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

(Da) Polpo Covent Garden

I'm a huge fan of 'sharing' meals across all cultures and cuisines: tapas, dim sum, mezze, I love them all. Not only do you get to try a bigger selection of what the menu has to offer in a generally very affordable way but you avoid the awful spectre of Meal Envy - when, having dithered over the menu for an age, your food arrives and you immediately and desperately wish you had ordered whatever has just been put in front of your neighbour.

In case you've been living on a culinary desert island for the past few years, Polpo is one of Russell Norman's group of restaurants across London based on the Venetian bacaro - a small, homely restaurant more like an Italian tapas bar, based around small sharing dishes and wine by the glass or carafe. Slightly confusingly, as the family has grown they have been rechristened: the original Polpo on Beak Street is now called Polpo Soho, whereas this one used to be Da Polpo and is now Polpo Covent Garden. A new addition has just opened in Smithfield. There are other non-identical siblings - Polpetto, Mishkin's, Spuntino (and apparently at least one more on the way) but I had set my heart on a Polpo, so Covent Garden it was. http://polpo.co.uk/

The Polpo restaurants have been criticised for their reservations policy, or rather, their lack of one. Lunchtime tables can be booked, to cater for business dining, but in the evening it's first come, first served - although you can order wine and snacks whilst you wait. Norman himself is unapologetic, reasoning that his regular repeat customers are likely to live, work or play locally so will be happy to just pitch up and hope. In a recent interview with the Observer's Rachel Cooke, he says 'It does confuse me that people rant and rave about this. If you want to book, choose a restaurant where they take reservations. It's that fucking simple!' Read the interview in full here:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2012/jun/17/polpo-russell-norman-interview

Or of course, if you particularly want to eat at Polpo (which we did), just get there early. We arrived just before 6pm on a Friday night and were seated immediately, so it is possible. There have also been murmurings about the appropriateness of such stripped-back decor, bare filament light bulbs and cosy-to-crowded seating in a restaurant that reached number 25 in the National Restaurant Awards last year. To these people I would say just be happy that there is an affordable, unpretentious, top-class restaurant in Central London where people who don't necessarily want starched tablecloths, starched waiters and the muted tinkle of crystal glasses can eat really great food and enjoy themselves. You're more likely to dine along to The Verve than to Vivaldi at Polpo and it fits the relaxed, companionable vibe perfectly.

Greeted and seated by a friendly member of staff, we started with a Caprese Stack and a Summer Pea and Speck Crostino, priced at £3 each. The crostino was pretty much what I had expected for cicchetti, or snacks; a couple of mouthfuls of crisp base, nice fresh pea topping and a decent-sized curl of meat. However, what I had thought might be a garnish actually turned out to be the Caprese stack. One cherry tomato, a single basil leaf and a small piece of mozzarella barely visible beneath said tomato, on a cocktail stick. I'm sorry guys, but seriously? In what possible world can that be £3? We also ordered a cocktail each - a Limona for me (gin, white vermouth and Limoncello) and an Americano for my companion. These were okay, but not wonderful; having said that, the emphasis is very much on wine here (and they did seem to be training up a new member of bar staff) so perhaps I would just go for wine next time - refreshingly all available in 25cl, 50cl and 75cl carafes for maximum choice.

Somewhat deflated, I awaited the arrival (and size) of the Classic Pork and Beef Meatballs with trepidation. I needn't have worried. Three generously plump and juicy meatballs smothered in an excellently-balanced fresh tomato sauce arrived at the table and I have to say they were superb. Great texture, perfectly seasoned, these were as good as I've had anywhere else - Italy and Spain included - and excellent value at £6. If they hadn't been so filling, I might have immediately ordered the Spicy Pork and Fennel meatballs, which sound divine. The Linguine Vongole was about the size you would expect for a starter portion in a standard upmarket Italian restaurant, tasty and with plenty of clams. 

Perking up again, we decided to try the Spinach, Parmesan and Soft Egg Pizzette, a side plate-sized dish more like a topped flatbread than a standard pizza. This arrived generously piled with delicious fresh cheesy spinach and a wobbly just-poached egg; utterly delicious. Wanting to try one of the desserts, and starting to feel quite full, we opted for the Baked Peach with Amaretti Cream; a halved roasted peach served with a respectable dollop of flavoured cream and sprinkled with amaretti crumbs, a perfect end to the meal.

I wholeheartedly recommend Polpo Covent Garden and will be back myself soon for sure. Portion sizes can vary wildly within the same price range but with some judicious choices this is still great value for money, considering the quality of the food in what can be a tourist trap of a location. Definitely worth an early dinner - oh, and I now covet the cookbook badly. 

Yours, sharing nicely,
Girl About Town xx