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

Rambla

Rambla is a Catalan tapas restaurant in the heart of Soho, named after Barcelona's famous street near which chef-patron Victor Garvey grew up.

Newly opened at the time of writing, Rambla is set over two floors and is a more ambitious project than Garvey's previous solo restaurants, Encant (formerly Duende) and Sibarita. From my visits - one evening and one lunchtime - and from a spot of people-watching the other customers, he's absolutely nailed it.

The menu is mercifully brief but varied, tempting and very reasonably priced. On both visits we ate until we could barely move, shared a very drinkable bottle of light and fruity red (a 2015 Honoro Vera Organic Monastrell) and paid around £30 per person, including tip.

As we were deciding, the waitress arrived with some sourdough toast and a pestle and mortar, proceeding to make alioli (correct spelling in context for those fellow grammar nazis out there, from the Catalan for 'garlic and oil') at our table. There is a buzzy but very relaxed vibe here; tapas is inherently a chilled and sociable way of eating and this is backed up by charming and attentive staff, good use of space and a very cool choice of music.

We officially started with spinach croquetas with roasted pine nut alioli. Considering these are priced at £4, I was expecting two per portion; we actually got four, which is exceptional value. Regular readers will know that I have a slight obsession with croquetas; for tapas restaurants, I believe they are a pretty reliable benchmark of the kitchen. These were very good indeed. Piping hot from the pass, with an impossibly thin, crispy coating yielding to a smooth, creamy, comforting interior, they had exactly the textures and flavours I was after and were as good as any I've had from tapas bars in the chef's native Barcelona.

Next, another of my favourites, pan con tomate - deceptively simple and simply delicious.

'Butifarra Negre' sliders were served wth a refreshing green apple slaw and nevat cheese in toasted brioche buns. Nevat is a delicate, creamy goat's cheese from the Catalan mountains which appears in another dish here, baked, with beautifully presented crudités. Here it is a welcome support act for the real star — butifarra negre, classic Catalan blood sausage, intense, dark and spicy. The slider is an inspired vehicle for this, especially topped with the crisp, sharp apple slaw.

The grilled octopus with pickled garlic and alioli was perfectly tender, with lovely charring and depth of flavour. This is one of the first dishes I order when in Spain (after the croquetas) and, just for a moment, the grey skies and windy streets of London disappeared and I was sitting with the sun on my skin.

We had hoped to try the lamb chops at our lunchtime visit but they were unavailable; chef Victor Garvey explained that he'd had double the expected number of covers the previous evening and was waiting for a delivery (it arrived later, as we were gently slipping into a food coma) so I'm just going to have to go back again to try them. Shame. It's a good job Rambla takes reservations, as I have a feeling this place is going to become a Soho staple.

The wonderfully rich braised oxtail canelones with nevat cheese (there it is again) — shown here with a portion served to show you how generously packed with hearty shredded oxtail they are — could well be my go-to dish this autumn. It is remarkable value at only a fiver, and with a glass of wine to cut through the intensity and a beloved paperback to keep me company, that'll be me perched at the counter, sorted.

Plump mussels and clams steamed in white wine with Serrano ham and spider crab butter came with slices of toasted garlic sourdough for dipping and for mopping the juices from the bowl. This is hands-on food, tapas as it should be.

My absolute favourite, though, was the quail drumsticks, wrapped in crisp pancetta and presented in a nest around a  Pansals wine-based dipping sauce served in an eggshell. This is a visually beautiful dish and absolutely delicious; prepare for your Instagram feed to be featuring this regularly over the coming months.

For dessert, we went for the warm apricot and almond coulant with homemade frozen yoghurt. I've only ever had chocolate versions of this dessert before, which I find too rich after a spoonful or two, so this was a welcome surprise; light almond sponge with a melting apricot fondant centre, balanced beautifully by the frozen yoghurt and crunchy flaked almonds.

Rambla is a very welcome addition to Dean Street and already holding its own against some formidable competition. Equally suited to swift but fabulous pre-theatre dining and long, boozy lunches with friends, affordable and offering the option to book a table, it could well become a regular haunt.

Yours, wishing you 'bon profit',
London Girl About Town xx

Darjeeling Express

I must have walked past the entrance to Kingly Court countless times without noticing it; to be perfectly honest with you, I walked past twice without noticing it while I was actually looking for it. Ever the helpful chronicler, you can find it here; sandwiched snugly between Pizza Pilgrims and the Detox Kitchen.

The narrow passageway opens into a foodie Narnia; three levels of bars, restaurants and a shaded little courtyard, a perfect place in which to while away a lazy summer Sunday. I will definitely be back, but this time I was on a mission; I had booked the set menu Sunday lunch at Darjeeling Express; Calcutta Lamb Dum Biryani, a throwback to the restaurant's origins. 

Darjeeling Express started out as a supperclub in the beautiful London home of Asma Khan, a journalist and constitutional lawyer who taught herself to cook by immersing herself in the traditions, techniques and handed-down recipes of her family and her childhood. For Asma, this spans her royal Mughal heritage, Hyderabad and the Calcutta street food she remembers enjoying as a child. 

The restaurant is relaxed and stylishly homely. The lovely Florian Siepert talked us through the wine list (which, if you have ever heard his voice, is an experience in its own right) and recommended the Envinate Albahra Garnacha Tintorera 2015, which stood up to the spices perfectly. 

I admit to being a complete novice at all things wine-related (bar the drinking of it) but he was equally enthusiastic quizzing us about which wines we liked as a starting point as talking terroirs and altitudes with the table next door. He returned not only with the wine but with an equally charming dining companion for us, chef Jonny Rothfield (seen here with Asma, who walks through the dining room regularly, chatting to her guests). 

Our feast began with Papri Chaat, a classic Calcutta street food dish; soft spiced potato and black chickpeas on a bed of crispy papri, dressed with tamarind chutney and topped with sev (fine crispy noodles) and fresh coriander. It was incredibly good; each mouthful a play of salty, sweet, sour, soft, crunchy, fresh, spicy.

Battling with myself to leave room for the dishes to come, next up was the Beetroot and Cashew Samosas; delicate, crisp and light, a world away from the stodgy, oily offerings from your local takeaway. In fact, eating here will ruin a Friday night curry for you forever. This is not commercialised, westernised food; this is authentic Indian cuisine, the kind cooked at home, with love and patience, for friends and family.

The main event was a spectacular lamb biryani; two huge pots, sealed with dough and opened in front of the guests. Asma explained that the art of a perfect biryani is not only in the cooking but in the serving of the dish. There are two layers of rice, the top layer drier and sealing most of the steam beneath it; the trick is to dig deep and mix the layers so that everyone gets a balanced amount of both.

This was served like a home cook after my own heart; unapologetically generous portions piled high on sharing platters to be tucked into at the table. It was outrageously good. By this time we had got chatting to the family next to us and were serving huge, teetering, fragrant spoonfuls across the table to each other. You've got to love the almost magical ability of food to forge a connection between people, be they strangers, friends or family.

Served alongside this were a cooling tomato and cucumber raita, a feisty Bengali tomato, prune and apricot chutney and a wonderful Hyderabadi Mirchi Ka Salaan (the classic chilli and peanut masala accompaniment to biryani) which had us all reaching for our water glasses - repeatedly, as we couldn't stop eating it.

Dessert, after a merciful pause, was a dish usually served on the morning of Eid; Sheer Korma, milk infused with dried dates, served warm with pistachios and vermicelli. This was gentle and comforting; I rather liked it, but you do have to be a fan of warm milk, which not everyone on our table was.

Asma and her all-female team of wonderful home cooks have created something very special; a restaurant as relaxed and welcoming as the house of a close friend - a friend who happens to be a genius in the kitchen.

To share a meal here is a strangely soothing, almost restorative experience, as well as a culinary one. It's quite an achievement and I absolutely can't wait to go back.

Yours, feeling part of a new family,
London Girl About Town xx

Xu

Before we begin properly, a brief introductory anecdote; whenever I visit a restaurant that hasn't been open long, I try to avoid reading anyone else's reviews or blogs so I can go in with a completely open mind. I might make a note of a couple of dishes on the restaurant's Instagram feed I like the look of, but generally I just pitch up.

This approach occasionally has its downfalls.  Mostly it involves me missing out on a 'must-try' dish; clearly this means I have to go back, this time without subjecting my dining companion to bloggers' rules (no touching your food before the photo, get your arms out of the shot, don't make shadows on the table etc.). So, not too grim.

Hence, pretty much all I knew about Xu - apart from that it is pronounced 'Shu' — was that it was the newest baby of the Bao group, serving Taiwanese food in Soho. We rocked up on a sunny lunchtime, me in Camden market hippie trousers and him in a t-shirt and shorts, to find that Xu is actually a pretty swish place. Our sharp-suited waiter, clearly a part-time GQ model, seated us next to a table of worldly and immaculately dressed twenty-somethings with handbags worth more than my car. Awkward.

Except that it wasn't, at all. The staff were all breezily charming, the service perfectly pitched and the overall feel of the restaurant really relaxed. You could dress up to come here, but you don't have to. Halfway through the meal, I realised why; everybody is far too busy concentrating on their food to worry about you.

We started with a Taiwan Beer and a couple of dishes of peanut lotus crisps — ridiculously moreish crispy discs of lotus root with chilli, peanut and wintermelon syrup. These had a delicious peanut butter & jelly, salty-sweet appeal that had me eyeing my companion's plate enviously long after mine were gone. I may or may not have surreptitiously dabbed my plate clean with a damp fingertip.

We could have just ordered the entire starter menu as small plates, but we eventually went for the Xian bing - generously sized, aged pork pancakes, served with a chilli and vinegar dip. These were plump and perfectly cooked with a pleasingly crisp, browned exterior. Happily there were two to a portion or there could well have been a scene.

My companion is particularly fond of eel, so we also ordered the tomato and smoked eel with daikon. I am so very happy we did, as this was outstandingly good. I was initially a little disappointed at the size of the tiny, delicate pieces of eel but their flavour was so deep, rounded and gorgeously smoky that the eel balanced perfectly with the freshness and acidity of the tomatoes. When you go to Xu - and you really, really must - don't miss this.

Next up was the chicken wing with a punchy sanbei glaze topped with caviar. I first had this combination at Elizabeth (née Allen) Haigh's Shibui pop-up at Carousel and this was almost as good. It may sound like an unlikely pairing but the caviar adds the smallest briny zing to the dish which works really well with the other flavours.

On to the mains, and more difficult choices. We opted for the shou pa chicken; this arrived as what looked like an entire chicken, peppery, juicy and bronzed, adorned with softened ginger and spring onion. I know I have a tendency to over-ordering as I hate to miss out, but this was huge — and incredible value for money.

Unfortunately they did not have the char siu pork on the day we went, so that will have to wait for a rematch; the second main we ordered turned out to be my other stand-out dish of the day, the chilli egg drop crab. Served in the shell, this was everything I had hoped; the delicious, garlicky chilli sauce was pleasantly but not mouth-numbingly spicy, allowing the full flavour of the crab to come through.

We had ordered the bamboo chilli beef fat rice to go with — or rather alongside, as when it turned up it was a mini meal in itself. Chi Shiang rice from Taiwan with aged beef fat, chilli and coriander, wrapped in bamboo leaves, this was not dissimilar in style to the classic Chinese sticky rice in lotus leaf which is a staple of my every dim sum order. The Xu version was incredibly rich, full-flavoured and very satisfying. Fortunately we had already had a gentle suggestion from the front of house staff that a plain rice might be advisable to go with the crab. It was; I wouldn't have wanted to waste any of that sauce.

I didn't get to the desserts, so you are going to have to do that for me. I heartily recommend a visit to Xu; it's amazing value for such accomplished cooking, it has a great vibe and it takes reservations. Did I mention there is a tea salon downstairs and a cocktail bar upstairs? Well, I just did. Get there pronto.

Yours, a total Xu addict,
London Girl About Town xx

Hoppers

 The sure-footed Sethi siblings have done it again - in fact, this might just be my favourite so far.

 Hoppers brings Sri Lankan street food to Soho, serving a mix and match menu of snacks, curries, mains and desserts on the site of the much-missed Koya on Frith Street. The tiny venue has been unfussily kitted out with exposed wood and brickwork, casual groups of framed movie prints and carved masks, and a mixture of table and bar-style seating which helps create a relaxed but buzzy atmosphere.

The menu is varied, with a glossary of terms to help you identify the options and knowledgeable staff happy to guide your choices. The biggest problem is what to leave out; the food is affordable and filling, and so good that you keep picking for the sheer pleasure of it long after you are full (or is that just me?). 

Hoppers, like all the hot places in London at the moment, has a no-reservations policy; this means that you are going to get seated more quickly if you need a table for two than if you are in a larger group. The good news is that they have now introduced a wait system where you turn up, leave your name and mobile number and get put on the waiting list. You can then pootle off and wait in seated comfort in one of the many bars nearby (we whiled away the time over a pisco sour in Chotto Matte over the road, but feel free to differ) and track your progress on a site link they text to you. You also get a text when your table is available, and ten minutes to get back before they give it to the next in line - a perfect compromise.

Once you're in, staff will explain the menu if you're a newbie. For me, the don't-miss items from the short eats are the mutton rolls and the hot butter devilled shrimps; for a mere £4.50 you get two sizeable mutton rolls per portion, like chunkier spring rolls, and they are packed with full-flavoured spiced mutton, so maybe share with a friend to save room. The devilled shrimps can vary in size but are tender and in a wonderfully more-ish sauce. Mop this up with a podi dosa, a spiced, folded lentil pancake - and get a set of three fresh sambols or chutneys (£1.25 a set), just because you can. 

Next, the eponymous hopper - a bowl-shaped pancake made from fermented rice and coconut milk that is thin, delicate and wafer-crisp at the top, and softer, almost spongy at the base - particularly if you opt for the version with a lightly-cooked egg in it, which I heartily recommend that you do. Match this with one or two of the karis (or curries), one of which just has to be the black pork; for me this is probably their stand-out dish, with complex, balanced flavours and just the right amount of bite. It really is ridiculously good. 

From the larger dishes, I have only tried the spit chicken and, guess what? It was fabulous - like everything on the menu, singularly fresh and full of flavour. I am ashamed to say that I haven't yet made it to the dessert stage as I just can't resist the rest of the menu, but apparently they are also good. 

To drink, I would probably stick with the Sri Lankan lager; the wine comes in half bottles and is the only thing I have had here that I thought was less than fabulous - although to be fair, I'm not a big fan of wine with this kind of spice - but they will bring you some to taste if you're not sure. The Hoppers lemongrass-infused G&T is recommended, and I also want to try the black pepper cream soda at some point. . . oh dear, looks like I'll just have to go back. . . 

 Yours, seriously converted to Sri Lankan street eats,

Girl About Town xx