Review: Zucca, Bermondsey

There’s something about Italian cuisine. Those who are attracted to it seem to invariably be attracted to the idea of “peasant cooking”, of taking raw ingredients and doing simple things to them. The price differential in modern Italian restaurants seems to be dictating more by the price and provenance of the raw ingredients than by the degree of culinary dexterity on display.

This is just an observation, not a judgment. Something simple done well can bring so much more pleasure than something complicated that doesn’t quite work. At the same time, I often find myself comparing the bill from an Italian restaurant with the bill from a modern British gastropub where I’ve enjoyed food of similar complexity and deliciousness and noting that the Italian seems to be marked up 20-25%. Presumably because some of the ingredients had to come from Italy?

Anyway, Zucca is one such place. It’s a stylish dining room on Bermondsey High Street, bearing a smart industrial look paired with clean tables and contemporary dining chairs.

The tapas-style starters are simple fayre; tasty deep-fried vegetables, and a dish of braesola and gorgonzola that was a tad disappointing in that the cheese was in the form of a thin dressing on salad leaves. The most successful was a sharing plate consisting of a very fine salty burrata mozarella surrounded by garlicky bruschetta, fine pickled fennel, cumin roast carrots and crisp lettuce soaked in a very spicy/creamy dressing. All good, all simple.

Maureen picked a pasta main; big curled of it with heritage italian tomatoes and squid sauce. The seafood flavour was pronounced and delicious, the pasta had good bite, but it was a very simple dish. My pork shoulder was cooked slow and full of flavour, with beans and almonds and rainbow chard. It was a deeply satisfying bowl of food, the kind of supper you’d want your dear old Italian grandmother to make on a rainy autumn day. If you had an Italian grandmother, of course.

We reached a pretty clear consensus between the four of us. We all enjoyed our meal, and would probably come here again if we found ourselves living in the area, but it was hard to tie up the simplicity of the menu with the prices.

Review: Magdalen Arms, Oxford

A while ago, before the days of this blog, we took a weekend break to dine at Le Manoir aux Quat’ Saisons. That definitely registers as my favourite lunch ever. We arrived at 12 and wandered out around 6 when they were starting to lay for dinner. Aperitifs on the sunny lawn, a wander around the grounds and kitchen garden to digest, and obviously not forgetting the splendid cuisine that was the main event. Our budget didn’t quite stretch to staying at the Manoir so we spent the weekend in Oxford. Which is how I came to discover that Oxford is a bit rubbish for food.

Strange, such a beautiful city, apparently the most expensive place to live in the country outside of London, but unable to offer anywhere worth going back to twice. Other bloggers seem to agree that it’s tricky, even today. Maybe it’s the unholy combination of students and tourists? Two big populations that are unlikely to inspire much effort from the catering trade.

So I’m very glad we happened upon the Magdalen Arms when we needed to stop for a bite to eat on our way through last week. It’s a big, handsome pub, a short drive (or long walk) from the centre. Inside they’ve two rooms; the first most definitely a bar with none of the tables laid for dining, though you’re welcome to eat in there; the second a dining room, still basic pub furnishings with dark walls and eclectic bric-a-brac to decorate. The noise level on a Thursday evening was loud – even a table of two NEEDED TO SPEAK UP A BIT TO HEAR EACH OTHER.

That said, the food was brilliant. Maureen’s smoked haddock cakes with aioli were full of fresh smokiness and hit the right balance of fish and potato. Thick, creamy, tasty aioli – I accidentally had to finish it off with the bread. My thinly sliced Dexter beef was just as grin-inducing as it looks in the photo, good horseradish cream too.

My main of artichokes a la Grecque was an outstanding dish for a rainy summer evening. I’d just been talking to a cousin earlier about how hard it is to find good vegetarian food in vegetarian restaurants, and here was an epic feast that no meat-eater could find wanting for flavour. The artichokes had been cooked with beans, carrots, olives and a few other worthy greens, along with buckets of rosemary and parsley. The whole dish has a warm lemony-olivey depth that was both fresh and hearty at the same time. Good trick. The grilled chevre slice topped it off beautifully.

Maureen’s Italian rabbit almost knocked it into touch. The gravy was a stunner, deep but with a really vibrant paprika hum. The rabbit was gently meaty and moist, which is all it needed to be in that gravy, along with soft braised fennel and a touch of the same aioli for a bit of garlicky creaminess.

This was a pit-stop supper, so we didn’t have room or time for puddings. Based on the first two courses, I can guess how good they’d be. Around £7 for starters, £14 for mains, this is great gastropub cooking at just the right prices. The atmosphere is buzzy/noisy (delete as you prefer) and unless someone wants to recommend an alternative, this is where I’ll be eating whenever I happen to be in Oxford and needing a meal.

Stockholm in July

BLOT: foodie, don’t go.

This needs two explanations. Firstly, “BLOT” for those not indoctrinated in business jargon means “Bottom Line On Top”. In other words, I’m putting the conclusion of this post at the very top so that if you have no time to spare you’ve got the essence in one sentence. Secondly, don’t go because all the most interesting restaurants are closed in July.

Okay, so now I’ve given my conclusion twice. If you’re still reading then you probably are thinking about a trip to Stockholm in the summer. And it’s certainly a beautiful city, very worth a visit, and July has the great advantage of warm (boiling!) weather and long (loooong!) days. But the Swedes like to go to the countryside for their summer holidays and the really interesting restaurants know full well that most of the tourists who are thick in Stockholm in the summer are more interested in an “authentic moose steak” at a cheesy beerhall within spitting distance of their city centre hotel than in real gastronomy. So they all close up and go on holiday too.

No, really, pretty much all of them.

Actually, scratch the “pretty much”. All of them.

A couple of places are kind enough to leave open the lower bracket gastropub version of their restaurant, and we chose to eat at Svinet – a summer pig barbecue put on by the owners of Djuret and Pubologi (both closed). Yeah, in case you’re wondering, we chose and booked the flight and hotel before we started seriously deciding which restaurants to book. Honestly, what kind of idiot books his flight before he’s secured his restaurant reservations? : )

Svinet takes place in the courtyard of the Victory hotel, and it’s a buzzing cocktail bar along with a Spanish themed menu of gazpacho (goooooood gazpacho, awesome dusty burnt flour bread) followed by a platter of flame-smacked pig. I could take issue with the “whole pig” claim here, because ribs and neck and loin is hardly the whole pig. But I certainly couldn’t take issue with the pig. Absolutely blinding ribs, juicy and flavour-packed spicy neck, great. And whoever came up with anchovy mayonnaise as an accompaniment is a rare genius. Enjoyed the heck out of this evening. The cocktails helped. Good creme catalan too.

So what else did we eat in Stockholm? Stuff. It felt a bit like picking random cafes and small restaurants in London; likely to be half-decent these days, but nothing to write home about. Nice smoked prawns and aoili at the Urban Deli in Sodermalm. Cheap and cheerful tapas at Mamas & Tapas in Kunsholmen. Hm. Actually, if there’s a theme to dining out in Stockholm it’s this: mayonnaise. On reflection we didn’t actually have a meal without some.

But yeah. Loved our weekend break in Stockholm, just not especially for the food. Except for Svinet. If you’re into food, don’t go to Stockholm in July. That’s my final word.

Review: L’Artisan, Cheltenham

Zut alors! Zis restaurant is outRAGEously French! From the lace curtains in the window to the peppering of French words scattered into our interactions with the staff (“Bon soir, would Madames et Messieurs like to seet down?”), L’Artisan feels like a glorious throwback to the time when eating French food was a special novelty for the middle classes back from their summer hols in the Dordogne and small restaurants sprang up throughout the provinces to meet this desire with coq au vin and crusty french bread without a side plate (“it’s just like being back in Perpignan!”).

I was particularly intrigued by a young waitress bearing a name-badge labelled “French trainee”. Was she a trainee waitress who happened to be French? Or a waitress being trained in how to be French?

So what was the food like? Maureen went for the straight-up bistro staples; snails to start, tartare for main. The snails were a good size with proper garlic butter (though I was sadly informed that Brasserie Blanc does ’em better). The tartare was attractively presented, well dressed with the right accompaniments, and was a good bit of beef. My starter was a lighter “variation de la tomate”, with tomatoes presented a few different ways. The bloody mary sorbet in a dark brandy-snap basket was great, very punchy and a clever combo. The rest were tasty, though hardly dizzying gastronomy. For main course I picked a classic parillada of five fish fillets with saffron aioli. It’s a testament to the cleverness of French cuisine that this was a delicious and satisfying dinner, because in reality the mackerel and salmon at the very least were terrifically overcooked. Saffron aioli apparently makes everything okay! Worth noting: the vegetable accompaniments, shared around the table, were very good; a set courgette mousse, a little filo basket of ratatouille, sweet fennel, etc.

For pudding I pushed the classic French theme to bursting with a creme brulee. Well, I had to. It was a good one with a nice crisp caramel top and no sign of splitting inside. Maureen’s sorbets were clean and tasty, being most remarkable for coming accompanied with a marzipan spoon. Normand tradition?

So, L’Artisan. A competent bit of outrageously French cooking in the middle of Cheltenham. Actually, Cheltenham is exactly the town I’d expect to find a place like this, and I’m sure they’ll do well here. The prices are a little more than Brasserie Blanc up the road, the food of a similar quality. If I’m honest then I was probably expecting a bit better before I went in.

Review: Curry Corner, Cheltenham

Curry Corner is just around the corner from the famous Cheltenham Banksy. Okay, famous in Cheltenham at least – there’s a gallery near us that offers canvas prints of the clever stenciled image of two shady GCHQ operatives apparently listening in on a telephone box, and get this, they’ll even photoshop in a picture of you inside the phone box! That’s an heirloom. An almighty furore kicked off recently when the owner of the dilapidated terrace house on whose gable end the Banksy was painted set out to have specialists remove the entire wall to sell for a no doubt six-figure sum to a collector somewhere. Interestingly the scaffold and boarding that he had put up around the work had itself attracted numerous expressions of fury and frustration in the form of more street art. I’m sure Banksy is chuffed that his own protest art has the capacity to generate its own protest art. Wheels within wheels!

Yeah, so about Curry Corner. It’s set innocuously in a residential side street well away from the middle of Cheltenham, but through the doors there’s a nicely brick red painted interior with mood-setting carved stonework art in niches and low lighting. Everything we’d seen and read, at least from the restaurant’s own material, suggested this would be fine dining Indian cuisine; closer to Lasan than Asha’s.

We began with a couple of lassis; mango and coconut, and raspberry. Both were tasty, though very sweet. We chose starters from the street food section. Mine was the Mangshor Kebab. This struck me as being a nicely seasoned lamb burger patty with a sweet tomato-y sauce and a small tomato and onion omelette draped over the top. A nice supper, but a bit big and a bit plain for a £7 starter. Maureen’s Roshun Gusht Luchi was better – a crispy cigar of shredded lamb with sharp, vinegary green relish and perhaps the same tangy tomato sauce.

I went for the signature main; the 48 hour lamb shank. This was a big lamb shank in a mighty curry. The meat was super. The depth of flavour in the sauce was nowt short of excellence, absolutely packed and with a rapidly growing heat on my tongue to testify to the chillies. I would have liked the cardamom and cinnamon to stand out more clearly but I was dead happy. An unusual accompaniment of mashed potato was okay but bread would’ve been better. And it was huge. Maureen’s was also a large dish, the duck Khatta Meeta Titol Haash. The sauce was very sweet, though the tamarind flavour was clear and strong. My biggest problem was the duck. Big, dense cubes of thoroughly cooked duck breast. BIG cubes. DENSE. What’s the point? Any inherent duckiness was pretty much gone. Great sauce though, and good rice.

Despite being stuffed I held out for a pudding of gulab jamun. This was a beauty, sticky and cardamomy with a very nice scoop of ice cream (so wish I’d tried their kulfis). We took a cup of masala chai, and I could taste the interesting addition of bay leaf but it was basically too weak in both spice and tea. Pity, as at least the milk was properly boiled which isn’t often done.

I struggled out, holding my distended stomach off the pavement and reflecting on a couple of things. Firstly, if Indian restaurants are going to start styling themselves as fine dining and thus persuading me that I should order three courses then they bloody well need to reduce their portion sizes! Secondly, at £21 for a typical main course (forget not the price of the rice!) this is actually an expensive meal. We’re talking £35 for three courses. And what this is definitely is not, is fine dining. It’s just a good curry with more of a nod to authenticity than most. So if you want to spend a lot of money for a good curry in Cheltenham, then may I propose to you: Curry Corner.