The Counter at Sabor

Sabor (which appropriately means 'flavour' in Spanish) has only been open for a few short months and is already making waves; at the recent Estrella Damm National Restaurant Awards it was named second best restaurant in the UK behind Kiln, with co-founder Nieves Barragán Mohacho winning Chef's Chef of the Year.

The unassuming entrance is marked by classic Spanish tiles — including a rather lovely 'Calle de Heddon' street sign — and the inevitable queue. Spanish food fans and tapas addicts, I'm happy to report that the hype is real.

To be fair, Sabor's founders know a thing or two about running a restaurant; Barragán Mohacho was Executive Chef at Barrafina for ten years, during which time she won them a Michelin star, with co-founder and customer experience king José Etura as Operations Director.

Sabor is divided into three separate and distinct sections: a classic, L-shaped tapas counter focusing on fresh fish and dishes from the Basque country and Catalonia, the Asador upstairs (which takes reservations and is wonderful for celebrations and group dining) showcasing specialities from the regions of Galicia and Castile and a small bar area downstairs with a selection of wines, spirits, beers and sherries from across Spain.

We started with Pan Tomate and Cecina, the vibrant freshness of tomatoes balancing delicate slices of intensely-flavoured, dry-cured smoked beef. This typifies Sabor's ethos, with high-quality traditional ingredients leading the way.

Some of you out there may well already know that I am quietly but incurably obsessed with certain foods, croquetas being in my top three.  Even given this, the Prawn Croquetas did not disappoint; they were perfect, with a deeply-flavoured, rich, comfortingly creamy centre and a crisp, golden shell.

(I don't really have a sweet tooth, so in times of heartbreak and despair I think I would head here for endless plates of these rather than finish off a tub of Ben & Jerry's on the sofa. Each to their own - and you have been warned.)

Next were the Piquillo Croquetas, which on my visit were topped with a snowfall of grated Zamorano cheese; I think on the updated menu it is now Manchego. Again, these were delicious, with a light but definite kick and perfectly cooked.

Frit Mariner was a sunshiny plate of tender squid and shelled prawns with aubergine and red pepper, drizzled in a herby olive oil dressing that made me long for a piece of bread to greedily wipe the plate clean.

The Beetroot, Blood Orange and Dill was simple and simply delicious, the earthiness of the beetroot balanced with the citrus and dressing, making for a pretty and refreshing dish.

The Chargrilled Baby Potatoes & Sobrasada was the only dish that I wouldn't rush to order again; the texture was quite uniform and I didn't get much of the promised chargrilled flavour, although to be fair by now the bar had been set pretty high.

Our Rhubarb and Mascarpone Tartaleta was delightful and an excellent end to our evening; delicately crisp pastry and with a filling that allowed the inherent sharpness of the rhubarb to come through, but softened by the mascarpone.

We went for a bottle of the Bhilar white Rioja 2016 on the advice of our charming server Pablo; it was a good match and I will be adding it to my wish list next time I am wine shopping.
I also couldn't resist the theatre of a glass of Txakoli, a young, citrussy, slightly effervescent wine best poured from height to maximise the flavour.

I'm already planning a trip back for the other two areas of the restaurant, the Asador and the bar; my wish list from the bar menu includes the Lardo, Anchovies & Picos, the Camarones Fritos & Fried Egg and the Queso Fresco & Black Truffle. (Actually I might just move in, I could happily eat that for breakfast.)

Yours, savouring the flavour,
London Girl About Town xx

Plaquemine Lock

Plaquemine Lock is the new incarnation of the refurbished Prince of Wales pub, appropriately situated near the lock on Regent's Canal at Angel Islington. It serves mainly London craft beers, a carefully curated selection of wines, a few potent cocktails — and an exciting seasonal menu of Cajun and Creole food.

There is a wonderful story behind the pub's name, menu and entire ethos; settle down and bear with, reader, you'll like this. Plaquemine, Louisiana is a city in Baton Rouge where — you guessed it — a lock was built in 1909 to connect the trade routes of the Mississippi to the Louisiana Bayou. The project brought together two young people — civil engineer Jacob Hortenstein and Carrie Beth Schwing. Carrie was Louisiana gentry, the daughter of successful local businessman Dr Samuel Schwing; she officially opened the new lock by smashing a bottle of champagne against it as the first boat passed through, which happened to be a steamboat named after her.

Carrie and Jacob married and had a daughter, Virginia, who became an artist, actress and socialite. Virginia married and had a daughter, Haidee, who is now a successful London-based artist and the creator of the murals inside the pub. Haidee married and had a daughter and a son, Jacob - Chef Jacob Kenedy, chef patron/owner of Bocca di Lupo, Gelupo, Vico - and Plaquemine Lock. How cool is that? (See, I told you you'd like it.)

So back to the present day and, with a new appreciation of my surroundings, I turned to the menu.

Whilst deciding we had a bag of cracklins, little spiced crispy nuggets of pork belly, and an elegant sharpener from the cocktail menu, a Pear 75 - Plaquemine Lock's take on the French 75 but with Miclo Poire William instead of gin. I'm not sure this was the most obvious choice of pairing on my part (I think the punchy snacks would be an excellent accompaniment to a cold beer) but I wasn't about to miss the snacks and these Luisian-inspired cocktails made me feel very southern belle; after all, a girl has to get in character.

We started with the mini crab cakes. There is no world in which crab cakes are on the menu and I won't order them. These were the home-made kind of delicious, which I mean as a great compliment. Allow me to explain. Some foods you want to be delicate, precise and refined: soufflés, mille feuilles, sandwiches at afternoon tea. Crab cakes, for me, are not that kind of food. I want them to look like they've been deftly squished together between capable palms, possibly rolled in a coating of some kind (that's optional) and thrown into a pan. These delivered: crispy, golden exterior, beautifully seasoned, packed with flavour and served with a spicy mayo.

We then dived straight in to the mains with a plate of boiled crawfish; a huge, heaped platter of spectacular creatures that are basically mini lobsters. Instagrammers, this is your #nofilter moment.

Plaquemine Lock's menu very helpfully not only contains a glossary of culinary terms so that you can tell your grits from your gumbo, but also a step-by-step guide to disassembling a crawfish: basically, twist the tail to remove, peel a segment of shell off to reveal the meat and then squeeze to release. I confess I have a weakness for interactive food; I love eating with my fingers, dipping, peeling, scooping and sharing. This was lots of fun — but be prepared to get messy.

You can't really go to a Cajun/Creole restaurant and not try the gumbo. This was one of my favourite dishes — a delicious hearty, spicy, thickened soup with okra, chicken, shrimp and andouille sausage served over rice. I'm writing this in the middle of a London heatwave but I can imagine an autumnal walk along the canal ending with a huge bowl of this and a craft beer.

My companion had a fried shrimp po'boy, a soft white roll with shrimp, lettuce, tomato and pickles; I was pacing myself but did have a tiny taste (obvs).

This I felt was good, if unexceptional; but to be fair it is, by definition, a relatively plain dish. It originated as a large sandwich given free to the 'poor boys', striking streetcar conductors, as a gesture of support and solidarity from a New Orleans coffee shop which was owned by two brothers who were both ex-streetcar conductors. Nowadays, I can see it as a great pitstop option with a beer if you don't want a full meal, or you don't like things too spicy.

I opted for shrimp 'n' grits with bacon and butter. For those who aren't yet familiar with traditional southern fare (though get ready guys, I have a feeling we'll be seeing more as the year unfolds), grits refers to corn porridge a little like soft polenta, used as a base for those big Louisiana flavours. I liked this a lot — creamy, soothing and spiked with bacon, spring onion and shrimp.

We then ordered six Oysters Rockafella. The original Oysters Rockefeller recipe is a secret; on my next visit (for there absolutely will be a next visit) I will try and corner the chef and tease his version out, as these were delicious and indulgently rich. I can only tell you that the famous green colour comes here from spinach creamed with absinthe. Hell, yeah.

As you can see, we had gamely eaten our way through pretty much the whole menu (you're welcome, dear reader) and were seriously flagging by the time it came to dessert. The most we could manage was a shared beignets and coffee but I'm so glad we did. Whatever you do, don't miss these — they are light, fresh and utterly divine.

Yours, puttin' some South in my mouth,
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

Happiness Forgets

I admit to still being the tiniest bit petulant about the White Cube closing its Hoxton Square gallery space (yes I know it's been two years, what's your point??) and I experienced a renewed pang of loss on my most recent visit to the Square. A leisurely mooch round would have been the perfect cultural sharpener to a fabulous birthday outing with a girlfriend; dinner crafted by one of my very favourite chefs, Cameron Emirali, at his new restaurant 8 Hoxton Square (separate post coming soon!) and then cocktails literally next door at Happiness Forgets.

Happiness Forgets is what all the gimmicky, trendy, trying-too-hard pseudo-speakeasy bars in London want to be when they grow up. It's not really hidden, it just doesn't shout about itself too much. Leaving 8 Hoxton Square you simply turn left and immediately head down the steps to the tiny, intimate and welcoming basement bar. Wafting incense and the chalkboard-type sign painted on the wall opposite guide you into a cosy and dimly-lit subterranean hideaway. 

Sofas and low tables provide spaces for long conversations or you can grab a stool at the bar if you're feeling sociable. There is a no-standing policy which means that once the seating is taken, that's it; on the down side, you do need to book in advance or arrive early to guarantee a spot, but on the very welcome up side you can sit at the bar without an ever-increasing crowd pressing into your back and drinks being perpetually passed in front of your face as you are trying to chat. This, together with the lived-in decor, scattered candlelight and muted music, give the bar a relaxed, embracing feel. 

Staff are both knowledgeable and genuinely friendly, and were happy to advise on the ever-changing and quirkily-titled drinks menu. There is a small but carefully chosen selection of wines should you prefer, but the cocktails are what really makes Happiness Forgets stand out from the crowd. Owner Ali Burgess has serious barkeep pedigree, most notably under the illustrious Audrey Saunders at NYC's Pegu, and his expertise and guidance shine through. These are proper cocktails, balanced and crafted, and so very easy to drink. Oh, and the cocktail list arrives with a glass of cucumber-infused water (which is topped up throughout the evening) - unexpected but perfect for palate-cleansing rehydration. 

The menu is short but varied, featuring several classics with a twist. Usually my heart sinks a little at this phrase; a classic is a classic for a reason, and it is notoriously difficult to do anything positive by fiddling about with something that clearly ain't broke. The exception to this rule, in pretty much any area of artistry, is when someone is knowledgeable and experienced enough in their field to understand exactly how and why the rules work, and so how they can successfully bend them. This is evident at Happiness Forgets.

As I mentioned, the menu changes regularly depending on season, a drink's popularity, and the general whim of the talented guys behind the bar. They are happy to mix your favourite if you prefer but I would recommend sticking to the list, at least long enough to try these: 

Kydonia Daiquiri - fruity, lively blend including cider brandy, light rum and quince liqueur. 

Dante - ridiculously moreish mix of tequila, chartreuse, Kümmel and lime, with a fresh herbal note of basil and celery bitters.

Perfect Storm - a fresh and zingy version of the classic Dark and Stormy, this is a perennial favourite and the closest they get to a house cocktail. Made with Skipper's dark rum but using fresh lemon and ginger juice, balanced with honey and a dash of plum brandy. Perfect indeed.

Baptiste - Remy VSOP cognac blended with lemon and maple syrup, topped up with Breton cider. Warm and wonderful. 

Industry insiders voted Happiness Forgets an impressive sixth place in the Top 50 Bars in the world last year - not too shabby for a place that is understated, unpretentious and which was only opened in 2011. The drinks are fabulous it's true, but for me a big part of their success is that the whole experience is somehow genuine; by which I mean that nothing feels fake, or forced, or guided by the whims of fashion. Happiness Forgets feels like it has been there forever, and by the end of your first drink you feel like a welcome regular. 

And where did they get the intriguing name? Rumour has it that it's from a Dionne Warwick lyric:

'Loneliness remembers what happiness forgets

And when you fall in love too fast

The sunshine doesn't last forever after . . .'

So - go to this wonderful tiny bar, drink, relax and be happy. Oh, and don't forget to look at the back of the menu for random, cocktail-related quotations. My favourite? 'Sometimes I drink a glass of water, just to surprise my liver.'

Yours forgetfully,

Girl About Town xx

10 Greek Street

10 Greek Street is a blink-and-you'll-miss-it white tile and matt black-fronted restaurant in the road parallel to Frith Street down from Soho Square, an area already blessed with some of the best eateries in town. Opened around 18 months ago and run by Luke Wilson (ex manager of Exmouth Market's The Ambassador and Liberty Wines rep) at front of house and Cameron Emirali (former Head Chef of the Wapping Project) in the kitchen, there is a no-reservations policy for dinner, although you can book lunch or the private dining room.

The no-frills approach continues inside with a stripped down but stylish, relaxing interior: dark-grouted white rectangular wall tiles (which always remind me of those grand Victorian bathrooms, but in a good way), garden flowers in milk bottles, bare walls and blackboards displaying the daily changing menu. The cutlery is in a container at your table, which gave me a sudden post-traumatic stress flashback to eating in Texas until a glance at the menu brought me back to the here and now.

The menu segues between tasting plates, starters and main courses; we had a sharing head on, and our unflappable waitress was happy to oblige. You can have tapas-y nibbles, starters, starter portions of main courses and/or main courses shared between two, and that's before you get to the desserts. Oh, and even though the menu changes daily, they still have specials: while we were perusing the menu, we plumped for the starter special, a Parmesan-crusted duck egg with truffle mayonnaise.

Truffles are like expensive perfume - a little goes an awfully long way, and they can very easily become overpowering and unpleasant. I need not have feared, as this was a spectacular introduction to our evening; the egg was perfectly soft-centred, the coating beautifully golden and crisp and the truffle mayonnaise flavoured with a deft but sparing hand.

We decided to share a combination of starter options and then see how we felt about ordering a main. The first to arrive was the octopus, potatoes and paprika; for me, this was a perfect summer dish that looked beautiful and reminded me of long mellow evenings at a beach-side taverna or trattoria. Generous pieces of unexpectedly tender octopus, peppery olive oil and the spike of paprika balanced perfectly with soft chunks of potatoes to soak up all the flavours - wonderful.

10 Greek Street also has an excellent and very reasonably-priced wine list that gives you the choice of a small 125ml glass, a 375ml carafe, or a bottle for most of the wines available, meaning you can easily and affordably marry up wines and dishes should you choose to. We went for a carafe of the crisp and citrussy Vermentino, which was really good and went well with everything we ordered.

Next to arrive was the spaghettini, girolles, leeks and summer truffle: again this was a really carefully put together dish, the flavours complementing each other beautifully. It was quite a sizeable portion for a starter, especially considering that it is very buttery and quite filling. We then had the clams, chorizo and peas which was again a good size, served with toasted home-made bread. I was beginning to appreciate that the decor (and indeed the website) reflect the whole ethos of the food at 10 Greek Street: nothing fussy, nothing pretentious, nothing unnecessary, concentrating on quality and balanced (although sometimes unexpected) combinations that really work. This was delicious; excellent chorizo, again not allowed to overpower the dish but complementing the clams and the fresh peas beautifully.

It was at this point, just as we had decided that we couldn't fit in a main course and would head straight for desserts, that the table next to us got their dish of rare spring lamb, white beans, preserved lemon, watercress and chilli. I knew I wasn't hungry enough but I couldn't help feeling a pang of envy, it looked so good. I suspect that every diner in the place was mentally planning their next meal there - although of course you can't as the menu changes daily, depending on seasonal influences and Emirali's gifted imagination.

Chatting to owner Luke Wilson, I asked how he would characterise a menu that offered dishes as diverse as monkfish wrapped in vine leaves, spaghettini with girolles and plaice with brown shrimp. Acknowledging a strong Mediterranean influence together with a classic British feel but given a fresh and inspired twist, and given that 'Cam's cuisine' is not yet a recognised term in food writing (though give it time - Cameron Emirali has both vision and talent, and lots of it), 'Modern European' is about the closest fit.

We chose two very different desserts to share - a gooseberry and elderflower crumble with crème anglaise (basically a very light pouring custard) and raspberry sorbet with vodka. Neither disappointed; the crumble was light and beautifully textured, the fruit retaining just enough sharpness, and the sorbet was smooth, fresh and zingy, with the vodka adding a little kick of interest at the end.

If you haven't tried 10 Greek Street yet, or if the pared-down look has put you off, go. Go now. Trust me, you won't be disappointed - this place is a gem. I'm already planning my next trip.

Yours, a new card-carrying Cam Cuisine groupie,

Girl About Town xx