review Archives - Hello Farrah

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.

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.

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.