Monthly Archives: August 2013

Chorizo Sandwich at Brindisa

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The chorizo sandwich at Brindisa is one of the few Chowdown Showdown dishes that I happened to have eaten before embarking on this quest. Rather than being located in a restaurant, it’s served from a small kiosk attached to Brindisa’s shop in Borough Market (rather than Tapas Brindisa, their sit-in eatery). There tends to be a long queue, and many’s the time when I’ve been in Borough Market and vacillated between this sandwich and Kappacasein’s oozing raclette or sublime cheese toastie. Invariably I go for one of the cheese options (and it never disappoints!). So, having a good reason to go back and have the chorizo was excellent, and I’m pleased to say I didn’t shirk my duties!

“It’s even less imaginable that anyone would be crazy enough to fiddle with the formula!”

The thing about chorizo is that it’s so good at making just about anything better – toss in stews to add a little fatty heat; mix into you burger meat; add, along with brandy and manchego to make an excellent chicken dish (which I’ll put up a recipe for sometime!) – that it’s easy never to give it a chance to take centre-stage. And what’s a delight about this dish is that it really gives chorizo (and presumably Brindisa is offering some of the best examples of this sausage in the country) a chance to shine. Some bitter rocket plays off the sharpness of the chorizo, and a slice of char-grilled red pepper complements the heavy paprika in the meat. The sausage itself starts bitter, and almost shocking in its sourness, before giving way to a mellower, warm, nutty flavour, that is indulgent but not too drip-down-your-front greasy.

It’s easy to see the reason for the long queues that are always present at peak times (and when isn’t peak time in Borough Market?). I’m sure there are people who find it hard to wait for the Fridays and Saturdays when the stall is there! The sandwich really does seem a perfect example of the form, and it’s hard to see any alterations that would improve it. It’s even less imaginable that anyone would be crazy enough to fiddle with the formula!

You can get the sandwiches in either a single or double, with one chorizo, simply cut lengthways, and a single pepper, or two of each. I’d advise getting the single. But only because, if you’re particularly greedy, or have someone to share it with, you’ll have space to manage a cheese toastie as well!

Radish, Celeriac and Pomegranate Salad at Bocco di Lupo

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“Earthy”, “Deep”, “Woody”, “Complex” – words that you might naturally associate with truffle. The impact of these fungal morsels is usually to deliver a rich, comforting elegance matching a creamy sauce – the height of indulgence. So “crisp” and “fresh” wouldn’t normally be the first thing you’d expect from a salad dressed with truffle oil. Yet this is what Jacob Kenedy has achieved with Bocca di Lupo’s simple yet superb salad.

“[Y]ou’re not going to make a lunch of a plate of these roots”

Whisper-thin slices of radish and celeriac make up the bulk of the platter, with a sprinkling of pomegranate seeds adding sweetness and titbits of pecorino hidden away to deliver a salty, nutty zing. A light, citrusy, truffly dressing plays off these simple, crunchy vegetables and makes what would risk dreariness something special.

Okay, so you’re not going to make a lunch of a plate of these roots, but the ethic of this up-market trattoria is to encourage the sharing of a number of plates from across Italian regions and cooking styles, and you should make sure you do so. Interestingly, prices are no real indication of sizes of dishes, and you can easily eat well here very cheaply, or quite expensively, as your budget, mood, and company takes you.

Just make sure you don’t forget to pop across the road to their sister ice-cream parlour, Gelupo, for surely London’s best cone!

Meat Fruit at Dinner

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Dinner, or, to give it its full name – ‘Dinner by Heston’ – is Mr Blumenthal’s historical-themed restaurant. Though it isn’t exactly clear what involvement Heston actually has: Ashley Palmer-Watts, who worked previously at the Fat Duck and seems to be the head chef is much mentioned on the website which only says that he ‘developed the dishes with Heston’. So more Dinner by Palmer-Watts. I guess this is like ‘presented by Guillermo del Toro’ in terms of foreign horror fantasy films…

“So far, so vague”

So where exactly is history involved? Well, the menu gives every dish a year date, for one thing. Plus, on the back a reference to a contemporary cookbook. It plays a game with diners, with some dishes mysteriously named “Meat Fruit” or “Tipsy Cake” clearly intending to intrigue. Others spell out their constituent parts, but I’m more convinced by the historical heritage of those dishes which have a name, rather than just a list of ingredients. This is what I decide to ask when the waiter inquires if we have any questions: what exactly are these dates and cookery books? What’s their connection? The answer: the dishes are ‘inspired by’ those recipes, and updated with modern ingredients and techniques. So far, so vague.

We’re here to eat the Meat Fruit, which, from external research sounds like a magical dish featuring pâté with a mandarin jelly glaze, formed into the shape of a mandarin and with a (sadly inedible) stalk on top. When it arrives, the dish actually surpasses my expectations, with a perfect little clementine-alike on a board with toasted sourdough. The pâté is perfectly creamy and light, with only a hint of over-richness that you can happily expect. It has a depth of flavour the complete opposite of the frequently pungent, smack-you-in-the-face offaly flavour that you often get with liver terrines and which I frankly hate. The mandarin is like a coating of chutney, biting through the oaky taste of the meat and giving a tart balance to it. It doesn’t have a greasy consistency at all, but is clear and translucent, and so thin a layer we can’t quite understand how – or believe they did – cover the filling so perfectly.

They even bring a second round of toast for us to finish off the fruit. I’m in heaven.

Spicy Chickpeas at Roti Chai

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We ordered too much again. And, oddly, this spicy chickpea side is one of the larger dishes on the table, despite also ordering mains.

“I’m firmly in the camp that can be wowed by a really good dhal”

This is a fairly straightforward vegetarian chickpea curry – but the simplicity is deceptive, since it is perfectly spiced with a cheering warmth and a blend of flavours that play off one another, without dominating other dishes. I’m firmly in the camp that can be wowed by a really good dhal, and this is one of those occasions – just as you might find with chutneys or parathas – where the accompaniment completes the meal.

The chickpeas themselves still have a good protein bite and have soaked up flavour. The sauce is firmly in the Indian red spectrum, which I’d guess hides cardamon, cinnamon, ginger, turmeric and a good oniony base with lots else besides.

Roti Chai is billed as an Indian Street Food restaurant, and I’d have preferred a more tapas-like experience that fought a bit more against the meat-rice-bread tyranny of the British curry house. Instead we are offered a menu of many enticing dishes but sizes that prohibit tasting them all. So we ordered too much again! Maybe it’s a ploy to get us back again; if so, I’ll be sure to have a side of chickpeas – maybe as my main!

Seseri Skewers at Bincho

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It’s been a bit of a mission getting these seseri skewers.

“You’ll have to be lucky – or have a special arrangement – if you want to catch them”

We first tried to acquire them on Chowdown Showdown Getsaround, but were informed that they’re only sometimes on the menu and that they didn’t have them. Well done, again, Time Out, you’ve put a special on your list of the 100 best dishes in London. That was only the initial indication of the difficulty. In fact, it quickly became apparent, when trying on a few occasions to phone and see if Bincho had them, that they really were only rarely around. Even calling ahead and asking for them to put in an order failed: they said they had done so, but the day before called to let us know they hadn’t been able to get any from their supplier.

By this point, I must have begun to make an impression, because the manageress offered to take my number and call when they had some in. I didn’t hold out much hope, but sure enough, a couple of months after – and two weeks ago – I got a call to say they’d be coming the next day. Hilariously, this was sandwiched between two other evening Chowdowns, but we couldn’t do anything other than take them up and go for three in a row.

So, here we find ourselves, with eight seseri skewers on order between the three of us. That’s chicken neck for those of you not up on your yakitori ingredients.

As I always try to make clear to those who turn their noses up at eating chicken feet: it’s the fatty, gorgeous deposits, just beneath the skin but close enough to the bone to be steeped through with flavour, that make the meat from thin, scrawny bits of animals (such as their necks) so goddamned delicious. And, as it ever was, these sticks of difficult-to-come-by morsels are genuinely as delicious as their rare charm suggests. Fatty, crispy, melty and oozing with flavour. They are also drenched in a superb sweet-tart-fruity sauce, the remnants of which we devour with other dishes.

I’d tell you to rush out and get these skewers, but I was paying attention, and spotted that you’ll have to be lucky – or have a special arrangement – if you want to catch them.