, as some of the very clever techniques they used to recreate the standard sushi sets are quite beyond my powers of deduction. But alongside avocado nigiri here are "salmon" and "tuna" nigiri made, I'm told from tapioca starch with more fake tuna urumaki, all of it more than convincing. What also helped was that the sushi rice was warm - a detail that plenty of "actual" (and far more expensive) sushi places get wrong. Another plate of nigiri featured chargrilled aubergine, piquillo peppers with passion fruit chutney and, in the centre there, "Green Dynamite" - crisp rice fritters topped with tofu "crab", and sliced jalapeño dotted with sriracha. Thoughtfully put together and each mouthful bursting with flavour, I think it was about this point that I completely forgot I was eating plant-based food and was just eagerly looking forward to the next thing to arrive. More "tuna" and avocado and truffled miso nigiri came sharing a plate with a bitesize inari - a spongey, sweet tofu thing stuffed with soft, warm rice. Inari are actually vegan anyway, so perhaps the success of this shouldn't be too much of a surprise, but it was still a very good example of its kind, and right up there with the caviar as one of my favourite things overall. With a couple of cocktails, the bill came to £43pp, more than reasonable for London these days, certainly for food which although doesn't contain any expensive protein did still clearly have a lot of work and thought gone into it. I'm just docking a couple of points firstly for the burned blinis, and also for slightly inexperienced service charged at slightly-over-normal 15% - we had to ask a couple of times for various things. Also, the room isn't air-conditioned which you could just about get away with when it's 28C (the day we visited) but once it goes over 30C, which it often does in London these days, you're not going to want to be there very long. Still, these are niggles. Even a committed protein eater like me had a blast at Studio Gauthier - it's intelligent, enjoyable food done well in attractive yet informal surroundings, and for not very much money at all. For vegans though, this could very easily be everything they ever wanted in a restaurant, where instead of having to choose between the only plant option (usually mushroom risotto, or something involving butternut squash) or going hungry, they can have anything they want from this enticing menu, and be just as smug and satisfied as their protein-eating friends anywhere else in town. And that alone has to be worth a trip, surely? 8/10
After traipsing halfway across London, dodging travel works and closed Overground lines and carriages with malfunctioning air conditioning and all the other things that make moving around this city on a weekend in the summer such an endless joy, it's equally annoying to find that your destination is good or bad. If it's good, you will bemoan the fact that somewhere worth visiting is so bloody difficult to get to, and seethe with jealousy of those lucky locals who have such a good place on their doorstep. And if it's bad, you wish you'd spent your Saturday morning and sanity going somewhere else. Uncle Hon's isn't awful. It's not great, but it's not awful. The brisket (sorry, ox cheeks) was over-tender to the point of mush (it would definitely not pass the competition BBQ "pull-test" and a bit too sweet. Pulled lamb had a decent flavour but a rather uniform texture - the joys of the "pulled" element of a BBQ tray lie almost entirely in finding little crispy crunchy bits of fat and charred flesh; this was just a bit boring. And some cubes of pork belly were decent enough in that Cantonese roast style but was yet more sweet, syrupy, mushy meat next to two other piles of sweet, syrupy, mushy meat and the whole thing was just a bit sickly. Iberico ribs were a bit better in terms of texture - they did at least have a bit of a bite and didn't just slop off the bone as is depressingly often the case - but I feel like Iberico has become a bit of a meaningless foodie buzzword like Wagyu, ie. nowhere near the guarantee of quality it once was (if indeed it ever was). These were definitely the best things we ate though, and were pretty easily polished off. Oh I should say pickles and slaw were fine, if fairly unmemorable, and a single piece of crackling weirdly lodged vertically into a mound of rice like the sword in the stone had a pleasant enough greaseless texture but was pretty under seasoned. Look, I can see what they're trying to do at Uncle Hon's - fusion American/Chinese BBQ food, bringing a bit of a new twist to what is now fairly ubiquitous London drinking-den fare, and with a bit more thought and skill it could have been, well, if not completely worth that awful journey but at least some compensation for your efforts. But after having paid £50pp for what is an only fairly mediocre tray of food plus 3 small extra pork ribs, we were left feeling fairly unhappy, not very satisfied and more than a little ripped off. 5/10
More in travel
Impressive artwork decorates his home town.
Gadabout: MANSFIELD Mansfield is the largest town in Nottinghamshire, but only because Nottingham is a city. It lies 12 miles north of Nottingham and an hour's bus ride southeast of Chesterfield on the other side of the M1. Again we're on the edge of an abandoned coalfield but Mansfield is probably better known for its proximity to Sherwood Forest, despite not quite being in that either. With a population nudging 100,000 it's no small market town, nor any major tourist draw, nor doing especially well on the economic front. But I uncovered plenty of interest for a one-off visit, indeed found the town quite eye-opening, and at least its museum was open this time. Ten postcards follow. [Visit Mansfield] [20 photos] ✉ The forest a plaque overlooking a none-too impressive oak. The inscription claims that an ancient tree stood here until 1940 and that the replacement was planted by the leader of the council in 1988, but if you stand here now outside a barber shop and a Moldovan grocery store it feels about as unforesty as you can get. Based on forest borders when King John was on the throne, however, Mansfield's centrality claim is more convincing. Alas far less of Sherwood remains these days, the largest surviving swathe lying beyond easy walking distance to the northeast. It's a half hour bus ride to Edwinstowe if you want to see the historic Major Oak in Sherwood Forest Country Park, the massive tree in which Robin Hood and his merry men allegedly hung out. Realistically its girth would have been a lot less than 10m in those days, also the tree's not in good shape as it battles against old age and a changing climate, but it's still arguably a better tourist option than spending half a day in Mansfield. ✉ The railway Mansfield joined the railway network in 1849, initially as a terminus. In 1875 the line continued north to Worksop via a viaduct that cuts right across the heart of the town, though not in a domineering way. The 15 brick arches launch off from a sandstone cliff where people lived in cave houses until the end of the Victorian era, and land on the far side beside a lacklustre railway hotel. Mansfield lost its connection for Beeching-related reasons in 1964 and for many years claimed to be the largest town in England without a railway station, but was linked back up again in 1995 when the Robin Hood Line reopened. It still only gets one train an hour for most of the day though, hence the neighbouring swooshy bus station is considerably busier. ✉ The museum Leeming Street started out as a collection donated by a Victorian philanthropist who inherited his fortune from the Mansfield Brewery. This is one of the local industries celebrated in the entrance corridor along with Metal Box, a company that originally sold mustard in decorated tins before deducing there was much more money in exploiting the tins themselves. If you used to buy Altoid mints or still keep your screws in a rusting Quality Street tin the source was probably the Metal Box factory in Rock Valley, recently demolished. Once you walk past the museum's information desk the galleries become rather more sparse - some stuffed birds, a bit of art, a movie props exhibition, really not many dinosaurs - so I would very much suggest focusing your time on Made In Mansfield instead. ✉ The Market Place small portion on the northern side, through which thread shoppers and mobility scooters heading elsewhere. In the empty part I spotted a very prominent police car, intriguingly empty and still present two hours later, thus presumably parked there as a deterrent. The monument in the centre is a later addition to commemorate local landowner Lord George Bentinck, but alas the shell was so ornate that the money ran out and the central space reserved for his statue remains empty. Don't think pavement cafes and alfresco drinking, but there is a branch of my favourite pastry chain Poundbakery where the lady behind the counter called me 'duck' as she sold me two apple puffs for a quid. ✉ The Quakers claims to fame is that the Quaker religion has its roots here, this because the initial revelation striking George Fox came during the English Civil War while he was walking past the parish church. ["And as I was walking by the steeple-house side in the town of Mansfield, the Lord said unto me, That which people do trample upon must be thy food."] His first nonconformist conversion was of a local woman called Elizabeth Hooton, who it's said inspired the idea of silent worship, and a first meeting house was established on land outside the town centre. In a careless civic act the Old Quaker Meeting House was demolished in 1973 to make way for a new ring road called Quaker Way and now lies somewhere underneath the town's bus station, thus the Mansfield Quaker Heritage Trail is mostly a tour of the long gone. ✉ The trunk road A38 is England's longest two-digit A road and is 292 miles long. One end is in Bodmin in Cornwall and the other is here in Mansfield, and has been since 1977 when the road designation was extended northeast from Derby. The monster road terminates at an otherwise insignificant T-junction between the Superbowl and Taco Bell, this because the remainder of Stockwell Gate from here to Market Place had already been pedestrianised. All the other main roads round here start with a 6 so this numerical interloper really stands out. The Bodmin end of the A38 is prettier to be honest, but is merely a service roundabout so it's much easier to buy zips, get botoxed and park your car at this end. ✉ The mining in the locality. At Clipstone on the outskirts of Mansfield the headstocks have been retained and ex-miners run guided tours on Fridays, while at Pleasley Pit the reclaimed mineworkings are now a country park with a visitor centre which opens daily except Tuesdays. I also missed out on the correct opening days for the Nottinghamshire Mining Museum which occupies part of Mansfield station, so instead had to make do with admiring the chunky 'Tribute to the British Miner' statue unveiled on the ring road in 2003. ✉ The shops Four Seasons shopping centre has seen better days and leans heavily into cheaper stores, and if you step out back the former Beale's department store is a hulking eyesore awaiting the cash to turn it into a regenerated council hub. The mall that most affected me was the Rosemary Centre, a former cotton doubling factory founded by the Cash family in 1906. In 1989 the ground floor became a terraced shopping mall of dubious architectural merit, home to Argos, Domino's and Slacks newsagents, but has been sequentially decanted and the derelict arcade now has a brutal ambience. The plan is to replace the sawtooth-roofed building with a huge Lidl to try to regain footfall, which makes huge economic sense but nobody will ever look at their grey shed and think wistfully of what used to be. ✉ The leftbehindness ✉ The Heritage Trail Mansfield Heritage Trail comes highly recommended. You can download it before you arrive or pick up a nicely-bound free copy at the museum. For me it explained why a bronze man was leaning on a stack of metal rings at the foot of Church Street, what the 7m-tall stainless steel high heels were doing by the railway viaduct and which seemingly classical building on Regent Street was really just the former Electricity Showroom. Eye-opening all round. » 20 photos of Mansfield on Flickr (it should be obvious where Chesterfield starts and Mansfield begins)
Tin Pan Alley cranks up the volume.
Pictograms 30 July - 9 November Japan House High Street Kensington admission free 2018 as a venue to share and celebrate Japanese culture and design. And what could be more Japanese than the pictogram - a suite of graphic symbols that convey meaning through symbolic representation? The latest exhibition celebrates their use but also aims to educate and foster a deeper understanding of graphic design, and is described as a masterclass in the simplicity of communicating without words. It's been set up in the basement so be aware the lift's currently not working, and it's a shame they wrote the 'Lift not in use' sign in words rather than displaying the message as a pictogram. giant black pictograms. It manages to be both the perfect selfie-backdrop and also fulsomely educational throughout, and I hope you won't mind if I focus on the latter. minimalist silhouette designs conjured up by Katsumi Masaru and Yoshiro Yamashita to guide visiting spectators to the correct sporting venue certainly made a lasting impact. Also it's a shame they went to all the effort of redesigning them again for the 2020 Games and thanks to the pandemic hardly any foreigners turned up. 176 emoji, each restricted to 12×12 pixels, and included twelve zodiac signs, five red hearts, two feline faces, a cutlery set and a rocking horse. What precisely would best depict an apple, for example, to ensure understanding across all boundaries and cultures? Should icons be depicted from the front, the side or looking down from on top, and all because the essence of a 3D object has to be condensed into a recognisable 2D representation? And if it's movement you're depicting, which part should be the snapshot you use? Looking at a silhouette walking, for example, it soon becomes clear that only one properly captures the intended motion. The exhibition ends with a do-it-yourself section. A bunch of London schoolchildren were asked to design their own pictograms on a square grid, and the professionally-tweaked results clearly resemble Tower Bridge, a wrap of fish and chips, a cargo bike and the intimate emotion 'I love my dog'. There's also a lightbox where you can shuffle shapes to make your own pictogram designs. I quickly knocked up the silhouette below to represent 'diamond geezer', although I confess to relying heavily on a shape the gallery assistants had laid out in advance and I am by no means that rotund in real life. exhibition's on until November, but ➨ 🇯🇵🏠︎ 🕙︎-🕗︎ 🔍︎ 👍︎☺
Packed programme of art, music, theatre and history.