Food & Drink Archives - Page 4 of 7

Afternoon Tea at Hotel Café Royal | The Oscar Wilde Bar

Posted on September 21, 2015 by Farrah Kelly

Disclaimer: I really, truly, cannot express my disbelief that I have turned-evolved- into a person who regularly takes afternoon tea- one that doesn’t come in an oversized Sports Direct mug, at least. But when your amazing friend Mary takes you to afternoon tea at the Langham, the only fair way to repay her is to take her to afternoon tea at Hotel Café Royal.

We rocked up, fashionably late (my bad), and swanned through to the Oscar Wilde Bar. The old haunt of Winston Churchill, Liz Taylor, Rudyard Kipling and Mr Wilde himself; if you ever need to impress someone, take them here. The room has this amazing old school elegance that radiates class and debauchery (a tough combo to crack- trust me, I’ve tried.)

If the room feels luxurious, the afternoon tea feels downright decadent. I’d had some friends visit already that had warned me of the vast quantities of food I was about to tuck in to, so I’d gone prepared on an empty stomach- you’d be wise to follow the same advice.

To start, the tea. Well, actually we had champers to start, but can you blame us? The Oscar Wilde Bar is a room that deserves toasting.

Back to the tea. The selection is wide reaching, but after a few quick-to-bitter teas at other places, I stuck with something I knew and had the Mango Noir. I hate tea that is served in a pot, left to over stew turning into sharp gross cold liquid after just one cup, so was very happy with my fairly unadventurous, but happy-swilling-around-for-more-than-two-minutes cup. (I think this means I’m posh now, everyone.)

The savouries were lush. Delicate cucumber sarnies, goat’s cheese and tomato muffin, teeny chorizo tarts. All very good, all demolished within minutes of our lovely waitress leaving the table.

On to the sweet stuff- washed down with a quick shot of iced tea (oh la la). The scones were fresh and delicious- being the glutton I am, I would have preferred a larger helping of cream and jam- and the delicate pastries and inventive desserts were a) beautifully presented b) perfectly flavoured and c) piled high. All the winning traits.

One of the sweetest things about Hotel Café Royal is, in addition to the food and drink- alone enough to rave about- they amp up the experience with little treats. A live pianist brings class, a brief history in a booklet on your table adds depth, and a cheery Toastmaster, reading quotes from Oscar Wilde, adds a sense of occasion. None of the above are necessary to make Hotel Café Royal feel grand and luxurious, the gorgeous food is plenty to write home about, yet they think of everything here and you’ll start to wonder if you should arrange a live pianist for every cuppa you brew.

Highlights of the tea were the goat’s cheese muffin with the DIY-sauce injection, the rich and fruity (oi oi) Raspberry Regent, the creamy ‘Spitfire Lollipop’, the fruity history supplied in the little ‘OWB’ history book (it’s 150 years old!) and of course, the ever-charming Mary’s company. Treat someone you love or wanna show off to to afternoon tea at the Oscar Wilde Bar and watch the brownie points roll on in.

Afternoon Tea, Oscar Wilde Bar, Hotel Café Royal, 68 Regent St, London.

Pizza Union, King’s Cross

Posted on August 16, 2015 by Farrah Kelly

Since my fella moved in with me, I’ve had fewer excuses to hang out with his flatmates- three girls who truly appreciate a glass of rose and a lip sync battle.

And considering I owed Sally an overdue congratulations on her snazzy new job, I took her out for dinner at Pizza Union, King’s Cross to catch up and pig out.

Friends had raved to me about their other outposts, so I was looking forward to giving them a whirl myself. It has a distinct uber-cool school canteen vibe, topped with gorgeous mixed tiles that were oh-so-Instagrammable.

Good pizza should be quick, simple, and pack a punch of flavour. The menu at Pizza Union might look brief, but this is as it should be. Venetian Pizzarias don’t stack their menus high- Pizza Hut does. With fewer, more focused options, you can practically guarantee that thought and love has gone into your choice.

I had the Manzo- tomato and cheese base (how else?), beef, chilli and rocket.

Damn. The base was crispy, cooked to perfection in their mosaic pizza oven, with the toppings generously scooped on. Fresh, filling and moreish, the pizza took me near on an hour to eat while other Pizza Unionists were whipping in and out with their speedy pizzas in no time. I like to savour my meal, okay? Plus I was side snacking on a big cuppa olives and popped chilli nuts.

Pizza Union was the perfect setting for a catch up- relaxed enough to unwind after a day in the office, fun enough to not feel shy giving out great big belly laughs, and with enough early 2000 hits to have a little sing along between pizza bites. Despite the crowds we all seemed to be getting quick and happy service, an oddity in the London fast casual scene.

Dessert was dolce- Sally had coconut and I had salted caramel with peanut. When we both shirked the nutella option the waiter seemed agog- urging us to try his favourite- but despite his best intentions we stuck to our guns and can happily report the Caramello and Coco versions are worth a recommendations too. Sweet filling wrapped in a sweetened dough ring- quite a heavy but undeniably tasty end to the meal.

I’ll be coming back to Pizza Union- King’s Cross is my gateway to the North and I pass through pretty regularly. I can now sack off the Pret dinners to take on the train and get a decent, superfast (they mean it when they say superfast, our bums had barely hit out chairs before our buzzer went wild) pizzas from here. Bellisimo.

Pizza Union, Pentonville Road King’s Cross.

Pop Brixton

Posted on July 24, 2015 by Farrah Kelly

Feeling restless one Sunday afternoon, having spent the entire week killing aliens on PS4 games, Jonathan suggested going to Pop Brixton.

I’d seen it mentioned in the usual places, Time Out, every hipster I follow on Twitter, and had concluded that it was probably going to be an over-hyped shipping container crammed with top-knotted men and girls in fedoras where I’d pay a tenner for the honour of having a slightly undercooked burger by a brand with a Helvetica logo. Unusually for me, I told him I’d rather give this one a miss, and can’t we just get a takeaway instead?

Well apparently killing aliens is tough business and he needed to stretch his legs, so two sweaty bus rides later we were swanning through the streets of Brixton with low expectations and a plan B (go get drunk at Kaff Bar) firmly in place.

I was really pleasantly surprised. The area feels roomy, colourful, and there is a lot happening. Shipping containers crammed with ramen bars, vintage shops, and wood-smoking burger joints flogged their wares to a pleasantly tipsy crowd, with a pared-back vibe and the occasional Justin Timberlake booming from a tinny speaker. I mean, it was as hipster as a bearded architect ordering a soya single-shot latte , but it didn’t feel pretentious.

With wide-eyes, Jonathan and I resolved to eat all the food, and set about our little task with frankly inappropriate levels of dedication. For starters, jerk coated sweet potato chips from Mama’s Jerk. For second starters, hot pork gyoza from Kai Ramen Bar. For third starters, gin.

A little frazzled from sitting upstairs in the Greenhouse (true to it’s name, it was properly mafting in there), we pottered into real Brixton to give the market a once over. We stopped off for a few rounds of Connect Four and cocktails at Seven.

Jonathan and I are far too competitive to stay friends around boardgames for too long, so we shuffled back to Pop Brixton for round two after a good telling off about the rules of Connect Four.

The main event of the food, for me, was this bad boy. The geniuses behind Bhangra Burgers, an Indian fusion streetfood joint also known as Baba G’s, have reinvented the humble nacho cheese dish with poppadoms and tikka chicken pieces.

Imagine every good nacho dish you’ve ever had. Now imagine every good tikka dish. Now imagine they’re all the same thing. You’re getting close to how good this was.

For dessert, we picked up some Pimms Cider and a Yumi-Tub (weird Thai ice-cream, with brownie chunks all crushed up in) and felt proud of our decisions, but also awfully, awfully full.

On we rolled back to the tube station, as the sun set, the Brixton market traders were packing up and the Pop Brixton hipsters were filing in for an evening of (presumably) house music, feeling smug, happy and a little Pimms-headed.

We been drinkin'

A photo posted by Farrah Kelly (@farrahkelly) on Jul 18, 2015 at 9:27am PDT

L’ETO Caffe, South Kensington London Review

Posted on April 28, 2015 by Farrah Kelly

L’ETO Caffe has one of those windows that you don’t just walk past. You double take, retrace your steps, and gawp in the window for a moment. Then, if you’re anything like me (i.e. total lack of self restraint) you head straight in to order a cake to go.

So when news came by that they don’t just serve perfectly formed cakes, but also a full dinner menu, I thought that I owed L’ETO Caffe the courtesy of at least taking them for a date before I leered at their baked goods.

I started, as every good meal should, with a cocktail.

My passionfruit copacabana was creamy, just a little bit sweet, and lasted me the whole menu. It was like a lighter Baileys, with just a touch of fruitiness. This might not be the greatest description in the world, so you’ll have to take my word for it, or go down and try it out yourself

For starters, we were both feeling fishy.

That’s Jonathan digging into his crab and avocado salad before I got a chance to photograph it in it’s pristine glory, and on the bottom is my tuna tartare- which, puzzingly, was spelt TAR-TAR on their menu. Have I lost my mind, or is this weird?

Spellings aside, it was lush. Generous portions of meltingly good tuna and a really sharp sauce to contrast the avocado. Jonathan’s salad was nice- though the soy and lime dressing didn’t blow my mind- I like my dressings potent, not gentle. I’ll stick to my tune tar tar/tatare.

Mains were a game affair.

Jonathan was boring and had a steak. With so many cool other things on the menu, amazing pastas and all sorts of slow cooking going on, I was hoping he’d go for something more adventurous I could pinch a few forkfulls of, but steak it was. He enjoyed it, in any case.

I had veal’s cheek, slow braised (how else?), on lemon potato creme, with a five spice jus. The veal was lush, falling apart at the meerest glimpse of my fork. The potato- essentially posh mash- was amazing. I would never have expected to love lemon potato mash- it sounds like a Blumenthal pudding- but I did. Top marks, L’ETO.

The main event in L’ETO is the desserts. I’ll let the cakes do the rest of the talking.

After some serious discussion, Jonathan and I made the most important decision of the day. I went for L’ETO’s famous honey cake, and Jonathan had the chocolate cake.

Aww shit.

They were, obviously, perfect. The honey cake was light, crisp, fluffy and insanely moreish. The chocolate cake was decadent, the way all chocolate cakes try to be, and the little squidge of sharp raspberry jam in the centre was like finding a little treasure chest of fruitiness. We fought over who got to eat the last spoonfuls of each, and nursed our full stomachs off into the night…

L’ETO Caffe, Brompton Road and across London.