Back in 2003 the Barbican was awarded with the unenviable title of London’s Ugliest Building, and as the concrete monstrosity looms out of the darkness on a teeth-chatteringly cold December evening, it’s not hard to see why (The Queen, however, does not share this view. Apparently she pronounced it ‘one of the wonders of the modern world,’ when it opened in 1982).

Inside Searcys restaurant and bar on the second floor, there is thankfully no brutalist architecture in sight. Instead, the décor is bizarrely retro considering the restaurant’s recent refurbishment; all striped dark oak panelling, oversized lampshades and understated elegance.

The executive chef, Quentin Fitch, has previously catered for Jasper Conran, Gordon Ramsay and the Queen, and his menus champion simple seasonal British produce, sourced locally where possible. So, my expectations were high.

The reality, though, was somewhat disappointing. My starter of cauliflower and Stilton soup was satisfyingly thick but far too salty. And, although the main course of steak pie was delicious, with melt-in-the-mouth pastry, the accompanying parsnip mash had the unappetising texture of baby slop. The chocolate cake I had for dessert was too dry, but the Spanish Rioja I washed it down with was fruity and light, selected from an extensive wine list that would make even the most ardent sommelier drool.

The window tables, with their view over the Barbican lakeside and city skyline, are a seductive feature when it’s dark outside, but I’m unsure as to how attractive they are during daylight hours. The ‘lively atmosphere’ promised by the press release was somewhat lacking, but that may have been my mistake for visiting on a weeknight.

With the place almost empty, however, the service was speedy and friendly, with attentive staff. Also, it may have been quiet because the restaurant has only this month re-opened from its refurbishment. Conveniently located for patrons of the arts attending events at the Barbican, and with precious little other competition in the surrounding area, I envisage this must be Searcys’ target market, along with City workers from the offices nearby. And although not entirely to my tastes, it’s competitively priced, with a three-course meal costing £29 per person.

Once it overcomes its teething problems and develops a stronger identity, Searcys might be a welcome addition to the sterility of the area in and around the Barbican. But until then it is one of many restaurants of this calibre and style, and not worth the epic quest necessary to negotiate the Barbican’s labyrinthine corridors.

Searcys Restaurant
Barbican Centre
Silk Street
EC2Y 8DS

Reservations: 020 7588 3008

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When you think of India you think of the Taj Mahal, colourful saris, beautiful elephants and decent curry. It was my boyfriend’s birthday this week, so a group of us ventured to Ganapati in Peckham: a humble and generally blank-canvassed, (in terms of décor) south Indian restaurant.

The website boasts an ever-changing (normally every six weeks) menu with free-range chicken and quirky fare such as guinea fowl, duck, seabass and mussels; some strange ingredients to see on a curry house menu but the point of Ganapati is the fact that it is South Indian cuisine, not the usual Bangladashi/Pakistani fare of tikka masala and naan bread.

The staff are patient as we overlook the menu, then take our order of chenin blanc wine (from the Nashik region of India) and banana/mango lassis - for those wanting clear heads in the morning.

Our starters include poppadoms, chutneys and homemade pickles, masala dosa (pancake stuffed with spicy mashed potato), aubergine bhurta (smoked aubergine salad with chilli, lemon juice and chopped herbs), and the Duck Fry (duck breast pan-fried with chilli, lemon, coriander and shallots) all priced between £4 to £5.

As we chat our main courses arrive, proceeded by a tirade of fork exchanges. I order the Kerala Kozhi curry with boiled rice (free range chicken breast cooked in a traditional roasted coconut and coriander masala) at £9.50.

My boyfriend’s hot Chennai Kozhi curry comes with tomato, ginger, garlic, star anise and chilli and, I’m advised, is very tasty. For vegetarians I can recommend the beetroot and coconut curry cooked with cumin masala and yogurt. The barely warm dahl curry is slightly disappointing, while the real delight is in the form of the Kerala Paratha: flaky bread resembling a Cornish savoury pastry - truly yummy. To finish, we decline the Indian sweets and cardamom cake and happily sip scented masala tea.

The staff at Ganapati are friendly and courteous, and the food is refreshingly different to the usual heavy north Indian delicacies. The restaurant can accommodate small numbers of takeaway orders as they like to ‘oblige those customers .. who cannot make it to eat in’. They also cater for weddings, private dinner parties and work conferences.

Ganapati
38 Holly Grove
Peckham SE15 5DF

Tel: 020 7277 2928

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The Phoenix is a very nice pub, down a very nice street in Chelsea. On the night we visit, it seems like it’s doing very well, as various festive gatherings crack open the fizz and start bar tabs. There’s a lot of good cheer in the cosy, softly lit bar area, and a lot of money too.

It’s an image in stark contrast to the gloomy figure revealed earlier in the year that pubs are closing at the rate of five a day. But The Phoenix isn’t your average wet-led, crisp touting, beer stained boozer – it’s a Chelsea gastropub, and it’s a Geromino Inn. Which means two things: an affluent crowd hungry for some posh-nosh, and a well polished posh-nosh food offering.

We secure one of the last remaining tables near the fire in the back dining room and are greeted by an incredibly jolly waiter who proceeds to look after us all night. He helps me choose the duck over the tuna (more on that later) and recommends a very lovely Pinot Noir which is delightfully soft and deep all at once.

Our starters come after a short wait – for the place is jam-packed – and when they do arrive the portions are generous. I go for the scallops, which come in a row (one with a topping of lumpfish roe) with artichoke puree – the combination of the two subtle flavours is pleasant but not mind-blowing.

My companion has the goats cheese tart, which is more like a pie - and being a massive pie fan, I see this as a very good thing. The goats cheese comes in a huge round slab, atop a big square of puff pastry, with a veritable forest of rocket leaves.

Our appetites suitably whetted, it’s time for the second courses. My pal’s seabream with puy lentils and red wine reduction comes flying a stiff sail of Parma ham which is a salty crisp of irresistible accompaniment.

My duck is satisfyingly crispy-skinned, with bright red, tender breast meat and a hearty helping of buttered green beans. We share some thick-cut, devilishly crunchy chips and some herb-buttered carrots to boot.

The meal lasts for what seems like an age, with us having to work pretty hard to get through the sheer volume of food on our plates – but we even manage to squeeze in a delectable apple tart with cider caramel to finish.

Which brings me onto my next point – the food at the Phoenix is hearty, good quality British fare, but it’s also very good value. And as we glance around us at the families, couples and friends tucking in, it’s not going unnoticed.

The Phoenix
23 Smith Street
Chelsea SW3 4EE

Tel: 020 7730 9182

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1. The Eagle Has Landed…in Shepherds Bush
2. Avalon in Clapham South
3. London’s Best Gastropubs

The Avalon is exactly what Clapham South has been waiting for: a huge, sprawling gastropub with unabashedly bourgeois intentions. A place where afternoon and evening drinking in the pub’s sizeable, Victorian-styled bar will undoubtedly spill over into the Bibendum-esque dining room for food. Step inside the new venture from Renaissance pubs, and you enter a completely different world to that inhabited by its predecessor The George.

Gone are the sport-emblazoned plasma screens. The fruit machines that once stood dormant are no more and I suspect you’re more likely to find a pearl in one of your fresh fine de Claire oysters (£9 for half a dozen) than you are to find a sachet of ketchup (or any other irksomely packaged condiment) at the Avalon.

With its huge, grandiose, chain-link chandeliers and gleaming white tiling in the back dining room, you’d be forgiven for imagining that the pub-cum-restaurant has been this way for some time. Not so – the whole transformation has been turned around in a matter of weeks.
 
On the night we visit, the place is absolutely buzzing with Clapham-ites young and old, checking out the new place in town. We head straight for our table with rumbling stomachs and get stuck into two glasses of Proseco (£4.95) which are soft and light as they should be. We get some olives to nibble on but they are a little bit stiff, not luscious and moist and coming away from their pips as I like them.

I start with a lobster Caesar salad (£8) which is excitingly decadent and full of big hunks of fresh, fleshy lobster. The dressing is rich, creamy and sour and the croutons hard, deep-fried and oily. My companion opts for a chorizo and goats cheese salad with raspberry vinaigrette which is also very nice, the chorizo good and rich and the cheese outrageously unctuous.

It’s my main of Scottish fillet steak though, that steals the show – which is just as well at  £19. It’s 220g of extremely superior steak – meltingly tender, deep in flavour and bloody on my plate. My only grumble is that, though I ordered dauphinoise potatoes as a side (£3.50), the waiter neglects to tell me that it already comes with chips – so I had a double-carb whammy. My companion’s halibut steak (£16) with vine tomatoes is ‘very, very fresh’ and our pinot noir the perfect accompaniment.

We finish on a high with a zesty, creamy lemon meringue pie (£5.50), that the waitress enthusiastically ensures me is ‘made on the premises’ and a sticky toffee pudding (£5) which comes with an evil but divine butter toffee sauce.

It was all very nice, but our bill came to £90, which isn’t cheap for a gastropub. You can get a three course meal for £16 quid down the road at Brasserie James, but the Avalon is a good addition to the area, somewhere that you can kick back with a big group and relax with some above-average grub and a good wine list, so if you’re in the area, take a look.

Avalon
16 Balham Hill
Balham SW12 9EB

Tel: 020 8675 8613

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The Kensington Creperie is set in the heart of South Kensington, amidst some of London’s most famous landmarks, including Harrods, the Royal Albert Hall and the Natural History Museum.

The building is grade two listed, with original interior tiles that date back to the 19th century. On the walls are pictures by the photographer Shimon Mizrahy, and with its typically French furniture and outdoor seating, you could well believe you are sitting in the middle of the Left Bank in Paris.

Given its location, the creperie attracts a very cosmopolitan crowd and is very busy in the late afternoon and early evening when exhausted tourists and culture aficionados populate the place. At this time, the lights are dimmed and relaxing music is played, allowing the Kensington Creperie a very intimate feel.

This part of London is favoured by French ex-pats, so many animated conversations in this tongue can be heard.

Given the name of the place, you might expect to only find crepes served here. Not so, as the establishment also serves salads and galettes, which are similar to crepes but made with Sarrazin flour, giving a dark, nut-flavoured offering. You are also not limited to the combinations offered on the menu. The chefs are very open to new ideas and are happy to cater to any crepe topping suggestions.

Both savoury and sweet crepes are served and range from £3 to £7.50. The ham and cheese galette is very well done with the nutty promise of the crepe combining exceptionally well with the ham and cheese. The salade Parisienne comes with lettuce, frisee lettuce, ham, cheese, sweetcorn, egg, cherry tomatoes and the establishment’s own special  French dressing. It is a bit unbalanced, with the vegetables and the egg overpowering the cheese and ham elements, although the French dressing gives it a well-rounded flavour.

It is in the sweet crepe department that the creperie truly outdoes itself. The Crepe Normandie has a thin sliver of apple purée loaded with calvados inside, and is delicate and very luxurious. The strawberry cream crepe comes with fresh strawberries loaded onto cream together with Belgian white chocolate and a helping of Chantilly cream. Whilst not as potent as the crepe Normandie, it certainly has a lot to offer.

This being a French establishment, there is plenty to choose from in the drink department. Not only is there a good selection of red, white and rosé wines, but there is also the chance to savour some Normandy cider, which goes very well with the savoury crepes. There is a somewhat limited choice of beers and soft drinks but the creperie does have a good selection of coffees with which to end your meal.

The establishment is open seven days a week and closes at midnight, and is a fantastic place to sample French cuisine at surprisingly reasonable prices. The only difference between this and a Parisian creperie is that here you get much better service.

The Kensington Creperie
2 Exhibition Road
South Kensington
SW7 2HF

Tel: 020 7589 8947

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Set in the crypt of St John’s Church in Smith Square, Westminster, the Footstool restaurant is a Tate Catering eatery serving British cuisine in heritage settings.

With a backdrop of vaulted ceilings and exposed brickwork embellished by unintrusive prints and photographs, the Footstool serves elegantly presented, non-fussy lunchtime fare at reasonable, but not budget, prices.

The clientele features the usual Westminster suspects: suits and well-dressed ladies of leisure. The service we had was courteous and swift, and the proprietors haven’t gone too over the top with the furnishings, which might have compromised this novel underground space.

We ordered from the a la carte menu, but there is also a lunchtime buffet for those in a hurry. For starters we tried the grilled Vacherin cheese with endive, roasted fig and truffle honey, and the oak-smoked salmon. The sliced fig, together with the endives and Vacherin, makes a delicious savoury-sweet combination, whereas the thick slices of fresh smoked salmon served with lemon and a watercress salad is a more understated dish.

In between courses we sampled a mussel soup infused with saffron, curry powder, white wine and cream. Rich in flavour and generously laden with mussels, this is highly recommended for seafood fans.

The main course of lamb shank was accompanied by mustard mash and a sweet rosemary gravy. The lamb was fairly well done, but with a good touch of pink to it, set atop smooth mashed potato. The flavoursome haddock and salmon fishcake, cooked in dripping, was served with a light pea purée and stronger tartare sauce, which worked well.

There was a range of traditional desserts on offer, from apple crumble to cheeses, but as it’s almost Christmas, the spiced poached pear with cream seemed appropriate. Moist and delicately spiced, the pear was favourably undercut with a sugary biscuit underneath. The chocolate and orange honeycomb parfait with white chocolate fudge was fairly light in texture, made inevitably heavier by the fudge, but the portion size was sensible and the chocolate and orange combination stayed on just the right side of sweet.

The Footstool does what it sets out to do: British food, really well. Without contest, the Vacherin starter was the most successful dish, with its careful composition of complementary tastes; definitely a superior way of enjoying endives, if you’re not currently a fan.

The setting is probably best suited to a business lunch, rather than a family get-together or raucous party. For the slightly strait-laced area of Westminster however, this is a nice little find in quirky and tastefully renovated heritage environs, and will satisfy many tastes.

The Footstool Restaurant
St John’s
Smith Square
SW1P 3HA

Tel: 020 7222 2779

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Many of London’s men make the loose assumption that tea is for the likes of Boris Johnson and is only served within an arms length of where the Queen and Prince ‘flatulent’ Phillip reside – The Ritz, Fortune and Mason, Harrods…

But in equal measure many are too ‘busy and important’ on BlackBerrys and cocaine to realise that places other than the local pub do exist in the capital where you can meet, have a bite to eat and dare I say it, converse sans commerce.

Well, I put to you Men’s Afternoon Tea at the Mandeville Hotel. A matter of footsteps from where Mrs Beckham was photographed donning larger than face sunglasses on a winter’s evening, the Mandeville is located in the quietly trendy part of town – Marylebone village.

Welcomed on entrance by the charm of Hugh Grant and the subtle scent of cinnamon, my palate was pending satiation. I’d already forgotten about the splashed puddle commotion outside of a few minutes previous.

A polite ‘follow me please’ led into a violet-softened, androgynous room with silver lining and mirrored furniture purposefully positioned; not crowded, not deficient. Just right. Void of any pretension, it was a place to sit on a Saturday afternoon and have tea.

As the music you like but never remember the name of played, our Men’s tea was served. Presented on three tiers was an assortment of decadent creations; roasted sirloin with red onion thyme jam in foccacia, beef satay with chilli créme fraiche, chocolate–blueberry cheesecake, lemon-basil tart to name but a few.

Never has an onion been so well caramelised, has beef been so appropriately married with the nibble of sesame seed, has blueberry tasted so masculine with bitter bite of chocolate. Granted, scones and Earl Grey are customary but tea wouldn’t be the same without them. The board games, the splash of Highland Glen Garioch to finish and maitre de Claudio’s hospitality make tea at the Mandeville one to recommend.

* Star – Peter Mandelson
** Star – Mandy from Hollyoaks
*** Star – Nelson Mandela
**** Star – Mandevilla splendens
***** Star – Mandatory

Mandelvilla splendens: similar to this evergreen vine native to Brazil, men’s afternoon tea at the Mandeville makes high tea en vogue - infusing tradition with speckles of colour. Come springtime, it will be in every real man’s diary.

The Mandeville Hotel
8-12 Mandeville Place
Marylebone W1U 2BE

Tel: 020 7935 5599

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It is inescapably true that £9 is a lot to pay for a cocktail; it is inescapably truer that £75 is a lot to pay for an ‘infusion jar’. Don’t worry; infusion jar was not in my drinking vocabulary until I found myself at Curtain Road staring at The Pony World Cup – one of the many concoctions that Shoreditch’s Hoxton Pony serve on their seasonal fruit based cocktail menu.

Pay attention to the term ‘concoction’. When ingredients such as raisons and Stolichnaya marry together in a self-cooling jar, cocktail is too tame a word. That is not to say The Hoxton Pony doesn’t cater to the more traditional palette, each bartender is a trained mixologist and can whip up a Mojito at the drop of a mint leaf. But quit boring on about cocktails I hear the restless socialites cry. What of the vibe, the clientele and the food?

The vibe is Sex and the City ; think dim adult lighting, with electronica favourites like Crystal Castles energising the spacious interior. For shits and giggles a wrecked car – a nod to Massive Attack’s Mezzanine – is attached to one of the walls and preened City slickers drink beneath it, apparently unconcerned for their safety. To complete the modern arty feel, fake stuffed birds are perched behind the bar and a massive double-sided picture takes centre stage.

I dined at THP on a Wednesday when it was relatively quiet and there was a lack of club life raging beneath. However the scooter-riding Italiano bar manager Antonio took me on a tour of the club below. ‘What sexy lighting!’ I blurted out with typical aplomb and forsooth I spoke the truth. Mirrors lined the just-big-enough-to-be-fun, just-small-enough-to feel-intimate space and white strip lights conjured up a classy bordello ambience. Everything from the bar to the decks was brand spanking new, fitting as this establishment, formerly The Stoned Pony, only opened in the summer.

Back upstairs my companion and I feasted on soups and salads and pies and crumbles with a shout out going to the roasted winter vegetables and some tasty homemade custard.

My only objection to an establishment which caters to eaters, drinkers, dancers and chronic loungers is that the solid blocks of table means there are no sly games of footsie to be had or, as my dinner date complained: ‘I’m riding the pony side-saddle.’

Hoxton Pony
104-108 Curtain Road
Hoxton
EC2A 3AH

Tel: 020 7613 2844

Mon-Thurs: 11.00am – 1.00am
Friday: 11.00am – 2.00am
Saturday: 12.00pm – 2.00am
Sunday: 12.00am – 12.00pm

Club nights are Thursday, Friday and Saturday
For more info check out: www.thehoxtonpony.com

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When I received an invitation to the Beefeater Gin School, it was like getting a golden ticket to Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. I adore gin. I have drunk it neat, mixed and on one evening in Paris, stirred into my soup.

Don’t try this last one as not only is it an awful combination, if you do it at a party like I did people will wonder why: a) a perfect stranger is making soup in their kitchen, and b) he is adding good quality gin to it.

It is a love which explained why I was eagerly trotting along Kennington Park Road early on a cold November morning. The distillery has no cast iron gates like Willy Wonka’s factory but has been occupying the site since 1820. To start with, an assorted group of us were introduced to Desmond Payne, the master distiller who has been involved in producing gin for over forty years. Although not as eccentric as Mr Wonka, he has the same amount of knowledge and passion for his product.

The day started with a tour of the facilities by which Beefeater gin is produced. Gin is a substance that has always been viewed with derision and seen as a drink of ne’er-do-wells and villains. From Hogarth’s Gin Lane to bathtub gin made during the American Prohibition of the 1920s, to the Rolling Stones’ ‘gin-soaked bar room queen in Memphis’, gin has been accused of perpetrating the same kind of social ills for which other drugs are blamed today. This is based on the assumption that gin is a very crude drink to make compared to other spirits.

However, a great deal goes into a bottle of gin. Juniper berries are the main constituent and this is added to by such things as orange and lemon peel, coriander and a variety of spices going under the general name of botanicals. These are steeped in the neutral grain spirit for 24 hours before being distilled.

After a presentation on Beefeater’s newest gin, a spirit incorporating tea and grapefruit as one of its botanicals, the group took to the bar for gin-based cocktails. Here we were not only given a range of exquisite creations but Bartender of the Year Dan Warner gave an entertaining account of the history behind all of the drinks presented.

The day had to end some time and although I was not given the keys to the distillery like Charlie, I left with a greater appreciation of the intricacies of how the wonder that is gin comes to be produced.

www.beefeatergin.com

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In France, a patisserie often has a café attached to it. This is a natural evolution given the high quality of produce that is manufactured day in day out by the combination of men with flour covering all of their clothes and the waspish, sclerotic women whose entire life essence seems to have been poured into the tartiflettes and pain au chocolat that line the display shelves.

The reasoning is that if the food is good enough to take away, it is good enough to be eaten on the premises. This is the mix that Apostrophe is hoping will translate into the heart of the refurbished Brunswick Centre.

The interior of the premises wisely stays clear of attempting an ersatz rendition of a Left Bank bakery. There are no varnished ficelles or stale baguettes or jilted mistresses to be found, although the Gallic origins were betrayed by a quotation lining the walls. It is a promise or a mission statement to get into the ‘interior of food’ and to penetrate deep into the notion of a culinary experience. Although I was able to translate all the words and could understand them by themselves, I had no idea how they all fitted together.

However, this profundity was a little at odds with the soup of the day, free-range chicken and vegetable. Although the flavour was sturdy, it lacked potency. It was also a little difficult to get to grips with given the long, unbroken green stalks, which were a little off-putting for something that is meant to have a mostly liquid constituency. But whilst it was not the most promising of starts, credit should be given for the generous allocation of chicken pieces.

Things picked up with the main course and there seemed to be a greater confidence when dealing with traditionally French produce. The toasted Alsace sandwich was very good with pastrami, emmental, mustard and sauerkraut, a nod to its Teutonic proximity, all combining well to produce a juicy and filling sandwich. Again, when straying away from French food, the standard falters slightly. The chicken Caesar salad contained all the right ingredients of smoked chicken, parmesan, cherry tomatoes, croutons and romaine lettuce but failed to deliver in total.

However, what the French do better than any other race is their pastries and the meal was finished off with an exquisite almond croissant. Praise should also go to the variety of juices on offer, which are made on the day and include beetroot and carrot juice along with the more established fruit juices such as pear and apple. The prices are reasonable for the food and a very filling meal can be had for under a tenner.

Overall the meal was enjoyable although there is the sense that Apostrophe does not know what it really is yet. Is it a patisserie offering food that you would expect in a café or is it a café trying to incorporate traditional French fare? It is impossible to say, although it is telling that Apostrophe hits its high points when focusing on typically French food.

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