An Old Favourite...

My soft spot for Roast was born the same time I discovered Borough Market (for those who don't know, it sits directly above it). Back then I couldn't imagine anything more brilliant than being one of those diners, knife and fork in hand, looking down at piles of over priced artichokes and people queuing for venison hot dogs. For me it was too posh to comprehend and priced unattainably high but I told myself, "One day Lucy, you'll mount those winding stairs and eat with the Gods!"

My stance has, of course, changed somewhat. Through my haggardly cynical lids, I see a restaurant with ugly pillars and bad 90s chairs, which takes itself too seriously for a non-stared Brasserie, and never quite fills it's own loftily spaced boots. I've had meals which were too fussy, some not fussy enough, and food that fails to out way the final cost. Yet I love it.

Sitting at the bar Monday night, stomach satisfyingly fall, glass of wine in hand and a pretty singer with a husky voice belting the blues in the background, I thought of me circa 2005 (the uni years, when my gay husband and I used to sit in the Soho Starbucks, convinced we were the height of sophistication). That 18 year old girl, who used to squeal every time she saw Big Ben, stared at people on the tube and longed to eat in a London restaurant where people tucked in your chair, would have been very impressed...

My scotch egg to start was good, still warm with a layer of well-seasoned pork framing a pleasingly orange yolk. Even better was the baked Dorset crab, bound together with cheese (we laughed in the face of calories and smeared the fishy paste on thickly buttered bread).

Not content that our arteries were sufficiently clogged, we ordered rare, meaty mains of mutton and rib eye. My nicely charred chop was juicy and fat laden, with sweet, ruby meat which I greedily nibbled to the bone (and then sucked). The steak drew nods of approval (I was too focused on my sheep to ask for a try) but soggy chips were ignored. Sides of heritage carrots and brussel tops with chorizo were agreeably crunchy, but so drenched in the yellow stuff, I was beginning to regret my laissez-faire attitude to health. In view of this we decided to opt out of dessert.



















As owner, Iqbal Wahhab says on the website, when he opened Roast five years ago, British food was far from a bankable business plan. So there is a lot to be said for its continued success, particularly when you think of the stunning examples in the capital today (Dinner at Heston's anyone?). I'm not even going to pretend that Roast hits the heights of Dinner, or that it is serving cuisine any better than the endless gastro-boozers putting out almost identical menus. If you want traditional English fare in cosy surroundings then Roast is not the place for you. Nor is it, despite the fawning service and coat check policy, refined enough to charge the prices it does.

Annoying, if I was to follow my above advice, I wouldn't eat at Roast. It is overpriced, it's stuffy and, at times, the cavernous space distils any atmosphere which might offset this. But I have eaten there, many times, and those meals are up there with some of my favourite restaurant experiences. The location helps, as does the jazz bar feel of its bar but mostly there this unexplainable charm that comes from the staff who just want to please, and an interior so impressively huge, it demands you to like it. Here is a place that might get it wrong from time to time, but is endearingly earnest enough to be forgiven. Not unlike the green, 18 year old girl who so wanted to get through its doors...  

The Floral Hall
Stoney Street
SE1 1TL

Pizarro Pizazz...

Now I'm not what you'd call a forward thinker. Once at university I was told that I'm so far inside the box, I might as well live in it. This goes hand in hand with my ability to pick up a trend once everyone else stops wearing it and getting to restaurants long after the buzz has worn off.

Which is why I’m quite beside myself with smugness that I am, for once, if not ahead of the pack, then at least with it. Pizarro (the newest restaurant from José Pizarro of José and Brindisa fame) has been open for two weeks, and I’d been twice in the first four days. Once on launch night. To an actual trendy restaurant with hype.

Now I'm going to take most of the credit for being cool but it has to be said, that José sure can put together a plate of food. The food is closely followed by a rockin' interior (and by rockin' I mean marvellous marriage of wood, brick and tiles) and hum of good times being had by all. Service was great on both occasions, though admittedly it helps when those waiting on you possess equal measures of good looks and easy charm.

We had to wait (around an hour and a half both times) but as the atmosphere is so like his other tapas joints, the standing around felt more pleasure than chore. It does mean you're likely to sink a bottle of cava before you eat anything however (well I did on both occasions anyhow).

So to the eating. Not everything was perfect but soft launch with 50% off food and booze effectively forgave this. Plus it was opening night and the place was rammed...

Quail

I've only ever had over-cooked quail so the fact I could swallow without water was an excellent start. The sauce was really good, full of flavour (though could have done with a punch of chilli).

Artichoke

I bloody love artichoke so there was little chance of me hating this dish and it ended up being my second favourite of the night. The tastes going off in my mouth (toasted cumin, soft artichoke, sharp but creamy cheese) made me very happy indeed.

Squid

Bar calamari (deep frying anything in batter makes it good) squid is another of those foods that often gets over-zealously cooked. This was exceptional in that regard. My fussy friend and fellow blogger Eyes Bigger Than My Stomach confirmed this was cooked to perfection and “not bad at all.”

Lamb

The lamb looked a touch past pink and, as a result, was a little chewy. However it was the lambiest lamb ever, each chomp releasing more flavour.

Partridge

Only dud of the night. Served in a ceramic shallow dish, the dry bird sat on some watery beans in an under seasoned stock. Less roasting of the bird and more reducing of the jus and this could be impressive.

Pork

My mouth has been filling with saliva at random intervals at the memory of these rare strips of super pig. Keep describing it to friends as the sexiest tasting bacon I have ever been lucky enough to put in my mouth.

Chocolate Toast

Wasn't sure about this one at first, but ended up ordering this simple, but blindingly clever dessert on both visits. Combining a bit of the 'toast', butterscotch ice cream and nutella-like sauce felt like childhood.

Rice pudding

Cinammon-laced, creamy rice great. Sharp clementine too bitter.

By the time we ordered on Thursday, the Croquetas were sold out. To my delight, they were back on Sunday and soothing in a way that only ham and cheese based bites can be. We also tried the sweet potato starter with chunks of blue cheese (safe but nice combo), the hake with black cabbage which was a touch bland (silly as the stock, cabbage and potatoes on which it sat sang with salty flavour) and an extremely good vanilla ice cream, draped in booze laden grapes.

I've met José a couple of times and he's probably one of the nicest chefs in the business. This is evident at Pizarro which oozes comfort, warmth and a total lack of pretention (much like his brilliant croquetas). There are many restaurants that buzz, there are many restaurants with cool, but there are very few that personify the loveable charm of their creator so effectively.  

194 Bermondsey Street
London
SE1 3TQ