Taste: River Cafe review

River Cafe is not an ideal place to approach from the tube on a blustery November evening. From Hammersmith station go south across the roundabout, under the A4, round the back of the Apollo and through a couple of estates. From there through a gap in the fence to the river, across a patch of deserted building site and finally along an eerie stretch of waterside path where a couple of dark silhouettes will have you rehearsing that talk-them-down speech we've all prepared for that moment (touch wood) when mugged. Mine begins something like "yes, absolutely here's my wallet - but first may I keep that photo of my daughter, I wish I'd taken more when she was alive... have children, do you?"

Across Richard Rogers' tidy courtyard, into the restaurant and that's easily forgotten. A welcoming party unwraps our coats and we're ushered over to a modern attractive bar where blazered professionals chat 'shop' and martinis promptly arrive.

Chatter flows through from the dining area; a large, attractive, clearly architecturally considered space. A polished and cake-laden service bar runs the length of the room on one side from an open kitchen at the end. Every other square inch of floor space is tessellated with diners, between who wait staff in crisp pinstripe shirts and clean aprons synchronise their darts and nips.

Ours waiter is confident, personable and clearly ofay with the melee of seating. Zipping ahead he leads us across to the far side of the room to a table on the edge of the throng and at the mouth of the kitchen's show-piece, a beautiful wood-fired dome oven.

The ever changing Italian, traditionally coursed menu is all literally mouth watering. Clearly rendered physically choice-less the water suggested a current one-off, Gnuddi (River Cafe's own spinach gnochi), served simply with their currently limited batch of decade-ish old balsamic and olive oil. It hit a light heavenly spot I wasn't familiar with. A taste I will never forget and probably never find again. Scallops, too, were served very simply. Large, perfectly cooked and on a par with my #1 for seafood: the company shed.

For mains, a friar tuck sized veal shin, on the bone with canellini bean and Swiss chard was another first, superbly textured somewhere between great lamb and fantastic steak. Sea bass fillet baked in a bag with porcini, thyme and Vermouth, with spinach was another delivery of balanced taste and perfectly prepared ingredients.

By the end of an Almond Tart with Strawberries and Grappa Pannacotta we were blissfully weak at the knees.

Sure, the logo is appalling and barely better is the projection-clock dominating the room, but these strands of hair aside and River Cafe is in my experience the finest Italian restaurant in the country. We'll be back in spring when the River Cafe spills out onto Rogers' tidy courtyard.

River Cafe

Thames Wharf

Rainville Road

London, W6 9HA (map)

+44 (0)20 7386 4200

Taste: cha cha moon

Filling a space that used to be a nightclub (or was it a couple shops?), Alan Yau has snuck his latest restaurant into a very tidy spot on Ganton St which opens onto the recently worthwhile Kingly Square. Now that the awful umbarella-awnings have been lifted away, Cha Cha Moon offers accessible, asian, al-fresco dining all but out of reach in this part of town unless you’ve pink pounds to spend.

With a simple 3-fold menu more akin to Wagamama than Yauatcha, cuisine is pan-asian (mayte!) with Hong Kong style influences. Three main types of dish are offered: soup-noodle, stir-fry and Lao Mian (on flat, stocky noodles with a side-soup). As an opening-week offer that was never cancelled all dishes are £3.50 and in the medium-small bracket. At this price it’s worth skipping the starters and going for 2 mains.

Lao Mian crispy duck, jasmine tea soaked chicken and Singapore noodles are high achievers in this class of uncomplicated box-ticking food. The huge open-plan kitchen is churning out plate after plate of pitch perfect dishes to the masses. An army of wait staff, in “have you been to the moon” t-shirts all working a specific function, buzz along precision-packed shared trestles.

Don’t expect to feel special. Once the “have you been here before” script is over there’s no love lost by the unimpressed servers. Food is brought over when it’s ready and sometimes afterwards. In earlier visits at least one plate arrived late and lukewarm but that has recently improved.

Cha Cha Moon is solid. Design, ambiance, presentation are all straight from the Yao playbook, managing an air of exclusivity despite canteen-esque atmosphere – and reality. Unfortunately the word has spread beyond the congregation and evening queues (no booking allowed) often wriggle, back out the front door. At least the display of cookery precision on the other side of the blue glass wall provides interim entertainment.

Cha Cha Moon
15-21 Ganton St
Soho, London
W1F 9BN (map)
+44 (0) 20 7297 9800

Taste: Haozhan Review

Every other review of a restaurant in Chinatown includes an msg soaked starter reminiscing about Gerrard Street's good old times. Food was terrible, service non existent and any complaints answered with five thunderbolts. Not too sure about the last one but over the past few years I've definitely eaten in a few hum dingers in London's China epicenter.

Not much has changed really. Just our budgets. A couple quid extra has opened the door to the chinese powerhouses of the Golden Palace and Feng Shui Inn. Now though, for a few more pennies there's a 'modern oriental' kid on the block.

Flashing a contemporary feel, Haozhan has been opened with the help from a former chef at Hakkasan. As you'd expect he's brought a keen attention to detail and presentation and influences from Japan, Malaysia and Thailand.
This being lunch, delicately grilled and herbed gyoza-style dumplings and light duck spring roll (served in a glass) made tasty light starters. Onto a clean, meaty champagne cod, soft and succulet jasmine ribs and a waiter recommended dish - beef in red wine served in a crispy noodle nest: Succulent beyond imagination and a taste not experienced before. Seeing one served elsewhere we praised ourselves for ordering a cream of pumpkin desert despite being far more satisfied than expected. It almost crept up - but everything was welll timed, well balanced and, well, delicious.

Haozhan is different. They've borrowed a couple ideas from the likes of Yuatcha, Nobu and Hakkasan and brought the experience down a level without compromising on the senses (or the wallet). It's a bit cheeky to go with such a homophonic name and, mate, the menu has pictures... but that aside and here is a welcome addition for when beef ho fun and char siu isn't quite enough.

Haozhan
http://www.haozhan.co.uk
8 Gerrard Street
London
W1D 5PJ (map)
+44 (0) 20 7434 3838

Taste: The Empress of India Review

High-rises, gangs, prams, Olympics and best-of-the-worst awards come, go and hackney strides on. Victoria Park Village has barely batted an eyelid, nestled safety and uninterrupted in the arms of Britain’s oldest public park. This one and a half stretch of amenities and boutiques stands proud and unmoved like a portly war veteran – who’s puffed out chest is the grand red awning of the Empress of India.

As the menu-prologue is eager to point out, the current incarnation of this elegant British gastropub is the latest in a line of rebirths. At present it features a spick and span layout with grand well-stocked bar presiding over one side. A separately themed dining area to the other half is decorated with a mosaic floor and exotic murals depicting elephants, palaces and turbans

Ambiance here is calm, organised, methodical (not particularly busy on this night). The 15 or so tables are served by two who are obviously experienced and comfortable with the strong menu. A regularly updated handful or so dishes per course are available at around £6/starter and £13/main.

Full flavoured Fois Gras parfait with even fuller port plums joined forces in a rich, delicious combination of my preferred starting staple. The hot smoked salmon, avocado mousse and Bloody Mary sauce was more adventurous, lacking in exhilaration but no less tasty. For mains, I went for the special; Rare short horn lamb on a bed of spinach, potato and delicate goats cheese. Special indeed, more succulent than any lamb I’ve ever tasted. I honestly hummed every mouthful in a one-man throng of euphoria.

From Tom and Ed Martin (including The Gun in Docklands) The Empress isn’t cut from the same cloth as the other gastropubs around town. It is, as the best ones should be, a refined collection of finest quality produce cooked well with culinary genius (in this case, Tim Wilson, former chef at the Ivy). Unlike the others it has less of a traditional hectic feel, more sedate, solid, timeless – like the proud village of Victoria Park surrounding it.

I’ll be going back again.

The Empress of India
http://www.theempressofindia.com
130 Lauriston Road
Victoria Park
London
E9 7LH (map)
+44 (0) 208 533 5123

Taste: Belgo Review

The aptly named "Centraal" branch of Belgo's Belgium Restaurant and Bierodrome is less Belgian and more Laserquest. Grey, mesh and metal greet you once inside along with a steely stare-down from the front desk.

Maybe because of it's popularity with tourists, maybe because it's christmas or maybe because the staff are simply too important we're instantly told all the party must be present, we must line up in front of the desk and must await walkie-talkie confirmation from a relay of ushers if we've got any chance of sitting at a table. Forget Laserquest, it's more like a leg of the Crystal Maze.

Drill passed, down a set of stairs covered in black and yellow warning tape through another couple of holding areas and we're inside a bustling, noisy underground canteen. Thanks probably to places like the Dove, this is a couple countries away from the cosy, inviting experience I was expecting. Here is a themed restaurant with an attitiude. Wait staff lumber around pacing between the two main dining ares at each of a vast, angry kitchen. Plates are being produced on-mass by teams of cooks, one laying out steaks, one on sauce and the other with chips. A couple of diners have become enthralled on their way to the bathrooms and stare in bewilderment.

The broadsheet menu, an ugly collection of boxes accentuates the large collection of beers on offer. I went for a Slag Pilsner and a strong, golden Duvel. Both demonstrating the complexities and variation of good beer production. Around the table are a collection of nods in agreement.

Food. Average. Forgettable. The signature dish, a kilo pot of mussels provencale (the other option was mariniere but white wine & beer?) was not sandy, not small but was too bland. The others all chose steak to great satisfaction but when you're paying £20+ a cut it's hard to get them wrong.

It's not a bad place and obviously very popular. It should have been about the beer and the food but instead we received a mouthful of the rest.

Taste: Sake no Hana Review

Disguised as an office building - Sake no Hana blends only too well into the Economist's Plaza on St James' street. A plaque by the menacing automatic door is the only giveaway before it slides open. A couple of bemused doormen look out - who I'm sure will get used to welcoming lost diners.

Inside is an office building's foyer. They've either painfully replicated the entrance to a Wall St bank in black marble or just left the old building as it was. This being Alan Yau and architect Kengo Koma the latter is a dead cert but it really just feels like the bank. Nothing like the decadence of L'Atelier. Alright, I know, hanging out here isn't scheduled, so up a dark, thin escalator to the 1st floor restaurant.

Somehow cater-cornered and not in a great way the restaurant is a mix of standard tables and sunken no-shoes Izakaya seating. Attractive bleached-wood skeletal pyramids echo the simplicity of the room which has a dab of sober beige, a splash of Dojo and the smell of money. Wait staff tiptoe around sinking awkwardly to their knees when serving, a feat not easily achieved by the burly sake sommelier balancing a £200 bottle with a grimace (they do serve 180ml taster carafes from £12).

The menu, traditional Japanese in summary; salad, tempura, marinated then fried dishes, rice and desert. Sushi and sashimi are not available, the sushi-bar downstairs is not yet complete although the glamorous table of soap stars behind are braying over a round of nigiri.

Over the next 90 minutes the courses roll (or rather loll - first week teething is passable) A minute jar or King Crab salad in a Japanese plum jelly is a silky mouthful of sweet flavors - shame there's only two spoon's and a tinkles-worth. Mixed tempura, with a good but not Tokugawa standard batter. Leaf wrapped oblongs of Chilean sea bass with giant soy beans and button mushrooms in an superbly overwhelming satay-notes sauce and korokke a painfully rendered yet too fussy beef, potato croquette. For staples we went for sticky rice and Udon noodles, both pedigree versions of their mainstream counterparts.

Almost all flavours were choreographed delights, fantastic, orchestraic but over far too soon. The better dishes were the more elaborate but they could fit on a 50 pence piece (whilst costing a fistful of golden coins). After 8 dishes and an onslaught of intriguing tastes we were left not quite satisfied - with a feeling more like eating a selection of Belgian chocolates.

Sake no Hana is the latest restaurant from Alan Yau of Hakkasan and Yauatcha fame. Sure it will get a third Michelin Star but in comparison I'm not so convinced. Maybe that will change when the new-wood smell calms down and the wait staff understand the dishes (and their sizes) better. I've a feeling though that for me there won't be a second time - fine Japanese cuisine exists in just one country.

Sake no Hana
23 St James's Street
London
SW1A 1HA (map)
020 7925 8988

Taste: The Scolt Head Review

It had to happen - all across London common boozers are scrubbing up the floorboards, pulling down the TVs and ordering a crate of duralex. Whilst not a new prospect the last couple years have seen a surge in the gentrified Gastropub and everybody wants a piece of the gourmet pie.

Fortunately, Dalston's Scolt Head has not followed the "get gastro in 21 days" guide and with expertise from the Fox and Great Queen Street has recently re-opened under new management. Almost stranded between Islington and London Fields it’s a solid neighborhood building - fronted by a large bar, trademark low lighting, plenty of exposed wood and an intriguing collection of heat & pressure dials. The "library" of Penguin books is really just a row above the fireplace but add a point for effort.

All the real regulars have been shuffled away into a large romper-room to the back left of the bar. With a stage for live music, pool, darts, boxed games and a giant screen they don’t seem to mind and it’s soon busy. Smartly zoned to the right is an exemplary rustic dining area. Bread is served with balsamic, salt’s in an open dish and the menu printed on A4 with a handful of choices. All good so far.

We went for a chorizo salad - the best I’ve had since the sandwiches in Borough Market; hearty, creamy meal-in-a-bowl of onion soup and a plate of huge razor clams in a garlic and herb dressing. All three (of the four to choose from) were incredible. To follow we all opted for Boeuf Bourguignon on mash, a sultry rich stew with a slightly overwhelming cameo of smoked bacon barging in on the senses. Shame.

That must be a one off – the starters we’re too far into the atmosphere to pull the parachute. Halfway through not just a Lemon Posset but a Scolt Head Lemon Posset and all is forgiven.

The Scolt head might as well be on it’s Norfolk Coast namesake as far as the magnetic field around zone one is concerned. That just means that for people like me who live a brisk walk away there’ll be a table on Friday without having to book ahead, a pint on the bar within 10 seconds and a selection of honest, well cooked food – all for the price of supper in a good pub... as it should be.

The Scolt Head
107a Culford Rd
N1 4HT (map)
Dalston
020 7254 3965

http://www.thescolthead.co.uk

Taste: The Easton

Exmouth Market is an easily overlooked destination visited mostly by people who haven't succumbed to the Angel and Old Street heavyweights, both a respective spit and stone's throw away. Nestled against the Rosebery rat-race highway there's something delicate and appealing about the short leafy lane of one-off shops and bar/restaurants, especially on a rainy evening when the fairy lights beacon safe refuge.

The more local types might even venture a little deeper into the undergrowth, and cautios of the brutish Mount Pleasant lurking nearby slip north up to The Easton, one of the earlier Pubs in London to assume Gastropub status. In established tradition the furniture is rustic, ambiance upbeat and menu simply stated on a chalkboard above the long bar.

I've lunched here a number of times - including an unforgettable beef Sunday roast of Friar Tuck proportions. Each of the three veg and two potatoes ensembling in a way only mothers can otherwise achieve. Today we went for honey glazed Pork chop with Patatas Bravas - the glaze complemented one of the most succulent chops I've ever tasted (the potatoes were okay but I'd have preferred crisper roasts); Pumpkin Pie, visually impressive and an epicurean delight for the pumpkin-lover; and a hearty seafood risotto cooked on the good side of perfect.

I've only been here during the day and cannot vouch for either side of the "get out we're closing" debate in current circulation. To me the Easton is one of a handful gastro-staples, delivering the goods every time.

The Easton
22 Easton Street,
London,
WC1X 0DS
020 7278 7609

Taste: Brunch at Smiths of Smithfield

On the weekend virtually all of London between Farringdon and Liverpool Street resuscitates after a hard week playing around with truckloads of cash. There's a strange emptiness even around residential areas, Barbican and Smithfields both void of excitement.

Smiths of Smithfield on a weekend morning is a relative hive of activity - full of screaming kids, hungover young professionals and disillusioned tourists happy to see somewhere lively. It's the wrong kind of lively though, like a mash up of evening bar and breakfast spot (which it effectively is). The aforementioned people are all over the place, sat around awkwardly round tables which don't lend a hand to the hectic visuals, being tended by what feels like a hundred wait staff.

Our waitress was slightly too busy to actually take our order and when we waivered on which smoothie dashed off unnannounced. We ordered a medium Smith's breakfast (handily numbered from 1-something in order of size) The sausage, bacon beans etc were of okay quality and quantity although nothing special. Totally un-special however were the poached eggs - which had been hard boiled. The reply from the waitress was farcical "you asked for poached eggs and they are poached eggs" but before I had chance to impart a piece of my mind she was gone again - returning a few minutes later with a couple of correctly cooked eggs.

Smiths has it all as an uber-popular evening bar and restaurant but this doesn't translate into a breakfast location. I prefer some peace with my eggs and paper.

Smiths of Smithfield
67-77 Charterhouse Street
EC1M 6HJ
Farringdon
020 7251 7950

Taste: Great Queen Street

Unbranded, unfussy, uncomplicated – Great Queen Street is the thoroughbred Gastropub on the far side of Covent Garden. Of Arabian proportions, Great Queen Street has been studded by the Anchor and Hope and let run with staff from the Easton and St John.

Between undecorated blood red walls diners sit at rustic tables, on simple chairs with standard, uniform tableware. Towards the back of the room a long bar fronts onto the kitchen where I can only imagine chefs are preparing food with one of five utensils and serving into one of three bowl types.

I'm not sure what the textbook Gastropub description is. For sure the Wikipedia page must include Great Queen Street. Menus are presented on a single sheet of A4 with 15 choices arranged by price. Paralleled with the surrounding simplicity they're all directly stated traditional English; game terrine, steak pie (for two, £30), rabbit stew… etc. We opt for a meat double bill with steak tartae to start and lamb shoulder as a main. Our waiter suggests that there are three surplus shanks in the kitchen available as a one-off for only a few pounds more (£28). We nod emphatically. Actually, I can recall a couple of times before when this has similarly happened in the Anchor – an effective marketing strategy.

The tartae was moderate (bland – go for the terrine instead) but the shanks divine. The meat was not just falling off the bone but diving off into the pool of superb, rich oily soup waiting for a knob of bread to soak it up. Served with a healthy bowl of potato gratin this was far more than enough for two and we had to call in for air support before ordering desert. The caramel crème is unmissable.

I heard earlier that in the UK we spend £8b/year in 27,000 restaurants. Good hearty English fayre has to be the most rewarding and patriotic spending of those pennies although I'm torn. I'm sure mothers around the country can do better - mine certainly can.

Great Queen Street is a welcome addition to the gastro-offering around London. It represents all the good things about English pub food with all the bad things taken out and intentionally un-replaced. There’s a premium to pay and one must wonder why… but not for long before returning for more.

32 Great Queen St
WC2B 5AA
Covent Garden
020 7242 0622

Taste: Bam-bou

Charlotte Street is a little-mentioned nucleus of restaurants in the awkward corner of central London trapped between studentville Goodge and tourist hell Oxford Street. Its pleasurable tree-lined vista offering a somewhat European aftertaste to a sunny day, far less of a mouthful than the pavement bars coughed up along Frith and Greek.

At the southern end of Charlotte Street stands Bam-bou, an almost member's only arrangement of restaurant, small private function-rooms and dark moody top floor bar. I've been here in the latter two capacities and it was well geared to such pursuits. Now I would see if they've managed to squeeze a worth-while restaurant into the labyrinth of small oriental wood and cast-iron furnished rooms.

The main restaurant room is small, 15 tables or so. Its understated, hinting towards Chinese with a detail here or there. Simple western Chinese is the theme and the uncomplicated menu is neither long or fussy with 10-15 choices each for starters and mains. To the bottom of the list is a note indicating that all dishes are intended to share, one wonders why that needed stating. Share we did (as with most Asian meals) and tucked into ginger squid, sticky Hanoi Style ribs, japanese dumplings and a couple of token dim-sum plates, shrimp har gau and sweet potato croquettes. Nobody else wanted to go for Tamarind glazed frogs legs, perhaps they'd have added an elevation from what was a satisfying but far from ground breaking collection. The mains were a little less formulaic with correctly seared scallops, tender beef with kow choi & shaoshing (who?) and a marvelous preparation of sea bass not far from Cocoon's earthquake inducing equivalent. Ordering rice was confusing and we ended up with one big bowl and a handful of smaller ones of steamed rice and another few tiny dishes of coconut rice. Restaurants really need to just put a per-person price then just keep it coming, heck, rice is literally cheap as chips.

Bam-bou has an intimate feel, service is appropriate, attentive and atmosphere is swanky upper echelon. I would first recommend coming here for the other functions with supper a close runner up. As part of Caprice Holdings (which includes The Ivy and J Sheekey) it's not for the shy wallet but will top up the kudos card.

Bam-Bou
1 Percy Street
London, W1T 1DB (map)
+44 (20) 7323 9130
http://www.bam-bou.co.uk/

Taste: The Ivy

When I'm rich and retired I plan to come to the Ivy for lunch every week. I'll have the same courses each time and a glass of my favorite in between pages of the racing post. How this plan formed, I've no idea - having never eaten here, read a single review or know anybody who's been.

Well lunchtime today my time had finally come to visit the elegant dining institution. The Ivy resides as it has since 1917 on the little trodden corner of West and Litchfield street. Understated and elegant, inwardly pristine stained glass windows along both streets lend a bright and sheltered dining room. Unclouded decadence hangs in the air as well-tailored waiters nod and oblige their way around the traditional and impeccable surrounds.

The menu is english, easy-read and encouraging. I opted for white asparagus with prosciutto and melted Dolcelatte followed by a hearty and mouth watering self-standing cottage pie topped with formidably layered semi-mashed potato. I wish I'd room left for the 2-person Baked Alaska which I'm told is only made properly in a handful of places in the world.

My dining partner tells me that a good restaurant serves warm bread and room temperature butter. I'm more impressed with the food - ha. I'll be having both weekly here in the Ivy when I'm rich and retired.

The Ivy
1-5 West Street
London
WC2H 9NQ (map)

Tel: +44 (0)20 7836 4751

Taste: L'Atelier de Joël Robuchon

West Street, just off Cambridge Circus is one of those central London roads not often visited without purpose. On this evening, however, our purposely empty stomachs led the beat of hunger as we marched towards L'Atelier. Actually, we were running late and almost at canter, even though the nasally French Maitre d had already replied on the phone "don't worry, we are running late too!"

Cool, black, polished; L'Atelier is a recent £5M addition to Joel Robuchon's six Michelin Star line-up and feels from the black and red entrance area like a sultry Yakuza Den or swanky strip club. We're wafted through a grand pair of glass doors into a slim space countered with stools along the entirety of one side, a handful or less of 4 seater tables stand outweighed between the bar and a living wall of green foliage.

Sitting at the high-backed black bar we're served entirely from the opposite side by a gangly French waiter. He's unable to make eye contact and talk at the same time, such disgust must be expertly trained. Behind him a nebulous concentration of black stealth-chefs move between shiny, luxurious kitchen workstations as if in a secret NASA cookery experiment. The shadowy foreground is punctuated by lines of bell peppers, perfect-size apples on beds of ice and square bowls of floating cucumber strands. Its all oh so close to being tacky but falls only just on the right side of impressive.

The concept menu does not care if you understand it or not. The waiter has prepared his stare of abhorrence for the moment you look at him puzzled. Basically there are a number of dishes that feature on both the starter and main courses list. On either, the portion size may range from enough to share to barely a mouthful. There's no way of knowing without asking him. Price as a guide is useless (£10-£60 each), call me northern but a more logical arrangement would be welcomed. Luckily we were sharing so selected a number of dishes and randomly chose whether to have them small or large. If you're coming here to eat your own meal, take the time to ensure against quantity imbalance.

The food on the other hand is balanced to perfection. Every mouthful feels entirely prepared and is swiftly followed by the culinary goose-pimple, a sparkly eye widening. Each dish is as different as the plate on which it serves and over four courses we rejoiced through wafer thin Iberian ham, seafood paella, aubergine caviar (mousse to the layman!) a tiny taste explosion of squid ravioli and outstanding crispy ricepaper wrapped langoustine. Each has a hint of Japanese flavours, the theme of this, the ground floor dining room.

On the first floor is a "more formal" dining room "La Cuisna" serving a sightly different (yet just as complicated) menu. Above this is a masonic bar to which we are swooshed to "relax and enjoy" dessert. I'm sure there were more economic reasons for this as the wait staff sprang in to turn around our seats. This quickly forgotten, it was a perfect beyond-exclusive setting to savour the most amazing (and probably most expensive) mango pudding of my life.

L'Atelier de Joel Robuchon
13-15 West Street
WC2H 9NE (map)
Tel: +44 (0) 20 7010 8600

Taste: Thai Cottage

Soho's inconsistently full to the brim of almost anything. It's particularly hard to venture away from the beaten track without being either hugely underwhelmed or massively overcharged. Naturally, everybody has their own safe-haven and thanks to many a business lunch, the Thai Cottage is mine.

Although the "pre show" board stands disheveled on the pavement outside, this little 8 table, family-run restaurant nestles hilariously far from Broadway, up on D'arblay Street. Pretty much the only 'true' Thai restaurant for a country mile; money can't (and blatantly didn't) buy this type of authenticity. Its like a family run greasy spoon, awful place-mats, wonky wall hangings, mother behind the bar, father sat peeling ginger and the kids nipping downstairs to the kitchen.

Food is good and in abundance with loaded dishes of typical cuisine. I've never been here and not had Sea Bream in 3 thai sauce and never will. Satay and Phad Thai are excellent and could rival their counterparts 8,000 miles away. Watch out for the beer, a few harmless little bottles of Phuket and Singha can too easily capsize the wallet.

I've been here when the air conditioning broke, the kitchen set on fire and in darkness when the electricity failed. I've sat in every single chair during the last four years and even stood outside with a plate when they didn't have a free table. It's virtually the only restaurant in town where I'm recognised every time and despite tough competition from the likes of Busaba and Patara, the Thai Cottage is top of my Thai list.

Thai Cottage
34 D'arblay St,
London, W1F 8EX
Tel: 0871 0757487

Taste: The Dove

Broadway market is a curious stretch of shops and restaurants at the south end of Hackney. In very, very olden days this area marked last feeding ground of livestock as they were led through to Brick Lane and Smithfield. Drovers would stop in at the Cat and Mutton or the Flying Horse for a pint of best and rack of lamb.

Since then however, the street has been overrun by the surrounding urban estates and only recently resuscitated into the farmers-style market of today. Its a good place to go on a Saturday morning and be spoiled on overpriced organic fayre.

A sunny afternoon shows Broadway Market at its best as the gastro pubs spill out onto the streets and the local population hasn't started gathering outside the off license. Tonight we visited the Dove, a popular network of small candlelit annexes, famously serving a hundred or so varieties of Belgian Beer. The list is indeed long and not to be sniffed at (especially with £3 upwards price tag for 25cl). I'm a fan of golden ale so stuck on a delicious Delerium Tremens (9% - haha). 3 of those later and a delicious burger (Wild Boar please) and we were skipping home like happy Trappists.

The Dove
24 Broadway Market
E8 4QJ
+44 (20) 7275 7617

Taste: Mandarin Palace

We've rarely the occasion to be near Gants Hill on the weekends, but being in the area for an east London hockey match was a great opportunity to visit a favorite place. Having just returned from a week in Hong Kong, Chinese food is barely top of the genre wish-list, however there's little excuse not to come to one of the finest dim-sum restaurants in London on the way through.

The Mandarin Palace is right on the corner of Gants Hill roundabout on the busy A12. Nothing special from the outside - but don't let that deceive you. Inside is a run of small rooms, stylish and calmly dressed with traditional Chinese items and artifacts. It has a comforting elegance without the typical brute-force oriental onslaught (think Canary Wharf's Royal China) or standard Chinatown wall-size paddy field frieze.

However, not here today to browse the exhibits. We and the mostly Asian contingent have come for dim-sum, and here is exactly the place I'm referring to after visiting Yauatcha. They've pretty much every dish going; har-gau, siu-mai, cha-siu-bao... all splendidly fresh and priced at around £2/dish. My taste for dim-sum is purely implicit, delicious is as close as we'll get.

Well worth the trip.

Mandarin Palace:
559-561 Cranbrook Rd,
Gants Hill, Ilford
Essex.
IG2 6JZ
Tel: 020 8550 7661

Taste: Hawskmoor

right on the edge of the city, Hawksmoor is an atmospherically sultry experience. Simple, understated restaurant, heavily overstocked bar and comfy-seats drinks area. Blatantly intended for a quiet and sedate clientèle.

Tonight though, a few too many of us arrived for a friend's leaving drinks and treated it as a more normal bar... much to the distaste of both my credit card and a self-inflated head waiter, who bluntly presented a 'shift out of the way' or 'be scolded with hot food' ultimatum when the throng spread too near the kitchen door.

The hot food in question looked to be a far more magnetic reason to be here. Mostly steak in appealing masculine cuts. Didn't get close enough to taste and wont be top of the list for a re-visit. Treated a little too rough for the money - shame.

Taste: Yauatcha

On the corner of the Berwick Street market, Yauatcha waits incensed. A 5 metre tropical fish tank runs along one side of the restaurant, and a thin view of the cake counter along the other. The remaining facade - a wall of opaque blue glass emanates the restaurant's distaste for sub-chic lesser mortals.

Yauatcha is the next child of Alan Yau, who's siblings include a couple hundred Wagamama restaurants and elitist big brother Hakkasan. It's Michelin rated (the only Chinese restaurant with a star), recently voted in the top 10 of London's restaurant and best 50 in the country.

The building is split over two levels, ground floor tea & cake room - downstairs main restaurant. Although it's possible to eat in the tea room, it's a whole world away from what lurks underneath and weak in comparison.

Underground is an obsidian, designed, oppressive hive of activity. One wall is a translucent window to the steamy kitchen where chefs outlines blur in and out of focus with hectic blade-runner effect. Waiters squeeze between tables (steer clear of table by the stairs). In fact it's a little too close. If you're not coming here for atmosphere, give it a miss because you'll be chewing on it for the whole meal.

I know there are reviews-a-plenty heralding Yauatcha as the best dim-sum place in town. I profess to be a no-fuss traditionalist when it comes to dim-sum so would rather be over in low-cost china town for such cuisine. Here, however is on another level for a different purpose, Jasmine tea soaked ribs, sea bass Mooli roll, Wagyu beef Cheung Fun and Pandan Wrapped chicken spoil the senses rotten.

Yauatcha is a perfect match for those soho-types who talk loudest to be heard furthest. It's fantastic place to come if you're not keen on a relaxed eating experience and are happy to pay for quite the opposite.

Yauatcha:
15-17 Broadwick Street
London, W1F 0DL
Tel: 020 7494 8888

Sight: Chasing the Moment

Chasing the Moment is a revamped recent addition to the Arcola Theatre and Time Out 4 star play. It takes two distinct halves - the before and after of an East London jazz gig performed during the intermission by 4 members of an un-named (I think) band.

We've a middle-aged nihilist pianist, modish opinionated young saxophonist, drunkard Yorkshire Double-bassist (think Compo from last of the summer wine) and level headed easy going young drummer. Oh, he's also black - not that it matters these days, we're over that.

Or maybe we're not... as shortly into the second half we plummet into a shouting match between him and the pianist about the authenticity of jazz and it's black vs white origins. It's executed with emotional discomfort but that's soon drowned out with a physically uncomfortable screaming exchange.

Throw in a useless ex-girlfriend, unseen venue-owner on critical life-support in St Thomas', his drunk in-denial wife and after it runs out of breath, steam and predictability the only tension left is how long it will take for them all to leave us alone.

Taste: Cocoon

Cocoon nestles on the first floor of that dominating curved complex at the southern end of Regent street. Although only 20 paces from the Picadilly epicenter of the universe, once upstairs you're distant enough to shake off the tourism and unwind.

Comprising of five oval 'cocoon' dining areas middled by a swanky and well-stocked circular bar, the restaurant is an alluring and intimate use of space. Soft interior design, earthy lighting and shallow egg-chairs make walking to the table feel more like tip-toeing through an amazonian millionaire's tree-house chill-out.

Wait staff glide between the tables with stealthy trained ease - they've obviously done a year on Hugh Grant's yacht or a couple seasons with Wimbledon VIPs. However, when it came to questioning one or two of the more elaborate choices on the menu all ours could do was struggle to read back the printed descriptions. It would've been nice to feel more involved in the menu.

And what a menu it is. Pan-asian by category so sushi, dim-sum, dumplings, tempura (soft shell crab!), fine seafood and Wagyu beef are all jostling around on the menu. If you've come as a pair be prepared to spend some time shortlisting this cornucopia of choice.

Scratch that... I'll make it easy - Ebi roll of Prawn Tempura, Wagyu beef and Teryaki: divine. Beef foie gras gyoza: fiendish. Chillean sea bass in black bean & shaoxing wine: almighty. A holy trifecta of taste and top of my food-heaven list.

Cocoon is a popular place with jackets and shiny skirts alike and the exclusive ambiance from both the restaurant and bar is magnetic. As such prices come with an extra cool-tax, however it could be worse. A meal for 2 with wine can be sub £100 with a lean eye on the menu.

Swanky, impressive, relaxed. Pucker up, put on a shirt and your fine-food face... then head over.

Cocoon
65 Regent Street
London, W1B 4EA
+44 (20) 7494 7600
http://www.cocoon-restaurants.com/