Date night at Duck & Waffle

Every night is date night, right? Not always. Although P and I do spend an inordinate amount of time (and money) eating out (I've actually lost count of the places I wanted to write up and then just ran out of time on). We just can't help ourselves at the moment.

We're planning to curb our enthusiasm a little when we move in together in just over two weeks (eek!). I am already dreaming of all the amazing meals we're going to cook up in our kitchen (with the cutest open shelving) and avoid the temptation to order in every night. But there's one place that I will never have a problem about going back to time and time again and it's the perfect date night destination - Duck & Waffle.

Doubtless you've seen all the selfies and sunsets on Instagram. With it being 40 floors above the city and open 24 hours all year round, the views are astounding and the gastronomic possibilities are endless.

We started yesterday's evening with a Woodland Negroni and a Daily Grind. Nestled in a moss-lined wooden bowl with a heady fragrance of ferns and meadows, this smoother than smooth campari was a dream. Cocktail genius Rich makes it with 'damp gin', campari and sweet vermouth and slow drips it through all sorts of flora as part of this season's 'Urban Foraged' collection. P, whose drink choices always tend to come in the most feminine of glasses, wasn't quite as keen on his cocktail which came topped with crushed coffee dregs (but that's only because mine was better).

No biggie though as D&W never disappoints. Just look at the guanciale and Welsh goat's cheese bread. Cured pork cheek is layered onto the dough and baked to order and oozing with tangy saltiness. Cutting into the still hot from the oven loaf, we always have to fight over who gets the last tear.

Particularly useful for finishing the last of the foie gras creme brulee. This small pot contains one of the most delectable dishes, worth hankering over with its smooth, meatiness. The cracked shards of sugar cut through the silkiness to add crunch and the heavy brioche with its pork crackling top serves as the perfect vessel from table to mouth.

We also had the seared octopus with raw fennel and chilli. I was too busy eating to take a photo but it was sharp and fresh with citrus and salad, complementing the meatiness of the cephalopod which had the lightest of smokes and crisps.

Next up was the pea and mint ravioli with brown butter crumble. I'm still trying to work out quite how they got this bowl of pasta quite so light and fresh tasting; no carb comas here but sweetness from the fresh peas and an undertone of buttery richness. Predictably, this was swept up and devoured.

We finished the last of our beautiful bottle of Ribeauville Gewurztraminer wine along with a British cheese plate. No time to waste, putting this new found love of Alsacien wine into practice.

So, another delicious date night. Normally I'd be aching to get another booking in the diary to do it all over again. This time? I don't have to wait - next week, we're showing off to clients and introducing them to a world of pig's ears, smoked eel and that duck and waffle dish.

Kitchen Table, Fitzrovia

Hidden behind a curtain at the back of a buzzing hotdog and champagne bar, you'll find Kitchen Table. An open kitchen flanked by just 19 high seats and proud owners of a Michelin star. It's been on my list forever and so I was extremely excited to head down last Wednesday as a sort of pre-birthday adventure (hello 27 this Wednesday!). As early birthdays go, this one was pretty special.

James and the team at Kitchen Table like to do things a little differently. There's no menu to choose from - just a list of 14 or so daily changing dishes chalked onto a wall on one side of the room. No lengthy descriptions here either, just single words of the main ingredient, adding a tangible layer of mystery. There's no waiting staff either - the six or so brilliant chefs who work diligently in front of you serve you the dishes themselves, taking time to explain each element and then checking in later with you to answer any questions you may have. And there's Ben, the restaurant manager, who's happy to dish out extra bread, persuade your dubious boyfriend that the 2013 Chateauneuf du Pape is actually pretty good, and give you a last glass of Kummel at the end.

But first, we cracked open a bottle of champagne. Smooth, light and crisp, it was the perfect accompaniment for the first few of the dishes. Shall we begin?

The opening plate was a hand-dived scallop from Orkney. First shown to us before it was shucked, we then watched as the chefs whirled around each other in a dance of pure fluidity, each knowing exactly what to do and when. (We later asked James how they each knew what to do given the menu changes every day and he said it was a combination of rehearsal and common sense). Diced and raw, it was accompanied by an elderflower and cucumber vinegar, elderflower tea and topped with the elderflowers themselves. Light, fresh and the perfect balance of sharp and sweet.

Next came this delightful little crisp. Potatoes are juiced, dehydrated and the fried. The Scottish salmon is salted and smoked on the Norfolk coast, and then added to the crisp with sour cream, brown sugar and chives. This is one smart little snack and chomped in three or so bites. Eagerly.

The third course was chicken. Crispy chicken skin was lightly spread with rosemary mascarpone and then topped with a rich, flavoursome bacon jam. The saltiness of the main elements was lifted by the creaminess of the cheese and the rosemary brought everything together.

The fourth dish was Parkerhouse. Everyone was clueless until chef Rich explained that it's a type of bread, invented in Boston, made with milk so that the inside is soft and sweet and the crust crispy. It was grilled over charcoal and served with duck liver parfait, drizzled with pickled plum syrup and cherry. P and I took two rolls each, as did the girls next to us. At one point, a Kitchen Table first apparently, our sitting had demolished the entire set.

Then came mackerel. Line caught in Cornwall and whisked to the city that morning, it was diced and  served raw, seasoned with oil and salt. It sat on an oyster emulsion and was surrounded by Isle of Wight tomatoes: some dehydrated, some fresh and some as a thin jelly, with oyster basil herbs. The fish, as to be expected, was light and the tomatoes done three ways were an interesting addition. Having never had jellied tomatoes, the clear layer lent an interesting texture to the plate.

At this stage, we moved onto the red wine. Having a boyfriend who loves wine as much as me but is infinitely more knowledgeable can be both a blessing and a curse. We spotted a pretty special Chateauneuf de Pape on the menu but with a 2013 vintage (a year known for bad weather and bad wine in France), and so P was reluctant. Ben, the restaurant manager, insisted it was up to par and that we should try it and so, after some back and forth, we did. And of course, it was divine. Chosen by Sandia Chang, wife of chef James, it was smooth and light and everything we could have asked for for the next set of dishes.

Dish six was monkfish. Like most people, I was expecting a normal cut but instead we were served the liver. A large organ that grows near the fish's head, it was pan fried and served with white asparagus from the Wye Valley, champagne butter and green strawberries and it was delicious. With a melt in the mouth texture, it's been likened to the foie gras of the sea, all meaty and rich.

Next up was duck. Using the hearts and gizzards of the birds slaughtered that day (whose livers we'd eaten with the Parkerhouse bread), they were roasted in brown butter over charcoal and served with cabbage with pickled Japanese rose petals. For sweetness, there was yoghurt and raspberries. As someone who doesn't eat much duck, I wasn't expecting to love this as much as I did. The rounded flavours of each element worked together so seamlessly, I could have eaten whole plates of this.

Then came another duck dish. This time, the breast. Cooked in the pan and roasted over charcoal again with a meaty sauce made from the bones. Drizzled with sesame seed puree - which I'm not usually a fan of but, of course, went hand in hand - and carrots. You know what? I think I'm starting to come around to duck.

It was at this point that we were segueing towards the sweet end of the menu. Eight dishes down, we weren't full but pleasantly sated, thanks to the change in flavours and textures. And so I was ready and waiting for the Gloucester. The cheese was melted into a dish similar to risotto with sprouted greens and barley, pipped with redcurrants for a brilliantly sharp bite. This was delectable comfort food at its best and something I could eat with a large spoon from a large pot for hours on end.

And here's where my photography taking went a little awry. I continued to diligently take notes (always one for documentation) but I seem to have skipped on the photos and dived straight into some of the dishes. Which is why I have no proof of beetroot. It was made into a marmalade, infused with woodruff for a herby, garden flavour and then served on a sour cream ice cream which was just simply divine. The smooth-but-not-sweet was thick but not cloying and a great balancer for the tart beet.

I didn't get a picture of elderflower either which was fried in tempura batter and served with elderflower cordial and sorbet. The perfect palate cleanser, of course, with the added activity of snapping the elderflower into bitesize chunks and feeling the crisp batter flake off in your mouth.

I did get a snap of the strawberry with liquorice yoghurt ice cream. For someone that is definitely not a liquorice fan (too many childhood memories of Bassett's Allsorts), it was never going to be my favourite but I did like it. There was tuile, too, to snap and crumble into the bowl and the granita added icy freshness without being too saccharine. I just wish I could remember quite what was in it.

And then there was caramel. A tiny cup of caramel ice cream, in a chocolate mould with a cookie base. This was sheer childhood indulgence at its best and unfortunately something that we all snaffled far too quickly to photograph.

And finally, came vanilla. Delicious squares of homemade vanilla fudge served on a ubiquitous slate and with a final thank you to and from the chefs. Fourteen wonderful courses now at an end.

This has been a particularly gushing write up, I know, but I honestly feel that Kitchen Table was one of the best dining experiences I've had. From the sheer brilliance of the menu, the great wine, the interaction of the chefs, the whole package is one I'm dying to complete. There was a guy who'd been 30 times - perhaps I could try and beat his record?

Le Bab, Soho

Before heading to Le Bab, I'd never eaten a kebab in my life. Post-night out foraging often resulted in stealing friends' chips or raiding the fridge and eating all the cheese, but I'd always managed to stay clear of the places serving questionable-looking meat on rotating skewers.

So perhaps I'm not best placed to judge somewhere whose menu is solely compromised of kebabs. But when a new spot in Kingly Court opens up and the guys behind it have trained in some of the top restaurants in London, this girl just has to check it out.

Climb to the top floor and check in for your reservation (yep!) and take a seat at one of the oh-so-Instagram tightly packed marble tables. Or totter on the stools at the pass and watch the magic happen. Then, order a drink (preferably with whisky in) and one of the posh kebabs. 

In the spirit of solidarity, we all went for the same one: the 15 hour free range pork shawarma. It arrives at the table flat, ready to roll yourself and devour or to tuck into with knife and fork. The grilled spring onions were at once smokey and sweet, the roasted broccoli puree smooth, the fennel pickle tangy and with a vinegary bite that cut through the meat, and the crackling a party in the mouth of salty, crisp skin. We also had to order the fondue fries which were essentially cheesy chips and gravy (but oh! that gravy, you could bathe in it) and the endive and pomegranate salad for a semblance of healthiness.

Bright, breezy, friendly and flavoursome, Le Bab definitely ticks all the boxes. Posh kebabs may sound an oxymoron but boy, do they go together. Lashings of ketchup and mayo not necessary. 

(photo via)

Obica, St Paul's

Do you have a favourite cheese? I have several. I’m a big fan. I will always look to the cheeseboard when eating out and we habitually have an average of five different kinds in our fridge at any one time. I’m not quite sure where it ranks but burrata, a soft cheese made from mozzarella and cream, figures quite highly on the list and so it made perfect sense to check out the new flagship restaurant from Obica, an Italian mozzarella bar. 

Read all about the six course feast over on Try This For.

St John Bar & Restaurant, Smithfields

St John Bar & Restaurant is a bit of a holy grail. A 'whitewashed ex-smokehouse where Fergus Henderson pioneered the resurgent interest in offal dishes', you'll find it on the edges of Smithfields Market. The ideal place to source the ingredients for the nose-to-tail cooking you'll find on the ever-changing menu. They release the menu an hour or so before each service so you'll never be sure what you'll be offered but I think this is all part of the charm. No prior planning permitted.

Our table was for 9.15 on a Saturday night and, as you can imagine from a Michelin starred restaurant, it was super bustling with diners in for the long haul. That's not to say the service isn't efficient, the all-in-white wait staff are attentive for the most part but ours was definitely having a bad day - no smiles, no explanations and a lot of stalking around the room.

The no frills restaurant looks stark and functional on Google images but at night, it's almost cosy with the lights down low and tables tucked around the walls. The couple across from us barely exchanged two words all evening, keeping their noses in that day's paper and its crossword - well-seasoned St John goers, for sure.

But enough about that, onto the food. For some inexplicable reason (which may or may not be down to the cheese and champagne we'd consumed a few hours earlier), we decided to stick to the smaller plates rather than dive into the larger dishes. The diners around us who did order them were served vast plates of food, so definitely a place to come to sate your appetite. Instead, we started off with the roasted bone marrow and toast with parsley salad. Four enormous bones arrived and we bent to the task, eking out the rich and gooey marrow which was perfectly offset by the piquancy of the herbs.

Next to arrive was the brown crabmeat on toast. Forget pretty plates here, this place is all about the hearty and letting nothing go to waste. The sweet meat was slathered thickly onto sourdough, seasoned and squeezed with lemon and brought to the table. Another rich and flavoursome dish.

The other two dishes we chose divided opinion. Or mostly my opinion because I backed out of my promise to try the snails. Already shelled and nestled in the salad, I couldn't bring myself to try them this time so P got the spoils and devoured them all greedily. I instead focused on the octopus salad with a citrus dressing, and meaty chunks of tentacle. More my kind of thing.

The buzz was infectious, the flavours good and proper but I was a little disappointed by our waitress. But, with just a few small plates, we definitely didn't do St John complete justice and I think we'll have to give sister restaurant Bread & Wine a try.

(photo via)

& other places: Opium, Vagabond Wines & Champagne + Fromage

Three bars to whet your appetite.

Opium
This late night drinking den is found (where else?) in Chinatown. Like the Experimental Cocktail Club, Opium is tucked behind a nondescript door, marked only by the bouncer waiting outside. A quick nod and a climb up two or three flights of stairs and we found our place at the bar for post The Book of Mormon drinks, a couple of Wednesdays ago. The drinks menu sounds delicious - the Opium #6 with tequila, ginger, oolong tea for example, or the Golden Lotus with its Remy Martin, rye whisky and banana - but we continued our love affair with Kummel and ordered first a Silver Bullet, and then the much tastier and smoother (and papa-patented) Silver Streak with gin. We couldn't resist the excellent dim sum, so much so that we had to order more to sate our craving for the delicious dumplings. My favourites? The classic pork and prawn, the crab and samphire and the lobster, naturally.

Vagabond Wines
Vagabond Wines are making the art of drinking the grape a more casual affair. No lengthy list to wade through, just a few machines to hover in front of, deciding which to try first. They profess to having over 100 bottles by the glass - just load up your wine card with money, slide it into the slot, press for a sample (25ml) or a glass (125ml) and bottoms up. It's a great way of discovering new wines without committing to a bottle (although you can buy any you like) and with the prices ranging from 'impressively cheap' to 'impressively not so cheap', there's something for everyone. We headed to the Spitalfields one and while I think it's a little smaller than the others, it makes for a cosy post-work stop off. Bucket of wine optional.

Champagne + Fromage
Lovely. A place that does what it says on the tin. A tiny little space across two floors a stone's throw from Covent Garden, Champagne + Fromage is a great place to dip into mid-afternoon for a pick me up. We went for a flight of champagne each - three glasses of different grapes (who doesn't love a selection?) - and shared a cheeseboard - choose three from a range (something old, something new, something fruity and something blue...)  - and would have declared ourselves done, considering we had dinner at St John booked for later that evening. But, of course, we couldn't resist and had stayed for another bottle of bubbly. Sitting downstairs, the atmosphere's a bit lacking but nothing that the fizz couldn't combat.

Maltby Street Market

You've exhausted Borough Market, right? And you fancy somewhere other than Broadway Market, yes? Time to get on down to Maltby Street Market.

A short walk from Tower Bridge, Maltby Street Market's set into the railway arches and bursting to the seams with the newest street food on the scene. We headed down a Sunday or so ago, chasing the sun as it attempted to break through the April clouds. It's a little shady down the Ropewalk at times but the warmth of the stalls and the bustle of people will keep you from getting too cold.

First off, make sure you take a stroll along the entire length of the market before making up your mind on what to try first. There's everything from scotch eggs and sausage rolls, Greek pittas and Indian wraps and even raclette on offer and you'll be hard pressed to make a decision.

We kicked off with grilled cheese sandwiches from the guys at The Cheese Truck. The three-strong team were the image of efficiency as the orders came thick and fast - supply somehow always kept up with demand, and boy were these boys in demand. We went for the goats cheese with honey, walnuts and rosemary butter - a sweet and savoury melt-in-the-mouth sensation with the rich flavours tripping over each other brilliantly in the mouth and squidging deliciously out between the toast - and the Cropwell Bishop stilton with bacon and pear chutney. This one was salty with a real bite from the blue, added meatiness from the pig and a little sugar to round it all off. The Metro called them the 'best street food truck ever'. An accolade I could get on board with.

We ate our grilled cheese perched on empty barrels between old planks and railway sleepers stacked high at Maltby & Greek, a tiny little shop who find the best food and drink from Greece. We didn't sample any of their cured meats but the glass of red wine was, naturally, delicious.

From there, we couldn't resist the call of the king crab mac & cheese toasted brioche sandwich from DoYouCrab. Piled high with pasta, sprinkled with parmesan and topped with chilli and coriander, this oozing delight was a riot of flavours and by far one of the best things I've ever parted money with at a market.

Of course, we couldn't resist having something to wash them down with and snapped up a highly coveted spot at Little Bird Gin, a craft gin distillery. We kicked off with two Red Snappers each which came in weighty jugs with lashings of horseradish and spice, much to the envy of practically everyone who walked past.

Then, we tried the 'Perfect G&T' - their gin with Fever Tree tonic with a large slice of pink grapefruit (not too base), the Early Bird Martini - gin, cointreau, marmalade and pink grapefruit juice (tangy and fruity), the Barrel Aged Negroni - gin, Martini Rosso and oak barrel aged Campari (deliciously naughty and complete with a Little Bird) and the Whoops-A-Daisy - gin & orange liqueur, pomegranate, lemon and soda water (sweet and sherbety). So, essentially the entire menu plus another G&T each. Not bad going for the two of us, of course.

Places like Maltby Street Market remind me of the sheer creativity of street food and stalls. There's a hell of lot of passion put into these tiny pop-up places and whatever you're in the mood for, there's always something new to fall in love with.

Maltby Street Market's open 9am to 4pm on Saturdays & 11am to 4pm Sundays. You'll find it at SE1 3PA.

(top photo via as too busy munching again)

Foxlow, Stoke Newington

It was the morning after the night before. I had mainlined espresso martinis at my colleague's wedding and it was safe to say I was not feeling my best. But! It was finally a sunny Sunday and there was no way I was going to let the hangover get the better of me.

So P and I tottered to everyone's favourite neighbourhood spot, Foxlow in Stoke Newington. It was almost warm enough to sit outside but instead we ensconced ourselves in a corner table right at the back of the restaurant, perfect for people watching.

Straight up, we ordered Bottomless Bloody Marys at £14 a pop. Served long, tall and spicy (like all the best ones are), they came thick and fast and did wonders at soothing my fragile head. And kept us going until the burrata with homemade sorrel salsa verde arrived. I liked the different dimension that the addition of sorrel brought to the plate and we practically fought over the last bits until the Cobble Lane charcuterie arrived (coppa, saucisson and chilli salami) along with the sauteed portobello mushrooms that were juicy, citrusy and scattered with plenty of tarragon. We also ordered the pablano macaroni cheese because nothing is better than carbs on a hangover. Juice diet? What juice diet? Plus, any place that puts a million types of cheese into their giant dish is my kinda place.

A small but perfectly formed brunch that banished the post-espresso martini blues. Bingo.

Bistrotheque, Bethnal Green

Bistrotheque's a perennial favourite in our house. Sarah and Russell used to go when they were living in a tiny flat next door, splashing their graduate wages on fine food. Ashley always takes his parents there whenever they visit, and I have a thing for steak tartare.

So it seemed only fair to take P there as a further introduction to the culinary delights of Bethnal Green. We stopped off at Sager + Wilde Restaurant for drinks beforehand and then, three whisky cocktails down, tottered up the road to Wadeson Street. Bistrotheque is tucked away down a small road in a non-descript warehouse that you'll probably walk past the first time you go. Enter the unmarked door and turn straight up the concrete stairs, push through the industrial double doors and bask in the chaotic calm that is the all white and windows restaurant.

Bistrotheque feels how I imagine a Brooklyn loft restaurant to feel. It's a sizeable open space but it feels intimate as tables are close together, the atmosphere buzzy. Sit up at the square bar while waiting for your table, martini made with Hackney gin or vodka in hand. Then pass by the open kitchen where the industrious chefs plate up dish after dish and the friendliest, smiliest waiters (also in whites) bustle back and forth with a practised calm.

The food's 'Modern European' which I feel can cover a multitude of sins but here, there are few. The still-warm bread and butter while you're mulling over the wine menu (Old and New World, naturally) is a good start. As were the large grilled prawns in garlic butter with bone marrow which I managed to devour in double quick time - the sweet meat of the shellfish rounded up by the richness of the marrow. Plenty of sauce for dipping, too. P had the crab - a glorious combination of brown and white meat with ample citrusy bite.

For mains, my ever-predictable order of steak tartare was no surprise. Well-prepared with the fresh zing of the mustard, the salt of the capers and no need for the Tabasco on the table, it was served classic with frites. P didn't order so well this time, choosing the burrata, truffle and shallot tart which sounded promising but only delivered on the onion and nothing else. Thank goodness for generous girlfriends sharing.

Then came cheese - Riseley, Turnworth and Cashel Blue served with quince jelly oatcakes (discarded) and smothered onto more bread from the kitchen. As a massive cheese fiend, these were all delicious (predictably) and P was impressed (big thumbs up from the resident Frenchie).

We finished the night with an espresso martini for me and the cognac for P before heading for nightcaps at Peg + Patriot. Another night at Bistrotheque well spent. Four and a half out of five.

(photo via)

Sager + Wilde Restaurant, Bethnal Green

Sticking with Paradise Row, we headed back to Bethnal Green last Friday night for what turned out to be a very boozy evening. First up, were pre-dinner drinks and we decided to head to Sager + Wilde, the restaurant version of the brilliant wine bar in Hoxton where we'd had our second date.

It was just warm enough to sit outside - although the bar inside was very inviting - and soak up the music from Mother Kelly's next door. Any place that plays The Rolling Stones followed by Jimi Hendrix gets in my good books. Although when the sun went down, the heaters came on and there are plenty of blankets to wrap up in.

Whilst Sager + Wilde are praised for their brilliant wine list, we couldn't resist the cocktails which are divided into 'Long drinks', 'Burnt', 'Rocks', 'Fizz' and 'Straight up'. Of course, we were instantly drawn in by the promises of mescal and whisky and could look no further for the next forty five minutes.

For him, the Olive Oil Old Fashioned with a clear, slick and smooth lasting finish. For me, the Burnt Milk with burnt clarified milk, bay leaf, mescal, burnt caramel syrup, cassia and clarified lemon - an alcoholic creme caramel that I could have drank for days. And did, seeing as between us we ordered another two. Along with the Grand Cru - burnt lactic syrup and cognac that, when drank after the accompanying sparkling wine, left an intense, rich flavour in the mouth. And also the Burnt Maple which brought together burnt maple syrup, rye whisky, mescal and walnut bitters. All but one served in beautifully heavy tumblers with a single, thick ice cube. No fripperies, no flounce - just pure unadulterated alcohol.

Had we not been skipping down to Bistrotheque for dinner, we would have stayed all night and washed down this cracking sounding bar menu.

Paradise Garage, Bethnal Green

Bethnal Green used to be my stomping ground. The four years I spent in the E1/E3 postcodes during university (before moving to E8 and then E5, so not exactly far away now) saw more house parties than fine dining but as is always the way with up and coming areas, the good restaurants are quick to spot an opportunity. Which is what the guys behind Clapham's The Dairy & The Manor did last July. Opening in the railway arches on Paradise Row, Paradise Garage is an ideal spot for soaking up the last of the spring and summer sun. I fiiiiinally made it over last Wednesday, the keenest bean to try small plates that are big on textures and flavours.

Welcomed in by the first glow of just-lit candles and the friendliest of hosts and hostesses, we were shown to our table at the side of the restaurant. This was the perfect spot to marvel at the tiled walls, the wines upstairs, the touches of turquoise and, of course, the beautiful open kitchen, framed by greenery. While we were choosing champagne, still warm sourdough arrived at the table along with homemade whisky butter and a taster of pickled beetroot that had the perfect bite and tang.

Choosing what to have was tough but, of course, we stepped up to the plate. They recommend two or three small plates to share and the rabbit 'picnic' which comprises of the whole rabbit used in different ways, or three or four small plates each. We went for the latter (although were sorely tempted by the Tasting Menu at £45) and settled in to negotiate choices.

First up came the pork, black pepper and apple salumi which lasted all of five seconds before we delved into the venison tartare and Jerusalem artichoke. This is where the textures started to come into play with the artichoke as a foam and the meat studded lightly throughout to be mopped up all together with the bread.

Then came the cornish crab with fennel, ginger and borage. A little looser and wetter than we were expecting and the brown crab biscuit split on the plate but the fresh fennel brought it all together, and a world away from the fennel kimchi that accompanied the lamb heart - firm slivers rich in flavour themselves amongst the slick sourness of the pickle.

From the 'Garden' section we ordered the portobello mushrooms with bagna cauda and raw turnip on rye. This was our least favourite dish of the day, overshadowed by what had come before, but by no means a duff order. The stronger flavours of the cod from the 'Sea' section were the more memorable; smoked fish, strong roe, confit salsify and a ketchup.

For dessert, we ordered cheese (can't take a French guy anywhere without having to judge the cheese plate) and the white chocolate parfait which was perfectly balanced by blood orange (a little less so by carrot). And Armagnac. Because French, naturally.

Had it been around during my uni days, I would probably have spent all of my student loan and bar earnings at Paradise Garage. From the attention to the different textures, to the prettiness of the plates (both the food and the crockery) and the warmest welcome, Gill and the team have proven that they're top of their game yet again. Four out of five.

(beautiful photo via - I was too busy eating to snap)

Senor Ceviche

'Do you remember the time we all locked ourselves in the bathroom and gave each other hickeys?!' A memory we'd all forgotten resurfaced this week when table talk turned to when we all first lived together. A flat with far too many stairs above an East end corner shop, a sticky lino kitchen floor and a box bedroom with the boiler that flooded. London: a baptism by fire for Sophie.

That was five years ago. Final years of university and Masters for some and first years of proper jobs and growing up for others. Ash and I still live together but Soph is West which means a bit more planning has to take place and when boyfriends and long days get thrown into the mix, it's easier said than done. But now we're all (whisper it) single, we keep finding reasons to order yet another cocktail.

Just like we did on Wednesday at Senor Ceviche. Part of the hugely successful Kingly Court development off Carnaby Street, a shining piazza of some seriously good restaurants, it's a  'Peruvian casa full of fun, food and cocktails'. Bustling and busy at 8pm, we were shown to our (booked!) table within 10 minutes and took up prime position next to the open kitchen.

First on the agenda were the cocktails. We each started with something different (because reasons) despite the photograph. Ash's Mancora Surfclub (Machu Pisco, elderflower, cucumber and apple) was fresh and light, Soph's Pisco Punch (Machu Pisco, lemon juice, rosemary and pineapple juice) was sweet and fragrant whilst my Mamacita! (El Jimador, Cointreau, lime juice, agave and fresh jalapeno) was tart with a perfect bite and a delicious salted, chilli rim.

Then onto the food. The menu here is divided into four sections but essentially it's about small plates and sharing dishes which, as I've mentioned countless times before, is perfect for me because I get serious food envy and it means you can try a thousand more things on the menu. Our friendly waitress recommended three dishes per person and between the three of us that meant we'd cover about half the menu. Dream.

Before we get into the specific dishes, I have to say that we ordered perfectly. Practically everything that arrived at the table was mouthwateringly brilliant and so consistent in quality that Senor Ceviche has shot to the top of my list.

First to arrive were the aubergine picarones - bites of eggplant in sweet potato tempura with a barbecue sauce and coriander yoghurt. Crisp and juicy, these were seriously moreish and we fought over the last one.

Then there was the jalea mixto - tempura baby squid, prawns and cod with a jalapeno mayo. I didn't manage to try any of the prawn but the squid and cod were firm and well cooked in the light batter and tossed with spring onion.

And the pork belly. Oh, the pork belly. Crisp, fatty pieces of melt-in-the-mouth slow cooked pork belly with a sweet soy jam, just the way I like it.

The two ceviches we chose were excellent. The house ceviche comprises of sea bass and octopus in the usual tiger's milk and topped with cubed avocado, tempura squid and sharp red onion, while The Spaniard added king prawn to the mix, tomato tiger's milk, chorizo and plantain. Generous portions of fish, freshly marinated and citrusy with plenty of sauce to mop up. I could eat this for days.

Next came the baby back ribs (which I didn't eat because I'm a heathen who doesn't like ribs) and the flat iron with uchucuta sauce (the Peruvian version of chimichurri). The rarest they'll serve it is medium rare but ours came on the more well done side of the medium scale; despite this, the meat was to die for and the parsley and mint salsa brought a sharp tang to the protein.

And for a bit of variation, the sweet potato fritas were nice enough (for someone who doesn't like sweet potato) and the quinoa saltero fresh and light. A generous mound of beetroot and feta sat atop the grain and, whilst underseasoned, acted as a nice little palate cleanser.

Somewhere in the middle two more rounds of cocktails were ordered, desserts were passed up on and setting the world to rights took place. You'll be pleased to hear we've grown out of our drunken hickey-giving antics but our taste in good venues hasn't waned in the slightest. Senor Ceviche, you were an utter delight and a five out of five.

Darbaar

Shoreditch is no stranger to Indian cuisine. World famous Brick Lane is home to some of London's busiest Indian and Bengali restaurants - going to university a mile down the road means I've become a dab hand at haggling for a hugely generous meal at a budget price and bring your own. And don't forget ever-busy Tayyabs.

But when it comes to more refined Indian dining, there's not so much of that around. Until now. The former Head Chef of the Cinnamon Kitchen, Abdul Yaseen, has opened Darbaar as his first solo project in Liverpool Street and it's a good'un. An opulent, ornate interior is designed to bring the feel royal palaces and courts of ancient India to London and an enormous open kitchen the food.

We were invited down to the opening last week. After picking up a cocktail from the smoking bar (luckily not on fire, just some strategic dry ice), we followed our noses to the main restaurant where tables were pushed back to give guests the chance to watch Abdul and the team at work, rustling up sharing plates to fight over. We got to sample a whole host of exciting flavour combinations - my favourites was the chargrilled paneer with cumin and spinach, and the lamb seekh kebab which came sizzling and spicy straight from the wood oven. There were small pots of the shrimp cocktails, small buns filled with curry and samosas crisp and crumbly.

The idea behind Darbaar's menu is a relaxed experience where sharing is encouraged and no king or courtier should stand on ceremony. Combining local produce with traditional recipes, Abdul's put some showstoppers on the menu. Spiced guinea fowl, anyone? How about a Keralan shrimp cocktail? This isn't your average Ruby Murray curryhouse - there's an impeccable chef's table with a perfect view into the kitchen - but a very welcome addition to the buzzing Broadgate Circle scene.

The House of Peroni

(via)

A couple of years ago, I was invited to the opening night of the House of Peroni. Taking up a summer residency in a Georgian townhouse on Portland Place, it was a vibrant destination for food, drink and art. I skipped their summer opening in Shoreditch earlier this year but made it down to the unveiling of their newest month long location in Brick Lane last week. No Georgian townhouse here but a small door opposite the Truman Brewery takes you into an impeccably decorated warehouse space that's been transformed into a bright modern Italian home.

With dream Pinterest-ready styled kitchens and pantries, the ground floor is pristine and the perfect place to sip on a few of the exclusive cocktails, created by Simone Caporale. The Negroni Autumno is particularly good with the unusual but necessary addition of Peroni Nastro Azzuro as is the Madro Biancha which combines the beer with vodka, bergamot & yuzu juice and cypress tree syrup.

Upstairs there's art from the likes of Rhea Thierstein who's created a bedroom floating on clouds and Francesca Signori with her origami light fixtures. An immersive wander through their installations transports you into a faraway world. And when you've worked up an appetite, there's private dining available from Michelin-starred Sicilian chef Accursio Craparo.

The House of Peroni is open until 29 November and you'll find it at 152 Brick Lane.

Rev JW Simpson's Spirited Sermons: Santa Teresa rum

Behind a nondescript black door, down stairs lined with peeling wallpaper and in a former brothel, you’ll find Reverend JW Simpson: a compact bar with Prohibition at its heart. Their cocktails are creative and strong - think a pinot noir reduction with pink peppercorns stirred into bourbon and bitters, or tequila, campari, vermouth and absinthe shaken with an egg white.
Earlier this year, they introduced their weekly Spirited Sermons masterclasses, taking drinkers on an interactive journey through their favourite spirits and inviting guests to try their hand at shaking them to life. Following the huge success of the summer series, the Reverend returns with his autumn and winter line up and boy, are there some seriously tasty cocktails lined up for you to sample.

They invited me down to get to grips with Santa Teresa rum, a Venezuelan spirit that's made from molasses. First up, was sampling the spirit in a cocktail created for the event by the geniuses by the bar. I started with the 'Perfecta Dama' which combined Santa Teresa Anejo with orange-infused aperitif wine, fresh lemon, egg white and bitters. Served tall in a heavy cut crystal highball and garnished with mint, this was a light and refreshing entry into the game but it reminded me a little of a Moscow Mule with a citrus twist.

Then, came the making. I spent ten years behind a bar knocking up various concoctions so I'm not a total stranger to a shaker but mixologist Pauline put me through my strokes to make the 'Cafe Caspiroleta' - their take on the espresso martini. Add 40ml of the Santa Teresa Claro (2 to 3 year aged white rum), 40ml of the homemade coffee and vanilla spirit, shake with ice and strain into a coup before delicately topping with a dulce de leche foam and garnishing with white chocolate. Thankfully no high pressure cream foam accidents, but a rich and tasty cocktail that actually pipped a few of its rivals to prime favourite.
Finally came the tasting with brand ambassador Stuart. He explained that Santa Teresa was established in 1796 at a family-run hacienda where the treaty for the abolition of slavery in Venezuela was signed. You might not have heard of Santa Teresa - that's because Venezuela's civil war and high taxes makes it difficult to export, and richer brands such as Havana Club or Bacardi (from Cuba) have the money to pour into marketing over here - but its Anejo (aged 3 to 5 years) is the biggest selling rum over there.

The rum itself is light and dry, not super sweet but quite peppery because of how it's fermented and distilled with a patented yeast through a column. It's aged in American oak before being transferred to cognac barrels, which gives it tobacco and leather undertones, and makes it spicy like whisky. Nice. And a huge departure from the naval grog of years gone by (so named after the admiral's coat 'groggan' and believed to have cured scurvy, when in fact it was the squeeze of lime added to the rations of 3 parts rum, 1 parts water to make it palatable). And the expression 'fill your boots'? Well, if you didn't have a vessel to hand when the rum came round, footwear was the next best thing.

And it's interesting to see how rum threads its way through history, from pirate's currency to Project Alcatraz. When one of the Santa Teresa brothers was mugged in 2000, he offered the gang members a job and a place to live rather than turning them into the police. His only caveat? They have to play rugby - to learn discipline and respect. The project has grown into a huge rehabilitation centre and yep, there are plenty of strapping lads on hand to help.

Sadly they didn't bring the players over to the masterclass but instead plenty of rum. And there's loads of other Spirited Sermons sessions in over the next few weeks:

6 October: Makers Mark

13 October: Kappa pisco

27 October: El Jimador tequila

10 November: Konik's Tail vodka

24 November: Nikka whisky

1 December: Old Forester Bourbon

Tickets cost £25 and you get three cocktails and the masterclass - book them here.

Pennethorne's Cafe, Somerset House

Thinking of heading to Fashion Week later this month? You'll be needing a pitstop then, won't you? Pennethorne's Cafe in the New Wing is the perfect place.

Chic black walls and tiled floor (perfect for Instagramming), a light but tasty European-inspired sharing menu and cocktails to see you through. Find out why else this is the perfect spot over at Try This For.

Morden & Lea

If you think of food in Leicester Square, your mind is instantly drawn to queues outside KFCs, Burger Kings and McDonalds and the incessant stream of people making a beeline for M&M World. But if you venture a stone's throw away, towards Chinatown, you'll find a fantastic little addition to the British restaurant scene in Morden & Lea.

Watch out for the powder blue frontage among the sea of maroon Irish pubs and Chinese restaurants, and step inside to a slick, tiled brasserie. A flank of booths leads you towards the industrial styled bar at the back, where you can sit on high tables, before heading upstairs to what they call their more 'refined dining experience' (although you can get just as good lighter snacks downstairs).

We started off with a couple of cocktails (half price between 4pm and 7pm) and boy, were they good. I went for the East India Cocktail, a heady mix of vermouth, eau de vie, raspberries, curacao and maraschino cherry. Fruity without being overly sweet, the dry depth shone through and who can resist anything that comes topped with chocolate? Emma went for the Halah with citrus sharp with pink grapefruit and bitters.

And then upstairs into the serene dining room that was both elegant and yet relaxed. Lots of art on the walls and the friendliest of waiters who swept delicious bread and oil on to the table and were experts at spying a near-empty water glass. The genius Mark Sergeant has made all men equal here with a set menu: 2 courses for £29 and 3 for £35. Which makes decisions both deliciously easy and difficult.

In the end, I went for the rabbit tortelloni with peas, pommery mustard sauce and bacon. Having only eaten rabbit for the first time earlier this year (as buttermilk fried), this could have been my downfall but I think I'm a total convert. The parcels of pasta were perfectly cooked with the meat inside tender, and perfectly accompanied by the slight bite of the mustard sauce. Salty lardo added an extra dimension and the peas brought some sweetness to the plate. 

I was too busy wolfing down my pasta to try Emma's mackerel rillettes on prawn toast with cucumber white grape gazpacho but empty plates are good signs, right?

For mains, we did the bad thing and ordered the same fillet of cod with crispy, crunchy black rice. Lifted by sweet vegetables, this time in the form of courgette, and brought back to another plane with salty, smoky squid and chorizo, this dish was exquisite. 

We washed these down with another cocktail (this time with whisky, grain, tobacco and bitters) and a glass of red each and went the whole hog with puddings. Emma's gypsy tart was devilishly sweet and sumptuous while my set chocolate with hazelnuts, mocha sherbet and praline mousse was one of the smartest ends to a meal I've ever had. Top marks for total defeat. 

Seriously though, I was seriously impressed with Morden & Lea. It's shot straight into my recommendations list and would be back in a heartbeat. Hats off.

Social Wine & Tapas

There are many many opinion pieces on whether the whole no reservations scene works in London and there doesn't seem to be a definitive answer. It works both ways and can be a bit like the two second rule in a car park, sometimes it's totally in your favour and other times you're left seething in anger.

But it seemed the former a couple of weeks ago when Jason Atherton's newest London opening Social Wine & Tapas opened up its books and we snapped up a late Saturday lunch. Bar, restaurant and wine shop all in one, there's a pretty laidback feel here which was great for a mother-daughter catch up and perfect for sharing. We sat on one of the corner tables in the upstairs Tapas Bar; there's more seating downstairs but it was pretty quiet, and also nine stools at the open kitchen to pique your curiosity. All dark woods, gold features (including walls) and green tiles, this is a far cry from the bright and airy Pollen Street Social.

There are over 100 wines to choose from, and several by the 125ml glass thanks to the Coravin wine system. We opted for a bottle of the Costiere de Nimes but if you were feeling particularly flash, there's a Jeroboam of Chateau Latour for a snip at £6,500. 

Food kicked off with the szechuan fried chiperones - tiny bites of squid in a spicy togarashi batter with squid ink aioli to dip them into. Decently salty and garlicky, the small mound quickly disappeared to be replaced by a glorious heirloom tomato salad with truffled burrata. This was my 'died and gone to heaven' dish of the day (nothing to do with my burrata obsession, of course) as the sweet red and yellow fruits mixed with the tart bite of the gazpacho vinagrette and the earthy yet creamy cheese. I would have ordered this again and again had my mum not been the sensible party at the table.

And then on to the jamon and cheese selection because who can choose just one? Meat wise, you get a slice or two of the Iberico bellota, Teruel Lomo, Chorizo Magno, Salchichon, Teruel Serrano and Cecina and then a glorious nose of the five cheeses: a creamy Bosworth Ash goat's cheese, a gooey Sharpham, a tangy Cornish Yarg, reeking Stinking Bishop and a sharp Beauvale. As I'm the kind of person who could exist on this fare alone, I was pretty content, although I would have liked a few more crackers and more of the quince jam but I am a bit of a loader.

Staff were friendly, greeting us by name at the door and attentive until it came to pay the bill. The only disappointing thing was seeing a kitchen porter take several trips across the restaurant to stock up supplies and carry out rubbish, but let's hope that was just a one off.

Evidently, it's another great string to Atherton's bow. I'm now three into his outposts and each are charming. Check out what I made of Pollen Street Social and Social Eating House.