Chilli Hut

First, a quick note on my opinion regarding street food: it lives or dies on the quality of the base product. There is no hiding behind good service, fancy decor or air conditioning. Street food, and specifically street food other than burgers and chips, more than any other type of ready meal has to be absolutely fantastic to shift the expectations of the average British punter into something better. Now with that being said, lets talk Chilli.

Oh Chilli Hut, I'm so sorry. I wanted to like you, I really did. But you just made it too hard. Your chilli had no chilli, you nachos didn't nach and the sour cream made to whole thing even more dreary.

But the worst thing, the very worst, the absolutely unforgivable problem heaped on top of a whole mound of issues was the cheese. 

Street food, I am pleased to say is currently enjoying unprecedented popularity at the moment. I love the concept of great food made available to people outside of the restaurant, but this. This gives the whole genre a bad reputation. The Chilli Hut should have been busting at the seams, it should have had to beat of customers with a french baguette. Unfortunately it had neither of these issues, when I asked for my cone, the place was deserted and I handed over almost five pounds for what had the taste profile of clinically grown plastic.

I will continue to shout out the virtues of great British street food (look no further than details of my urban affair for further details), but unless the Chilli Hut get serious about their ingredients, they are simply riding on the shoulders of giants. Shame on them. 

Le Grand Monarque - Best Western, Chartres

Accustomed as I am to jet-setting and generally hob-nobbing among the rich, famous and celebrity class, I recently travelled into the heart of the continental bag of pick-and-mix that is France. I knew my trip would start well when I passed White Dee in Charles de Gaulle airport, oh yeah - 'cos that's the way I roll.

After that grade-A start, a while later I pulled into the lovely town of Chatres and impressed upon my travelling companion the very urgent need for dinner. Unfortunately, the classically French menu was accompanied with a classically French form of customer service with a waitress who, despite sporting a badge which proclaimed she could speak English, spoke entirely in French. Now, please don't get me wrong at this point. I've got no problem in fumbling m way through a foreign menu, after all, trying new things is one of my favourite pastimes. However, things go a lot smoother if they come with a smile.

I started with the pate, but I was not expecting the goliath portion of pork pie that came instead. The smooth pate in the centre was creamy and clearly well made but it was the jelly that really got my attention:

Dark and full of peppery porky flavour, this immense slice of pie was studded with fat and course ground meat. The pastry was short and crumbly but coming back to that jelly, it really was a thing of beauty.

As you all know, I don't usually order steak outside of France. And therefore, when I France I should be obliged to order it whenever appropriate.

Ordering a rare steak is difficult when your accent is as English as mine. Waiting staff simply don't believe you and try to give you medium instead. If you press the point, as I enviably tend to do, and see the example of a French 'rare' you'll understand our national reticence.

      
However, I for one refuse to be beaten by such things. Wipe it's bum, show it the grill then stick it on my plate and I'm a happy man. My usual problem with chips reared up again though - these were well fried, well seasoned and thin but did nothing to break up the heavy protein of the steak. The same charge can be levied against the hollandaise, a beautiful example of why French cuisine is the cause of more heart attacks than any other (this is perhaps not an absolutely true statement).

I was relieved then when I had the opportunity to cleanse with a good sorbet.

This one was lemon and contained preserved lemon rind which added some delicious texture as well as a good dose of bitterness to the sweet and ice.

The final verdict on Le Grand Monarque? Well, as I might be going back at some point in the future, I'll reserve final judgement but in general it was... very French.

Le Grand Monarque

Working Lunch - M&S

I was recently involved in a car journey with a colleague during which I purchased the following from a motorway service station:

Just to be clear, this post is not about the so-so quality of the sushi, with their generic taste and unfortunate chewy texture. Nor is about the inexplicably soggy pork rolls, with their watery taste, dripping wet contents and an icy temperature that put my fillings on DEFCON two for the following hour. 

No, this post is all about the purple, innocent seeming bottle that sat alongside several others on the shelf. As we all know I do like to try new things and I'd never heard of Acai berries before so decided to give it a go. I cracked the top and took a gulp. Mmm, it seemed very pleasant. I wouldn't go so far as to say it was going to be a favourite but it certainly didn't give me any hint of the perils to come.

I showed my colleague the bottle with some interest and she recognised it immediately for she knew of the Acai's secret power and the story she proceeded to tell, filled me with dread. She explained that several months before her marriage last year she decided to supplement her diet with Acai as she understood it could help with losing weight. And in fact it did indeed aid in allowing her to enjoy that special day with confidence and a svelte figure.

But.

As she came to the end of her story, she seemed to remember something else. Something darker. She started to mumble as I drained the bottle and remarked with characteristic understatement that it 'wasn't too bad'. I thought I heard something but surely I must have been mistaken. Clearly I had misheard because this unremarkable bottle could not have the impact that was being described to me. The Acai berry it seems, does many wonderful things to your metabolic rate but it also generates whizzy pop pops of biblical proportions.

So, the story finishes and I mentally recap. I was stuck in a 2 foot by 4 foot metal box for the next 3 hours with a work colleague having just drunk a fart potion. Uh oh. I decided that attack was the best form of defence and floored it. By the time we got home, my pelvic floor was being tested to the absolute limit of its sealing ability and the roundabouts of Milton Keynes were not helping. By this time, my colleague had her own bladder related issues which only increased the severity of the situation and as I screamed round the corner and parked up, we were out of the car and into the safety of (respective) toilets faster than a... well, lets just say we were fast.

So, would I recommend the Acai berry? That very much depends on three things; first, do you like the taste? Second, do you want to lose weight? Third, do you fart in public? If you answer yes to all those questions then go ahead and fill your boots, but I'll just have an orange juice if you don't mind.

Middletons - Milton Keynes

Three years is a long time. A looooooooong time. But not when you are married to Mrs P! And to celebrate three years definitely not being a long time, Mrs P and I doled up this week and stepped out into the rain. Here in MK, we have had the pleasure of a number of new eateries opening up recently and we had earmarked a couple for a celebratory blow out.

In the end, we plumped for Middletons, a self confessed 'steakhouse and grill'.

Personally I am unsure if it is entirely necessary to be described as a steakhouse as well as a grill, but willing as ever, we set out to uncover exactly why they felt the need to use both. 

The ambience was very welcoming, the place has a great feeling of light and shadow with the bar and tables feeling intimate but not cramped despite making, if I can say it politely, the most 'effective' use of the space. We were seated by the front door which provided me some very successful air-conditioning every time someone came in or out. The waitress was fantastically helpful though and quickly moved us over to a booth and out of the draft - happy days. We started chatting and Mrs P and I learned that Middletons was not a chain, the waitress was a little too keen to stress that point, but there are two other locations: Norwich and Kings Lynn. All three sites are apparently totally different with different styles and I have to say I approve of this approach but a quick check on the website shows that the menus are all the same and therefore I have to question the non-chain claim. We were told that the restaurant cost 2 million quid to open and it does look good, but I'm afraid no matter how hard they shout otherwise, standardisation across multiple sites is what defines a restaurant chain and here in food, if not in décor that is exactly what Middletons have done.

Anyway, that all turned a little too ranty so we'll move on to the food. One look at the menu and it's clear that this place does meat, lot's of meat. With a non too subtle gawp at the neighboring tables we decided that the plates were huge enough to bypass starters altogether and hit the meat. I had the apparently award winning mixed grill and Mrs P played it dangerously with the lamb. Before I tell you our thoughts, check it out:

The mixed grill was mammoth. The chicken and ribs were great and the ribs in particular were a real step above the standard usually set here in the UK. PLEASE NOTE! These are not fall off the bone ribs, they have bite and chew which took me straight back to Memphis when I helped judge the Memphis in May rib championship but the sauce was a touch too much for me though, too sweet and not enough smoke. Mrs P's lamb was soft, juicy, full of flavour and the dauphinoise  potato showed Coal exactly where to stick it. But the steak, ooooh, the steak. An 8oz ribeye oozing class, seasoning and an early heart attack - I loved it. 

Not a great picture but I was trembling with the meat sweats and had eaten 70% of it before I remembered to pause. While the above picture is not the best example of rare I have ever captured, I assure you that this is the best steak I've eaten for ages. Good beef, slapped on the grill and in my belly. Mmmmmmm.

If we do have a criticism, aside from the BBQ sauce, it can only be that the menu itself is huge, too many things going on with plenty of needless additions. Who goes to a steakhouse and orders lasagne?? So at the end of the day, think TGI Friday but done properly and you've got the gist. Can't complain on the price either, two seriously huge mains, plus (quite a few) drinks came out at £55 - nice work.

So Middletons, please don't pretend you are not a chain but I must commend you on being a really good one. 

http://www.middletons-shg.co.uk/

Augustus - Taunton

It seems to me that Augustus is a very strange Restaurant, I found it by going to my room logging on to the Wifi and immediately conducting an internet search for my usual 'key words' which I'm sure you are relieved to hear are for 'best restaurant in <insert current town I'm stuck in this week>'. Augustus was not at the top of this list and nor was it included in my follow-up search 'recommendations for places to eat in <nearby town of vague interest>'. However when I followed a link through to Trip Adviser and started to scan the list offered to me, my eye passed cruelly over many a posh pub, cafe cum bistro and standard Indian/Chinese/Pizza takeaway only to stop on a terrible picture of an empty table.

I think I was intrigued by the fact that it refused to be characterised as conforming to any specific cuisine and that, I consider to be the fabulous crescendo of British food. Met at the door and told that there was no table available due to a over stuffed booking schedule, I was about to leave empty tummied when I was asked how fast I could eat. How fast can you cook? I countered, and with a grin was shown to a table at the back. It seems that the kitchen was on point because as soon as I made my choices, bread and some lovely nibbley seeds were presented forthwith.

I thought Celeriac Soup with Hazelnut oil would be a decent test of a chef's touch and while I remain unconvinced about it as a regular addition to my favourites list, I do know that this soup was light, creamy and packed with flavour. It coated the spoon with unctuous ease and was served as hot as lava - beautiful.

The pork that followed couldn't quite live up to this promise of the soup, but was only a little less delicious. The tenderised pork was wrapped in pancetta and laid over a lovely bit of veg, sauce and what I think was celeriac mash. Clearly the kitchen had got a great deal from their veg supplier that week. From the high of the soup, it was the mash that let this dish down, the texture was grainy and the flavour a little watery but with plenty of the reduced sauce it still went down a treat.

After two courses and a coffee, I was out and away within the time limit set by my very pleasant waiter, £35 for food and a couple of glasses of a half decent red. Honestly, don't let the terrible picture/website/location or name allow you to miss this gem - Augustus really delivers on the relaxed, satisfying atmosphere you (I?) want from modern British food.

Lovely job.

UPDATE - I'm pleased to say that when searching for 'best restaurant in taunton' Augustus is now prominently displayed! 

www.augustustaunton.co.uk

Franklin's - East Dulwich

Oh dear, this was supposed to be the crowning glory of my latest visit to the smoke. And while, in many ways, it was a lovely evening I'm afraid I can't share it with you in the way we would both want. Why is this, I hear you ask! Well, look no further:

Yes, dear readers, I'm afraid I got a bit happy with the snappy and after the second bottle, things went a little awry. However, as a true profesh, I will post everything anyway and leave you to peer through the fuzz and gloom yourselves.

So, from what I can recall of the evening, Franklins started life as the deli which is situated next door. This proved so popular that they branched out (about 10 feet across the road) and opened the Franklins restaurant. The food changes daily depending on what's available from their various locally sourced (where possible) suppliers and the menu was short with limited options - not a bad thing so long as everything tastes top notch.

So, there were several starters, I had the brown potted shrimp which were tasty... I think. Certainly the Child and Mrs P. had several 'tastes' which is a good sign.

I think Mrs P. had this:

But I don't know what it was/what it tasted like. I do know that The Child liked the asparagus (top pic) which suprised everyone, but not as much as the oyster that she had a crack at. After eating it, she pulled a face and declared it was 'too salty!' Still, I'm pleased with that - it wasn't a full on puke after all!

For mains, I then had duck, Mrs P. had a steak and another diner had fish:

I'm pleased at this point that all three photos are at least recognisable! These were great. everything kept simple, although in the case of the duck and the steak - perhaps a little too simple as sides had to be ordered in addition. I would love to give you a blow by blow recollection of these but you'll have to imagine it. What I can tell you, is that they were all delicious! However, the last plate remains a bit of a mystery. I think it was possibly lamb but I actually have no idea. I'm sure it was tasty but I can't remember *sadface.

Then pudding:

I think this was a brownie but to be fair, I was in no position to make any judgment calls by this point. I remember, leaving with Mrs P. and a very tired Child happy but 50 quid per head lighter (The Child doesn't count, she just shared a bit of everything). It was an enjoyable evening, the restaurant is small and cosy with great food and great atmosphere. The service was slow but the place was full on a Saturday night and we were busy enjoying ourselves. While Franklins is clearly a solid choice for dinner and I doubt you'll have anything to complain about, for me it doesn't have the 'wow' factor. Perhaps if they had given me a story about why the items on the menu were there today, something that tells me what in that menu is why they opened the restaurant in the first place - what they were trying to achieve. I don't need luxurious or posh, just honest done honestly.

http://www.franklinsrestaurant.com/

East Dulwich Market (again)

I might have mentioned about my pseudo love affair with East Dulwich, and this weekend I had the opportunity to illicitly flirt with my concrete Mistress once again. An afternoon free from wife and child meant that I visited all the corners, crannys and market stalls I could handle. Joined in this endeavor by my aforementioned not-quite-brother-in-law, I ate, drank, sniffed and caressed to excess in this urban garden of temptation.

Although coffee and beer featured prominently in the day, I want to focuss on two specific experiences; The Dogfather and Drum And Kettle Popcorn. These two market stalls are renowned in blogs from far and wide and I had been itching to give them a good going over.

The Dogfather

'I don't normally like <insert food type here>, but I love this', is a phrase that usually forces me to me to scoff like a public schoolboy, uncontrollably and without mercy. However, I found the phrase forming in my brain like a poisonous cloud of cliche as I munched through the sausage and unusual toppings. I opted for the signature 'dog and was glad for it. Soft onions, sauerkraut, chorizo, cheese, jalapinos and tomato-y sauce were placed on and around the beef hotdog which wasn't nearly as disgusting as your usual boiled, artifically smoked, flacid, pink frankfurter. In fact, the more I ate, the more I decided that it wasn't disgusting at all. It was nice, really nice. So now you understand my problem, do I commit the ultimate sin of hipocrisy, or keep silent and flagelate myself later for not expressing my true feelings. In the end, I found a third way: I muttered it conspiratorially to my almost-b-in-l while sitting on a wall and stuffing the sausage, bun and top combo into my gob. In conclusion, you should buy one of these - they ain't cheap, at over 6 quid for a hotdog, these are pitched at those of you who simply can't resist. But after eating one, I count myself firmly in that number.

Drum and Kettle Popcorn

Having been a fan of the saltysweet popcorn mix for a few years now and introduced countless family members, friends and randoms to its many pleasures, I watched this corn being freshly popped and flavoured with excitment and growing desire. The corn was bagged and took it's place as a single brick in a wall of popcorn that marched across the side of the stall. I chose the smaller of the two bag options and enjoyed hugging the still warm stretched plastic as we wandered up the road. I managed to keep my hands out until after my Dogfather but then I started munching. A salty caramel mix, they were everything I had hoped. The perfect accompanyment to a movie night in, these beat the socks off the standard Cinema version - fully recomended.

So, goodbye East Dulwich. I will return soon, and we shall dance again.