Kricket

Just to set the scene for you (pun entirely intended), I was recently treated to an unexpected evening at the theatre - Tennessee Williams's Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, intense and absorbing with the immediacy that only live theatre can bring, with great performances from an arch, determined Sienna Miller as Maggie and a brooding Jack O'Connell as Brick, radiating torment and despair.

You say theatre, I say pre-theatre supper: something bookable, fabulous but speedy, satisfying, yet light enough not to put you in a food coma before the curtain comes up and no more than a five-minute stroll from the action.

Enter, stage left: Kricket, emerging from the chrysalis of a Brixton shipping container pop-up into a Soho bricks-and-mortar butterfly, newly awarded a Michelin Bib Gourmand. It's been a big year for  co-founders and college friends Will Bowlby and Rik Campbell and I wouldn't be at all surprised to see them add another Kricket site sometime next year. After my meal here, let's hope so.

Kricket serves Mumbai-inspired modern Indian small plates in a buzzy, industrial-chic setting along with some innovative cocktails (don't miss these when you visit). There are two floors; if you are in a party of four or more, you can book at the communal tables downstairs (useful for pre-theatre when time is tight) or you can grab a seat at the upstairs counter and watch the chefs at work. Apart from being a stellar first date option this is always my preference, as I find it endlessly fascinating — and here, a rare opportunity for Indian cuisine.

We started with smoked aubergine served with sesame raita and papdi gathia, light, crisp Gujarati snacks made from gram flour. I think charring/smoking brings out the flavour of aubergine really well and this moreish dip was a perfect example. My cocktail, Lucky Neem, was a blend of oriental spiced gin, lime, cucumber and curry leaf, welcomingly sharp and elegantly presented.

The tandoori monkfish with coconut chutney was an absolute standout of a dish; firm, beautifully spiced without being eye-wateringly spicy, with the chutney a soothing counterpoint. It's refreshing to see a superb dish simply plated with no unnecessary extras — no tricksy garnishes or endless cast of flavours, no tarting it up to make it 'Instagram-worthy' — just really, really good food.

Kricket's lasooni scallop with Goan sausage, poha (flattened rice) and seaweed was also outstanding. Yielding, sweet and enhanced rather than overpowered by the contrasting flavours and textures, I could have eaten a plateful. We also ordered the cultured butter naan, freshly made, light and generously buttery, and a side of fluffy tomato pilau to go with — both good calls.



Pumpkin with makhani sauce, fresh paneer, hazelnut crumble and puffed wild rice was warming and mellow, with a good depth of flavour; again, a lovely use of textures and perfect with the tomato pilau.

Another dish I will definitely order on my next visit — proper KFC, Keralan fried chicken, served with pickled mooli and a creamy curry leaf mayo. This dish was unexpectedly large in relation to the others and would comfortably serve two, I think — although you may want to have a plan in place if there is one odd-numbered piece left at the end, as that would be totally legitimate grounds for dumping someone.

Yours, in full agreement with 10cc (oh come on, I waited until now!),
London Girl About Town xx

#AllGunsBlazing with Ben Spalding and Arnaud Bignon

Consider this a serious food-porn alert. I am about to walk you, dish by dish, through the most recent of Ben Spalding's #AllGunsBlazing events.

If you've never been to one of these, it works like this: Ben is joined by a fellow chef (usually Michelin-starred, always extraordinary) and they work together to produce a twelve-course menu. Some dishes are from Ben, some from the guest chef and some are cooked collaboratively. Previous luminaries have included JP McMahon (Aniar), Adam Handling (The Frog) and Calum Franklin (Holborn Dining Room), creator not only of legendary pies but also of the world's best Twitter hashtag. (No, I'm not telling you, go and look.)

In the interests of transparency — about which I have pretty strong views — it's worth mentioning here that I've been lucky enough to have been invited as a guest to several of Ben's dining events recently (although not this one; I bought these tickets, back in February after blogging the Meat Lust bus tour). I will remain, as always, fully open and honest about my opinions - I have long thought him an extraordinary talent, and the evidence is only building — but this has given me a little more insight into what motivates and drives him as a professional, which has been fascinating.

Anyway, back to #AllGunsBlazing; this time, in partnership with Arnaud Bignon of two Michelin-starred The Greenhouse restaurant in Mayfair.
The event hit the ground running with a selection of Table Nibbles, waiting for us as we were shown to our seats by the lovely Sarah. Arnaud contributed the spelt crisp with soft cheese and smoked duck along with the liquid Greek salad, which not only looked beautiful but was one of my favourite dishes of the evening. A perfectly bite-sized, glistening red globe with a tiny basil leaf garnish, this bursts in your mouth to release a flood of fresh, complex Greek salad flavours — an experience not unlike the tomato sphere in the Prairie Oyster at The Bar with No Name (in other words, wonderful).

Ben provided a varied range of nibbles, my favourite of which I think was the caramelised kohlrabi, buttermilk jelly and white chocolate skewer. Characteristically inventive, this might sound like an unlikely combination of flavours but it was marvellous — as was the roasted pickled onion in chicken butter and spicy ginger wrapped in nori. Spalding's dishes are regularly outside-the-box creative, but never for novelty's sake; every single component adds to the flavour and balance of the final dish.

We officially started with B&B; Hackney Wild sourdough bread served with Grant Harrington's gorgeous cultured butter, sprinkled with brown sugar and mushroom powder, lightly blowtorched and served on a board with smoking spruce twigs.








One of the fabulous things about the #AllGunsBlazing dinners is that it removes the barrier between chef and diner. Ben and Arnaud were not hidden away in a high-tech kitchen but mere feet away, preparing and plating everything right in front of us, introducing the dishes and interacting with guests throughout the evening. I can't help thinking that this must be a welcome change for the chefs as well as extremely cool for the guests. I should probably point out here that all this is being prepared and served in an event space above a corner shop in Hackney, with very few of the standard toys and equipment which chefs at this level are used to. I have huge respect for professionals willing to step so far outside of their comfort zone.

First up from Arnaud was this dish, Hemoglobin;  vividly-coloured, elegant and stylishly presented, with the bold, earthy flavour of beetroot balanced with the tang and acidity of yoghurt, smoked eel, pumpernickel and dill.

Then came Tomato Vs Tomato Vs Tomato, Ben's delicate and delicious salad of late spring tomatoes prepared in different ways — including an intensely-flavoured, almost jammy, dried version — with radicchio, sour cream, pomegranate molasses, grapes, ripped mint and iced basil in a spruce bark honey dressing.

The bar set high by both chefs, we moved on to Arnaud's next dish, Iodine, which was preceded by a flurry of activity on the part of the chefs and a waft of woodsmoke. Little Kilner jars arrived at the table, containing a cold jellied dish of cockles, mussels, calamari, dashi and basmati rice; when opened, a fragrant wisp of smoke drifted up towards each guest.

Here, opinion on the table was divided. I really liked this dish; for me, this was the closest thing to eating an oyster without actually eating an oyster — cool, briny, slippery, tasting of the sea. One of my companions however was not a fan of the texture. (I ate hers. I'm not too proud to admit it).

Ben's next dish, Mr Mung, characterises his love of taking a Cinderella ingredient and transforming it into the belle of the ball. Here, the humble mung bean is fermented with over thirty different flavourings and served with tom yum mayonnaise topped with MSG chicken skin and pork skin, creating a delicious houmous-type dip with contrasting crispy nuggets of crackling.

The next item on the menu, simply entitled Cauliflower, was the first collaboration dish. This is one of the most interesting aspects of the #AllGunsBlazing dinners; two incredibly talented chefs with very different styles, not only delivering their own dishes but working with each other to create one savoury and one sweet dish for the evening. (It was particularly fascinating this evening as they were so very different; Ben positively fizzes with energy, whereas Arnaud has an almost yogi-like zen calm about everything he does.)

This dish was another of my favourites: cauliflower, slow-roasted in beurre noisette with garam masala, shaved almonds, yoghurt, black garlic crumble, marmite cream cheese and grated bitter dark chocolate. Every component intensified and enhanced the flavour of the cauliflower, bringing out an extraordinary, unexpected, satisfying depth. You know when you bump into the unattractive kid you went to school with and they're now unbelievably hot? The Neville Longbottom thing? Brad Pitt in Friends? That.

On to a dish created by Ben, which the menu informed us is called Piggy Cheesy Cheesy Piggy; this typifies not only the quirky and playful aspect of his cooking but also his guiding principle that exceptional food doesn't have to be formal and priced beyond the reach of most — as evidenced by his frequent and absolute willingness to dispense with cutlery of any kind. This was a delicious shot of Italian prawn, Iberico pork and warm Parmigiano Reggiano broth with raw peas and chilli oil, in a glass.

I'm going to mention here the hand model for this particular shot; my neighbour for the evening, Head Chef Asimakis Chaniotis of L'Autre Pied. Another thing that makes these evenings such fun is that the vibe is so buzzy and relaxed (Ben also curates a playlist of rare funk, groove and classic disco from the music side of his business) you end up brazenly chatting to the perfect strangers sitting next to you — and no, this time its's actually not just me.

Asimakis was there with restaurateur and founding Director of Pied à Terre and L'Autre Pied, David Moore (pictured, left, with Arnaud Bignon). I have to say, they were the perfect dinner companions: interesting, great fun and utterly charming both. Just as well really, as the friend sitting next to me was deep in conversation with the person to her right, chef James Wilson, getting an insider tip on seasoning steak.

Next up was another cutlery-free dish that really makes you get up close and personal with your food — a warm malt loaf and butter mousse that is squirted onto the back of your hand in a picturesque rosette for you to lick off.

Confession time; my camera skills may have been deteriorating slightly at this point and, by the time much faffing had been done, the mousse had melted into a rather unphotogenic blob. It was great fun though, and utterly delicious.

Did I mention there is a cash bar providing cocktails and a brief but carefully selected wine list, including a sprightly Sauvignon Blanc and a hefty, full-bodied, spicy Château Musar 2009 that went very nicely with Arnaud's next dish?

This was Black is Back, a visually dramatic and intriguing dish of meltingly tender lamb neck with aubergine and harissa providing a wonderful, deep smokiness.

And so on to desserts, the first of which was another collaborative dish, Liquorice: toasted liquorice marshmallow with sweet potato ice cream, blueberries dressed in tonka bean caramel, crispy artichoke and young lemon balm. I'm not a huge liquorice fan but this was really good; the sweet potato ice cream in particular was a revelation. The guests also had a front row seat for the theatre of top chefs toasting marshmallows over a blazing fire - indoors. As you do.

Arnaud's sweet dish, Tagada, was a light dessert of strawberry, basil and popcorn with a delicate freshness and an accomplished mix of textures. I loved the note of basil lifting the sweetness.

Our final dish was Aromatic Fudge, from Ben: a trio of chocolate fudges made with dark, milk and white chocolate, all flavoured with cardamom and served with whipped maple cheese, iced lemon thyme, crispy pea shards, toasted pecans and dusted with raspberry powder.

The intensity of the fudge was beautifully balanced by the accompaniments and it was so interesting to see how the aromatic warmth of the cardamom came out differently in each of the three chocolate fudges.

The #AllGunsBlazing dinners are a steal for both the quality and quantity of food, even without meeting the chefs and seeing them at work. If you haven't been, I highly recommend it - I think there is one more booked (with Jonathan Tam of Relæ) and, at least at time of writing, there were tickets available. It is so chilled, so much fun, and the food is awesome. And, please, go hungry.

Yours, in foodie heaven,

London Girl About Town xx

Shibui - Elizabeth Allen pop-up at Carousel

This was my first visit to Carousel; how have I never been here before? It's a wonderful idea for a venue, and pretty much everything I love under one roof. Food-wise, lunch is prepared by their own team and dinner comes courtesy of a series of stellar chef residencies; there is an exhibition space for new talent and also a programme of events ranging from life drawing and yoga to acoustic sets and spoon carving. Spoon carving!! I didn't know this was a thing, but now I do and I need it in my life.

So - on to this week's guest chef. Elizabeth Allen was formerly head chef at Neil Rankin's Smokehouse before moving on to Pidgin and her first Michelin star; I'm pretty sure it won't be her last. Allen has a self-confessed love of fire and flames as 'sophisticated barbecue' and specialises in the delicate balance of bold flavours, all of which will be showcased in her new restaurant project, Shibui.

Shibui is an ancient Japanese word with no direct translation into English but which expresses the elegance, grace and beauty of simplicity - a perfect name for a restaurant that promises dishes combining both everyday and exotic ingredients and a relaxed fine dining experience. I think this is an exciting trend; I am a greedy, obsessive and endlessly curious foodie but for me food is both literally and metaphorically nourishing - it should be an experience that is relaxing, heartening, soothing, exciting, nurturing and sociable. (I heartily detest the concept of 'good' and 'bad' foods - and don't even get me started on so-called 'clean eating'.) So, the concept of jaw-dropping food without the intimidating starchiness and obligatory reverent hush of classic fine dining is very good news.

Carousel was a good choice of venue for this, with its scrubbed wooden refectory tables, communal seating and subdued lighting; it is also very intimate, with the prep and kitchen area a few feet from the bar, so you can have a pre-dinner sharpener whilst watching the chef at work. Consequently, I was at a toddler-on-Christmas-morning level of excitement by the time we actually sat down for the meal. The first dish was bite-sized tempura nori with apple puree, oyster and sambal and did not disappoint. This was so clever; a mouth-pleasing mix of textures and the nori, oyster and sambal all balanced out by the apple and making different contributions to produce something that, quite simply and in the best possible way, tasted of the sea.

Next up was the buttermilk chicken with miso and caviar, which I hear will be a signature dish when Shibui finds a permanent home later this year and which embodies Allen's philosophy of combining the humble and the sophisticated. Crispy coating, tender chicken, a salty hit of caviar and a savoury mayo, this was delicious. We had also opted for the wine flight which paired this with Konishi Gold, a light, clean sake with a hint of apple - a perfect match.

We then had a fresh, palate-cleansing dish of fermented cucumber, sorrel and apple with rhubarb, all wonderfully zingy, sour flavours to wake up the tastebuds. This came with a De Loach California Chardonnay; I'm normally ABC (Anything But Chardonnay) when it comes to wine but this was light and fresh with a refreshing fruity acidity.

At this point there was the option of an additional course at a surcharge. I overheard some scattered and gentle grumbling at this culinary ambush, as of course the only real possible answer was yes; everyone I could see paid up and ate up. Having said that, it was the best possible call. Maltagliati (literally, 'badly-cut') pasta with tender, creamy lamb sweetbreads, brown butter, cabbage - all basic, almost rustic ingredients - oh, and did I mention, Perigord truffle? Allen had me at the fried chicken and caviar, but this was silky, seductive and outstandingly good. The wine pairing was explained to us by a friendly, knowledgeable and enthusiastic member of the team; a balanced and 'minerally' Chilean Caquenina from a vineyard a mere six kilometres from the Andes.

On to the next course, which was three succulent slices of Koji beef with coffee and Jerusalem artichoke puree, served with blistered sprout tops, beef fat and XO. I've never had sprout tops but they were surprisingly tasty, especially with the nuggets of beef fat nestling in amongst them. This was accompanied by a punchy Langhe Nebbiolo which held its own against the beef.

Finally, dessert; apple, kinako custard with miso butterscotch. Delicate and balanced, this showcases another facet of Allen's work, which is a blend of European and Asian influences. If Carlsberg made hot apple pies, they would taste like this. Alongside was an intriguing digestive with suze gentian, lime juice and a home-made smoked hay syrup.

In summary, this was an exceptional meal and a thoroughly enjoyable evening: incredible food, imaginative wine pairings, relaxed vibe, fascinating chats (and some great restaurant recommendations) with fellow foodies sat alongside us, and I have discovered some new ingredients that I am off to try. When Shibui eventually finds a permanent place to call home, I will be queuing at the door.

Yours, STILL thinking about that lamb dish,

London Girl About Town xx

Barnyard

So it's a warm, drizzly Saturday afternoon in Fitzrovia and I'm just off to Michelin's hottest star Ollie Dabbous's restaurant. No, not that one - I mean Barnyard, his newest venture round the corner, where I'm reliably informed the wait is mere hours rather than months thanks to a 'no reservations' policy.

The first surprise; we appear to have fortuitously turned up between busy periods and are shown to a table immediately - nice. The second surprise; that the famously precise Ollie Dabbous, whose endive salad contains endive to orange to mint in an exact 3:3:4 ratio and who reputedly once roundly berated staff for leaving a ragged edge on the toilet paper instead of a clean line, has chosen to open a restaurant that looks like - well, like the inside of a ramshackle old barn. 

To be fair to Dabbous though, nobody gets that good without a fierce eye for detail and a relentless drive for perfection. (Actually, in Dabbous's case, hardly anybody gets THAT good at all.) Barnyard, then, feels almost like an alter-ego: reclaimed fixtures, sunflowers, mottled corrugated iron walls, manly staff in checked shirts who look like they've just finished pitchforking hay, white enamel plates and cocktails in half-pint dimpled beer mugs. It's very Of Mice and Men, but in a good way. It's fun. I'm already looking forward to good things.

Dabbous himself is still somewhat busy running his aforementioned eponymous joint so the food at Barnyard comes courtesy of Joseph Woodland (The Square, Launceston Place) and has been described by Dabbous's business partner Oskar Kinberg as 'home cooking, done well and without the washing-up'. At first glance, the menu - divided, with suitably agricultural unsentimentality, into sections headed 'cow', 'pig' and so on - contains the usual suspects for a retro Americana vibe, along with some British classics: beef, eggs, fries, chicken wings, sausage rolls, milkshakes. More of which later.

In keeping with the informal feel (you are very likely to end up squished elbow-to-elbow with other diners, it's really not the place for a private chat) the dishes are designed for sharing. I love this, as in my experience meal envy can test the strength of any relationship, but it can be tricky to gauge portions on a first visit; also the tables are quite small, so expect mild juggling and balancing to be involved. We went with our waiter's advice of 5-6 dishes plus sides and plumped for the chicken in a bun, duck egg with asparagus, fries, roast beef with watercress salad, crispy chicken wings, and broken eggs with mushrooms, garlic and parsley.

Restaurants mixing high-end dining with low-end classics can face the Bubbledogs conundrum; how much can you polish up a classic dish before it loses what makes it a classic in the first place? Barnyard has balanced this well. The chicken in a bun was moist and flavoursome, in a light brioche-style bun and served with delicately-seasoned mayonnaise. The duck egg and asparagus was delicious and beautifully presented, although given that it is a sharing plate, getting both halves of the egg would have been nice. The fries were, well, classic fries; crispy and just right.

Opinion was divided on the broken eggs - basically barely-cooked egg swirled with earthy mushrooms, spiked with garlic and balanced out with parsley. The texture was a little strange, but it was somehow comforting and I couldn't help thinking that, accompanied with some sourdough toast perhaps, it would make a perfect hangover breakfast. The wings, much hyped, were actually not my favourite; there was a quite strong herby note (fennel?) that whilst not unpleasant, I just hadn't expected from the description.

The beef, on the other hand, was outstanding. Supple slices of intensely-flavoured rare roast beef, the lightest crisp of toast, fresh peppery watercress and a warm buttermilk dressing that blends nursery comfort with the bite of horseradish. I loved this. Do not, on any account, visit Barnyard without having this dish; visually, texturally, the blend of flavours - it is fabulous in every way.

My other personal must-have - although this could be just me - is the acorn flour waffle with chocolate and malt. Totally undersold on the menu, this is delicious; a perfect dense waffle (completely unlike the plasticky fast food versions), a rich, nutty chocolate sauce and a divine malted cream that tasted exactly like the inside of Maltesers. What's not to like? 

Which brings me, neatly but not really, on to the drinks. Trust me and beware, these are the archetypal wolves in sheep's clothing. Shandies? I think not. They may well contain beer or cider plus lemonade, but these are basically cocktails in a swigging glass. Extras include gin, bourbon, whisky and tequila, with not a warning umbrella, sparkler or decorative pineapple quarter in sight - and in a half pint glass. They are intriguing, delicious, and incognito. I am absolutely serving a version of these at every BBQ I host this summer. Form an orderly queue, please. (Oh, and don't think you can escape with a milkshake - even they come with an optional tot of something stronger.)

My one regret is the absence from the menu of the popcorn ice cream with smoked fudge sauce; I had heard good things and was keen to try it. During a quick chat with the utterly charming, laid-back manager he explained that their ice cream maker had broken the day before but that the dish would be back on the menu very soon. Hey ho - I guess at least I got to experience the waffle with malted cream. Ollie, Oskar and Joseph Woodland, I salute you.

Yours, in virtual gingham and petticoats,

Girl About Town xx