How often do you have a truly awful meal? The consensus at RoF Towers is hardly ever. So when we come across an absolute, stinking howler of a restaurant it probably merits being flagged up. Eat your own eyeballs before going to the Feathers at Woodstock.

Sunday lunch kicked off in an empty dining room with a gaudy, feathered carpet (see what they did there?) and a request for a manzanilla sherry. The waitress came back to say that they didn’t have it. In fact they didn’t have any of the dry sherries on their list other than Tio Pepe. Which came in a glass the size of a thumbnail, one of those awful things from which ancient aunts who smelt of cats and lavender used to sip coloured liquers. The waitress said that it was 50mls. At £5:80 a pop. By our maths that's £87 for a bottle that can be picked up at an offie for nine quid. Is there a more extortionate markup anywhere?

The starter was pigeon. Which tasted overpoweringly of fish. Fishy pigeon. Even Heston wouldn't attempt that. It was left in a partially masticated lump on the plate, the small amount of juice which had been inadvertently swallowed inducing waves of nausea for the rest of the afternoon.

Next up was slow cooked belly of lamb. Big, gross, gobs of fat, nothing else. The waitress took it away and replaced it with some thin, grey, miserable slabs of roast beef smothered in what tasted suspiciously like Bisto. She said that as it was a belly it would inevitably have lots of fat. Well, yes, before it’s cooked. The point of slow cooking cheap cuts is that the fat is rendered off over time. If the chef can’t manage it he shouldn’t attempt it. And how can he bugger up roast beef? Even a Harvester can get that right.

A brace of large, sweaty, rain-soaked ramblers came in and sat next to us, gnarled toes poking out of the holes in their sock-clad, stinking feet. To be fair they smelt better than the pigeon.

Cheese was unwisely ordered, and came curled up and sweating like a horse. But that's OK, because it was on a slate with artfully presented crackers and a teaspoon of "pinot noir jelly".



Hmm. Sweaty...

We paid and left. The nice lady behind the desk asked how it was. Truly awful, which was a great shame given how lovely the staff were. She looked appalled. The deputy manager stepped in, and said that while we were entitled to our opinion we were clearly wrong. And thankfully he had a loyal following of loyal regulars who are presumably sufficiently inbred and asbestos-mouthed to eat anything. Although he did admit that the cheese didn't look in the first bloom of youth when shown a photo of it. 

This is the worst sort of throwback to Ye Olde Coaching Inne from the 70s. Get a sandwich at the deli next door.

.... read more >

It was with much anticipation that RollOnFriday journeyed over to the JW Steakhouse at the Grosvenor Hotel last week - an enormous cavern of a place (actually more of a cathedral) full of diners bowing at the altar of steak, chips and red wine.

Before tucking in to an enormous repast, here's a special tip. Go on a Thursday. A Champagne Thursday. Every Thursday from now until Christmas the champers is on ice - and on special offer.

Pop along next week, and you can get a bottle of Krug 1996 for £158. Obviously, that sounds like a lot of money to spend on a bottle of alcoholic pop. But, trust us on this, it's a good chunk cheaper than normal. Still, if you're feeling a bit more impoverished, you can always get a bottle of Veuve Clicquot for a bargain-basement £32. Either way, it's a great way to engage the appetite and get your stomach prepared for a meaty onslaught.

My companion and I tucked in heartily to our bottle (which could have done with being accompanied by some nibbles), watching the early-evening Thursday revellers beginning their night out in London's fashionable West End™. The atmosphere is nicely muted, all low-volume murmurings, mood lighting and soft furnishings. Annoying diners that we are, we decided to move table for our meal - which was accepted with typical good grace and charm from the excellent staff.

And so to dinner. I went for a lump crab cake, my date had the JW Iceberg Wedge with yet more crab. Both were excellent, light and fresh and flavoursome. The side-salad could have done with a bit more care - the tomato was freezing cold (and thus largely flavourless) - but still, a great way to start, especially with the freshly-cooked bread, which was deliciously doughy.

And then - what else - but steak all round. I went for a 14oz ribeye, my companion the fillet. Both cooked perfectly to order on what I imagine was the world's hottest and most impressive BBQ grill (I'm told it cooks at 650 degrees to ensure your steak is bang on the order). Charred and caramalised on the outside, bloody and tender in the middle. As good a steak as my fellow diner has ever had, came the verdict - and that from someone who grew up in the US and backs herself on the steak front. Sides were huge and plentiful and the sauces, ranging from a classic bernaise to horseradish (the obvious winner) tangy and well-made. To finish, an incredibly indulgent bread pudding, drenched in a bourbon sauce. All washed down with the superb house red - a fantastic 2005 Chateau Lyonnat St Emilion (of which I've got a crate in for Christmas).

Service was impecable, performed with a tastefully light touch. Our waiter was knowledgable and gave the right answer when asked if he preferred the USDA meat or Aberdeen Angus (for those of you who don't know, the Angus is far better, grass-fed gamey meat, far superior to the flabby state-side stuff). These things matter to your dedicated carniviore.

On the downside, the air-con was a bit cold - and the plates (and containers of sides) were chilly too (which is pretty unforgivable for a top restaurant). Luckily the food was great - so we scoffed it pretty rapidly. And the rumblings from whatever it is that happens underneath the Grosvenor were - just occasionally - a bit off-putting (was it the Tube, or some sort of club?).

But all in all, if you're in the market for a red meat blowout, and happen to find yourself on Park Lane, pop along. If it's a Thursday night - then you'd be crazy not to. It's Christmas come early.

.... read more >

Valentine "Val" Warner is a bit of a superstar. A bit posh, a bit tall, and a bit jeans-halfway-down-the-arse and white Converse. But he's got that kind of effortless TV stardust thing that makes us mere mortals shrink into the shadows with envy.

And so when I got the opportunity to attend a cookery course with the great man himself, I jumped at the chance. I thought some of his magic, or at least his cookery skill, might just rub off.

Cucina Caldesi run a small teaching kitchen just behind Oxford Street It's a little haven of tranquility only five minutes from the rush and filth and kamikaze buses and general stress. There are little pubs all around, ideal for a tongue-untangling pre- (and post) class snifter. Then just wander down to the bottom of Marylebone Lane, past the Cordon Bleu school (where the real student chefs stand around chain-smoking and practising their swearing), and in through the double doors.

The kitchen was packed. Fourteen other amateur cooks waiting for the course to start. Val looked nervous. I gulped down a glass of prosecco, even more nervous (made increasingly so by the girlfriend's gurning as soon as she laid eyes on the teacher). And then we were away, in a flurry of OO flour, razor clams, sea bass, chicory, fennel, garlic and bunches of fresh herbs. A four course Italian meal to prepare, cook and eat, whilst being charmed (girls) and bantered with (boys) by the big man.

Valentine Warner. All in the name

Four hours later, we sat exhausted, still drinking the wine, eating the remaining scraps of a meal from our own fair collective hands. It takes a bit of effort to retain any semblence of an appetite after such a long bout of cooking, but a few mouthfuls of the succulent razor clams - lightly boiled then warmed in their opened shells with tomato, lemon zest, chopped hazelnuts and garlic - soon fixed that.

Who knew making your own ravioli could be so easy? (well I did, because I've been on a pasta making course before, so there). Who knew that if you reduce milk and then add olive oil and anchovies, you can create the most incredibly mayonnaise-esque sauce, fit to eat with almost anything you care to cook? Well, Val knew. And now so do I. The cookery school provide all the recipes after the event, so along with a stained apron, you've always got the potential to re-create.

As I sneaked outside for air, Val joined for a cheeky cigarette. Doesn't it destroy your tastebuds? No, said Val. We talked about Sophie Dahl (woeful, and the death of BBC cookery), Ina "Barefoot Contessa" Garten and every other celebrity chef I could think of. He knew them all by name. "Yuh, Hugh's great. Just so obsessed by fishing." What a guy.

Cucina Caldesi runs regular courses - more information here - http://www.caldesi.com/la-cucina-caldesi/index.htm .... read more >

It's been a long time since I've eaten in a Cafe Rouge. Back in 1996, the chain seemed (to me at least) the height of chic sophistication, with its fancy oignon soup and baked camembert and saucisson. It's also a long time since I've eaten in Portsmouth. Back in 1996, the place seemed a complete dump but it turns out it's been tarted up quite a bit since then.

We arrived late in the evening. The hotel had seen better days so we headed out to Gunwharf Quay where we were told we would find Portsmouth's finest restaurants. The Quay is next to the Spinnaker Tower, which somehow looks more impressive from a distance, and is packed with chain restaurants and bars - Wagamama, Tiger Tiger, Giraffe, etc. But Cafe Rouge it was, for old times' sake.

The key to Cafe Rouge, I thought, was to keep it simple. So I went for steak and chips, while The Doctor was more adventurous and ordered boeuf bourguignon ("my very favourite", said the 14 year old waitress).

All the steaks are matured for 28 days, claims the menu, but I am pretty certain that I was served the exact same steak that I remembered from 1996. Let's not beat about the bush here, it was truly awful. Dried out, stale-tasting and served, rather oddly, with a little jug of oily vegetably water as if that could somehow rejuvenate it. The chips were good though. The boeuf bourguignon was no better than the steak, also dry and odd-tasting, and served with a block of undercooked and leathery dauphinoise potatoes.

Despite ourselves, we ordered desserts. The cherry clafouti was nice enough with a light and fluffy, if not very clafouti-like, batter. The creme brulee was very good. It was good coffee too.

The damage was £49, including two lagers and tea and coffee. Scores were 3 for food, 4 for location and 5 for the loos meaning 4 overall, must try harder.
.... read more >

David Eyre is frequently referred to as the inventor of the gastropub, on the strength of The Eagle on Farringdon Road. It's hard to believe now that the concept of decent food in a pub was once seen as revolutionary, but it was Mr Eyre who had the vision in 1991 to chuck out the microwave and deep fat fryer and to cook proper fresh food in a simple setting.

Ten years later he and his brother Robert opened Eyre Brothers in Shoreditch, a "grown up" restaurant specialising in Iberian food. Again, this was a visionary move - Shoreditch was far from salubrious at the time, and it certainly wasn't an obvious choice for a serious (and slightly pricey) restaurant. However, they judged the zeitgeist to perfection, the restaurant was a hit and has remained popular for almost a decade. In the early days the Eyres themselves were often to be seen taking orders or chatting at the bar - they are a rarer sight now, although the careful observer can occasionally be rewarded with the sight of an Eyre waiting for a bus on Shoreditch High Street and eating a Ginsters pasty. Well, all that proper food can be a bit much sometimes.

I've been to Eyre Brothers on a number of occasions as it is handy for me for both home and work. The restaurant has a sophisticated urban feel with lots of dark wood, and it works really well for business, an intimate dinner or a classy celebration with friends. There is a full menu with lots of hearty, flavoursome dishes: think acorn-fed Iberico pork with paprika, tiger prawns piri-piri, grilled leg of lamb or a substantial fish or pork and white bean stew. However, we felt like something light this evening and headed to the bar for some tapas.
 

 
The tapas menu is based on a quality-not-quantity philosophy, with a small selection of dishes which are posted on a blackboard at one end of the bar. We sampled the olives, bread and olive oil (all excellent) as we took it in turns to walk to the end of the bar, read the tapas menu, walk back to our seats, sit down and forget most of what we had just read. In the end we happened to remember king prawns in a sherry and garlic sauce, sardines with tomatoes and garlic, mini grilled chorizos with garlic (that's enough garlic now thanks), a plate of jamon Iberico, some salt cod croquetas and a white bean stew.

Each dish was excellent - the king prawns and the sweet, intense jamon being particular favourites. However the star of the show was the bowl of white bean stew. An apparently simple dish that might sound less-than-exciting but with its layers of subtle flavour (with slightly less garlic than the rest of the menu) it accompanied the prawns, chorizo and salt cod to perfection.
 
Eyre Brothers has an interesting and affordable wine list, much of it Spanish or Portuguese as you might expect, plus a full range of sherries. If like me you are no expert on these wines, I would suggest being guided by the staff who are friendly and helpful and seem to know their crianza from their gran riserva. This evening though, a Spanish beer fitted the bill.

The damage was £60 before tipping. That's quite a lot for tapas for two with a couple of lagers. OK, the single plate of jamon was responsible for a full £17 but it was excellent and with jamon you pay for what you get. And in fact that goes for Eyre Brothers generally - it's not cheap, but almost ten years on from its establishment, the quality of the food remains paramount, and for a special meal out in Shoreditch, you can't beat it.

Overall score is 8 for the food, 7 for keeping it real in Shoreditch and 9 for the white bean stew. So that's 8 overall, well done.
  .... read more >