London's Burning

Went to London last week (16th July).

Fell asleep on the plane so missed the great Irish breakfast (did I miss much?). Still, noblesse oblige and Club Class Row 3 meant I could get off the aircraft at the speed of light and whizz down to the Underground station and emerge at Leicester Sq less than an hour after touchdown.

Why was I there? To view the Marks and Sparks Christmas collection; to find out where the dining hotspots were for F&W; and to indulge in a bit of nostalgia, first of which being to sit in Soho Square and wait for someone to turn up who died a long time ago, but that’s another story.

Pulled myself together and legged it down Oxford St (horrible as ever) to Scotts, where the IRA lobbed a bomb in so may years ago, presumably because of it’s quintessential Englishness. I only found out yesterday, btw, that the excelent Caroline Workman’s (NI food writer) dad was in the place at the time.
Fantastic Bostonian barman downstairs, deffo the Remrandt, if not the Picasso of cocktail makers – best Bloody Mary I have had in my life (probably the biggest, too).

Like many restaurants in London it seems, they have a young Australian chef who is pulling out all the stops. Fantastic cock crab – it was more than a cock, it was a Priapus, a giant phallus – so big I delved and dug for an hour without making too much of an impact. I was in tears when I had to hand the carcass back!
My dining companion had quenelles de brochet, pike to you – delicate, perhaps too much so, real invalid food.

In the evening I hooked up with Irish chef Richard Corrigan, big amiable guy from Meath and one hell of a cook – mission bound to convert Savverners to real food, rabbit, offal and those parts of the beast the pillocks throw away. Hasd to cry oiff eating at Lindsay House his One Star Michelin as I’d eaten so many of his amazing pigeon & quail’s egg canapes at this charity reception I couldn’t move.

Anyhow, if any of you have a few dibs to spare can I suggest War Child or The Irish Youth Foundation – a near-to-home charity desined to succour Irish second generation immigrants to the UK who are at risk through poverty or social attitudes.

Next day went to Gay Hussar in Greek St Soho – old style Hungarian restaurant beloved by all those Old Labour politicians who were intent on “levelling up, not levelling down” as one of those claret heads once put it to me.
Amazing restaurant – no change since I was last there in about ’89 – if they tookk the crispy duck with red cabbage and Hungarian potatoes off the menu there’d be a riot, or at least a strike!

In the evening I went to Lindsay House, Richard Corrigan’s restaurant and the food and wine were absolutely amazing. Very natural flavours and great ingredients, especially he smoked haddock, the rabbit with black pudding and the lamb, sweetbreads and kidneys.

Next day to lunch at Pied a Terre in Charlotte Street; a two star but utterly informnal with a gorgeous (though teeny-weeney bit pregnant) Maitresse D’ who indulged in humourous banter with a couple of the regulars who were sipping Brett Maris’s brilliant Wither Hills Pinot Noir. Actually, I didn’t think the food was quite up to the Lindsay House mark, nice, but a bit over-elaborate and the desserts were a bit ill-conceived, flavours didn’t quite hang together.

That night I dined at Nahm on the ground floor of the amazing (though mega-expensive) Halkin Hotel in SW1. It’s the only Thai in the world with a Michelin Star and though I saw in one of the Restaurant guides the cooking described as “bizarre” and the ambience as “zero” these guys are talking through their arses. The ambience is fine – cool, postmodern like the hotel but once there are a few people in the place you don’t notice because the food is great – 100% uncompromising Thai – if you have the 7 course tasting menu the palm sugar buzz will have you awake all night but such is the price of authenticity. I was delighted to meet the chef, David Thompson,who’s long been one of my culinary heroes since I bought his first cookbook in Oz back in ’95….