Shed and the City

The biggest thing Oyster Shed has going for it is its on-the-river-looking-across-to-London Bridge location. It’s also shiny and big but quirkily furnished enough that it doesn’t feel like one of those soulless monstrosities of glass and chrome. I particularly enjoyed the toilets, each cubical designed to look like a beach shed (though to get to them you have to go down a lift which sounds fine, but was actually pretty annoying on a busy Thursday night).

This location has its downsides however, namely its proximity to towering offices full of businesspeople (who clearly race for a pint en masse once they’ve finished making money for the day). From where we sat, on the upper level, 30 seat dining area, it felt like we were looking at a huge bowl of suit soup. The mezzanine level is much more civilised, each table romantically decked out with candles and flowers, the din below adding a pleasant buzz to proceedings.

The menu is concise and pubby (my favourite kind) with classics such as chicken liver parfait, coronation crab, Lancashire hotpot and steak and oyster pie (despite the gastro pub’s name, oysters only crop up intermittently, so don’t get too excited/be put off if you are/are not a mollusc fan). I had, of course, looked at the menu online and already decided on the very exciting sounding ham hock and scotch egg salad, a rib eye and sticky toffee pud. He added salt cod fritters, a second steak and a crème brûlée.

The salad, topped with shreds of soft pink meat, quarters of warm scotch egg and a scattering of blanched peas, looked as good as it read, and tasted even better. The golden fritters were tasty, though (I never say this) they could have held back a bit on the seasoning. Both steaks were cooked as we liked them, with a convincing criss cross of char across the flesh. Accompanying chips and pretty little carrots were crispy and crisp respectively. We tackled our cows with two excellent glasses of red, mine a New Zealand Pinot Noir and his, a fine Bordeaux.

Things unravelled slightly with dessert (no sticky sauce with the slightly dry toffee sponge and a tepid yet overcooked brûlée). But, as we were so full we could barely get the delicious pudding wine to our lips, all was forgiven (particularly after the poor waiter seemed so genuinely upset about the missing sauce, that he offered us an apology brandy).  

We concluded the evening, sinking our matching Armagnacs out front, taking in the twinkling city lights and endless red buses hurtling across London Bridge. Which, on a randomly warm Thursday eve in Feb, was pretty bloody lovely.

Oyster Shed

1 Angel Lane

EC4R 3AB

Well Dressed

I quite liked my boyfriend anyway and then he made me this...




















Inspired my Raymond Blanc's Salade Lyonnaise (which he cooked last week on his 'The Very Hungry Frenchman' TV show). No 12 minute, slow-cooked-til-crisp towering slab of bacon, less herbs and a slight variation on the mustard dressing, but this belter of a salad bridged the time between Saturday brunch and dinner in rather pleasing manner (particularly the sexy oozing of the amber yolk). Merci Raymond!

Coppin' Off

My totally inability to be on the ball has been well documented in this blog, which is why I am sure it will come to absolutely no surprise that I only ate at Copita last week. My first non-detox, interesting restaurant experience of 2012 was going to be 10 Greek Street, but the cold, the possibility of a queue and the fact that my friends and I were drinking in Glasshouse Stores (much closer to Copita's D'arblay Street location), meant that we ended up here.

Tiny, tiled and suitably tousled - Copita could be part of Russell Norman's burgoening empire but is somehow more interesting because it isn't. It feels like a tapas joint, with high stools, long counters and low-hanging urban light fittings. The staff are frazzled but friendly in a 'busy serving tapas' sort of way and the menu is pleasingly short (though sadly not short enough to order everything on the menu between three). We gave it a go though... prompting our kindly waiter to tell us that we had ordered too much. Having sunk a few rums in the pub before and already well into our bottle of wine, we ignored him.

Far too much fun was being had to pay much attention to names of dishes (or even take shots of everything consumed) but off the top of my head... The spiced carrots were brilliant, roasted til sweet with pleasing hints of cumin and chilli. The chorizo was of excellent quality and delicious when consumed with oil laden chunks of bread. The pea, fresh cheese and truffle croquets lacked seasoning (not helped by no salt on the table) but were perfectly pleasant nonetheless. The crunchy, salty maize snacks with roasted broad beans are my new favourite thing to nibble with wine. The duck tart was a bit soggy but looked pretty. The pumpkin ravioli was a bit richly sweet for me, but was happily wolfed down by the others. The ribs with date (melted into a sticky coating) dripped off the bone *mouth starts to water at the memory*

All in all an impressive spread. Everything did taste oddly sweet and some dishes were under seasoned, but a few squirts of lemon and a sprinkle of salt would sort that right out. With a reasonable wine list, a regularly rotating and genuinely interesting menu, nice staff, a pleasing fizz of an atmosphere and close proximity to my favourite pub in Soho, I suspect this is not going to be my last visit of 2012...

Copita
26/27 D'arblay Street
W1F 8EP

Join The Club

January was a slow month for me. Sans money and spirit, I was forced to eat at home - which had its blessings and its curses. The obvious curse was no restaurant-based stories to share, but it was also the month that me, my boyfriend and the blender made our own butter, bread and udon noodles (blessing).

Got a bit fat eating double portions of baked beans on the sofa (curse).

Watched a lot of Fabulous Baker Boys (curse/blessing)

Ironic then, in the month in which I always say I'll detox but became too depressed to do anything but put high quantaties of carbs in my gob, my only restaurant experience was a healthy one...

The Cinnamon Club is that posh sounding curry house in Westminster (who doesn't love a fancy curry) to which I had never been until I was invited to try out their Detox Menu which the ran the month of Jan. I think these menus are good. They are less smug than all-year-round healthy restaurants and they cleverly exploit the silliness of the post-Christmas-gahhhhh-i've-piled-on-the-pounds-panic.

The CC is housed in the Old Westminster Library. Despite the imposing space being impressively full, it did not buzz. Perhaps people were whispering less they be told off by the librarian...

Too the menu...

Some amuse bouche, a light curry puff of a thing. Lovely.

Tandoori chicken breast with garlic and coriander, sprouted fenugreek salad.

This was lovely, the lightly spiced chicken marinaded into moist submission with not a hint of fat.


Marinated vegetables with blood orange and sunflower seeds 

The second starter was better than it's title promised it to be, crunchy, fresh, full of contrasting textures and again, showing skill with a delicate marriage of flavours.


Kadhai style stir fry of winter vegetables with multigrain roti 

This was just a vegetable curry, a very nice vegetable curry but lacked any additional elements to trick you into thinking you were indulging yourself. Good roti though. 

Green spiced halibut steamed in banana leaf, chickpea salad  

This was the best dish of the night. The fish perfectly cooked, subtly seasoned and perfect with the zingy chickpeas.



Saffron poached pear, pomegranate jelly and goji berry sorbet

Too the most disappointing dish... I love a poached pear but it has to be cooked perfectly: not hard, not mushy. This was hard and no amount of stabbing with a spoon made any difference. Jelly and sorbet were well made, but didn't work on their own.

Seasonal fruits with light lemon grass jelly

Just plain weird. As my boyfriend said, the selection of fruit "looked like it had been slimed, like in Ghostbusters," (and the slime didn't taste of lemon grass to me).

The selection of sweets that concluded the meal and came with tea were delightful (though, I suspect, not part of the detox menu).

Bar the desserts, I thought this menu did everything that a healthy one should, leaving you satisfied but not too full and without any of the guilt that butter (or ghee) laden dishes often bring. I wouldn't do it every night, or even every month. But come next January (bank account willing) when I am pretending to be weight conscious once again, I might spice up the most depressing month of the year with another visit.

The Cinnamon Club
The Old Westminster Library
30-32 Great Smith Street
SW1P 3BU