londonelicious: a london restaurant blog

Duke of Wellington

The Duke of Wellington
94a Crawford Street
W1H 2HQ
Tel: 020 7723 2790

Date of Last Visit: Wednesday June 18th

The Victims: Rutton, Ted, Eve, Richard, Jason, Mark, Patrick

The Damage: £40ish each

The Background: Jason is in town from New York so Richard has organized dinner. Jason is the only person I know who's actually FROM the Hamptons. When I tell people I'm from Long Island, they will often say, "Oh, the Hamptons?" Which I suppose is a compliment because maybe I have that sort of fresh-faced J. Crew sort of look about me. (If you're not familiar with J. Crew, Boden is a good proxy.) And I do like Lacoste. But I'm not from the Hamptons. And I only wish my hair was as shiny and my legs were as long as a J. Crew model's.

So we meet up at the Duke of Wellington--I am, I believe, wearing Boden!--and I walk by The Beehive and am intrigued. (When we went to Coco Momo the other weekend, I suggested we try out the new place that started with a B but I couldn't remember the name. And there it is now, right in front of me.)

The Entrance: The Duke of Wellington seems smallish and dark, but maybe it's because there are so many of us, and everyone is taller than me. We are shown a table by the entrance and by the loos (how convenient) and promptly begin to demolish about five bottles of Rioja. This was not my idea.

The Food: A number of us order the lasagna, about which we're told, "It's made with a different pasta. Is that okay?" We all ask if it's still lasagna, and our server keeps explaining yes, but with a different pasta.

I don't think our server has ever had lasagna before. About the only thing it has in common with lasagna is pasta.

The Verdict: Don't order the lasagna. Not only is it not lasagna, it's not very good either. The side salad was nice though.

Shop: Lina Stores

Lina Stores
18 Brewer Street
W1F 0SH
Tel: 020 7437 6482

Date of Last Visit: Friday, June 13

The Victim: Me

The Damage: £15

The Background: I love London. I love my blog. I love the people who read my blog in and out of London. I love when I have no plans and all of  a sudden, a plan presents itself at the perfect time and the perfect place.

Scott in Tasmania read my Fernandez & Wells post on Friday and left a comment..."Have you gone to see Tony at Lina Stores, down the road in Brewer Street?" Why no, I haven't! But it sure sounds like I should! So I did.

The Entrance: Lina's is packed with pasta and vegetables and more pasta and cheese and meats and olive oils and vinegars. It is happy chaos and I fall in love. There's home made raviolis on the counter so I order some artichoke and some spinach. (If you know the difference between ravioli and tortellioni, let me know.)

The young man serving me talks me into the pesto and the parmasean to go along with it and he is very wise. I don't know anything about sports, but Italy seemed to be playing while I was there so you can imagine three generations of Italians yelling at the TV while they are packing up my ravioli.

The Verdict: I buy four portions of ravioli and eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the next few days. I'm serious. I'll be back many times.

Lunch: Coco Momo

Coco Momo
79 Marylebone High Street
W1U 5JZ
Tel: 020 7486 5746

Date of Last Visit: Sunday, June 8

The Victims: Al, Oscar Rutton, Richard

The Damage: £15 or thereabouts each

The Background: It is just so very lovely Sunday that we must get out and go somewhere. We debate a picnic in the park but Rutton wisely decides that buying all the stuff will be too much work. So instead Richard suggests Coco Momo, right on Marylebone High Street.

I am late--I've been with the accupuncturist, my new addiction--and I'm feeling very light-headed in a good way as I slowly make my way around Marylebone to meet the boys. I approach from the west and run smack dab into them, sitting at a sunny table on the pavement, looking very 2008 with young Oscar in tow.

The Food: Salads for all of us. Nice salads. Very refreshing and relaxing and perfect for a day like this when all you want to do is sit and have something light and get a little color. After lunch, we buy some ice cream and Pouilly Fuisse and lay around Regent's Park for hours, playing backgammon and watching Oscar push his pram around.

The Verdict: Nice. 

Lunch: Fernandez & Wells

Fernandez & Wells
43 Lexington St
W1F 9AL
Tel: 020 7734 1546

Date of Last Visit: 7 June 2008

The Victim: Me

The Damage: Less than £10?

The Background: I've become a compulsive shopper as of late. I really can't help myself.

I think it's because I normally go back to the U.S. with two empty suitcases around this time of year and stock up on all sorts of new duds. I don't, unfortunately, have time for that this summer. So Oxford Street is getting to know me better than ever before. It knew me pretty well, that's for sure, but I was more a looker than a buyer. Now the AMEX is primed and ready and I own four too many purses than ever before.

The Entrance: I've had Fernandez & Wells on my To-Do List ever since I watched the Trusted Places video with Niamh of Eat Like a Girl.  A Saturday on Oxford Street provides the perfect excuse.

It's buzzy when I enter...it's not  big place, maybe just eight stools? Five are full and I pick mine overlooking the cash register. (Photo taken from my stool.) The staff are fun and jovial and pleased to see me, a total stranger. I order a chorizo sandwich and because I got my ass kicked that morning by my personal trainer and it's just coming up on 3 p.m. (when I think drinkng during the day becomes acceptable), I do treat myself to a sneaky glass of rioja.

The Food: The sandwich arrives in all its crispness and it is fantastic. I want it to go on and on and on. I watch them plate up ham and cheese for other guests, and I wish I was hungrier and/or already thinner so I could join in the fun. In short, I have a lovely sandwich and a lovely time and me and my AMEX are refueled and ready to hit the streets again. Which we do.

The Verdict: Love, love, love Fernandez & Wells. Simple is perfect and perfect is simple. Why haven't I been here before? I will be back.

Cupcakes: Peyton & Byrne

Peyton and Byrne at Heals
196 Tottenham Court Road
W1T 7LQ

Date of Last Visit: Saturday, May 31

The Victim: I bought 'em. Julie, Anna, Feathers, Jen ate them.

The Damage: £20 for 10 cupcakes

The Background: We've got tickets for Sex & The City, of course. And it's Anna's birthday. So I thought it would be nice to buy some birthday cupcakes and eat them in the dark. And hopefully not get caught.

The Cupcakes: It IS dark. And I can't tell what sort of cupcake I have. Strawberry, maybe? It is super super sweet. So much so that I can't finish it. But it's so dark that I can't really see the box and the bag the cupcakes came in. So I shut up and watch the movie with a warm (in a bad way), melty gooey strawberry cupcake in my hand. And then I eventually finish it.

The Verdict: Eh. Hummingbird and Crumbs and Doilies do it better. Everyone else seems to like the Peyton & Byrne cupcakes though. So maybe it's just me. Or maybe no one has the cupcake experience that I do.

Tea: Postcard Teas

Postcard Teas
9 Dering St
W1S 1AG
Mayfair
Tel: 020 7629 3654

Date of Last Visit: Friday, April 25, 2008

The Victim: Me

The Damage: £4.50 for two cups of tea and a slice of cake.

The Background: I am having a day of me. I haven't done much. Went to the gym. Went to John Lewis. Popped into Postcard Teas.

I heard about Postcard Teas from a very knowledgeable guy on Chowhound. He spends most weekend afternoons here, and I can see why. I was more than a little stressed on Friday, but once I walked into Postcard Teas, I got that feeling I get (maybe you know it) when I pass through security into duty free in Heathrow. I call that the "oasis of calm" That's how I felt at Postcard Teas.

I have a slice of chocolate cake, which is made by somebody's daughter. I ask the proprietor to pick me out two very different teas, and I spend a nice hour chatting with strangers and generally unplugging from the world. (Now on the downside, I really don't know what type of tea I had first. My second tea was a Golden Assam, I believe.)

The Verdict: Please go here. At £1.50 a cup, I have to wonder how they're making their money. (Although I saw more then a few customers come in to order tea in large quantities.) I want them to survive. 

Don't forget to vote...Who was the best guest blogger while I was away last week? Was it Douglas from Intoxicating Prose with his review of Galvin at Windows? Or was it Bombay Beauty with his review of Italian Giusto? Or Jon from Oishii Oishii with his review of Japanese restaurant Matsuri? Use the cool little voting widget from Poll Daddy

Guest Blog: Giusto

Giusto
43 Blandford Street
London, W1U 7HF
Tel: 020 7486 7340

Today's guest blog comes from Bombay Beauty. Remember to come back on Tuesday, May 6th to vote for your favorite guest blogger!

Date of last visit: 17 April 2008

The Damage: £18, including a glass of wine.

The Victim: Me, myself, and my lonesome.

The Background: My Italian friend, Marco, had been going on (and on) about how Giusto served really good Italian food, and you know how Italians get when they talk about their food: (they think) they know it all. But my friend Marco is a good type, so I thought I would give it a try.

The Entrance: I've walked by, and past, this place often because it looks deserted or closed. But the trick is that the restaurant is downstairs while upstairs is just a small bar area that is used at lunch for coffee and takeaway but is empty at night. Downstairs I find a largish dining room with people in it – things are looking up. While it's neither cozy nor sleek, there are people here and a wood-fired oven, and that's all right.

The Oven: True Italian pizza is baked in a wood-fired oven. Don't be fooled by substitutes. I've even been to places where they pile logs everywhere to make it look authentic, but when you ask you discover they have an electric oven. This is the real deal – wood!

The Main: I am really in the mood for pizza so I set pretense aside and dive into it. I ask for the Basilico, which is made with plum tomatoes, buffalo mozzarella (again, accept no substitutes, outside Southern Italy, unless they say it's buffalo mozzarella assume it's not), fresh basil, and a bit of tomato sauce. It looks something like this:

It takes exactly 10 minutes for my pizza to arrive. I time them, naturally. In a pizzeria quick service is good. It means that the pizza's crust is thin and that the oven is hot.  My first bite is good – a crisp crust and a good tomato sauce. My second bite is also good, but puzzling: the cheese is delicious, true buffalo mozzarella, but it's cold. I examine the pie more carefully and notice that all the toppings have been placed on the pizza after most of the baking was done – the cheese isn't melted, the plum tomatoes (which are delicious by the way) are still fresh rather than oven roasted, and the basil (fragrant, mmm….) is fresh as the day it was born.

I'm puzzling this through when I notice that my pizza has disappeared – I've eaten it all. Despite what my mind tells me, my palette says it's good.

The bottom line is mixed. Putting the ingredients on after baking just isn't right (and why? did I seem too lonely to wait an extra 2 minutes?), but at the same time the crust and ingredients are great.

The Service: Friendly and efficient.

The Loos: No problems here.

The Verdict: While it may not be grandma's pizza (if your grandmother is Neapolitan), it is all said and done a very fine pizza. I'll be back for more. Also noteworthy – they offer mini-pizzas and panini for lunch. Hot from the oven at £4 each, this seems like a good lunch or shopping-break option if you're in Marylebone.

Thanks to Bombay Beauty for submitting a guest post while I'm taking some time off. Remember to come back on Tuesday, May 6th to vote for your favorite guest blogger!

Guest Blog: Galvin at Windows

Galvin at Windows
22 Park Lane
W1K 1BE
Tel: 020 7208 4021

Guest Review by Douglas of Intoxicating Prose. Check back on Monday, May 6th to vote for your favorite guest blogger.

London looks beautiful from above. More precisely, through immaculate windows, 28 floors up, the Queen’s garden looks green, the main streets are cleared of traffic for the marathon, and staccato spring rainstorms reinforce the cosy isolation. Up here it seems that God sieves through a giant scola pasta rather than weeps on the population.

This is my third visit. The first occured before Galvin took the helm. I was six, staying at the hotel below with my parents. I remember being mesmerised by an aqualine, Russian Princess, shoehorned into a mini skirt, shuffling towards the bar, tightly escorted by her elderly, fattened ‘uncle’. Last year was my second, working as a sommelier at a private gastronomic event for hedge fund managers. I watched the affluently be-suited shun glasses of ’96 Dom Pérignon in favour of ’90 Lafite. Ah, the pain of decisions…

During today’s reconaissance, we sit in soft, capacious seats, strong enough to support Dawn French and bolstered with fussily offered cushions. Beaded flutes of Pommery Springtime Rosé gently land. Soothing. The tiny, explosive bubbles echo the patter on the panes. A helicopter dragging a ‘Flora’ banner whirs by. Tomato and multigrain bread is brought in abundance, warmed just enough to melt the beaten butter, and almost too tasty. In fact we greedily partake of in total three servings, followed by crostini with the starters, snugly embalmed in a linen eiderdown.

The Head Chef is Roux Scholar, André Garret, formerly of The Orrery (where Chris Galvin was mentor). Despite the Gallic name, he comes from Bath. His mother was a fan of pianist, conductor, and composer, André Previn apparently. This André continues to carve his culinary career, admitting cravings for the luminosity a Michelin star will bring (and Windows is on the ‘Rising Star’ scoreboard).

Thankfully the old adage, ‘the better the view, the worse the food’ proves untrue amongst the panorama. In fact, despite arriving via a Top Table offer, the food I tried positively distracted me from the world outside. A trio of lightly cooked Duchy of Cornwall rock oysters with seaweed butter, served on a coarse salt landscape, tantalised, surprisingly an improvement on serving them naked. A simple, fruity butternut bisque arrived in a sauce boat, elegantly decanted around the beach of a ravioli island sporting a parsley palm.

Two glasses of Vouvray followed the Champagne. This distinct, off-dry Loire white from a one horse town with voluminous cellars had a distinct, deep aroma tally of undercooked apple crumble and a taught palate evoking damp cashmere. Curiously, but to my favour, the Sommelier filled our glasses unevenly. The wine list has, expectedly, some unbearably lofty mark-ups, but offers reasonable value around £20-£30, particularly with white bottles. My guess is that most corporate charge-card diners don’t pause for financial concern, patting the vinous celebrities at whatever cost.

For the main courses, I enjoyed hearty, braised lamb shank, which was extroadinarily succulent, the meat meltily flaking into satisfying fronds. I sucked the soft marrow from the protein bagpipes afterwards, feeling illicit, savouring the pleasurable grey goo. It could have been caviar. My companion had “perfect” Pollack fillet, soft, flocculent, in genre fitting somewhere in between haddock and halibut. This was served with very green broccoli florets.

Puddings were artistically crafted, particularly my cool dark chocolate tower with brittle cocoa shard sail and river of pureed pistachio. This was bisected by alcoholic cherry stepping stones. My companion was pampered with a shivering pannacotta with aromatic Earl Grey sorbet and raspberry jam. A huge pot of cleansing fresh mint tea followed, poured through a gimbled strainer from New York which I was very tempted to steal (I have a thing for tea time accoutrements). Then, a silver raft of petits fours, including pulverised Madagascan vanilla truffle. A clear bonbon jar of coconut flavoured marshmallows came in time to sweeten a bill just below £100.

Service, by aesthetically diverse staff, occasionally veers from attentive to obtrusive; in fact we resorted to whispers early on (there is no ambient music, not even a Previn melody). The chairs are unergonomic, being a little low, with high arms. And the décor, whilst smart, could be described as drab, especially the entrance, which feels a stuck in the ‘80’s. The designer obviously has a love of brown.

Overall, however, watching clouds disperse then reappear, then sunshine blink through, Galvin provides an enduring, luxury vantage with really enjoyably edible food.

Many thanks again to Douglas of Intoxicating Prose for providing this guest review while I take some time off. Check back on Tuesday, May 6th to vote for your favorite guest blogger!

Tea at Yauatcha, Plus Contest Finalists

Firstly, can I tell you the challenges of a keyboard where the letter A sticks? It has affected my blogging mojo, and for that, my dear readers, I apologize.

Secondly, Stacey is getting married next month. In the south of France, no less. So we took her out for tea at Yauatcha, where the macaroons are lovely and the service is a little all over the place. And then we spent 3.5 hours in Selfridges. (I never thought that possible, but pink champagne makes anything possible) And then we went to The Soho Hotel for more champagne. And then somehow, we ended up in Barrio Norte in Islington (the old Warwick). And then I went home.

Yauatcha
15 Broadwick Street
W1F 0DL
020 7494 8888

In other news, my finalists in my "Win Dinner with Krista" contest are...
Douglas from Intoxicating Prose
Bombay Beauty
Jon from oishii oishii

Check back next week to see what they have to offer, and then remember, we'll vote on the best on starting May 6th...

Where else have I been...

Two types of duck at The Four Seasons in Bayswater
The East Room, on multiple ocassions
Kipferl, for linzertorte
Snazz Sichuan for a spicy dinner

Tapas: Dehesa

Dehesa
25 Ganton Street
W1F 9BP
Tel: 020 7494 4170

Date of Last Visit: Thursday, April 3, 2008

The Victim: Anonymous

The Damage: £30 each

The Background: Jess is raffling me off. OK, maybe not raffling. But she is accepting applications on my behalf. Anonymous suggests Dehesa, which I'm excited about because Howard, Ben, Antonia and I tried to get in there the other week and were sadly denied. 

The Entrance: Dehesa is small. And it gets crowded later on. But for now, we have two seats at the bar, which is good because we're not surrounded on all sides, like the other seats. And I get to watch the bartenders scrupulously clean all the glasses.

The Food: Now I have to preface this by saying that I am "in training" for the British 10k. Imagine someone who has a pretty healthy appetite to begin with. Now imagine that person running 3 miles three to five times a week. Yeah, I'm hungry. I also made the mistake of eating lunch at around 11:15 and now it's close to 7 p.m. So now I'm STARVING.

Padron peppers. (Excellent.) Marcona almonds. Two of my favorite things. Pork belly (pictured), with a good almost of crispy skin. The pork was better than the beans, which were on the bland side. Grilled artichokes (only okay). Baby squid. (Lovely.) Manchego cheese. (Always nice.) Gnocchi. (Odd.) Rice pudding brulee. (DENSE.) Biscotti. Yes, a lot of food.

Interesting: Anonymous is an Economist, and I forget how much I love economist talk. I talk about my time and aggravation theory. He calls it my implied wage rate. We discuss the ethnic sub-groups of cleaning people. (I am in with the Romanians.) We briefly debate eBay and the efficiency of markets. And we wonder why the U.S. has one of the developed world's highest birthrates, although Americans generally get some of the worst maternity and paternity benefits in the developed world.  Hmm.

The Loos: Spic and span.

The Verdict: Honestly, I thought the food at Dehesa was just okay. The pork belly was the standout for me. And the padron peppers. If I go back, I'd go back for the atmosphere and I'd order differently.

*****Don't Forget: Submit Your Guest Blog and Get Your Chance to Win Dinner with Me*****