mai food, earl’s court

I’m of the belief that everything tastes better when it’s (a) eaten with your hands, or (b) on a stick. The Japanese have definitely enterprised on the camp of people who are of the second conviction, with the concept of kushiyaki and kushiage – the former, grilled edibles on skewers and the latter, breadcrumbed and deep-fried nibbles on skewers. After an incredibly enjoyable meal at Bincho Yakitori earlier in the week, I was delighted to come across this tiny little Japanese caff specialising in kushiage.

I didn’t take any pictures of the interior, because it’s just such an intimate affair – there are only three tables on one side of the room (seating four each), and a small row of stools at the counter, behind which Chef Saito and his comrades set about preparing each dish to order. A kind yet assertive mama-san takes charge front-of-house, aided by a very charming young waitress and a slightly bumbling, but very genuine young waiter. Japanese diners all took up the counter stools, chatting away to the chefs as they ate.

The kushiage a la carte menu is extensive, and while this form of dining isn’t exactly cheap (each skewer mostly costs between £1.50 and £2, with the most expensive being the soft shell crab at £3.90, but it slowly adds up!), the quality of the food was worth it. ‘Breadcrumbed’ and ‘deep-fried’ doesn’t sound like the healthiest of things, but the chefs use a light hand and the skewers are expertly battered and fried – the result is a light, crunchy golden shell of panko crumbs yielding to whatever delights it encases.

We ordered two of the kushiage sets, which included: shrimp with perilla (aka shiso) leaf, chicken and celery, stuffed green pepper, scallops and leek, courgette, okra, salmon and leek, shishamo (smelt), lotus root and shiitake mushroom. My favourite was the scallop and negi (Japanese leek) by far – the fresh, silky scallop was sweet and not transformed into mush. Also excellent was the shrimp wrapped in perilla (shiso) leaf – a brilliant combination.

We actually began with a simple, but tasty salad – though it could have done without the raw onions, which is never a good idea I feel.

Disclaimer: I don’t know what happened – perhaps it was the cider filled day we had prior to dinner, and the considerably large serving of umeshu (Japanese ‘plum’ – really apricot – liqueur) during – but my photos came out really blurry even though they looked fine to me on the screen. Oops.

For the non-kushiage items, the mama-san recommended the yakitori to us, and we’d be damned if we didn’t think it was bloody marvellous. I love the subtle smokiness of a well-made yakitori skewer. A good chicken to fat ratio, as well, and a sauce that wasn’t too salty nor too sweet.

Also brilliant was the tebasaki (salt-grilled chicken wings), another one of her recommendations. A squeeze of lemon to counter the deep saltiness, and you’ve got a winning dish. Simple but so good. The fat in the skin was nicely rendered for a nice crisp crunch (especially that ‘corner’ of the wing fat – you know what I mean, right? That bit that sticks out that just begs for the first bite!).

We craved sushi, so went against our better judgment and ordered a platter. It was good, but not excellent – the rice wasn’t as delicate as it could have been. But then, we shouldn’t expect people here to be masters of both crafts – this is clearly a kushiage restaurant!

A creamy, nutty ogura (soy bean) ice cream rounded off my meal nicely (for me as I was the only one still standing at the end of all of our dishes!). There were bits of crushed adzuki beans, and the ice cream had a very pleasant texture that I can only describe as ‘rustic’ – ie not supermarket processed and impossibly smooth. Turns out this ice cream is homemade. Yum! They also had matcha, though the other flavours weren’t as interesting (chocolate, vanilla, strawberry).

Expect to spend around £25-£30 per head, as those little skewers do add up once you realise how delicious they are! Still, drinks are very reasonably priced. My large glass of umeshu was £4.50 while the Japanese beers are £2.90.

Mai Food
7A Kenway Road
Earl’s Court, London
SW5 0RP
020 7835 0100 / maifood.kcnote.com

to the moon and back

For me, Alan Yau’s latest opening was perhaps the most exciting one because it’s based on the concept of a Chinese (mostly Hong Kong-style) noodle bar, something I’m more than familiar with. I also felt like there was a lack of decent noodle bars here in London (which is why every time I go back home to HK, one of the first things I always have is a big steaming bowl of wonton or ngau lam – beef brisket – noodles), and with the success of Yauatcha and Hakkasan, I couldn’t wait to see how he interpreted this classic streetfood.

A more general overview of my thoughts on Cha Cha Moon are already outlined in my review in Time Out, but in reality I tried far more dishes than what were mentioned (I wanted to try so many dishes, I went back 3 more times), so this is an ‘extended’ review if you will!

mudchute kitchen

City girls like me are easily excited at the prospect of seeing animals down on the farm. And if the farm just so happens to be a mere DLR ride away, even better! So last Sunday I dragged my flatmates off “to see the aminals”, and they obliged like a pair of world-weary parents. It just so happened that I really wanted to go eat at Mudchute Kitchen as well, what with all the good reviews it has gotten for its simple but really delicious food (and apparently the best cream tea this side of the river).

Tasty Treats! I saw it as a sign… literally. Ha ha ha!

It was the day of the London Marathon, and unfortunately for both the runners and us, it was pouring. Still, my enthusiasm couldn’t be squashed, and we went around squeaking at the cows, goats (even if they have evil square eyes), chickens, turkeys, bunnies, guinea pigs, ducks, ferrets and more! A sprawling land of greenery, it’s hard to believe you’re in London – until you see the silver skyscrapers of Canary Wharf peeking out over the hills, that is.

As it would have it, the moment we had finished roaming the farm and were about to take refuge from the rain and gloom, the sun came out and shone for the rest of the afternoon. Still, we happily trooped into Mudchute Kitchen (near the horses’ stables) and pondered over the menu that features rustic, homecooked dishes and phenomenal desserts – the coffee and cardamom cake with the jewel-like pomegranate seeds caught my eye immediately, though I ceded it to C, who gobbled the entire slice up within minutes (not before I had a massive mouthful myself – what gorgeous cake. Soft and creamy with the icing, and the cardamom blending perfecly with the coffee flavours. I bought a slice to takeaway with me when we left).

Ravenous as I was, I had to go for something filling and delicious – a bacon tart with radish salad sounded perfect, though I never expect much from tarts. To me, they’re always too dry, too mushy or just bland. But I was hungry, and the other special, houmus, really wasn’t going to cut the mustard at that point.

But what a delightful surprise this bacon tart was – a giant fat slice appeared on the plate, and every bite was bursting with savoury and substantial pieces of bacon and fragrant herbs, with just the right amount of cheesiness. Quite possibly the best thing I’ve had in a while. And you can’t really go wrong with a crunchy, refreshing radish salad on the side made with good-quality, fresh ingredients. There was no trace of bitterness from the radishes, which can often happen with old or poor quality versions; every bite was sweet and crisp. Wow, this is getting a bit too poetic.

And it didn’t end there: I stole a bite of L’s lemon poppy seed cake (above right), and it was also magnificent. Fluffy, moist cake with subtle citrus flavours and fragrant vanilla. Again, gobbled up before I could steal a second bite. All this food was washed down with a wonderfully brewed homemade chai tea, which was rich with plenty of cardamom (you could see them swimming in the teapot), cinnamon, ginger and cloves. Smooth and creamy and generally faultless. I couldn’t think of a better way to spend a Sunday afternoon than enjoying the treats at Mudchute Kitchen after a day’s frolicking with the animals.

Addendum: just to reiterate a fact from before, goats have square eyes (or square irises, if you’re being technical). All in all rather disturbing (as cute as the baby goats were).

Mudchute Kitchen
Mudchute Park & Farm, Pier Street, Isle of Dogs
London E14 3HP
020 7515 5901
www.mudchute.org

let’s do brunch, dahling, at 202 café

It’s been a while since I’ve touched this blog, but I figured I needed to write something to get the ball rolling again. And what better to begin than at the beginning? And when I mean beginnings, I mean that all-important first meal of the day – breakfast. Or for those more inclined to stay in bed until at least half 10, brunch. And, does anyone else dream about what they’re going to eat when they wake up, just before they go to sleep? I’d made a pledge to go to breakfast/brunch on Sunday morning, and with 202 Café’s menu drifting around in my mind like counting sheep, I couldn’t wait to hop on that train (and tube, and more tube, and walking…) to get there and stuff my face with lots of carbs and wash it all down with copious amounts of maple syrup and tea.

So we merrily put on our best rags (from the east end to the west end, ooh la la!) and braved the gloom and doom and rain. We arrived there just after 11, which was fortunate as we were seated after a few minutes by very chirpy staff. We sat down on pretty little rustic wooden tables, flanked by those with perfect hairdos, v-necked sweaters, wire-rimmed glasses and the sort (and of course the obligatory pram) and ordered drinks – pretty standard cappuccino and earl grey for my companions, and a ‘caribe’ herbal tea pour moi – a black tea infused with guava and strawberry. Was very tempted by the pomegranate oolong but had snootily thought to myself that if I wanted pomegranate oolong, I probably could have bashed open a pom and threw its seeds into my cuppa. So I went for the caribe. Obviously.

No less than 30 seconds from ordering, another waiter came by and chirped happily at us, asking if we’d like to order any drinks. And again (another waitress). Then again (someone else entirely). Which was all very nice, but when we actually wanted to order we couldn’t find a single crisp-shirted, Hollywood-white clad waiter/waitress willing to bestow us with their presence again. Ah well, all was sorted and then we (mentally) clasped our hands together like Mr Burns and eagerly awaited our grub. Had a peer around the room to assess the crowd, and met eyes with George Alagiah. Swanky.

It was a bit difficult choosing between all the delicious sounding breakfast items on the menu: prosciutto and manchego omelette; warm chorizo, roast potato, spinach and egg salad; ricotta and spinach omelette; porridge with cream, sultanas and honey. But in the end we went with the buttermilk pancakes with fruit compote and creme fraiche; the 202 bagel with smoked salmon, cream cheese, capers and onion; and for myself, the french toast with bacon and maple syrup. I’d heard many good things about the french toast, and how can one go wrong with eggy bread, bacon and maple syrup? At this point you’d probably expect the blog to take a turn for the worse, with me shrieking in despair about how 202 had ruined bacon and maple syrup for me forever, but fear not my dear readers. ‘Twas not the case. At all.

It’s definitely no looker, though.

But the bacon was superb and had a very nice chargrilled, smokey flavour. The french toast was a bit difficult to cut into because of the crust, but inside was pillowy soft and yielded even more to my eager incisors when drenched with sweet, sweet maple syrup. Real maple syrup. I am Canadian and I know good maple syrup when I guzzle it. Bacon and maple syrup go together like prosciutto and melon, I swear (and apparently, lemon juice and prosciutto, a flavour combination let onto me by a French woman at a café the other day – so enlightening!).

The pancakes were good but not as good as when I make them, har har! I just thought they weren’t as fluffy as they should be. But my real caveat was with how little pancakes they served for £6.95 – two measley discs! I also felt they were a bits stingy with the amount of creme fraiche and blueberry compote. I felt positively horrible as I chowed down with my big fat thick chunks of eggy french toast, dripping with maple syrup and sandwiched with three large slices of meaty bacon – for the same price – while my friend began to look all pale and wan again a little while after she’d finished her pancakes, like someone who hadn’t eaten at all (we are big eaters in our household).

We were all very impressed by the bagel and smoked salmon though – no skimping on the salmon or cream cheese here! However, we wished the bagel was bigger, or that there was more of it to mop up all the cream cheese with. But on the bright side, lots of fresh, peppery watercress was much appreciated.

The fried green tomatoes, however, should have stayed in Dr Suess’s kitchen (okay, I know it’s green eggs ‘n’ ham and not tomatoes, but you know what I mean!). A dry crust with the flavourless green tomatoes was not the way to go. Reading the menu after, we were surprised that the dish description included ‘chillies’ and ‘mozzarella’, which we didn’t register at all. Oh dear!

We did occasionally steal furtive glances at the tables next to us, who had piles of moist looking scrambled eggs and cute little fat chain links of grilled Italian sausages. But we were pleased. Very pleased, in fact. The service, while a bit dreamy at times, was good and the room is amazing. Did I forget to mention that the café is actually set inside a Nicole Farhi boutique? Eating delicious food surrounded by beautiful people sitting among beautiful clothes and furniture and other such frivolous things we in this humble profession wouldn’t even dream of purchasing. There was a doorman at the loo (and he held the door open for me, bless). By the time we left, the place had some rather big queues. So come early. Terry Durack said it best – “The only real problem is getting a table – unless you’re prepared to pay £4,000 for it.”

202 Café
202 Westbourne Grove
London W11 2RH
020 7727 2772

australia dairy company

The Australia Dairy Company is a must-go destination for any discerning foodie in Hong Kong, and thus forever has throngs of people winding outside its doors, anxious to get in and enjoy their famed scrambled eggs and steamed milk puddings. And dear god, do the waiters work fast to get everyone in and out as quickly as possible! If you think Wong Kei (in London) is bad, ADC can be positively frightening. With that said, they’re not rude per se, just super efficient and if you just so happen to get in their way for a second too long, heads will roll.

This picture doesn’t show how hectic and crowded it was at all.

The whole shebang is an adventure in itself. You can just feel their adrenaline, and the noise from the shouting and the constant flow of people in the cramped aisles just adds to the chaos. It’s pretty much a guilt-trip if you end up taking way too long eating your grub, so don’t come here with visions of long, relaxing munching and slow sips of tea. It’s eat-and-go, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t think this is possibly one of the best meals to have in the city.

Mmmm. Eggy innards.

Look at the menu and there’s actually quite a lot of different foods – noodles, various sandwiches and drinks. But aficionados and long-time customers go for ADC’s most famous dish – scrambled eggs. Served alongside pieces of toast for breakfast, and in between slices of pillow-soft bread in the afternoon, this humble food has somehow managed to impress the picky Hong Kong public. There’s even a Facebook group dedicated to declaring undying love for their scrambled eggs, which currently has 5,661 5,688 members (including yours truly).

Scrambled eggs are probably the simplest thing you could ever make, but it truly takes skill to transform something any old Joe could make, blindfolded, into something so wonderfully tasty that makes people want to come back for more. ADC’s scrambled eggs are the lightest, fluffiest eggs I’ve ever had the pleasure of eating, and they are oh-so-moist. Not too salty, perfectly seasoned and the thick, soft white bread it’s served in creates a match made in heaven. How can I live with paltry, rubbery scrambled eggs again? Poetry should be written about their eggs. Really.

Australia Dairy Company 澳洲牛奶公司
47-49 Parkes Street, Jordan, Hong Kong
Tel: 2730-1356