Stigand

I'm aware of the controversy surrounding Nahm (I think I posted on a Chowhound thread where a similar argument took place), and I'm suitably nervous of disagreeing with two such famous gourmands as cabrales and Simon Majumdar. Having said that, when I went to Nahm (about a year and a half ago), I loved it. The banquet menu delivered an outstanding variety of tastes, including some that still stick in my mind today - I remember one dish that had a clean sorrelly, lemony flavour but more so... I'm afraid I can't remember more than snippets of the meal, and that I enjoyed it a lot. It was fairly hot (which I think was one of cabrales' observations), but in my opinion not outrageously so.

Finally got around to reading Shopped. First of all: I found it very interesting, so thanks to tarka for the recommendation. Secondly: I very much agreed with most of Joanna Blythman's conclusions - that we should shop less in supermarkets, and that the Government should take further action to respond to the Competition Commission's 2000 criticisms of supermarkets' relations with their suppliers. But on the other hand: Quite a lot of the book got on my nerves - which is odd considering how much I agreed with the conclusions. My objection was that although much of the criticism of supermarkets is fair, Blythman occasionally goes too far, and allows the other villains in the story to get off the hook too easily: 1. The British consumer's willingness to accept cheap, over-advertised, low-quality food never really goes under the microscope (it's just blamed on supermarkets' own marketing), even though (as lots of discussions on this board have noted) British indifference to good food seems to predate the rise of Tesco et al. (On p 61 Blythman quotes Jonathan Meades fulminating against exactly this, but chooses not to run with it). 2. Small local shops are held up as blameless victims in the tragic history of British food. Again, I think there's more to it than that - some small shops are downright bad, and some that are good have missed a trick in explaining to their customers why they're good. So Blythman glosses over the large number of poor quality local shops (when talking about butchers, say, her example is Lidgate, which is a wonderful place but hardly typical). In another section, she explains how greengrocers' produce is much fresher than typical supermarket fruit, which leaves me asking - why don't greengrocers tell their customers this? So to reiterate: I found the book full of interesting stuff, and I agreed with most of its conclusions, but I think it would have been more convincing had it been less polemical.

One of the problems with in-flight catering (both in coach and up front) is that airlines seem to be overambitious given the constraints they're 'cooking' under. On a plane, you have to microwave/reheat pretty much any hot food you serve. So trying to serve food that doesn't do well in a microwave isn't sensible, no matter how grand it may seem (airline fillet of beef = ). Good in-flight food, as far as I'm concerned, falls into two categories. Stuff like stews, casseroles or curries that respond well to reheating, and stuff that doesn't need to be heated at all. The first category includes the fantastic vegetable curry I had in economy on an Indian Airlines (the internal one, not Air India) flight 8 years ago, and (along the same lines) a pretty good chicken biryani on British Airways more recently. The second category includes some of the cold cut selections you get on SAS in economy, and - best of all - the DIY option: picking up Pret a Manger sandwiches at Heathrow Terminal 4 and eating those on the plane.

This site gives a selection. Unfortunately not all of them would make good mentors. For example, St Lawrence is the patron saint of grill cooks, but his main experience of grilling was, alarmingly, his own execution. I imagine requests for rotisserie tips wouldn't go down too well.

I totally sympathise. I posted the original thread for just the same reason: most of the independent sandwich shops I tried out were serving the same horrid mayonnaisey gloop on Wonder bread. And you're right - EAT soups totally rock. (What I don't understand is why EAT soups are so good but Pret soups are so bad (ug - their goulash, in particular, tasted of school lunches); I find Pret very good otherwise.)

Redcurrants totally rock. They seem to be a lot more common here in the UK than in the US, although our season hasn't started yet so so far we can only get the very expensive imported Dutch ones. Number one way to eat them: mashed up in a bowl with milk. The sourness of the berries curdles the milk; the curds mitigate the sweetness of the berries and the milk dilutes the sourness (doesn't work with cream). Looks weird but tastes divine. Don't wear a white shirt. Also the best fruit to add to porridge or muesli.

Sounds good, origamicrane. I'm a big fan of their bread and didn't realise they did sarnies too. What sort of fillings do they do?

I agree - the time is definitely right for more sandwich recs. A few weeks ago I had a roast sandwich at Fuzzy Ducks just off Fleet Street - I think it was on Whitefriars Street but can't be sure and Google is strangely silent. I liked it, particularly the fact it was freshly cut, hot and made a real change at lunchtime. I think that Fuzzy Ducks might be something of a City institution - I remember reading something about it in the FT magazine. Again, not really a traditional sandwich, but I occasionally go to Reuben's on Baker Street for a salt beef on rye sandwich. Reuben's has the edge on the Selfridge's salt beef bar (it has slightly juicier beef, I think), but both are good. (Caveat: I'm a deli ignoramus of the "I don't know much about salt beef, but I know what I like" school... )

I haven't been to 25 Canonbury Lane for about a year, but used to go pretty often. It's a really nice little bar with comfy chairs, a tiny garden out the back (great for summer evening cocktails) and a very pleasant vibe; tends to be full of 25-35 year olds. It's very Islington. Not sure I'd call it a great gastropub though. To me it's more of a cocktail bar (a pretty good one) that also serves a selection of miscellaneously-exotic tapas style dishes. Not bad but not the main reason to go there. I think they also do brunch on Sundays, which I've never had but which might be good.

I ordered a Brown's pie in their West End restaurant to satisfy nostalgia for undergraduate days - big mistake: it was fridge-temperature in the middle and not too inspiring even after it had been (re-) re-heated properly. This was over a year ago, though, and who knows, things may have improved there. I haven't been back. I've had a couple of steak and kidney pies from the Square Pie Company. (they have a concession in Selfridge's Food Hall). They were pretty good - not huge, but just right for lunch. The pastry delivered the key combination of crispiness on top and savory stodge beneath, and the mashed potatoes with gravy were good too. They do fish pies too but I haven't tried them. Cold pies: I like the cold pork pies at the stand on the way to the Green Market at Borough Market - the one in the little walkway opposite the Italian cheese/sausage stall. I don't like their pork & stilton pie though: although I normally love stilton, its slight bitterness seems to defeat the object of a salty/sweet, fatty pork pie. Has anyone tried the pies they sometimes have for sale at the Ginger Pig? I imagine they'd be good. I know it's not a pie, but a year or so ago there were a lot of posts about the Mutton Pudding at Rhodes 24 - some people (was it circeplum or Jon Tseng?) rated it their dish of the year, I think. The Rhodes 24 website describes it as: "Steamed mutton and onion suet pudding with buttered carrots".

Curses! Foiled again!

Shhhh... it's all part of the secret eGullet plan to annex Leeds', Bray's and Ludlow's Michelin-starred restaurants and transplant them all to the Smoke.

Another fine-dining option in London is Le Gavroche. This is another Roux place, like the Waterside Inn, but is in Central London rather than Bray. howardlong, who has eaten at both, seems to prefer Gavroche. I've never been to Waterside Inn, but I've been to Gavroche a couple of times, most recently last Thursday, and it's very good (although v expensive). It's very classical French stuff - things like Omelette Suissesse (?sp) - basically very grand cheese souffle and a fantastic hot foie gras preparation. More old-school than Ramsay and much more so than somewhere experimental like Fat Duck. (The combination of Gavroche and Fat Duck would really give you the two extremes of high end cooking in London.) The other strange perk of Gavroche is it's one of those places where you feel that every couple you see there is having an affair: it's got a feeling of debonair intimacy, if you see what I mean. Gents require jacket & tie I think - in any case I would have felt out of place without one. If you fancy a stroll from your hotel (assuming you are on the south/Baker Street side of Regent's Park), wander down to Marylebone High Street and have a look at the design shops, the cookware shops, and best of all the food shops. Stop and have a snack/lunch of cheese and cold cuts at the new-ish branch of La Fromagerie, a wonderful French cheese shop. Enjoy your trip.

Proof that crimes against alcohol are often swiftly followed by their own punishments.

Too right. It seemed really weird to me the first time I went drinking with American students. They seemed to drink two things - beer and jaegermeister. Beer I can understand: liquid bread, the staff of life, etc etc. But how did this one nasty Teutonic digestif get selected over and above every other spirit as the American college boozer's liquor of choice? Was there some incredible campus marketing campaign once upon a time? Is it some cultural reference I missed? (A Baffled Brit)

I'm not sure whether I'd call the Manoir classical, at least in terms of what they put on the plates. It's certainly not as classical in this respect as, say, Le Gavroche, where the menu includes dishes more often seen in 1904 than 2004. (There's an ancient thread on Le Gavroche on which Wilfrid waxed lyrical about the Artichauts Lucullus - I went there last year and he was right - despite being retro they totally rock.) This isn't to say it's avant garde (no liquid nitrogen or gas-masks); I'd say that on the innovation-o-meter it ranks close to somewhere like Gordon Ramsay RHR (perhaps marginally less whimsical - e.g., no cornettos). One other (non-food-related) thing they do very well: the tranquility of the place never fails to impress me. When I was last there I had spent two and half hours fuming through bank holiday Friday traffic (silly me). But the moment I parked and stepped into the gardens (someone was playing croquet - welcome to Oxford...) I felt like I'd been there for days.

Have been there twice in the last year or so, most recently at the end of May. I'm very fond of it. BLH's comment about consistency being its only flaw is very well put. One other thing to add if you are going a la carte: there's normally something on the menu designed to showcase the veggies from their extensive gardens - often a risotto - and unless the weather has been really miserable, it's usually worth tasting.

a) I would argue that it isn't a good site, but I am a bit biased. London Eating started as a site for everyone who goes to restaurants, and as such gives everyone a voice, whether they are a seasoned restaruant goer or just a valentines day and birthday visitor. Charles - sorry my comment sounded so dismissive. I've certainly enjoyed your site in the past: the sheer number of reviews makes for good reading. I think I was just a bit cross that your site's Google dominace made it difficult to search for real restaurant websites - although that's more their fault than yours.

I also think you've hit on something really interesting here: the link between climate and cuisine. Or more specifically, between weather and the waning of northern European cookery traditions. (Sorry if what follows seems bit left-field: it's an old hobby-horse of mine.) If you look back to some of the most powerful evocations of British cuisine, such as Fielding or Dickens (especially in A Christmas Carol - remember Tiny Tim), one of vital characteristics of the food - almost as important as its taste and smell - is its warmth. To state the bloody obvious, it is usually pretty cold outside in the UK. Until relatively recently (the introduction of central heating, double glazing), it was also generally pretty cold inside for most of the year. I don't know about you, but I find a lot of the most traditional English food most appetising when I'm cold. Having a pasty on a wind-swept high street; eating porridge on a cold morning; sitting down to roast beef after a bracing walk. Nowadays, most of us spend most of our time in warmth - even in winter, we generally work indoors in heated buildings before returning home to heated homes. Food that once would seem restorative now often seems stodgy and cloying. Is it any wonder that the foods of warmer climates appeal to us (even if we cooked them ham-fistedly)?

Couldn't agree more, Miguel. I think the real problem is not our promiscuous attraction to foreign cultures (something which, as Hallie pointed out, we British have always been guilty of), but our willingness to accept ever-blander and more mediocre raw ingredients. I admit that I sometimes buy Sainsbury's pork chops - for a quick, convenient mid-week dinner. They taste of pretty much nothing (even the organic ones), so I'm afraid I tend to marinate them in just the kind of unholy everything-but-the-kitchen-sink Mediterranean melange that you describe in your post. But when I take the trouble to get decent chops (and here let me put out a shout to the melting, unbelievable sweet pork chops I bought from the Ginger Pig on Moxon Street last week), I just rub them with some sage and the result is really memorable.

Interesting article, beans. I especially liked: It reminded me of a induction course for new graduate students I attended shortly after moving to the US years ago. We were told, "Basically in the US you should tip everyone. Except the police: that's seen as a faux pas." I'd always wondered whether I was meant to tip sommeliers separately in the US. In my ignorance I'd assumed they got a share of the general 20% tip. I must say, I feel tremendously awkward whenever I arrive in the US because of the relative complexity of the tipping system. Perhaps for the benefit of us ignorant tourists, the INS could post a big sign in the immigration hall explaining who to tip and how much (added benefit: something to read while waiting in line...).

I'd be up for it - embarassed to say I've never been to Racine but would love to go.

Since we're talking definitions, could anyone explain where the "barbeque = outdoor grilled meat" heresy originated? I know that it's very naughty to use the word barbeque to mean "food quickly cooked outside over gas or coal". Nevertheless, this is how 99.9% of people here in the UK use the word. If I invited people over for some 'grilling', they would assume either we'd be eating cheese sandwiches from the oven or that I'd tie them to a chair and ask them where they hid the diamonds. So how is it that a word that US purists apply only to slow-cooked, smoky meat came to be applied to the no-less-honourable but very different tradition of the braai?

"You want data? We got data!" All from the London Farmers' Market website. Basically, it looks like Sainsbury's is a little cheaper than the farmers' market equiavlent for some of these things, but not for others. But it seems to confirm Jonathan's idea that if you want a good product you have to pay more than the bog-standard supermarket price, whether you go for the Taste the Difference range or for an independent supplier.

On a totally different tack, I recall a few years ago there was a thread on Chowhound describing a restaurant in Spain that served an incredible garlic "mayonnaise" made solely from olive oil, garlic and salt. The idea was, if I remember right, that you whisk them together using an awful lot of elbow grease and you get something that looks more than mayonnaise than you would perhaps expect. The posters agreed it was very good, compared it to Middle Eastern garlic sauces, and posted a recipe if I remember right. The thread was called 'the House of Garlic Mayonnaise', but neither CH's search engine or Google seem to be able to dig it up.