Review: Sollip, London Bridge

Gamtae sandwich

Gamtae sandwich

I eat out a lot. It’s sad but true, I can go to a lovely restaurant and enjoy an eight course £80 tasting menu and some top-notch wine over a whole evening, and a week later I couldn’t tell you more than two of the dishes I had without getting my phone out to look for photos. Couple of weeks after that and I might not be able to remember one. Sometimes the occasion is memorable but not the food. So… is that a bad meal? It certainly wasn’t a memorable meal.

So dinner at Sollip made me very happy. Daikon tarte tatin? Fig leaf creme brulee? Fermented soy bean gougeres? Not only were these dishes eye-catchingly original on the menu, each was beautiful to look at and delivered exactly what it promised.

Daikon tarte tatin

Daikon tarte tatin

The style at Sollip is calming pared-back simplicity. This carries through from the neutral earth decor to the simple handware crockery and the spartan plating. But the flavours of the dishes, though clean and clear, are definitely full of bold colour.

Take the daikon tarte tatin. It turns out that robust brassica notes with a sticky-sweet glaze work incredibly well, especially on top of a thin base of crispy nutty brown pastry. And it also turns out that an elegant smooth cream of potato and chive makes a great relish for this.

And a piece of sturdy white john dory is a powerful enough fish to emerge through a warming pale beef broth and a strong hit of smokey timiz peppercorn. There’s also a tiny little toasted finger sandwich of caerphilly cheese and gamtae, which turns out to be a feathery green seaweed with a strong herbal/salty/umami flavour that works wonders with the slightly melted cheese. Oh and a powerfully spicy beef tartare with a face-warming fizz of Korean chilli mixed through it.

Fig leaf creme brulee

Fig leaf creme brulee

The fig leaf creme brulee, though. Apart from being a beautiful creme brulee, as smooth as silk and just rich enough, this was fundamentally the best fig dish I’ve ever enjoyed. And I love figs. Fig leaf has a tiny bit of a tobacco-y note to it, as well as a slightly herby version of fig flavour. This was crystal clear. And the fig compote at the bottom was sticky and humming with the fresh flavour of good figs. So this is a dish I’m going to remember for years.

I obviously loved Sollip. You’d pay £40 each for three courses and a snack, which is great for the sheer quality of the cuisine. Every dish is spot-on. Fair warning: if you have a hearty appetite, you’ll perhaps leave still a bit peckish. The food is light and the portions delicate. You can always just order more dishes, and I’d certainly recommend that!

Spicy tartare

Spicy tartare

Review: Gymkhana, St James

Aloo chat

Aloo chat

I’ve done it. I’ve reached “jaded” point with British modern Indian cooking. I came out of Gymkhana thinking a few different things: (1) that was pretty good, (2) I am utterly stuffed… am I actually waddling? and (3) does aloo chat really belong on a £85 tasting menu?

Not only aloo chat. We also had a fine dining taking on a pao bhaji. And I get it, for sure. Ten years ago hardly anyone in the UK was aware of Indian street food classics. And it’s cute as well; sometimes you’ll find a fine dining tasting menu with “fish and chips” or “wagyu beef burger” on it and you’ll get a beautiful plate with an inventive deconstruct/reconstruct of some British street food classic.

Grouse samosa

Grouse samosa

But mostly these modern fine dining Indian restaurants are just serving up a somewhat refined version of the Indian original. And I’ve had plenty of aloo chat now. Gymkhana’s one is fine, and somewhat refined, but no more flavourful than an actual street one for all that. Likewise the pao bhaji. If you’re ever in Cardiff, make sure you hit up 3Bs Cafe for lunch or supper and try theirs.

There were some lovely dishes on this menu. The grouse samosa with a bright pepper relish was a delicious first bite – one of those “just give me ten of these on a plate!” dishes. And the partridge pepper fry was a lovely number with a pain/pleasure peppery heat that grew with every bite. Came with a perfect flaky and buttery paratha. A saffron flavoured falooda was also delish (though at this point we really were struggling to find room!). And a big shout-out to their masala chai, which was exactly as sweet & spicy as I’d like.

Masala chai

Masala chai

The main course biryanis were fine. The mushroom one had very good flavour. The muntjac one was a nice biryani, with a tasty pastry topping, but lacking the amazing frangrant noseful of spices you expect when the top comes off a great one.

I’m thinking that an a la carte three course curry at Gymkhana would be a very good evening out. But for me there’s not enough wow in the tasting menu to warrant £80. It’s time to move on from gussied-up aloo chat. Indian street food is easy to find in the UK now, and that’s a very good thing, but it does mean the fine dining gang need to up their game.

Biryani time

Biryani time

Review: Sushi Atelier, Fitzrovia

Itamae, Sushi Atelier

Itamae, Sushi Atelier

I have a new favourite sushi place, and it is Sushi Atelier on Great Portland Street. Okay, it’s a bit more expensive than your typical London sushi place. But on the plus side, it felt a lot closer in quality and detail to eating sushi in Japan (which I’ve been lucky enough to do a handful of times).

Here’s the best possible example. Mackerel nigiri. A finger of the cheapest fish used for sushi, on a tablet of sushi rice. Mackerel has such a lovely forward fishy flavour, and a firm but slightly oiled texture. I fell in love with this in Japan, couldn’t get enough of it. And then I had four crushingly disappointing experiences in the UK before I finally stopped ordering it. Why? For some reason we insist on curing the mackerel to death. Sometimes it tastes pretty much completely soused. I do love a rollmop, but it’s not very bloody Japanese, is it?

Sashimi

Sashimi

So it was wonderful to be served spankingly fresh mackerel, a beautiful ruby pink piece with its scintillating skin, on top of a firm tablet of what was probably the most flavourful and perfectly textured sushi rice I’ve ever had. Japan included.

Our experience was helped by sitting at the bar and having a really friendly and enthused itamae (sushi chef). As he trimmed and cleaned a magnificent piece of tuna the size of my head he explained all about its sustainable provenance, what part of the fish the different cuts come from, and how they age it for up to seven days to improve the flavour. Don’t try this at home kids! They can age the fish because they keep it in perfect conditions and it’s a big enough hunk that they can trim off any edges that go funny.

Iberico teriyaki

Iberico teriyaki

The omakase selection of sushi and sashimi was absolutely gorgeous, bite after bite. Very smart toppings swiped over the sushi were much more splendid than just dipping it in soy; ruby red tuna with a sweet/citrus ponzu jelly, yellowtail with a bright yellow yuzu stain.

Equally splendid were the hot dishes we mixed in. Iberico pork teriyaki was exactly as brilliant as it sounds, the juicy meat sucking up the deep, dark sauce. Eel osuimono was new to me; a light soup broth that had totally captured the flavours of the grilled eel, mushroom and padron peppers soaking in it. The three distinct flavours were a magic complement.

Okay, the bill drifted over £100 including service. So it was probably about £40 each before drinks. I’d much rather treat myself to great sushi occasionally, than have dull sushi more often. So I’ll be going back to Sushi Atelier whenever I need a fix.

Nigiri sushi

Nigiri sushi

Review: Kaneda-Ya, Holborn

Kaneda Ya

Kaneda Ya

London is such a sponge for soaking up the best in the world. And if it’s a rainy night in winter, and you need a quick and deeply satisfying meal in a short time, you can’t do much better than a bowl of Japanese ramen with some exceptional broth. So it’s lucky that the West End of London is now liberally scattered with ramen places.

Kaneda-ya is a great specimen, certainly the best I’ve had. The bone broth for my noodles was unashamedly deep in earthy pork and chicken flavours, soupy and satisfying. It came with a pungent black smoked garlic sauce stirred in, adding another dimension to the pleasure. The noodles themselves were firmly al dente. Four thin slices of soft pork belly, also good, as was the special hanjuku egg I got added on top – I believe it is cured in pork broth.

Maureen’s bowl was a yuzu-chilli broth, and the fiery citrus flavours merged with the bone broth for – I’m a bit envious – an even more orgasmic slurping experience. We stuck with tea and calpico to drink, though they’ve got a couple of beers and fruit sake if you’re interested.

It’s going to be less than £15 each even if you choose a couple of additions to your basic ramen. Good eats.

Raaaaaameeeeen

Raaaaaameeeeen

Review: Moor Hall, Lancashire

The Cheese Room, Moor Hall

The Cheese Room, Moor Hall

This is our first big splash-out meal since lockdown began, and we’ve kicked off with a truly great one. But I want to start by applauding all the front of house staff in all the restaurants around the country. I hate wearing a mask for 30 minutes to do a supermarket shop. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to wear a mask for a whole, hot, busy evening service. And keep smiling behind it. Bravo. Seriously.

Moor Hall is a magnificent country house in a pretty random patch of south Lancashire. It looks an absolute picture, arriving at dusk with all the lights on, magical. And of course that ought to be a big part of the experience when you rock up for a 2-star tasting menu in the country; you want to feel just a tiny bit like you’re in a fairytale.

Cured meats

Cured meats

The food begins with a serving of four different home cured meats. This really sets out the stall. The powerful aged meat flavours of the braesola and the copa are about the best I’ve ever had and showcase just a really fierce level of care and attention to detail. This runs right through the many courses to the very fine piece of herdwick lamb in the main. Oh… and one of the appetisers, a bite of black pudding in crisp batter, it tasted like nothing more than a visit to a really good butcher shop.

I love sea buckthorn, and after enjoying it in a pre-prandial cocktail I also got to enjoy it in a dish of tiny baked carrots with sea buckthorn sauce and a very fine Doddington cheese that seemed to live somewhere between parmesan and pecorino. The sea buckthorn added zip but wasn’t overwhelming.

Perfect oyster

Perfect oyster

Some of the most standout dishes were somewhere in the middle, among the seafood. My absolute favourite was a great fat oyster, poached in buttermilk, served in a bed of beautiful white beetroot carpacchio and livened up with dill oil. Totally faultless. The cornish lobster with heritage tomatoes was just as epic. The tomatoes were almost chewy and intensely flavoured, and a rosehip gel added a fresh zing. The main fish was sea bass, excellent in a foaming mussel sauce with courgette and sea veg, just a very satisfying dish, perfectly balanced and a standout piece of fish.

Seabass

Seabass

The desserts were each delicious, albeit not such stars as the savoury courses. The gingerbread icecream with crisp “pine needles” of pastry was great. The peregrine peach was a bit disappointing, as the sole flavour was the strong (albeit nice) lemon verbena sorbet. Blackberries paired with the distinct country flavour of woodruff cream was a fine finale.

Moor Hall sits up there with some of the best meals I’ve had, and I think I’ll particularly remember the splendid setting. The wine list has good range, and their house cocktails (at least, the two we tried) are smashing. The menu is £155 although going up to £185 later this month. For me that’s getting a little steep, but that’s what 2 stars allows. You certainly can’t be disappointed by a visit to Moor Hall.

Herdwick

Herdwick