Tag Archives: treat

Baked Alaska at The Lawn Bistro

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BakedAlaskaFlambeing

So I’ve a confession: I’ve never eaten baked Alaska!

That does mean that I’ve long known the ‘trick’ to the dish, which slightly diminishes the surprise of its cold-on-the-inside baked-on-the-outside magic. But The Lawn Bistro adds an additional flourish: pouring over liquor and flambéing the meringue at the table. This resulted in some impressive flames, heat, and a deliciously tart caramelised exterior.

“The Lawn Bistro adds an additional flourish”

We’ve rather painted ourselves into a corner with one of our principal rules of Chowdown Showdown Londontown – namely that ‘size matters’, so we each have to have one of the particular dish. Largely the problem with this has been that it means you end up with two large bowls of lacklustre cabbage (sorry Rasa and your Thoran!), but this can also be a problem when we come across sharing platters, and are forced to down the lot. This time, however, we nudged the rules in our favour. Having asked the waitress whether the dish (on the menu as for two) would serve three (since Alex had joined us in this outing), we opted to have a single portion. This was definitely the right decision: how they could expect two to manage this I don’t know!

To return to the spectacle of the fire: this restaurant does aim to impress. I really struggled to choose starters and mains, switching repeatedly between options, every one of which had some stand-out parts among a long-list of ingredients. And, indeed, the food was delicious, if risking allowing the best part to be drowned out among a plethora of other contributions.

Sadly, the Alaska didn’t especially stand out for me. Whilst it was certainly a reward to sweet-toothed eaters who’d made it as far as dessert, it rather lacked depth. The ice cream was plain-old-vanilla and the meringues plain-old-egg-white and plain-old-sugar. I was left feeling they could have gone an extra mile, but settled for just sloping over the line. At least I’ve reached the having-eaten-baked-Alaska winning post.

Friands at Lantana

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You may have noticed the proliferation of New Zealand coffee shops in London. “No sir, we don’t serve lah-tays. Would you like a flat white?”

“Biting into them, you get a delicious marzipanny-macaroony nut hit”

Apparently friands are to New Zealanders as teacakes are to Brits. At least, they would be if the British still ate teacakes. These (originally French) almond buns, a close cousin of the financier, arrive in pretty oval shapes, with inclusions (at least at Lantana) of a variety of different toppings. We dutifully try the pistacio and pear varieties. On another occasion, I saw date and hazelnut versions, so your mileage may vary, though I suspect all the different ones on offer are delicious.

They remind me of my mum’s almond cake, made without flour to be kosher for passover, though these are dried and less pudding-like. Biting into them, you get a delicious marzipanny-macaroony nut hit. The icing sugar on top is unnecessary (is it ever not?), as they have a deep sweetness that makes me think I couldn’t manage another without feeling very nauseous. That said, as an indulgent (second) breakfast [we arrived here right after the Turkish Eggs as Kopapa], one certainly hits the spot.

I think it’s fairly likely that these would be easy to replicate at home, but with the fantastic coffee (as you might expect from any of these Kiwi joints), and the other treats on offer – including savouries – I’m sure I’ll be back.

Pulled Pork at Pitt Cue Co

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Was it worth waiting in line for 90 minutes to eat at Pitt Cue Co? In a word: yes. Yes. Yes yes yes. A thousand times: yes. I’m tempted to actually type ‘yes’ a thousand times. I don’t mean writing it once, copying and pasting until I have ten, then copying and pasting till I have a block of one hundred, then copying and pasting that till I’ve written it a thousand times. I mean actually typing it a thousand times. And probably with ‘Shift’ held down – nope, no Caps Lock.

“A sauce that was no doubt bad for you, but had such a wholesome, homely taste that you couldn’t really believe it”

This place is just fun. I admit that I’m a bit behind the curve. I’ve wanted to go for ages, but this was my first visit. Yes, on plenty of occasions the mammoth wait has put me off. And whilst a lot of that is down to the (justified) buzz about the place, it’s also a lot to do with the fact they really don’t have many covers.

To be fair, we only waited about 45 minutes outside, and once inside we started on the Picklebacks – PCC’s signature ‘cocktails’, which is, in fact, a shot of bourbon chased by a shot of pickle juice. Yes, you read that right – the juices they use to pickle their gherkins. I know you’ll roll your eyes and not believe it but, honestly, it’s surprisingly good. We got through nine. Outrageously good and horribly messy rib tips kept us going, until, finally, we got a table.

And it was worth it. Boy was it worth it. The pulled pork was look-no-teeth tender, with a sauce that was no doubt bad for you, but had such a wholesome, homely taste that you couldn’t really believe it. And you know what? It actually tasted of meat. There was actually animal, rather than blasted-out-of-existence mush, in spite of the best efforts of cooking for no doubt hours and hours. Perfect.

“Virgin Picklebacks all round!”

I’m glad there were a few of us, because we got a chance to share sides, every one of which was delivered exactly right. Bone marrow mash had a richness that ended forever debate about how to make a proper mash. Baked beans proved that, yup, Beanz don’t (necessarily) Meanz Heinz. Chilli Slaw was spicy and crunchy, rather than limp and wet. And sprout tops were green but tasted naughty while definitely one of our five-a-day.

And yes, those pickles – brined in that juice – crunchy, sweet, sharp. Virgin Picklebacks all round!

5/10 of Time Out’s top 100 dishes

Cinnamon Bun at Nordic Bakery

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The first two things to say about the Nordic Bakery’s cinnamon buns are superficial: firstly, they’re enormous and, secondly, they’re not in your average ‘swirl’ shape, but have more of a pain au chocolat appearance.

The first bite of these treats hits you, initially with its treacly, uber-sweet blast, and then with a warmth pungent with spices, not just cinnamon – arguably not even mainly cinnamon – but instead with cloves and nutmeg and maybe cardamom. You know after this single mouthful that this isn’t your average cinnamon bun.

“So is this haute cuisine?”

The amount of glucose packed into one of these cakes makes them chewy, and stick in your teeth. I’m not convinced I find this especially pleasant, and they could definitely have eased off on the sugar to my taste. The mix of spices certainly make the bun a bit different, and a distinct change from a plain old cinnamon bun, which has an attractive simplicity but also an ‘easy’ nice taste that is more pop music than Beethoven.

So is this haute cuisine? Well it isn’t clear that the mix of flavours is straightforwardly pleasant. There’s a complexity that I’m not sure quite works. I guess ‘challenging flavours’, like ‘challenging music’ make for variety, but I wouldn’t rush back for this as a reward…

86/100 top London dishes according to Time Out.

Matcha bubble tea at Boba Jam

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Hello Kitty. Dressing up as characters from Manga cartoons. Fluorescent drinks with lumps of goo? There are some things so exotic and quintessentially Oriental that westerners just aren’t going to get it. But is bubble tea one of them?

“Vulgar, sugary cocktails of fruity milkshake plus tea… what’s not to like?”

The concept is straightforward, and, to unaccustomed eyes, straightforward barmy enough. Take balls of sticky, translucent tapioca, plonk into milky tea and add flavours, anything from fruit to chocolate, so long as you can think of an appropriate bright colour to identify it.

Two members of the Chowdown Showdown Getsaround crew already disliked these drinks. I generally love them. Vulgar, sugary cocktails of fruity milkshake plus tea plus fat straws with ideal dimensions for firing sticky blobs at your companions if you’re so inclined / bored of drinking (/eating?) them – what’s not to like?

I get the picture that they’re a bit odd, but they come in such varieties of flavours that, unless you’re inured to inoffensive lumps that just add fun (I don’t think they even take on the flavour of the liquid), how can you object?

My problem, though, is that this just wasn’t the best bubble tea I’ve had. It also wasn’t the best matcha I’ve had. Perhaps I wasn’t in the mood, but rather than being vibrant and indulgent this was more grainy and dull. The lychee milk someone else had was more interestingly flavoured with a strong fruity punch.

I’ve been there before, I’ll probably be back. But I reckon there’s a better bubble tea to be found in London. Answers on a postcard, or in the comments below.

67/100 best London dishes

Salted Chocolate Caramel Tart at Pizza East

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Rich. And I mean really rich. This is your traditional basically-truffles-smeared-on-pastry. But it’s far from your ordinary take on that. The salt sharpens the richness whilst contradictorily taking the edge off it. And the milky caramel adds a sweetness that punches into the richness in a so-sweet-its-almost-bitter way. I like this dish. I particularly like that the salt is sprinkled on top, adding visual contrast and shouting about its ingredients. Though I couldn’t swear there wasn’t salt in the ganache itself. A sprinkling of nuts also added an earthen flavour and gave a hint of natural goodness (wishful thinking perhaps!), and was a good addition to the plate in a way that the cream (which I mistook for ice-cream, which definitely wouldn’t be necessary) probably wasn’t.

“This struck me as as close to an objective fault with a dish as you could get”

But this dish has a problem. I don’t know if you can see from the picture, but the caramel is sandwiched on top of the pastry and below the chocolate. This meant that

  1. it oozes out the sides, and uselessly spread onto the plate from where even the most dedicated plate-clearer (and yes, that does mean me) isn’t going to rescue it and
  2. the chocolate slides about on the caramel slick, and the dessert’s integrity is compromised.

This struck me as as close to an objective fault with a dish as you could get. It was simply a mistake to stack the dish in this way. Okay, so it might take an architectural feat to avoid the problem, such as sandwiching the caramel between two, thinner layers of chocolate, but, frankly, I think it needed it. It’s like making lasagna where you decide that for effect you’ll have the pasta super-al-dente, but which has the side-effect of making the dish impossible to eat.

Perhaps I was unlucky. Maybe the chocolate was too cold, and therefore rigid. Maybe the caramel was too warm and therefore liquid. Maybe the pastry was too fresh and therefore difficult to cut through. But even so, you need to make sure that everyone who orders a dish can eat it as intended, and I’m pretty sure you weren’t supposed to eat this in the train-wreck form mine ended up in.

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I can forgive this. It was delicious. There was also too much of it – a slice half the angle would have done – but I guess you have to offer a large enough portion that diners won’t feel hard done by, even if for a second before they taste how rich it is. If Chris’ cheese plate was anything to go by, they like to be generous.

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Yes, that really is five people’s worth of cheese – at least judging by the, to be frank, slightly miserly portions you frequently get elsewhere.

I’d eat this again, especially if I’m in the joint for a pizza. Or maybe I’d get the cheese between the whole table!

35/100 Time Out’s best dishes in London

Blood Orange Granita at Gelupo

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[with peanut butter ice cream on top]

Bocco di Lupo, the Italian across the road is spectacular. I went for a birthday and loved it. And its head chef, Jacob Kenedy, happened to do Philosophy of Science with me at university. Gelupo is its gelateria, and offers traditional and modern flavours for every palette.

“This was, excuse the pun, bloody delicious”

We were here for the blood orange granita, which for the uninitiated is a bit like a slush puppy – or rather, a slush puppy is like it. Shaved ice with liquid flavour, poured over and enjoyed with a spoon and straw. This was, excuse the pun, bloody delicious. The sharp, rich, complex sweetness of the blood orange makes for a refreshing, tangy and almost spicy dessert. Rather than being bland and watered down, it is mega-flavourful. And it’s so bloody red you’ll want to dye clothes with it!

20/100 of the best dishes in London

Chocolate Macaroons

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To me, macaroons means the delicious sunken sand-coloured hemispheres with a slight chew that we got at Pesach (/ Passover) that were pipped to the post for my favourite festival treat by cinnamon balls.

These delicious, ganache-filled sandwiches, which have recently become the new cupcake (though I’m sure something else has in turn become the new them) have always been “macarons”.

In fact, of course, the two are the same – and the latter feature two of the former sandwiched around whatever flavoured filling (of the right consistency) you might like to pair with the shells. In spite of the reputation, I don’t think these are super-hard to get right. Have a go!

5.0 from 1 reviews
Chocolate Macaroons
 
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This makes a boatload of macaroons (see the picture) - they bake so quickly that making a huge batch is little more work than making far fewer, so you might as well go all-out. That said, I've never managed to pipe anything without making an amazing mess, and no doubt this mess rises exponentially the more you make. I think this might be the most I could manage without coating the entire kitchen with batter. Some recipes suggest almond flour rather than ground almonds - but I think these should have a nice, slightly gritty texture, so would push for the latter.
Recipe type: Dessert
Serves: 40
Ingredients
  • 6 large egg whites
  • 250 grams ground almonds
  • 250 grams icing sugar
  • 50 grams cocoa
  • 250 grams caster sugar
  • 250 grams super-dark chocolate
  • 300 ml double cream
  • 50 grams butter (salted will add flavour)
Instructions
  1. Whisk (use the electric!) the egg whites, along with half the caster sugar at a medium speed for a couple of minutes, then even faster for a bit. Once the mixture starts to firm, add the rest of the sugar, and keep beating to stiff peaks. The stiffer it is, the more room you have to 'lose air' as you fold this is, so take your time. It should look glossy and brilliant white.
  2. Mix the ground almonds, icing sugar and cocoa powder, and fold into the egg whites with a large spoon, using a figure of eight action, until completely incorporated.
  3. With a piping bag, pipe large-marble-sized blobs onto baking paper, leaving space for these to flatten themselves. You'll probably need several batches, so have a large table or surface to lay out a number of lots ready to bake.
  4. Important: leave the blobs to sit for 25 minutes, until slightly drier.
  5. Bake on a baking tray for 12 minutes at 165 degrees C. Be brave about believing that they are done at this point.
  6. After cooling for ten minutes, the shells should be easy to lift and set aside.
  7. For the ganache, melt the chocolate in a bain marie (a bowl sat atop a pan of boiling water), add the cream and stir quickly to mix in. Add the butter, and stir this in too. Allow to cool until thick enough to spoon, but not set.
  8. Press the tip of your thumb into the flat side of a shell to make extra space for ganache, and generously add ganache, pressing another (intact) shell on top. Twisting may help to spread the filling evenly.
  9. Refridgerate overnight before serving (oh, go on, you can have one!) and store up to a week (genuinely) in the fridge in an airtight container. Bring to room temperature before eating.

 

Swiss Millionaire Shortbread

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I love millionaire shortbread – but I only recently discovered just how easy it is to make. In fact, shortbread is such a cinch that I can’t understand why anyone would buy it.

The vanilla brings out the taste – and who wouldn’t use salted caramel now we’ve all been made aware of its existence?

Hat tip to BBC Recipes for the basic mould of this one, though I use vanilla essence rather than pods (who can afford / find them easily?) – and I make it Swiss by using Toblerone, an easy way to make yours stand out.

The certainly isn’t for the faint-hearted, and it’s not guilt-free, but sure to go down well.

Swiss Millionaire Shortbread
 
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Recipe type: Treat
Serves: 20
Ingredients
For the shortcake:
  • 175g butter
  • 225g flour
  • 75g sugar
  • 1 tsp vanilla essence
For the caramel:
  • 400ml tin condensed milk (though, oddly, it's generally sold in 397ml tins - anyone know why?)
  • 4 tbsp golden syrup
  • 1 tsp salt
  • 200g butter
To top:
  • 400g Toblerone (I used the normal milk one, that comes in the golden box)
Instructions
  1. Rub together 175g butter, flour, sugar, vanilla essence, until it’s dough. Press into a 23cm square tin, prick all over with a fork.
  2. Bake for 5 mins at 175 degrees, then 35 mins at 150 until golden brown (though still a little soft). Allow to cook for ten minutes.
  3. Heat condensed milk, golden syrup and salt. Add 200g butter slowly, then boil for ten minutes stirring constantly. Where the sugar ‘catches’ at the bottom it will become dark brown, but will mix back in, making a dark golden brown caramel. Pour the caramel over the shortbread, and cool in the fridge.
  4. Melt Toblerone in a bain marie (pyrex bowl on top of simmering pan of water) and pour over the caramel. Cool outside the fridge and cut while the chocolate is still not rock solid – this will allow you to create squares without cracking.