restaurant review Archives

108 Garage – Restaurant Review

Posted on February 12, 2017 by Farrah Kelly

The struggles you face in London are truly real. Sure, there’s the ones everyone knows about (rent rises, Southern Rail, the chaos of the first snowflake landing, the ‘liberal London elite’, etc etc). But those pale in comparison, surely, to the guttural need to be constantly ~ I N – T H E – K N O W~.

I’ve tweeted about FOMO to an audience of eye rollers before, and it did seem a contender for Word of the Year before alternative facts got in the post-truth way (A shame of many facets, to be sure). Whilst in the midst of my tweetstorm (three likes and a scathing reply, shout out to my fans), Giles Coren posted this:

URGENT: Go NOW to 108 Garage on Golborne Road. Chris Denney is a once-in-a-lifetime chef. Book NOW before the critics make it impossible.

— Giles Coren (@gilescoren) January 12, 2017

And let me tell you, friends, that when Giles Coren tells you to get to a restaurant, you immediately stop what you’re doing and book a table. Or at least I do, so I did.

Round rolls the fateful Saturday, and after battling through the carnage that is Portobello Road Market, we emerged into the promised culinary haven to settle in for a few hours. Perched at the bar (another great Giles tip), we had a vantage point straight into the tiny kitchen and across the red-brick hues of the restaurant. Copper and industrial steelwork lined the walls. The beautiful staff joke with us and each other. Chef Chris Denney asks if we had allergies and hands us appetizers. I make eye contact with Jonathan- who is typically a fair but harsh judge of my restaurant choices- and he is buzzing.

We order, as you should too, the five course menu. For food this good it is startling value at £35 a head. Between the two of us it meant we got the try every dish on the set menu, so go with someone you’re willing to share the good stuff with.

The chicken parfait was so smooth you wouldn’t be certain you had actually popped it into your mouth if it wasn’t for the blow-away flavour. Cured mackerel is light, happy. The beetroot is sharp, happy. We sit wide eyed, happy.

Our mains are John Dory and wagyu, respectively. The fish (pictured above, out of focus in excitement) is exquisite alongside an almost Portuguese-style sauce, the samphire and pumpkin seeds genius texture additions. It was a smart dish and a lovely dish. The wagyu comes donning a mustard seed relish, and melts just by looking at it. This dish was a particular flirt- Chris Denney was preparing other guest’s wagyu tantilisingly in front of us, meaning that even as we ate we were driven to distraction by the next batch of beef…

A palate cleanser, served over the bar by one of the chefs, of pink-lady apple sorbet.

I cannot reliably report on the date and IPA cake as I did not get a look in. I can however report that the cheese was fantastic. Black bomber is a little cheesy punch in the tastebuds. It came crumbled onto fresh (and also crumbly) cracker breads and generous pickle. Every morsel was appreciated and licked up.

Not willing to let go of our experience just yet, we ordered cocktails to prolong the joy. I had a rosemary and tequila concotion, Jonathan had the house signature (£10 each). As we sipped and stared out into the restaurant, Jonathan decided that we would come back. Which, forgive me Giles Coren, is probably the best compliment you can give a restaurant.

Marrakesh: NOMAD restaurant review

Posted on August 4, 2016 by Farrah Kelly

I’m not entirely sure, but I think the way we got the best seat in the house might have been because I pestered the reservations team on the day of Eid. Panicking,as I’m wont to do when it comes to reservations, I’d sent a flurry of emails trying to get a table for the 6th of July- Eid ul Fitr 2016- before a quick consultation with the NOMAD Facebook page informed me they were going to be closed that day to celebrate with their families.

Ah. I emailed (a fourth time, now) to apologise for harassing them, and Eid Mubarak while I’m at it.

When we were led to our table on the 7th, semi-private with a tiny terrace overlooking ‘Spice Square’, glowing lanterns overhead- I couldn’t help but wonder if this was chance, or if they took pity on my gushing, rushing emails and let me have the loveliest spot as a quiet nod to my desperation to have a perfect evening.

Or maybe it’s just that every table feels especially laid out for you here. That’s quite possible.

The sun, melting into the sky throughout the evening, threw a golden light across our table and tempted the mojitos from the menu and into my hand.

We ordered the tagine, lamb burger, roasted fennel and greens.

It was all excellent. The tagine is a modern- read, ‘deconstructed’- take. I was a touch worried about ordering this- this kind of modernisation of any tried and tested tradition can feel a little dehydrated- a Masterchef wannabe trying to reinvent old favourites with foams and microveg and sous vides- but am pleased to report that this was nothing of the sort.

A refreshing twist on the hearty tagines of Marrakesh, the chicken is succulent and slowly cooked. The sauce is a little sweet, offset nicely by the tiny bowl of a spicy, velvety dipping sauce. I devoured it.

Nomad’s burger received lipsmacking rounds of approval from Jonathan- who also doubles as your local friendly burger aficionado, so you know you can trust him on it. We’d seen many attempts at ‘western’ junk food- dreary pizzas and so on- but this, possibly Marrakesh’s best burger, uses the best of Moroccan and American flavours blended.

Sweets were verbena leaf and spiced chocolate sorbets, and saffron and ginger ice creams. These stood head and shoulders above ice cream we’d tried elsewhere- the flavours fresh and interesting- at once complementary to the warmth of our main’s flavours and also a pleasant final note of sweet soothing cold to round of an evening of hot food.

Food finished, we sank back into our seats and watched the sun ease itself away from the peak of the sky to behind the pink-orange buildings, gently lowering across the corrugated roofs and satellite dishes that pepper the horizon.

As the light turns from crisp blue to melting pale purple into darkness, candles and lanterns illuminate the restaurant. This restaurant is so pretty- it took every ounce of restraint not to try to Instagram it from every angle (disclaimer: this is nonsense, I absolutely did try. I had to stop when the food arrived so I could, y’know, eat.)

In short, this was an absolute belter of a meal. Romantic, not fussy, delicious and beautiful, which makes it a ten out of ten for me.

NOMAD, Place des Epices, Marrakesh.

At the Tabl: Gizzi Erskine & The Inksiders

Posted on February 28, 2016 by Farrah Kelly

Late to the trend party as ever, I’ve been pining after going to a supper club. I’m the sort of person who loves the social side of food- bonding over carving a roast or tasting a forkful of your friend’s dish is the most important part of any meal- and supper clubs are that bit more personal than your typical eat-out experience. Unfortunately, I’m also the sort of person who will have something on my ‘I must do that’ list for months, so despite it being on my radar for a good long while, I’d never got round to going to one.

Until, that is, I was invited by the very lovely Tazz along to a Tabl event. Tabl is all about making dining experiences more fun, more personal, and more social. Their website, tabl.com, is a litany of cool one-night-only pop ups, home kitchen supper clubs, and innovative food + something special mash ups. To say I jumped at the chance is to massively overstate the grace I had in accepting her invite.

So that’s how I found myself flying solo in the private dining room of Tramshed, Shoreditch, for a tattoo-inspired menu and discussion with The Inksiders and food-hero Gizzi Erskine.

Long tables lay in the centre of the dining room, with people milling around holding glasses of Brighton Gin. I knew nobody. Recognising Erin, IslandBell, from Twitter, I walked over and shyly interrupted her and her friend’s chat to introduce myself. Erin and Charlie were so sweet, and immediately accepted me as part of their evening as we got chatting about the towns we had in common and our shared love of Gizzi Erskine’s books.

Welcome drinks swigged, it was time to take our seats. Seeing a gap in the crowd surrounding Gizzi, Erin took us to meet her, we were greeted with hugs like old friends and asked to join her at the table so we could all keep chatting. As I was shaking off my fangirl, a hand tapped my shoulder. Lydia, a girl I haven’t seen for years, was right there in front of me. We freaked out, sat down together, and the meal began.

Simultaneously in reunion and making-friends mode, I chatted an laughed and swapped Twitters and took photos all night. Each dish was designed to be carved out for groups, a glowing convivial spirit of carving roast chicken and sharing out plates of salad, pouring drinks for people I hadn’t met yet. If this sounds gushing, then that’s as accurate as I could be. I loved it.

Between mains and dessert (pure salted caramel fondue with cakes for dipping- the most heart-eyes-emoji dish I’ve ever seen), there was a Q&A with Gizzi and Mo, a renowned tattoo artist. They chatted about the ink and food industries, fielding questions from the crowd as we swigged wine. Though I’m no tattoo afficianado, you could really get a feel for their passion and expertise.

Dessert rounded up and with plans to meet all four of the girls I got chatting to again, I tottered off back home feeling incredibly connected to London. Without really trying, I’d found myself alone in an awesome restaurant with food by a chef I love, met new friends and found old ones, discovered a new way of entertaining that I’m dying to do again and left full and happy. This was more social, more dinner-round-mine than any restaurant I’ve ever been to. I’m already scouring Tabl for the next opportunity to arrive alone at a dinner party and leave with new friends and a stomach full of great food.

PS- if anyone wants to hit up a supper club, shout and I will 100% come with you!

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.