camp_dick

D.I.Y.

You can't be that much of a fan - and evidently didn't bother to read this thread before posting - or you'd know that Hamine changed its name to Ryo several years ago

So, is he Korean or what?

Reading this thread, I see that you certainly did have a laugh between the lavender scallops and the NASA hob. You know those magic mushrooms are illegal now, right?I think this programme is OK and, for me, Blumenthal's and Corrigan's contribution make it must see TV. Obviously, Heston is at the cutting edge - making scallops taste like urinal cake, what a wheeze - but what about your man, Corrigan, with his varieties of seaweed, his raw mackerel and his horseradish ice cream? Bejasus! Love his approach to Armagnac, too: so long as its over two years old it's OK and for under £15, you can't go wrong. Shame I just have to inhale the stuff to get a hangover. That scruffy presenter bloke isn't nearly as drole as he thinks he is. I do think that if you're going to appear on mainstream TV you might at least shave and iron your shirt first. I mean, Heston is no fashion plate but, as Almass noted, his t.shirt was pretty cool.

I stopped by Satsuma the other day, craving miso ramen, and found that they no longer serve soup noodles and haven't for, like, a year. Can it really be that long? I settled for yaki soba, but told the waitress I'd be taking my business to Samurai in future. She replied that she lives in Panton Street and had assumed that Samurai can't be any good, because it's run by Koreans!

Inner city wholesale food markets are an anachronism that has largely disappeared with the notable exception of Smithfield. Borough was dying on its arse before the advent of the Farmer's market and under constant threat of redevelopment. Thing is, it sits under the railway lines that feed London Bridge station and create a bottleneck. The proposal was/is to double the width of the viaducts and the number of lines, but that would destroy the market. Personally, I could never see the point of preserving what was a moribund market that offered little to the local community (except some pubs that serve booze at breakfast time), but that's all changed now. The food market has revitalised the area and I'm grateful for the existence of the likes of DeGustibus and Neals Yard, even if they do sell the most expensive breads and cheeses, respectively, in the whole world. Crowds of tourists are a drag, but they do provide excellent pick pocketing opportunities (joke!)

Supermarkets don't lead consumer demand, they respond to it. In the early 90s, the supermarkets experimented with organic products and found that their punters weren't willing to pay the premium, so they concluded that there wasn't sufficient demand. This market research informed the supermarkets' advice to government when it came to setting targets for the percentage of farming land that should be returned to organic agriculture by the end of the century, which resulted in the UK setting the lowest target in Europe. Then came a succession of food scares, and the Great British Public decided, en masse, that maybe it was worth paying a bit more for better food. Those at the van of this movement - who tended to be well-informed and affluent - provided a customer base for organic supermarkets like Planet Organic and Fresh & Wild. As last night's programme explained, the 4 big supermarket chains are expert at giving us what we think we want, so they responded with alacrity. Of course, there wasn't enough organic produce in the UK so a lot of it had to be imported (further bumping up the price and undermining the environmental benefits of eating organic). The implication that supermarket operations are in any way altruistic is naive and the description of the Soil Association as a 'a highly corporate, cynical propaganda machine' is risible. Surely you mean highly principled and idealistic campaigning organisation?

Probably not, especially as Cantonese chefs tend to view their judicious use of MSG as being one distinction between their culinary professionalism and home cooking. (The Four Seasons, which Origame mentions, had/has the distinction of not being a Cantonese kitchen).The slang name for MSG is Chi Fu, which in martial arts means ‘the teacher.’ The chef can enlist the help of the teacher to make the taste of the dish come alive, but a ham fisted cook may try to compensate for his lack of skill, or attempt to disguise inferior ingredients, by overdoing the MSG. As Cachan says, sensitives do tend to feel MSG in the throat first, before starting to feel sweaty and a little delirious. Customers can specify no MSG if they wish when ordering dishes that are cooked to order, but that's obviously not feasible when you're eating dim sum that has been prepared in advance, with a litle touch of the sensational spice in the fillings.

This isn't true!

Aren't you talking about two different things here?Royal China has - what - half a dozen outlets around London, so it obviously makes sense to centralise production. That way you can employ a really good exec. chef to ensure consistent standards across the group. Assuming the fresh dim sum is delivered to each outlet on a daily basis in chilled vehicles, this approach may well increase quality while providing cost benefits, which can be passed onto the consumer (or not). That's a rather different proposition than buying in frozen dim sum that's machine made in a factory and reheated by some grudgeful drone working for less than minimum... Clerkenwellian, I think you know the answer to your own question. The cost of space in an industrial estate in Woolwich is obviously a fraction of Soho prices and the less space your kitchen occupies the more tables you can fit into the premises.

You're joking, right? Take care Fisherman doesn't censure you for sarcasm. Thanks, Ori, for your early and thorough review of Ping Pong. They should give you the Guardian job, even if only for a week.

I suppose it's the effect of a professional life spent as a secret agent on a mission for Michelin, but I thought DB the personification of 'nondescript'. Like a chameleon, only more drab, he swiftly blended into his surroundings so that the camera man was obliged to refocus several times to keep him in the picture. When Gordon introduced the aspiring French chef to the high priest of Michelin (retired), he appeared so underwhelmed that I half expected him to exclaim the Gallic equivalent of, "You're having a giraffe!"FYI: Derek Brown is a pseudonym. His real name is Brian Taupe.

Noticing this a bit late, I would like to make it absolutely clear that I am nowhere near as sad as above. I didn't actually count 'fucks', but merely relayed info dispensed by XFM DJO'Connell, who last week played a bleeped compilation of Gordon Potty Mouth's sweary highlights. Your count may be more accurate, DJOblong, or you may have been using subtly different criteria. Perhaps, when Gordon crammed two or more fucks into the same sentence, XFM counted it as one?Last night, being in a French kitchen, Gordon PM repeatedly deployed what is evidently his Gallic oath of choice: putain. This usage raises a number of questions: 1. On the scale of offensiveness, isn't 'whore' in French equivalent to 'motherfucker' in English? 2. Would Potty Mouth get away with saying 'motherfucker' on Brit telly? 3. Would Mr Sale Bouche get away with saying 'putain' on French telly? 4. What does Loyd 'Puttanesca' Grossman have to do with it?

Or maybe they could team up with Dita Von Teese and Jess Cartner-Morley to make mini-haggises? (or haggi?)You're definitely onto something here, Andy: How's about Chas'n'Dave's patented jellied eels; Status Quo's pasties (in association with Ginsters) and Loyd Grossman's Puttanesca (AKA, 'Sauce Of A woman'). Not to mention Robbie William's unlimited edition range of pot noodles; the Oasis pepperoni ("it's a bit of an animal") or the fact that Destiny's Child are sponsored by Mickey D's ("I'm larging' it")!

I do think that reviewing the conversation on neighbouring tables is the last resort of an impudent half wit, which is what I would call Gareth McLean, were I to recognise myself from his precis of what sounds like rather an entertaining overheard. A restaurant can hardly be held responsible for boorish customers, nor lazy writers. And has fat head McLean not noticed that his wittier colleague, Michael Holden, has made eavesdropping his own speciality?

Suferin' succatash! America's Greatest Living Poet is now AKA Gumbo Man. Just like Pagliacci did, I'll keep my sadness hid

I enjoyed the show about the soul food place in Brighton last night and may now have to revise my opinion of Ramsay as the unacceptable face (sic) of finickity food. I mean, he was great in Sin City, too, although I don't know why he appeared as 'Mickey Rourke'. FYI: Gordon swore 23 times in last night's Nightmare.

Jeeves tells me that Toby Hill was the youngest-ever winner of a Michelin star, at Gordleton Mill Hotel in Hampshire. It don't say in what year, nor how old he was. Apparently, Mr Hill and his brother now run the 65-seat Moon & Sixpence, in Hanwell, near Banbury.

All I know is that you'll need a bloody wide screen TV to capture the full glory of the more corpulent Campion in action

Jess Cartner-Morley's eaten mini-haggis with Dita Von Teese! That's almost as impressive as snorting coke in the next cubicle to Donatella Versace Do I understand from my close reading of the Grauniad that Lord Matthew of Fort and my brother, Sir Charles Campion, are soon to replace TV's Trinny & Susanah?

Cool, that's like two grammes?

Popbitch gossips: >> Donatella's toilet troubles << Versace matriarch gets a bit stuck Honeysuckler writes: "I dined next to Donatella Versace at Yauatcha recently. She was very orange, very thin and wearing a bleached wig. She was surrounded by male hangers on and had a security guard, complete with earpiece, follow her wherever she went, including standing guard outside the toilets. I was in the bogs and found her desperately grappling to open the cubicle door so helped her with it. Then I went in, snorted my lines of coke, reapplied my make-up and came out, only to find that she was still in the cubicle as she couldn't get out. After yanking the door open for her, she smiled her thanks, and returned to her table. She ate nothing but visited the loo three times."

Surely you mean, 'slap dash, rudimentary web site with front page headed 'Untitled Document' , which includes pdf menus? At least Google can't find it

That's the place. Used to be wicked. Now it's shit. The decline in standards among falafel providers across the capital is worrying Ranoush Juice, near Marble Arch used to be really good, but now it's no better than OK. Falafel King, in Portobello, still rules in my book but the staff can be surly.

Arrggh, you swine. Now I have too. Serious. It's a serious profession...