Dining around at MGM Grand

‘Dining around’. It’s a bit like sleeping around really: not a a lot of honour in it, makes the participant feel somewhat guilty after the event, but is deliciously fun at the time. A different course at a different restaurant – I’d never ‘dined around’ before Las Vegas. But if there is one place on earth you’re likely to get gastronomically promiscuous, this is it.  All those hotels – most within walking distance, each revealing a myriad of foodie haunts.

The chefs at Shibuya

But our brief encounters all started (and ended) in the MGM Grand hotel. It’s home to a lot of restaurants – including Joel Robuchon’s three Michelin starred one, though we didn’t venture there (no doubt it already gets enough coverage, and there are other places in the Grand that deserve shouting about). We kicked off with palate-teasing morsels of sashimi at swish Japanese restaurant Shibuya.

Yellowtail sashimi with wasabi greens

In between mouthfulls of the yellowtail sashimi with wasabi greens, soft shell crab tempura and tuna sashimi with truffled soy and rocket, we were treated to a throrough education in, and tasting of sake by the restaurant’s sake sommelier. Shibuya has an extensive sake list of over 70 varieties, and the sommelier talked us through three of his favourites (Nanbu Bijin; Mizbasho and Wakatake) –  insisting that the hot sake we’re accustomed to from local Japanese restaurants is a slur on the nuance and delicacy of the rice-derived alcohol. We were tasting ginjo sakes – the drink’s equivalent to AOC wines.

Soft shell crab tempura

Never much of a sake drinker in the past, I was astounded by the complexities of the drink – the fact that, like wine, it is affected by terroir (the water quality of where the rice grows can affect the taste) and its mind-boggling production process. Here’s my bungled attempt at a summary of its creation: specially grown sake rice is milled down to different grades (or seimaibuai) to get to the starch in the middle, which is then converted into alcohol using an enzyme/funghi called koji. There is also yeast, sugar, and lots of water involved, and generally speaking, the more the rice is milled, or the higher the seimaibuai, the better, cleaner and more fragrant the sake.

Swilling the three different sakes around my mouth, I developed an appreciation I hadn’t previously thought possible for the drink – with some of them revealing themselves to hold notes of green grass, citrus and dryness, while others were fruitier and somehow almost remnant of very good sherry.

Tequila!

Our next stop was refined Mexican restaurant Diego, where tequila was to be our poison, accompanying some lip-smacking south American fare. Diego has one of the largest collections of tequila in north America, and we sampled three alongside some spicy potato soup with chilli. The first was a Casa Noble Crystal from a boutique producer, which had had little-to no barrel ageing and a double distillation – the clear drink was powerful and lit up on the palate with a serious kick. Next was Herradura Reposado, which is the oldest rested Reposado in existence, and has taken on some oakiness, spice and colour from the barrel. But my favourite was the distinctly caramel Gran Centenario Anejo, which had hints of vanilla and was an extremely warming tipple.

There’s nothing quite like that ‘tequila burn’ to perk you up, and our party was becoming increasingly more animated as we listened to MGM’s alcohol director tell us about the artistic production of the spirit and how is made with the agave plant – which is not, despite popular misconception, a cactus – using traditional methods.

And then, our bellies and cockles warmed by the enlivening offer at Diego, we waddled our way to CraftSteak – where oysters, kobe beef and a Scotch tasting lay in wait. Kicking off with oysters to start with, we were advised to pour our Higland Park 18 Year Scotch onto the oyster – the theory being that the alcohol, which is aged in open warehouses on the edge of the Scottish coast, and aerated by the sea breeze, would compliment it. Normally I’m a shallot vinegar or au naturale kind of girl, but I like to think I’ll try anything once, so I sloshed a bit of the Scotch onto my little mollusc and slurped it down. Kapow! What a hit of cool sea, salt, and warming Scotch all at once! It was very lovely indeed, the meaty, minerally oyster blending well with the subtle sweetness and warmth of the drink.

Amazing kobe beef with braised Brussel sprouts

Now, I know that the above picture isn’t probably the most appetising piece of food photography you’ve ever seen – but please believe me when I say this kobe beef was some of the best I’ve ever tasted. Marbled to perfection and melting in the mouth, it’s buttery texture was a sheer delight, and deliciously offset by the nutty, salty Brussel sprouts that came with it – braised lovingly in veal jus and served with bits of bacon. Cries of “I don’t usually like sprouts but these are amazing” circulated, as they always do when people try properly cooked sprouts. Our waiter also served up some golden potato puree that he described as “about 50% potato, 50% cream and butter”.

After also sampling a Johnnie Walker Green Label 15 year Scotch, which was a smooth single malt – we moved on to our final Scotch, the Ardbeg Uigeadail, non-chill filtered. Ouch. This was the blue cheese of Scotch! A very pungent number that our guide remarked had “peart reek” – an aroma derived from the natural fuel peat that grows near the drink’s production.

A smorgasbord of desserts in the desert...

After that final Scotch a few of us were a bit worse for wear. But we soldiered on – selflessly dragging our gouty carcusses to Fiamma trattoria and bar for dessert. Or make that five. Here, amid vanilla bean panacotta with figs, goat cheese and chocolate cake, little sweet doughballs and molten chocolate sauces, we sampled three Bourbons and a Bourbon cherry cocktail.

Woodford Reserve Master's Collection

Among those that we sampled was the George T Stagg Uncut and Unfiltered Bourbon. This was not for the faint hearted – an incredibly high proof Bourbon, it was the strongest drink I think I’ve ever tasted – and actually prompted a squeal. “This will get the rust off your bumper” – our miraculously erudite guide succinctly put it.

The cherry Bourbon cocktail

We may have been the wrong side of sober by this point, but I feel that we learned a huge amount about the drink – which takes much of its colour and flavour from the newly-charred American white oak barrels it’s aged in, and by law can only have demineralised water added to it during its production. We also sampled some delicious food along the way, and got a feel for some vastly different cuisines all in the course of the same meal. I guess in some respects, it was sort of like a very posh, very sophisticated version of the heterogeneous buffets that Las Vegas was once famed for…

Cheer and boozing in Las Vegas

It’s day two and I’ve realised that what I’m doing in Las Vegas is basically the culinary version of Fear and Loathing. If he hadn’t blown himself out of cannon in Aspen, Hunter S. Thompson might be proud. This is gonzo food journalism, and any previous misconceptions I may have had about heavy food and booze weeks have been blown out of the water by what I’m experiencing right now. This is like the Michael Phelps diet, squared.

Scallop at Aureole

We arrived on Wednesday night, to an exquisite five course dinner of two ways with foie gras, scallops and lamb at Charlie Palmer’s Michelin starred restaurant Aureole at Mandalay Bay, where Master Sommelier and James Beard award winner William Shear plied us with delicious wines and regaled us with tales of the founding of Palmer’s restaurant’s exclusive International Sommelier Conspiracy wine label. He also said that despite the city’s 18 Master Sommeliers (who knew!?) some snooty wine suppliers still turn their noses up at supplying the desert city.

The wine tower at Aureole

These suppliers clearly haven’t been to Vegas lately. Over the last decade, some amazing chefs have moved in, and the Michelin Guide with them – with the city now boasting 13 starred restaurants – including Joel Robuchon’s 3-star at the MGM Grand. Last night we had the pleasure of eating at Paul Bartolotta’s eponymous restaurant in the stunning new Encore at the Wynn hotel, which specialises in Mediterranean seafood (a ton of which is imported fresh to the restaurant every week).

Said fritto misto. Look at those tenticles!

The fritto misto of calamari, flying squid, whitebait and delicious little soft shell crabs was divine, and I’m a big fan of Bartolotta’s concept of honest, family-style Italian food, served abundantly on the table with everyone encouraged to tuck in. It’s quite a brave move for Vegas, this brand of simple, rustic Med fare – and it really works.

The 'lake of dreams' at The Wynn hotel

Our table of journalists, which had been treated to a mixology seminar and several cocktails courtesy of Patricia Richards just minutes before the meal, and were feeling a bit on the full side, couldn’t resist tucking in to the salt-caked whole roasted bass.

If you think that sounds indulgent, I’ll put it into context for you. We started the day with tequila tasting after digging into guacamole that we made ourselves at Dos Caminos at the Palazzo. This little refreshment was followed by a HUGE Mexican lunch of vegetable and three cheese quesadillas, tacos and beef and seared tuna with deep fried yucca (it’s a root vegetable) fries. It was yummy, but my favourite part was making the guacamole. Here’s how we did it:

Mash some chopped chilli, corriander, onion and salt

Add chopped avo

Add the juice of half a lime, some more onions and chopped tomato

Give it a good mashing but leave chunks for texture, add a touch more salt and voila!

More installments on the way…

Blinis and lychee martinis

I had an impromptu dinner gathering the other night. After a thoroughly unproductive Saturday, I was determined to salvage something of the day, and my way of usually doing that is to cook and see friends. So I got on the phone, put out the invites and hit Waitrose.

I’d already decided on roast lamb for the main course before I’d set off – it had been one of those grey, grim days that needs warming up with a pink piece of meat and some steaming rich gravy. But I was stumped for a starter – or rather, I was in two minds about whether to do a starter or just some nibbles. In the end I came to a nifty compromise – I’d do blinis.

Not the slap-a-greasy-bit-of-smoked-salmon-on-as-a-canape kind mind you – something a bit more traditional, with lumpfish roe, chopped up hard-boiled eggs, finely chopped onion and sour cream. It’s a dish my mum used to do – and my earliest memory of it comes from one fateful time when dad had managed to get hold of some caviar from Russia, which was delivered (highly suspiciously given my father was a foreign editor at the time) in jam jars wrapped in newspaper and bubble wrap to our door – from some journalist contact or other.

We sat around the kitchen table with shots of vodka – though in my case I think it may have been lemonade: I was about ten – and feasted on the sublime little black eggs. I remember the almost rudely-delicious sensation of them popping on my tongue in bursts of sea saltiness.

Blinis with sour cream, egg, onion and fake caviar

With this as my inspiration – and without a foreign correspondent to send me contraband caviar – I grabbed a jar of lumpfish roe, some blinis, sour cream, eggs and a red onion. I whipped them up moments before my guests arrived, having pre hard-boiled and chopped the eggs and finely chopped the onion, placing the blinis (I got shop-bought ones for ease) in the oven for about 6-8 minutes, turning them over half way through. Then it’s just a case of a dollop of sour cream, smattering of egg and onion, and a dash of the black eggs on top. Yum.

But what to drink with it? I thought the lumpfish roe wouldn’t be good enough to merit shots of pure vodka, so I thought about my favourite cocktail (and we know how much I love those) made with vodka and decided I’d make lychee martinis.

This may sound ambitious, but for someone who doesn’t have a cocktail mixer, I can assure you they were wonderfully simple and utterly delicious – with the juicy, bulbous little fruits placed in the bottom of the martini glass in place of the usual olive.

Recipes vary, but this is how I did it:

Ingredients
One can of lychees
One carton of lychee juice (you can get this at most Asian newsagents)

One lemon, juiced
One bottle of vodka
Ice

Method
Place ice in your martini glasses to cool them down. Drain the lychees from the can, keeping the syrup to use as a gomme for the cocktail. Ideally you need a cocktail mixer for the next bit – but I don’t have one, so I used one of those portable coffee cups. Pour a dash of syrup (not too much as it’s very sweet and so is the juice), and some of the lychee juice into the mixer with some ice. Add vodka – I’d say you want to make it about two-parts juice and syrup, one part vodka, plus a good squeeze of lemon to cut through the sweetness. Shake it all up, remove ice from your glasses and pour in the liquid, straining the ice out. Plop a lychee in the bottom of the glass and there you have it – a cocktail fit for an episode of Mad Men.

A (slightly sipped) lychee martini

The drink and the blini went together very nicely indeed – though it is important to make sure the vodka and lemon are strongly present in the drink to counteract its sweetness. Do you have any foods you like to match with certain cocktails? Do share…

Hot to trot(ter)

The first thing you see as you exit the lift

I’ve been hearing people in the food world talk about Pierre Koffmann’s famous pig’s trotters since I started writing about food. Ditto I’ve listened to chefs rhapsodise about Koffmann’s “immense” presence at his legendary La Tante Claire restaurant – whose famously difficult kitchen trained hoards of now Michelin-starred chefs in their own right – years before I, or the rest of my generation had a chance to experience it.

The beautiful but slightly creepy sculpture on the way in

When I went to Rungis with the chef he struck me as a quiet, thoughtful but mischievously twinkling personality, and this – combined with his gentle rapport with the others chefs, made it difficult to imagine the intense and frightening patriarch I’ve so often heard described or read about. While wandering through the gigantic market just outside Paris, Koffmann told me that the tripery was his favourite part of it, and again there was talk and banter from the other chefs about his famous swine foot fetsish.

Amuse bouche of yummy rillettes

So when I found myself tucking into what Giles Coren vividly and borderline-disgustingly referred to as “the thick, wobbling, amber tube of skin, the richly textured paste of the glands stuffed inside,” at his pop-up restaurant on the fifth floor of Selfridges, I was pretty happy. The amuse bouche of rillettes was a humble, but apt and perfectly executed opener, and my starter of lobster cocktail, with its satin-smooth avocado mousse and fiercely citrus cubes of lemon jelly surrounding great hunks of pink meat was a lovely way in.

The famous trotter

But it was the trotter that (please forgive me) walked it.  Cutting into it I felt that same wave of excitement I used to get when groping down into my Christmas stocking (which I did up until the age of 23), so lovingly packed full of fun by my mother. Slicing through the wibbling, glossy skin and finding the luxuriant veal sweetbreads inside, punctuated with morels and light chicken mousse was an utter delight – their textures creamy against the salty intensity of the pig.

For pudding I went for the pistachio soufflé – this being another one Koffmann’s signature dishes, and while it was light, fluffy and perfectly risen as a well-mastered soufflé should be – I found it overly sweet. The accompanying pistachio ice cream was nice, but I have it on good authority that the pistachio ice cream a few floors down at The Icecreamists boutique is better. Saying that, I am not a huge pudding person – despite my previous efforts – and nothing was ever going to top the pure lusciousness of my first ever Koffmann trotter.

Pistachio souffle

With the restaurant having been extended to a month, rather than its original schedule of just running for the length of the London Restaurant Festival of which it is the main attraction – there are whispers about the Gascon chef returning more permanently. And while, at £110 a head including wine (between three), I certainly couldn’t afford to eat there often, I’d welcome this living legend back onto the London scene with fittingly pig-like squeals of excitement. What about you?

Tom Kitchin returns to the stove with Pierre Koffmann

Pierre in his kitchen at Selfridges

Today Edinburgh’s Michelin-starred, Scottish produce championing chef Tom Kitchin takes his place back in the kitchen with the legendary Pierre Koffmann at Selfridges fifth floor pop-up restaurant, as part of the London Restaurant Festival.

Kitchin did his time in the kitchen of La Tante Claire back when he was  a young  up and coming chef – a period he describes in his new cookbook ‘From nature to plate’ as “one of the hardest, most gruelling things I have ever experienced, but at the same time it was the best school I could have attended.”

We’ve all heard about how tough Koffmann’s kitchen at the iconic, three Michelin-starred London restaurant was, and Kitchin, who states in the book that he once nearly walked out after the Frenchman threw a bucket of potato peelings – water and all at him – continues: “Many times during my years with Koffmann I felt completely and utterly exhausted and broken, but I honestly believe that had I not done those years with him I would not be the chef I am today.”

But Kitchin kept on grafting, proving himself to Koffmann, and eventually striking up a very close relationship that would be the most formative of his career.  When I caught up with the chef at his eponymous restaurant on the Leith waterfront in Edinburgh recently, he told us that he couldn’t wait to be reunited with his mentor, describing Koffmann as a “father figure.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he told me. “We have a very good relationship. I was with him for 5 years as a young lad and we’re still in touch. We talk on the phone a couple of times a week and he comes up now and then. All the cutlery and tableware used to open The Kitchin was bought off Koffmann from its resting place in a warehouse in Wimbledon at a friendly rate.

“He’s a really big person in my life and to go back and represent my restaurant at La Tante Claire is a really big honour and to get back in the kitchen with him will be great. Not only that, but they’ll be Eric [Chavot] and Helena [Puolakka] and Tom Aikens and all these old legends there which will be great.”

And what about the dynamic in the kitchen? “It will be different because we’re all grown up now – we’re our own chefs and our own people and when we worked under him we were very much his soldiers under his watchful eye – now we’ve developed into our own chefs in our own right. The restaurant really should be a celebration of what was La Tante Claire because it stopped so suddenly, because there’s a whole generation of chefs, critics and foodies who missed it – and they just hear about the pig’s trotter, the soufflé pistache and all these dishes that people have tried to replicate but couldn’t.

“There’s a whole era who have missed that. They don’t really understand what his food was – the simplicity of it, but also its complexity.  He was an incredibly drilled master – he knew exactly what he wanted and if you didn’t deliver, he’d give you a hard time. He had this immense presence – you’d know you were in the presence of a great man and his knowledge and enjoyment of food is something else.  There are very few people who possess that and you can learn so much from just observing that.”

High demand has led to Koffmann’s pop-up (originally only intended for the duration of the festival) to be extended to a month. There is only lunch availability left, if you want to bok a table call 020-7318-7778 or email restaurantontheroof@selfridges.co.uk.
For more information on London Restaurant Festival visit: www.visitlondon.com/londonrestaurantfestival

Edinburgh gallery: 21212 and The Kitchin

Hello all! And welcome to my new-look, solo blog – minus Jude. Fiftyfourfoodmiles is in the process of being put down (sob, but Jude is so busy on the frontline of journalism we thought it would be better if I carried on the glluttony single-handedly). This is still very much in the early stages, and I have lots of work to do, so bear with me – but I wanted to get cracking asap.

I went to Edinburgh last week to chat to two of its most exciting chefs – the crazy, crazy Paul Kitching at 21212 and Tom Kitchin at the Michelin-starred The Kitchin. Articles are in the process of being written, and blogs will follow, but for now, have a look at some of the things I ate:

Starter of warm smoked salmon with egg and leek mayonnaise, pinenuts, Marie Rose sauce, saffron pancake, sweetcorn and baby artichoke at 21212

Roasted grouse at The Kitchin

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Saying hello and goodbye to Franks

One of the artworks at Franks

Trying to convince friends to spend their Saturday night on top of a multi-storey car park in Peckham is not one of the easiest things we’ve ever had to do. But anyone who’s had the fortune of going to Franks Bar this summer will vouch that it’s possibly one of the best nights out you can have in London – which is why we were simultaneously happy and sad to make it to the pop-up Campari bar’s final night this year.

It's a bit like one of those Southern Comfort ads...

Franks is a minimalist but soulful bar-cum-artspace that takes industrial chic to a whole new level. Located on the top floor of the imaginatively titled “Peckham Multi-storey carpark”, the bar was designed by Paloma Gormley (Anthony’s daughter) and wouldn’t look out of place on Ibiza’s La Salinas beach. A stylish, enviro-friendly wooden structure complete with chill out cubby holes, and large eating areas, where everyone automatically mixes with each other in a state of mutual appreciation for the vibe and setting, this is an incredible hidden gem.

By the time we’d walked to the top of the carpark, checking out the art as we went, we were hungry. The food is creative, simplistic, tasty and cheap. We had sardines, grilled vegetables with humus, lamb steaks, Homemade bread and minted green salad – £21 for three people, that’s the total price, not the cost per person. To accompany the food we drank ice cold Peroni’s (£2.50) and Chilean Merlot while the DJ spun some tracks ranging from Metronomy and Hot Chip to reggae beats and soul.

said DJ

The panoramic view from Franks Bar is one of the most spectacular views of London’s skyline that you will experience. Looking east to west we were transfixed by St Pauls shadowy silhouette, the multicoloured evening lighting of the London Eye and firework displays emanating from well healed Chiswick and Kensington Saturday night garden parties. Being its last night this year,  because, as one of the charming Camberwell art school-ite waitresses put it – “it’s getting too cold” – the night descended into a raucous party of dancing on tables as we said goodbye to our favourite drinking spot of this year.

By Rosie Birkett and Jim Heslett

Wonton soup for beginners

Anyone who follows my Twitter feed may have noticed that I’ve had a bee in my bonnet about wontons for these past few days. The reason? Well combined with the fact I’m a slight monomaniac, over the bank holiday weekend I was cooked some rather delicious wonton soup by a friend’s mum in between freezing my non-existent nuts off, and catching a nasty cold at the Leeds festival.

Lovely warm wonton soup

Said friend is of distant Chinese extraction, and he and his mum are dab hands at making their own wontons.  Sipping the hot, fragrant broth through chapped lips – the steam easing my bunged up nose, was a little bit like a scene from a Lemsip advert. And the little parcels of minced pork, punctuated with crunchy water chestnut and spring onion, were utterly lovely, keeping me full and warmed-up enough to face a day of harsh festival going.

Needless to say, as soon as I returned to the south (and to this, all of a sudden autumnal, weather) I just had to make some.  Having asked my friend’s mum to explain the recipe to me, I went in search of wonton skins (the pastry casing) and had no joy in Balham. Tooting, and it’s status as what middle class people call “vibrant” was the next obvious choice, so I hopped on the tube only to be faced with a vast array of Asian, but not Chinese or ‘oriental’ food shops.

After walking seemingly aimlessly down the road (having been looked at in most shops like a loony for asking for wonton pastry), I came across the Tooting covered market, and lo and behold, there was a lovely lady selling pretty much all the ingredients I needed at a very reasonable price.

I later found out from @Liz_Upton that the pastry is very easy to make without leaving your kitchen, which is good to know for next time. This is her recipe.

This is my recipe for wonton soup. It may not be the most authentic one out there (it was muddled together from memory and from what I like) but it was very delicious when I made it. Enjoy!

Ingredients

For the broth:

Bouillon or stock
Lemongrass, sliced thinly
Spring onion, chopped
Ginger, shredded
A dash of soy and sesame oil

For the wontons:

A packet of wonton skins (one packet does about 40)
Minced pork, 500g
A few juicy, cooked king prawns, finely chopped
Water chestnuts, finely chopped
Half an onion, finely chopped
Three spring onions, finely chopped
Half a green chilli (optional), finely chopped
One crushed garlic clove
A dash of lemon juice
A glug of soy
A dash of sesame oil

Method:
Mix all the filling ingredients up in a bowl, making sure the ingredients are as evenly distributed as possible:

Mince and filling ingredients

Then break of little bits of the mix, and roll them into neat little balls in the palms of your hands. Place them on the pastry (which you might want to stretch a bit to make it easier to seal):

rolled up filling on laid out pastry case

Now pull each opposite corner to meat each other, twist and seal. You’ll find a rhythm with this, and figure out which way suits you best. Then voila! You’ve got your wonton. Repeat 39 times…

Wonton!

Now to the soup. Get a big pan with a lid, place the ginger, lemongrass and spring onion in it.  Mix up your stock – I’d say about four tsps of bouillon per litre – and add to the pan with the soy and sesame oil. Heat over a medium flame for a few minutes to let the spices infuse.

Then add the wontons carefully – depending on the size of the pan and how many you’re cooking for do them in batches of about 20 each (you can freeze the rest). You want to allow 7-8 per person. Put the lid on and simmer gently for 10-12 mins, basting occassionally. During the last couple of minutes add some washed pak choi – cooked until softened and serve in soup bowls. YUM!

Soup, soup, a tasty soup

Gone fishing: lunch at One O One

One of the delicious oysters

Pascal Proyart knows his fish. You could say it’s in his genes. The grandson of a Brittany fisherman, he’s quite open about the fact he will one day retire back to the region, swap the big smoke for sun and sea, and spend his days out on his boat, fishing rod in hand.

But in the meantime he can be found in his kitchen at One O One, serving up some of the finest surf and turf on the scene, fusing international influences with delicious ingredients into imaginative combinations for the benefit of us lucky Londoners. Recently, on a trip to Rungis market the chef marvelled at my whelk eating capacity, so of course I was keen to visit his restauant and show him my other well-polished eating skills.

Though a fine dining spot and no mistake, One O One is currently offering fantastic offers off its lunch menu on the website and it’s well worth taking advantage of, if, like me, you’re on a journalist’s wage. I kick start the meal with the ‘oyster experience’ – a trio of big, juicy rock oysters served three ways:  with shallot vinegar, yuzu sorbet and vodka and tempura.

The oyster experience

They’re all lovely (except for the fact that I get brain freeze from slurping back the yuzu sorbet) but my favourite is definately the tempura – crunchy and creamy all at once, with a pipette shot of intense soy that is squeezed inside the batter by our waiter. I could have eaten about ten. Next comes red tuna tartar with soft shell crab tempura, sushi rice and wasabi sorbet. Just look at it:

Red tuna tartar with soft shell crab tempura

Looks nice, doesn’t it? Well it tastes even better. Anyone who’s seen me in Song Que on the Kingsland Road will know that I have a bit of a thing for soft shell crab tempura. I think it’s the same thing that lots of women have about chocolate – if I’m feeling down, for example, I’d much rather curl up on the sofa with a bowl of soft shell crab in garlic and chilli, than eat a bar of Galaxy.

But here the crab is just one element of the dish. The contrast between the soft, cool tartare and the hot, crunchy tempura crab is wonderful – both fresh flavours igniting on the palate. The wasabi sorbet is a strong component, its green, pungent ooze melting into the squishy sushi rice as I eat my way through the dish. The clean, Asian influence of this dish makes it a perfect starter – incredibly tasty but not over-powering, and leaves me basically salivating in anticipation of the next course.

For the main course I was tempted by the Brittany sea salt crusted, roasted seabass for two (which is carved for you at the table) but my eating compadre wouldn’t play ball, so I go for the slow cooked skrei Arctic cod from The Barents Sea, which comes with joselito chorizo carpaccio and squid a la plancha.

Slow cooked Arctic cod with squid a la plancha

The cod is light and dreamy and falls apart into the creamy saffron sauce, while the chorizo and squid gives the dish a colourful Spanish tone. There are complex flavours at work here – the spice of the sausage carpaccio and the richness of the squid, but it’s a stunningly light and balanced dish.

My new found respect for desserts means that for once I opt for a sweet finishing course of poached pears with liquorice ice cream, chocolate sauce and delicious meringue thins and it’s exactly what I want my pudding to be: devilish and sophisticated. The poached pears remind me of my mum, who is forever poaching stewed fruits in alcohol, and the chocolate sauce is the sort of thing you want to lick off your finger with vigour. And I do.

Poached peaches

All in all then, a very nice lunch. May I suggest you get yourselves down there and have a go at either the half price a la carte, or the business menu, where you can make yourself a little tasting menu of some of Proyart’s dishes for under £20.

Pascal proyart knows fish. You could say it's in his genes. The grandson of a brittany fisherman, he's quite open about the fact he will one day retire back to the region, swap the big smoke for sun and sea, and spend his days out on his boat, rod in hand.

But in the meantime he can be found in his kitchen at one o one, serving up some of the finest surf and turf on the scene, for the benefit of us lucky londoners. Recently, on a trip to rungis market -link- the chef marvelled at my whelk eating capacity -link blog- so of course I was keen to visit his restauant and show him my other, well-oiled eating skills.

Though a fine dining spot and no mistake, one o one is currently offering fantastic offers off its lunch menu on the website -link- ...