Adventures of a Foodie

Valentine's Day at Thorntons

2012-02-12T15:11:00.002Z

Those of you who know me may be taken aback by the title of this post. Not only do I detest Valentine's Day, but I also have a reputation as a chocolate snob. That's a little unfair: I adore fine chocolate, but also have a soft spot for trashy confectionery; a Double Decker will always be one of my favourite things to eat. It's actually middle-of-the-road chocolate I can take or leave: products that fall somewhere between guilty pleasure and gastronomic indulgence. I'd rather eat from one end of the spectrum or the other, which usually bypasses the offerings of Thorntons (though I have written before about their very good block range).

So why am I writing about Thorntons's Valentine's Day offerings? I was sent a massive package of their products by a PR company, and it seems only polite to offer my thoughts on what they sent me.

This lemon and sea salt bar is the most recent addition to the block range, which is the most interesting chocolate Thorntons is making at the moment. The 37% Costa Rican milk chocolate is good, and the contrast between lemon and crunchy sea salt is a satisfying one. The chocolate is flavoured with lemon oil, which offers fragrance but no acidity. I'm not convinced by the blurb that this bar "conjures memories of idyllic beach-side holidays."

Very cute. Like most of Thornton's chocolates, these are unremarkable but perfectly pleasant and very easy to munch before suddenly realising they're almost all gone. They're very sweet, and the 'truffle' filling has a nice texture: dense but smooth.

Like most champagne truffles, these are actually made with marc de champagne, which is a brandy-like substance and a by-product of champagne production. Thus they're vastly inferior to truffles made with real vintage champagne by the likes of Pierre Marcolini and William Curley. The strawberry ones taste quite artificial, and both taste intensely sweet and harsh on the back of the throat. I prefer the Viennese truffles, which have a vanilla-flavoured centre and a light, whipped texture.

The only remarkable thing about this box of 50 chocolates is the £19.99 price tag. That makes it great value for money, regardless of the mediocre quality.

I won't review each of these chocolates in turn but suffice to say they are all very sweet and fairly bland. My favourites are Valencia, a crispy orange truffle with a liquid orange centre; a cherry truffle that tastes like cherry sweets; and a white chocolate Sicilian lemon mousse.

Thorntons's block range demonstrates the company is capable of innovation and quality sourcing. That's what they should focus on, rather than trying to satisfy all tastes. Shops that try to be everything to everyone rarely succeed, especially right now: look at Woolworths and WHSmith.

www.thorntons.co.uk

My New Favourite Burger: The Big Boy

2012-01-29T15:55:00.000Z

My love of hamburgers began following my first bite of a Meat Wagon patty two years ago. Up until that point (and like many in this country, I suspect) I'd never understood hamburgers; sure, I'd eat them, even enjoy them, but they were never among my favourite things to eat. That changed the moment I first bit into one of Yianni's cheeseburgers: the combination of squishy bun, gooey cheese, sharp pickles, sweet onions, punchy mustard, umami-boosting ketchup and, of course, the deeply charred, remarkably flavoursome and astonishingly tender patty was a revelation. It felt like a watershed moment. I'll never forget that first bite.

Two years later, London is enjoying a hamburger renaissance. It's no longer necessary for the burgeratti to travel to a specific location in the arse end of nowhere to taste the real deal, as the cause of proper hamburgers has been adopted by street food vendors and Michelin-starred chefs alike. While I've tasted many great creations from both, nothing has compared with my first few Meat Wagon experiences, specifically my first chilli cheeseburger. That has remained my favourite burger, for two reasons: first, it's fucking awesome. Squishy bun + oozy processed cheese + signature patty + butter-fried jalapenos = heaven. Second, it was one of the first proper burgers I tasted, so it comes with the powerful baggage of memory and emotion. The only burger I've eaten that blew me away as much was the Piggie Burger at Bar Boulud. That was until a few days ago.

The Admiral Codrington is a pub in Chelsea. Head chef Fred Smith loves hamburgers. There may be only one type on the menu, but that doesn't stop him experimenting with them in his spare time and serving them to the burgeratti to get feedback. I hadn't been back to the Ad Cod since our burger swarm last summer, but when I saw pornographic pictures on Twitter of some of the new burgers Fred has been working on, I arranged to return to taste two of them: the Big Boy and the Ultimate Bacon Cheese.

The Big Boy is Fred's version of a Big Mac: a double-stacked cheeseburger with special sauce.

The Big Boy is my new favourite burger. It verges on perfection. The Miller's brioche bun is toasted, squishy, a little sweet and holds together perfectly; the patties have great flavour, are well seasoned, melt in the mouth and nicely pink; the cheese is processed and sticky; the lettuce is crisp and fresh; the pickles are crunchy and plentiful; and the sauce is spot-on: a mixture of mayo, ketchup, French's mustard and pickle juice. All the elements are in perfect proportion. The sensation of biting through two stacked cheeseburgers is brilliant, and the size isn't daunting: although this is called the Big Boy, it's actually a really lovely size; it's tall but not very wide. I'd rather eat two of these than a larger version.

Aside from using a Martin's potato roll, there is only one improvement to be made here, and it's a tricky one: obtain more char on the patties. Fred already freezes the thin patties for half an hour to keep them pink during the cooking process, but if he could work out a way to get more char and more caramelisation on the surface, this would be even better. I dribble at the thought.

Fred's mac and cheese is exceptional. I didn't think much of it on my last vist, which Fred attributes to cooking for so many of us at one time. This version tasted completely different. Below that crisp layer of cheese, macaroni is coated with a thick sauce of immense cheeseiness and intense savouriness, made with cheddar, parmesan and mascarpone. In case that doesn't sound rich enough, Fred adds a spoonful of hollandaise to help the gratinating process. It's also flecked with fine spring onion and crisp bacon. I can't think of how this mac and cheese could be improved. I think it's better than the Hawksmoor version, though I'd need to taste them side-by-side to be sure...

Ultimate Bacon Cheese.

I don't usually like bacon in burgers -- it often overwhelms the patty's flavour and texture. The Meat Wagon version was the only one I really liked, because the bacon patty seems to merge with the beef and season rather than mask it. I like Fred's version even more. He uses wafer-thin slices of crisp Alsace bacon, which offer intense bacon flavour but in occasional bursts. They flatter the patty rather than dominate it, though it'd be difficult for any bacon to challenge this patty. Fred made it with a single grind of White Park beef, resulting in an extremely loose texture and hitherto unheard of levels of juiciness and drippiness, not to mention a distinct, deeply aged flavour.

For this cheeseburger, Fred uses lots of cheese, and griddles the chopped onions with the patty, rendering them sweet and silky rather than charred and steamed as you'd find in a slider. I'd like a few raw onions, too, for a little bite, but I'm being pedantic: this cheeseburger is a joyous creation.

Keen for the Ad Cod to remain a pub rather than a hamburger joint, the only burger on the menu is Fred's 'standard' 8oz cheeseburger, so if you'd like to taste some of his other creations, you'll need to contact him. If you're on Twitter, he's @FredSmith_

The Admiral Codrington

17 Mossop Street

London

SW3 2LY

020 7581 0005

www.theadmiralcodrington.co.uk

On Pitt Cue Co and Hype

2012-01-27T19:25:00.001Z

Food makes me happy, and few things satisfy me as much as applying good food to my face. To that end, I always look for the good in a dish. If there are technical mistakes or errors of judgement, I'll recognise them -- and often write about them, too -- but I'll still search for some redeeming quality to celebrate. I almost always look forward to eating, regardless of what it will be or where I'll be eating it. I'm a greedy bastard.

That said, I occasionally find myself wanting to be critical. And that's due to something that's currently in abundance in food journalism: Hype. Barely a week seems to pass before The Next Big Thing Arrives, whether it be a three-day Mongolian popup restaurant, a Scandinavian supper club, a one-off private meal hosted by a cult chef or a street food vendor finally moving into bricks and mortar. Such events strategically cause excitement and commotion on Twitter, the sound of which is drowned out only by the rave reviews and ridiculous hyperbole that soon follow the soft launches and the initial three-week queues out the door. Amazing soon loses its meaning, and it can be very tempting to react to the sycophancy by wanting to cut through the bullshit with an acid tongue.

Which brings me to Pitt Cue Co, the latest street food brand to transfer to a proper restaurant and the current Place You Simply Must Rush To (The Delauney is so last year). The subject of ceaseless fawning since it opened a few weeks ago, Pitt Cue Co is the brainchild of chef Tom Adams. He's moved out of the trailer parked under Hungerford Bridge last summer, and into tiny premises in Soho, currently the centre of the universe as far as London restaurant openings are concerned. The setup may have changed, but the food hasn't: the menu features staple dishes from the trailer -- such as brisket and pulled pork -- as well as new additions that expand on the US BBQ theme. I liked the food I ate from the trailer, and I wanted to enjoy my lunch at Pitt Cue Co's new incarnation, but part of me wanted to be disappointed so I'd have an excuse to dispense vitriol as a tonic against the Hype. But, while nothing I ate at Pitt Cue Co was amazing, much of it was tremendous.

Even if you've read every review of Pitt Cue Co, it's smaller than you think. I didn't see the basement, but the groundfloor dining room and bar is smaller than my living room. That said, I visited at lunchtime so didn't have to queue.

House sausage, St Louis ribs, baked beans. Be sure to save the crisp, charred sourdough until the end: it begs to soak up the sticky, caramelised nectar from the bottom of the dish, smokily spiked with the flavour of BBQ.

The house sausage wasn't at all what I thought it'd be. I expected a phallic, Big Apple Hot Dogs-style sausage, but what you get are two thick, charred slices from a much larger beast. The texture, too, is unusual: loose yet moist, somewhere between a frankfurter and a meatloaf. Tender as anything and beautifully smoked, the flavour can't be argued with, though I'd like a coarser, less homogenous texture.

St Louis ribs are the highlight. While the flesh doesn't melt from the bones, the depth of flavour more than compensates. The thing about these ribs is the smoking: the meat isn't as interesting as Hawksmoor's belly ribs, and the glaze isn't as startingly good. Hell, they aren't even as tender as The Rib Man's. But the smoking at work here is first class, and lends these ribs an incomparable depth of flavour.

Baked beans are thick and deeply savoury. Nuggets of butter-soft pulled pork are balanced by a characteristic brown sugar sweetness.

Every Hyped restaurant has a must-have dish; Pitt Cue Co's is this little pot of crispy pickled shitake. Juicy mushrooms, imbued with an unusual sweetness, are fried in crisp, savoury crumbs: the balance of flavours and textures is a dangerous one, rendering these worryingly moreish. I can't think of many better bar snacks.

Salted caramel bourbon pudding with prune and armagnac ice cream.

After a bucketload of umami, this is what's needed, though the sponge needs to be lighter: it's rather dense, though the flavour is wonderful. Good ice cream, though the star of the dish is a scattering of crisp cake crumbs.

Since my visit I've heard of the existence of a Snickers mess, which apparently comprises vanilla ice cream, meringue, salted caramel, peanuts and brownie. Even if the rest of the menu had been unforgivably awful, I'd head back to Pitt Cue Co just for that. As it is, the menu is interesting enough and the cooking/smoking of such a high standard that you shouldn't need to rely on fabulous-sounding puddings to lure you to Pitt Cue Co.

Pitt Cue Co
1 Newburgh St
Soho
London
W1F 7RB

www.pittcue.co.uk

Demarquette Festive Chocolate Collection

2011-11-18T15:41:00.001Z

Marc Demarquette kindly held a preview of his new Christmas collection for a small group of chocolate fanatics. Naturally, that included me.

Marc's Festive Collection is far more imaginative than the usual mince pie flavoured tat you'll find elsewhere. The collection comprises three caramels and four ganaches.

The three caramels -- mixed citrus, cranberry and spiced apple -- are my favourite chocolates in the collection, probably because I have a sweet tooth. Crisp chocolate and soft caramel is always a winner, but the size and domed shape of Marc's caramels is very important. The ratio of chocolate to caramel is spot on, and the texture is unusually satisfying. The spiced apple caramel is particularly delicious and won two gold stars at the Great Taste Awards.

There are also four Christmas layered ganaches: fig and cinnamon port; ginger and eastern spices; mulled cider and heritage apples; and pistachio and cardamom. The fig is my favourite: the seeds add a lovely crisp texture to the ganache, and the warmth of the port is balanced. Pistachio and cardamom is another highlight: the two have an unexpected affinity and -- when combined -- produce a whole new flavour, somewhat akin to basil.

I like the snow-flecked design of the Christmas caramels.

Aside from the Festive Collection, Marc is also making caramelised, chocolate-coated almonds and hazelnuts. They're worryingly addictive. Even better are his extraordinary Royal Merina chocolates, which are made with two different single estate Madagascan beans. Marc blends these beans to create a 68% couverture that he uses to make a 'volumised' Madagascan vanilla-infused ganache, and to coat the ganache.

Marc won't say how he creates the volumised ganache, but it has a remarkable texture: it's firmer than most ganaches -- though still soft -- and is reminiscent of chocolate mousse, but with an almost chewy quality. The flavour of Madagascan vanilla is bold and works beautifully with the Madagascan cacao. Marc's Royal Merina chocolates are stunning, and I still can't stop thinking about them. They cost a whopping £2.50 each due to the amount of effort and skill used to make them, but they're worth every penny.

www.demarquette.com

Chili Standoff

2011-11-11T17:09:00.001Z

This is more a set of pictures than a proper post. I can't actually remember many of the specifics of the Chili Standoff, due to a combination of alcohol and time lapse. Others have written about the day far better than I could, so I shan't bother, but I'll fill you in on the basics.

The Chili Standoff was a Tweat-Up event held at the Tramshed. Nine chefs cooked their best chilis and a few hundred people paid to taste and rate them all, eat from a few other street food traders (including The Rib Man and Yum Bun) and get pissed. The line-up of chefs/restaurants was: Leon, Gizzi Erskine, The Fat Duck's James 'Jocky' Petrie, The Dock Kitchen's Stevie Parle, Pitt Cue Co, Chilango, Lucky Chip, All Star Lanes and Disco Bistro. The votes were counted, including those from the judging panel: Daniel Young, Richard Johnson and Jonathan Downey. Disco Bistro won; my favourite was Gizzi's, which came third. Chef Jocky came second.

Chili is one of those dishes that, no matter how delicious, never looks good in pictures. It always end up looking a bit like... well, yeah.

Pretty sure this was Stevie's. Delicious, very Mexican-tasting, but not a chili.

Sounds amazing, right? Leon's chili managed the impressive feat of tasting of precisely nothing.

This one was made brilliant by all the interesting additions, which added contrasting textures and flavours.

Daniel Young addressing the crowd.

The Chili Standoff was a fantastic day. Unfortunately, it didn't end well for some people, but we'll gloss over that. It also pissed us off that the drinks card and voting card were on the same bit of paper, so we had to choose between voting and getting more booze. That was a cock-up.

Experimental Food Society Spectacular

2011-11-11T14:31:00.001Z

Many of the food events I attend are quite commercial, and increasingly seem to be driven by profits and brand awareness rather than passion or creativity. Don't misunderstand me: I know that any event needs to at least break even in order to be financially viable. Even so, I do tire of seeing the same brands and companies at events; even many so-called 'artisan' producers make products that leave a lot to be desired. Basically, I'm a bit fed up with food shows that cynically charge exorbitant entry prices, only to offer the same sausages, cupcakes and chutneys that you saw -- and were underwhelmed by -- last time.

The Experimental Food Society, I knew, was different: it brings together and showcases some of the food industry's most creative minds. I'd never attended any of the Society's events, but it was clear from what I'd read that the focus was firmly on imagination and forward thinking. So a few weeks ago, I popped along to Brick Lane for the Society's second annual Spectacular to see what it was about, and to give my food-obsessed brain some overdue stimulation.

The first part of the show comprised food art; all the art in the following pictures is edible.

I don't know if I was on the same wavelength as this artist, but I found myself wondering what life would be like if macarons grew on trees. I believe the answer is 'infinitely preferable'.

Paul Wayne Gregory displayed some chocolate sculptures.

The less said about this one, the better.

Dehydrated sponge cubes, which are apparently crisp outside and sometimes chewy-centred.

Anyone who combines food with magic -- two of my biggest interests -- earns a place in my heart.

Lily Vanilli created a fascinating range of cakes inspired by the history of east London.

Chocolate 'flint'.

I'm almost sitting on the floor to take this picture, but the tower was still taller than me when on its table.

Imaginatively flavoured cakes inside quail eggs, from Pomp de Franc. Expensive, fun, delicious and highly impractical.

Ginger's Comfort Emporium -- a renovated ice cream van specialising in experimental ice creams -- attracted tabloid headlines with its camel milk ice cream. How could I not try it?

Camel milk produces a very light ice cream, both in flavour and texture. It tastes clean and delicate, but there definitely is something unusual there; it's the aftertaste. Petra -- founder of eat.st and Choc Star -- had a lick and said it had "something of the farm" about it. As if the ice cream wasn't unusual enough, I was interviewed on camera by a Dubai TV channel as I ate my ice cream. Very surreal.

In the other part of the show, the highlight was a snackbox and interactive demo by the wonderful Stefan Gates. You paid for the box, then sat at a table with him as he explained the various oddities inside.

Curried mealworms with yogurt and bea vomit. The mealworms had quite a pleasant, crisp texture that reminded me of a cross between honeycomb and feuillatine. They don't taste of much, but are slightly bitter. I wouldn't order them, but could happily eat them if I had to.

Bee vomit, by the way, turns out to be honey. Why did I not know this?

Gold and silver-wrapped sausages with clapshot. Disgusting sausages; horrible cold mush of potato and swede.

Lamb bollock with cous cous. Cold, tasteless cous cous, but the bollock was rather tasty. A tad greasy, but that was probably because it was fried then left to go cold. This meaty little morsel would probably be delicious hot and, like brain, you'd never know what you were eating.

The bum sandwich was simply a basil, parmesan and olive oil sandwich that we were instructed to sit on at the beginning of the talk, then eat at the end. Stefan recalled how he frequently -- but accidentally -- sat on his sandwich on the way to school, then realised after a while that he was doing it on purpose because he liked how it made the sandwich taste; bringing food to body temperature enhances flavour. The basil, parmesan and olive oil filling was chosen to demonstrate how the warmth of your arse can enhance the aromatic compounds in food. And by god it worked. I'd almost be tempted to sit on all my sandwiches from now on, were it not for the fact that you end up with something more akin to a pancake. You know in Road Runner when the Acme weight falls on Wild E. Coyote? You get the idea.

The jellyfish and fungus salad was a dish of two halves: the fungus was just like wild mushroom, but the jellyfish was unpleasant and rubber-like. We were also given a small bag of dried cochineal bugs, alongside pink cola bottles and marshmallows dyed with cochineal. We were told to take the bugs home, crush them and add them to cold water; just a few bugs turn a pint of water bright pink.

If you want to broaden your food horizons, I can't recommend the Experimental Food Society highly enough. Tickets to this Spectacular were only a fiver, yet the event was more interesting than almost every other food event I've attended.

www.experimentalfoodsociety.com

Lunch at Hawksmoor Guildhall

2011-11-11T14:30:00.001Z

The week after my epic, stomach-punishing breakfast at Hawksmoor Guildhall, I returned for lunch during the second week of the soft launch.

I always try to not order the ribs. I've never ordered a different starter at Hawksmoor, and I do feel bad about it. I'm sure the corned beef and scallops and other bits and pieces are all wonderful. But once you've tasted Hawksmoor's phenomenal ribs, it's nigh-on impossible to order anything else. The good news is that the ribs at Guildhall are even better than at the other two restaurants, if you can believe that.

The ribs at Guildhall are made with the Plum Pudding breed of pig, rather than the Tamworth used at Spitalfields and Seven Dials. These ribs are far thicker and meatier, which is no mean feat. Some of them also come on the bone, which is always nice. The glaze, too, has changed: it's sweeter and spicier, with a distinct yet gentle heat. The one thing that hasn't changed is the quality: fantastically flavoursome flesh merges seamlessly with wobbly, melting fat.

Seeing as the food was half price, we pushed the boat out and ordered an 800g chateaubriand. It arrives pre-sliced, a-la Peter Luger. It would be a nice touch -- and more dramatic -- if it was carved at the table instead. The quality, as if it even needs to be said, is flawless: crispy, smoky, deeply savoury crust and beautifully tender meat. It was probably the most flavoursome piece of fillet I've tasted, though I wouldn't order it again: the d-rump, a thick slab of phenomenally flavoursome beef hung for eight weeks, is the best steak on the menu, and also the cheapest.

Guildhall has onion rings, and they're excellent. The best onion rings are usually cloaked with ethereally light, tempura-like batter, but the coating here is unusually thick, so the rings are crunchy rather than light and crisp.

Triple-cooked chips on the left; dripping chips on the right. The former have the best texture; the latter are more like miniature roast potatoes, but the dripping gives them the edge when it comes to flavour. Shame they're not both fried in dripping, though I suppose there needs to be an option for veggies -- though quite why a vegetarian would eat at Hawksmoor, I don't know. If I didn't eat meat, it's the last place I'd want to be.

The mac and cheese is made with Montgomery cheddar, Ogleshield, a little stilton and tiny elbow macaroni, which gives a more indulgent ratio of pasta to sauce. It's the best I've ever tasted, though a few crisp breadcrumbs on top would elevate it to perfection. I suppose some bacon would make a fine addition, too...

Sticky toffee sundae. An outrageous combination of vanilla ice cream, chewy flapjack-like toffee sponge, toffee sauce and clotted cream. A triumph, though the sticky toffee pudding -- made with a little suet and crowned with a scoop of clotted cream -- is even better. It's the only one I've tasted that comes close to the perfection of the Cartmel Village version. Perhaps a taste test is in order...

Hawksmoor Guildhall
10/12 Basinghall Street
London
EC2V 5BQ

020 7397 8120

guildhall@thehawksmoor.com

www.thehawksmoor.co.uk

Byron Gizz-Mo Burger

2011-11-10T19:39:00.000Z

For Movember, Byron is serving a limited edition cheeseburger. Created by food writer and TV presenter Gizzi Erskine, the Gizz-Mo burger is made with welsh rarebit instead of the usual melted cheese. Tom, founder of Byron, hosted a group of hamburger fanatics to preview the Gizz-Mo.

The Gizz-Mo comprises patty, rarebit, tomato, red onion and mayo in Byron's usual toasted bun. The rarebit is made with a punchy combination of mature cheddar, smoked cheddar, English mustard, Guinness and Worstershire sauce.

The Gizz-Mo is an excellent cheeseburger. If you haven't eaten at Byron before, you'll want to know about the patty: it's made with coarsely ground Scottish beef and it's chargrilled. It's tender, juicy, flavoursome and delicious.

The star of the Gizz-Mo, though, is the rarebit. That isn't to say, however, that it dominates the patty. While the rarebit packs more deep savouriness than cheese alone, it's sufficiently restrained so as to flatter the beef rather than overpower it. The texture, too, is spot on: more gooey than melted cheddar (which also tends to split and/or rapidly congeal on cooling) but not quite as sticky as the best processed cheese slices. If you want to make a cheeseburger but don't have access to appropriate cheese -- whether artisan (Ogleshield) or mass produced (Kraft Singles) -- make some rarebit. It works far better than most cheeses and I found myself wondering why rarebit isn't smothered on top of hamburger patties more often.

As usual, I removed the tomato, but I've now accepted that many people like tomato in their hamburgers and that most of them will come with the bastard things. The Gizz-Mo is a little heavy on mayo, and would be even better if it was housed in the brioche buns used for the sadly departed Uncle Sam. Having said that, the usual Byron bun was better than on previous visits.

There are also two new puds: a cracking sundae of ice cream, brownies, Oreos and chocolate sauce, and a chilled vanilla cheesecake. I don't usually like set cheesecakes, but Byron's is about as good as you'll get. It lacks the mouth-coating pleasure of a baked cheesecake, but is just barely set, so it's still deliciously creamy.

The Gizz-Mo is available for the whole of Movember; it costs £8.25 and 50p will be donated to Movember from the sale of each burger. If you register with Movember and raise more than £25, you'll be able to claim one free Byron burger every day, 3-6pm, until 20 November. Eat-in only.

www.byronhamburgers.com

www.gizzierskine.com

MEATLiquor

2011-11-09T21:31:00.002Z

This isn’t the time for introductions or fanfare. We all know what’s going on, and you want me to cut to the chase. MEATLiquor has arrived.

MEATLiquor is on Welbeck Street. I couldn't make out the number (76 I think) but it's next to a horrible car park and above a strip club. The outside is pretty anonymous. It looks dark and foreboding inside, like the kind of place you should avoid. Lovely stuff.

Inside, graffiti meets classical architecture and neon lights. It's dark, dingy and uncompromising. US rock music plays. Like #meateasy, this feels like a slice of America. The design is seriously impressive.

Most of the menu grease is stylised; some of it definitely isn't.

The menu is similar to #meateasy's, but bigger. There are more dishes to come soon and even an off-menu pud that I didn't try.

Deep-fried pickles. Thick slices of tender, juicy dill pickles coated with crisp batter are partnered with blue cheese sauce for dipping. The perfect appetite stimulant, I ate these and wondered why the hell they don't appear on the menu of every hamburger joint. From this point on, I'll feel cheated if a hamburger isn't preceded by deep-fried pickles.

The Double Bubble is a double cheeseburger. Unlike the Dead Hippie, there's no special sauce and the patties aren't mustard-fried. While this isn't quite as satisfying as the Hippie (which sets the standard for all other double cheeseburgers), it's still a wonderfully sloppy mess that was perfectly executed with the right combination of grilling, steaming and toasting. It is indecently good.

I've never eaten a Meatwagon hamburger that hasn't been perfectly cooked. This was no exception. How the hell does Yianni make his hamburgers so damn juicy? There's almost enough juice left on the plate to make a small bowl of soup.

Buffalo chicken burger. Unlike the #meateasy chicken sandwich -- in which the chicken was breaded -- the chicken breast here is coated with spicy seasoned flour and/or batter. Once deep-fried until juicy inside but crunchy outside, the chicken is slathered with a ridiculous amount of hot sauce (Frank's, I think). If you made this at home, you'd never put that much hot sauce on. You'd exercise self-restraint. Yianni thinks differently. He has no shame, hence this utterly depraved and impossibly delicious creation. I almost inhaled it. I think I may dream about it tonight.

One downside: the bun was well past its best. It was a little dry and cracked, though it did stay together. It felt a little stale in places and was different to the usual Meatwagon bun. Compare it to the Double Bubble bun.

Coconut cream pie. Really nice, but nothing more. Don't allow yourself to be distracted from the main event. Order another hamburger.

I'll be returning to MEATLiquor in the next few days to consume the rest of the menu and potentially get pissed on cocktails. See you there.

UPDATE

Here are some pictures from my second visit. I also forgot to mention that the restaurant asks for a credit/debit card to be held behind the bar for each food and drink tab, which I begrudgingly allowed on my first visit but won't do again.

Dead Hippie. Mustard-fried patties and special sauce. The byword in double cheeseburgers.

Chilli cheeseburger. This was incredibly, uncharacteristically buttery (a bit too much even for this butter lover) but is still my absolute favourite hamburger of any kind.

The buffalo chicken burger. Yes, again. It's now my favourite MEATLiquor dish; it was even better this time. The chicken was so moist it fell apart as I was eating it. This is my favourite thing in the world right now. I'm obsessed.

Wings, which I didn't try.

Order the crack pie for pudding. It isn't on the menu. It's pretty much just butter, sugar and pastry baked together into a butterscotch-like treat. It's seriously, dangerously good.

I'd advise you to arrive early, too: I queued for half an hour on Friday; others -- including Richard Johnson -- waited an hour and a half.

MEATLiquor
Welbeck Street (76-ish -- next to the grotty car park)
London W1G

Open 5pm-late until 12 November
Open Tuesday-Saturday, 12pm-late from 15 November

William Curley and Valrhona Book Launches

2011-11-08T22:33:00.003Z

And now, for some chocolate porn.

A few weeks ago, I popped along to Belgravia for the launch of William Curley's new book, Couture Chocolate. After enjoying champagne and nibbles with Paul A. Young, KateJohns, Yael Rose, Chantal Coady, Martin Christy and Dom Ramsay, some of us hot-footedit over to Claridge's for a second chocolate book launch. This time it was Cooking With Chocolate, in associationwith Valrhona.

First, our evening at William Curley.

A chocolate and mango cake, if memory serves. Regardless, it was divine.

William's events buck the trend by offering savoury canapés every bit as good as their sweet counterparts. The pastry on these little quiches was beautiful.

William's enormous cheese straws deserve poetry and praise. I ate more of these than the patisserie, which is saying something.

Truffles ready for enrobing.

As for the book itself, Couture Chocolate is a must-buy for chocolate obsessives. It features recipes for most of William's most popular creations, and boasts stunning photography alongside clear, detailed recipes. It's a coffee table book that I actually want to cook from.

On to Claridge's...

The Valrhona launch began with a champagne reception and a presentation by Frédéric Bau, head pastry chef and director of L'Ecole de Valrhona, and editor of Cooking With Chocolate. Most of those present were journalists and familiar-faced Michelin-starred chefs, including James "Jocky" Petrie, Angela Hartnett and Daniel Galmiche. The real draw, however, was the presence of Pierre Hermé, who wrote the foreword for the book.

Dotted around the room were dessert stations staffed by Valrhona pastry chefs, each offering beautiful creations from the book.

Crisp Triple Chocolate Cake.

Chocolate mousse.

Triple chocolate mousse, I believe.

The best creation at Claridge's -- which I didn't manage to take a decent picture of -- was the Bittersweet Chocolate Bar with Salted Butter Caramel and Crystallised Almonds. Think a pimped Twix.

Cooking With Chocolate is a huge, ambitious, massively detailed chocolate encyclopedia that features just about every French-leaning chocolate recipe and technique imaginable. It too boasts beautiful photography, and the layout is thankfully very tidy. The recipes are clear and detailed, which is just as well, because many are challenging and produce the kinds of stunning results that grace the best patisseries. The book also comes with a hypnotic DVD that shows Valrhona chefs demonstrating techniques and disciplines set to a background of European chillout music. Lovely.

www.williamcurley.co.uk

www.valrhona.com

Chocolate Unwrapped 2011

2011-11-06T23:21:00.001Z

If you're passionate about fine chocolate, Chocolate Unwrapped is the best food show of the year. Held anually at the end of Chocolate Week, Unwrapped brings together many of the world's best chocolatiers and chocolate makers under one roof. This year, the show returned to Vinopolis, by Borough Market.

Wall of chocolate.

Demonstrating with Ecuadorian chocolate.

Not all of Duffy Sheardown's bars are fantastic, but every single one is interesting. This Honduras bar is his best by far: minimal conching ensures the flavour of this chocolate expresses itself fully. This was one of the best bars at Unwrapped.

Baruzzo is one of my favourite chocolate brands. They make intense ganaches and superb coated products, all using the best ingredients: think caramelised hazelnuts from Piemonte and pistachios from Sicily.

Benoit Nihant is a loveable Belgian chocolatier who uses extraordinary couverture, which he also sells as bars with various conching times.

I can't remember the name of this company, but that's no loss: their imaginatively flavoured water ganaches were feeble. I felt compelled to taste their baked bean ganache (yes, really) and it was touch and go whether I'd have to spit it out. They need lessons in flavour from Paul A. Young and lessons in water ganaches from Damian Allsop.

Original Beans is notable for its ethical credentials and it's stunning Piura Porcelana bar. They're currently experimenting with a less conched version, but I wasn't allowed to taste any so I can't recommend it.

They also sold Geert Vercruysse's amazing ganaches.

Akesson's are making a really interesting bar made with organic coconut blossom sugar.

They also use these incredible wild Madagascan peppercorns in some of their chocolate. It's almost as good as Kampot pepper.

When you spend a day tasting fine chocolate, it's notable how bars that would usually taste amazing start to taste quite average as your palate adjusts to the phenomenal quality. There was one brand, however, that was so extraordinary that nothing else compared. C-AMARO is an Italian company that makes its chocolate by hand with nothing other than cacao and sugar. Marco Colzani uses beans of various origins and adapts his methods to each bean so that its flavour is fully expressed in the finished chocolate.

All of C-AMARO's bars are outstanding, but Marco's Dominican Republic bar is very special. When I first tasted it, the smile that spread across Marco's face as he watched me eat it told me that my facial expression made my pleasure obvious. I felt my eyes light up and all I could say was 'wow'.

The Dominican Republic bar has a savoury, Marmite-like aroma and bursts with flavour in the mouth. This isn't a subtle, elaborately structured or especially refined chocolate; powerful, untamed flavours of coffee and berries are immediately released, and the melt is slow and unpolished: this chocolate hasn't had the life conched out of it. Marco talks about the "persistence" of his chocolate, and it's easy to understand why: the flavour lasts for a long time after the chocolate has gone. The Dominican Republic bar boasts an unusually savoury finish that makes the bottom corners of the mouth tingle.

Valrhona have some interesting new vintage bars.

Paul A. Young's Worcestershire sauce truffle is unusually tame; the flavour is difficult to discern.

Rococo's miniature chocolate making machine.

Sir Hans Sloane are making hay chocolate exclusively for Coworth Park. The hay is actually ground and conched with the cacao rather than simply infused. It tastes slightly floral; in other words, nothing like you'd imagine.

Pacari is the only raw chocolate I've tasted that I like. Usually cacao is flat and tasteless unless roasted, but Pacari really know what they're doing with their Ecuadorian beans. Particularly wonderful is the salt and nibs bar.

The day finished with the results of the chocolate cake competition. The judges whittled the entries down to five finalists.

Kate Johns, director of Chocolate Week, announcing the results.

The judging panel: chocolatier Paul A. Young, food journalist Lucas Hollweg, patissier and chocolatier Will Torrent, Chocablog's Dom Ramsay, Rococo founder Chantal Coady, and Bea of Beas of Bloomsbury.

The winner...

...and her delicious winning chocolate cake.

Breakfast at Hawksmoor Guildhall

2011-10-19T19:44:00.001+01:00

Until now, the only opportunity to taste Hawksmoor's interpretation of breakfast was to visit the Spitalfields restaurant for weekend brunch. That was the single stumbling block for me, so when it was announced that new Hawksmoor Guildhall would serve breakfast Monday-Friday, I managed to secure a table during the soft launch period. In fact, I ended up with a reservation on the very first morning of service, so I had no idea what standard of food or service to expect. Whatever the result, the half price food menu lured me.

Unspoken restaurant criticism etiquette dictates that a new eaterie shouldn't be reviewed during its soft launch opening, for obvious reasons. But while our experience at Hawksmoor Guildhall was probably not representative of what it will be like to eat at the restaurant once it has opened properly, we enjoyed ourselves so much and were sufficiently impressed with the food as to want to write about it.

Hawksmoor Guildhall has a similar layout to the Seven Dials restaurant: a staircase leads down from the ground level reception area to the basement bar, which leads onto a vast dining room. The Guildhall staircase is dominated by an illuminated panel and hanging light.

The bar area.

The dining room has a similar gentlemen's club feel to Seven Dials, and boasts plush booths. When owner Will said they'd be increasing the number of covers each day during the soft launch, I didn't imagine there'd be only four tables on the opening morning! At least the kitchen wouldn't be stretched...

Sausage and egg HkMuffin: pork, beef and mutton patty, two fried eggs and melted Ogleshield inside a toasted muffin.

I made my own sausage and egg McMuffin -- and wrote about my love of the McDonald's version -- HERE. The Hawksmoor version, however, supersedes all others. The light muffin compresses with the slightest pressure; the patty is juicy, flecked with herbs and fantastically flavoursome. I was worried the mutton might dominate, but it and the beef serve only to support the flavour of the pork. The eggs were perfect: just set white with runny yolk, which mixed with the wonderful melted Ogleshield. A triumph.

I hoped the breakfast menu would feature hash browns, because a sausage and egg muffin is incomplete without them. Fear not: Hawksmoor Guildhall serves the best hash browns I've ever eaten. The crunchy, salty crust gives way to a creamy yet coarse centre. They are deeply savoury and I can't stop thinking about them.

Short rib bubble and squeak. Not a great photo, but the dish combines tender cabbage with crisp fried potatoes, succulent short rib and oozing fried eggs. Rather than being shaped into a cake and fried, the components are left loose. This is a meal in itself and packs serious savouriness. Why doesn't bubble and squeak always taste like this?

The bacon sandwich combines excellent griddled back bacon with sourdough bread. It was unfortunately bereft of brown sauce or any crisp fat (most of it had been removed). The bread is delicious, but I think a proper bacon sarnie should be made with soft, fluffy white bread (preferably toasted on one side).

Trotter baked beans. Like normal baked beans, only with delicious little bits of wobbly pig added for extra richness.

HP, bone marrow and onion gravy. With actual bits of bone marrow. Delicious, but I'd love Hawksmoor to serve proper brown sauce, too; you can't put gravy in a bacon sandwich. I imagine they'd make a mean brown sauce.

Doughnuts come plain or filled with plum jam, custard or a combination of the two. We went for plum and custard. They're wonderful things that taste like rhubarb and custard sweets. Not as light and airy as St. John doughnuts (or with as much filling); these are more reminiscent of traditional doughnuts: a little more dense and pleasantly chewy. They'd be even better if they were served warm.

My friend Chloe hilariously describes the jam as "oozing lasciviously from the plump orbs".

Warm pastries: almond, (molten) chocolate and sticky pecan. Very good, but not as light or flaky as the ones from Baker & Spice -- my favourite. Stick with the pecan pastry and doughnuts.

We also had gorgeous mushrooms that had been marinaded in Worcestershire sauce, and dripping toast, a gloriously greasy combination of toast and fried bread.

Breakfast at Hawksmoor Guildhall was the finest I've ever eaten. I like the fact that meat is shoe-horned into almost every dish; it wouldn't surprise me if their granola includes shards of crispy bacon. I can imagine the chefs standing in the kitchen, fiendishly plotting how to incorporate flesh into every dish.

Hawksmoor Guildhall opens on 31 October; next week is the second of the soft launch, and I'm returning for lunch.

Hawksmoor Guildhall

10/12 Basinghall Street
London
EC2V 5BQ

020 7397 8120

guildhall@thehawksmoor.com

http://www.thehawksmoor.co.uk/

Real Food Harvest Festival

2011-10-14T20:36:00.001+01:00

The Real Food Market -- a weekly offshoot of the annual Real Food Festival -- has become a regular sight at Southbank and has done much to increase the amount of fine food available in that area of London (on a monthly basis, at least). But while the quality of produce is high, there rarely seem to be any new producers in attendance so the market can often seem repetitive and lacking in dynamism.

Fortunately, that wasn't the case with the recent Real Food Harvest Festival. It occupied the same space outside the Royal Festival Hall as the monthly market, but curled right round to the other side of the building, running along the river for some way. As well as a huge number of small producers, there was an area dedicated to some of eat.st's exciting street food vendors.

The ubiquity of Portugese hog roast is something I'll never complain about.

Ion Patisserie has a stall at Borough Market; their eclairs are dreamy.

Frying churros.

I was too stuffed to taste any of this risotto from Tongue 'n Cheek but Petra -- founder of eat.st and owner of Choc Star -- sings their praises.

I tasted La Marmotte's gorgeous alpine sausages at the Battersea Foodies Festival. They also make tartiflette.

Luardo's is a Mexican street food van, though their Baja fish tacos carry inspiration from L.A. street food.

The pictures above describe the composition of this brilliant taco. It's a riot of flavours and textures, combining heat with acidity and freshness. The corn tortilla is the real deal.

I was too full to eat from Anna Mae's, though I did buy a fantastically OTT brownie topped with M&Ms, pretzels and several other trashy confections. The brownie was horribly dry and crumbly, and tasted of nothing. Unforgivable.

Ah, The Rib Man. I'd heard so much about Mark's ribs and followed with interest the creation of his now legendary Holy Fuck sauce.

Jay Rayner tasted Mark's ribs on the morning of my visit and tweeted his appreciation of them.

Mark's ribs are babybacks taken from outdoor bred pigs. He slow cooks them until they're meltingly tender, then either serves them on the bone or strips the meat while still piping hot and with impressive speed. He then stuffs the rib meat into tortillas and squishy rolls until they almost overflow.

Mark claims these are the best ribs in London. While I disagree (Hawksmoor wins that accolade), they're probably the second best I've ever tasted. The pork itself has real piggy flavour; the ribs are seasoned nicely and are juicy, succulent, tender and just about every other similar adjective you care to throw at them. The squishy rolls, too, are fantastic. The whole thing is a gloriously sloppy mess that left my face smeared with barbecue sauce and Holy Fuck.

A word about Holy Fuck sauce. If you like chilli sauce, you need it in your life. It's made with chillis rather than capsaicin extract, so it isn't hot enough to be classed as a hot sauce in the same vein as those made by Blair's, Chillipepperpete and the like. That said, Holy Fuck's blend of scotch bonnets and naga jolokias delivers fierce heat, decent burn and great flavour. It's the flavour that makes this sauce so notable: Mark uses flavoursome chillis and the sauce has a beguiling caramel-like sweetness that tempers the heat. The sauce is reassuringly thick and lumpy. Holy Fuck is made to order by Mark, and can be ordered from his website. It's also available to add to Abiye's dogs at Big Apple Hot Dogs.

I was smitten by the extravagance of Tatenda's brownies.

I bought three brownies: malted milk, molten honeycomb, and toffee popcorn. All were disappointing because the batter had split either before or during baking, so much of the fat had separated and made the bases unpleasantly oily. A shame, because the brownies had decent -- if unremarkable -- flavour and were still gungey inside.

Bread Tree sells Italian ingredients, notably nduja and Calabrian chillis in various forms.

Lemon Coo Coo introduced me to poffertjes -- small Dutch pancakes.

The poffertjes are made with a yeasted batter and are fried in a special pan. They puff up and turn golden.

Several toppings are available, but I asked to have them as Dutch people would, so had them topped with butter and icing sugar. The butter slowly melted and trickled down the poffertjes, mixing with the sugar to create a caramel-like flavour. The pancakes were light as air, slightly yeasty and barely sweet, so the icing sugar was a nice contrast. A real treat.

Perhaps my favourite find was the Sorbitium Ices van. I'd already heard good things about their creative ice creams, and they were kind enough to let me sample almost every flavour they had.

The first thing that really stands out about Sorbitium is that each of their ice creams has a slightly different texture; some were rich and thick, while others were softer, lighter and more like gelato. I like this approach; it demonstrates real passion to start each ice cream with a different base.

The second notable aspect is the range of interesting flavours. I can't remember them all, but my favourite was the pear and fino sherry trifle, studded with cubes of soft sponge. Their salted caramel (above) is perhaps the best I've tasted: the caramel is very dark and pleasantly bitter, offering a very adult flavour profile. All the ice creams taste remarkably fresh. Sorbitium is a real gem.

I usually tire of ubiquitous jars of oil at food shows, but on this occasion I needed to buy some olive oil so actually tasted every one on offer. Two stood out: one made from cut rather than pressed olives, which had an unusually thick, smooth texture but unremarkable flavour. The other was an unfiltered Catalonian olive oil from Casa de L'oli, made with olives from the owner's estate. It smells of lemon zest and tastes of artichokes and pepper, with a slight, pleasant bitterness and a surprisingly spicy finish. The owner was so pleased that I chose his oil as my favourite that he checked every bottle to find the one with the most sediment, which he said provides more flavour. Perhaps that's why the oil made from cut olives didn't taste of much.

Lucky Chip

2011-10-05T18:17:00.001+01:00

I'd long wanted to apply a Lucky Chip hamburger to my face. The Meatwagon-esque appearance of the sandwich had me longing to discover if it could possibly rival Yianni's. Reviews suggested an inconsistent product at best, and I was damned if I was going to travel to a small car park in the arse end of nowhere (well, London Fields) if there was a possibility I was going to be served filth. Why would I, when I could just go to the Rye? When I heard that Lucky Chip were holding a street party one Friday night, I thought it'd be a shame to pass it up, particularly as I was in London anyway for the Real Food Harvest Festival (more about that tomorrow).

Lucky Chip offers weekly special hamburgers named after film stars.

The patties are made from dry-aged Ginger Pig beef. Balls of meat (pre-formed in this instance) are squashed onto the griddle (this is my favourite way of cooking patties). I like salt but even I was a bit shocked by the absolute blizzard that was applied to each side of the patties.

The cheeseburger is topped with fuck loads of cheese. I couldn't believe it. I think it's cheddar.

With a cloche, even cheddar can be steamed into lovely goo.

The bun used depends on what hamburger is ordered. They're toasted very lightly on the griddle.

My first bite of my Lucky Chip cheeseburger was a wonderful thing. Joyful memories of the Meatwagon came flooding back. But as I scoffed blissfully, I quickly found my pleasure diminishing. I was a little tipsy, so couldn't quite work out why. Why was I not enjoying it any more? Why had I gone from adoring my cheeseburger to wanting nothing more to do with it?

First, the positives. The bun is exceptional. (The top half, anyway; we'll ignore the fact that I was given one seeded half and one unseeded half.) It is supremely soft, stupendously squishy and holds together perfectly. It is very similar to the Meatwagon bun and is therefore the joint best bun I've tasted in this country; it actually reminds me of the amazing Martin's potato roll. If anyone knows what baker Lucky Chip uses, please let me know. I must have some.

I was alarmed by the thickness of the crinkle-cut pickles but they are surprisingly tender yet still crisp and fantastically flavoursome. The cheese was surprisingly gooey and not too strongly flavoured, though it didn't weld patty and bun in quite the same way as a Kraft Single.

But here's the problem: the patty. If you can't see what's wrong, click on the photo and zoom in. See that? The meat had been completely overworked, which gave the patty an unpleasantly mushy texture inside, rather than being loosely formed. Lots of chewing was required. The meat had already been formed into balls before cooking; while they were handled a little too much on the griddle by being pressed down multiple times, I think the meat must also have been overworked when it was formed into balls. Such a shame, because the meat had plenty of flavour and was nicely charred. The patty was also overseasoned; I like well seasoned food, but it tasted overtly salty.

I didn't even finish my cheeseburger, and I was hungry.

The chips weren't crispy enough but they had more flavour than just about any others I've tasted. The flavour seems to come from the potatoes themselves.

Beetroot flavoured onion rings are inspired. I ate these and realised that all onion rings should be flavoured with beetroot.

Lucky Chip demonstrate good technique; they offer some truly delicious sides and promising hamburgers. With greater care and more attention to detail, they could be really special.

Lucky Chip
Netil Market
London Fields
London E8 3RL

07795816355

Paul A Young Interview

2011-09-29T22:05:00.003+01:00

When Paul A Young opened his new Soho shop a few months ago, I interviewed him for the Confectionery supplement of Speciality Food Magazine. The article was published a few days ago in the October edition, and you can read the article HERE.

Pralus Barre Infernale Lait

2011-09-16T19:31:00.000+01:00

I don't believe in love at first sight. But the first time I read a review of Pralus Barre Infernale Lait, I made an exception. Never have I been so smitten by the look of a chocolate bar. Unfortunately, it isn't available in this country, so I spent six months trying to source some.

Eventually, I struck gold with the lovely Marnie at Whole Foods Kensington: it had been deleted from their assortment some time ago due to lack of sales, but she kindly contacted Pralus and asked them to send her a case of 10, even though I wanted only one (they retail at £8.99 each).

This is a big bar of chocolate: 160g to be precise. The packaging looks suitably bespoke.

It suffered some slight blooming during its trip to our shores; apart from that, it's a magnificent looking bar of chocolate that comes wrapped in gold paper.

Barre Infernale Lait is gianduja. Whereas a praline consists of caramelised ground nuts wrapped in chocolate, gianduja is made by blending the praline with chocolate to create a homogenous, luxurious texture. You can see that the milk chocolate shell is filled with milk chocolate gianduja, made with almonds and hazelnuts. The shell and filling almost merge into one chocolatey mass. The gianduja is studded with a few whole almonds and hazelnuts for texture.

I knew before tasting Barre Infernale Lait that it could never justify the six months of work trying to obtain it, and I was right. That isn't to say, however, that it isn't a wonderful chocolate bar: it is. It's the essence of luxury. It's fantastically rich, as smooth and silky as butter and deeply flavoursome; this may be milk chocolate, but it's barely sweet. The intense flavour of the chocolate dominates.

The single area for improvement is the variety of hazelnut. The only hazelnuts I'm interested are the Tonda Gentile Trilobata variety from Piedmont, which have spectacular flavour; the hazelnuts used in Barre Infernale Lait have little flavour or character.

Despite this, Pralus Barre Infernale Lait has become my second favourite chocolate bar, but some way behind Amedei's milk chocolate with toasted Piedmont hazelnuts.

If you want to nab a Barre Infernale Lait, phone Whole Foods Kensington to see if they have any left. Marnie said she wouldn't order it again if sales are slow, but would consider re-ordering if there's demand.

Hawksmoor Chili Cheese Dog

2011-09-15T21:35:00.001+01:00

Following my trip to Hawksmoor to taste their hot dog and chicken caesar burger, I returned to sample the chili cheese dog and ensure that it's fit for human consumption.

Toasted brioche bun, pork frank, chili, melted Ogleshield. A lot of Ogleshield. If ever you can't find any in London's cheese shops, check with Hawksmoor: they probably have it all.

I preferred the simplicity of the plain hot dog, but the chili cheese dog is still a wonderfully extravagent creation. The frank -- being sourced from the guy who supplies Big Apple Hot Dogs -- is outstanding; the toasted brioche bun is a joy. I don't like Ogleshield in a hamburger, but it works well here. It does congeal slightly, and lacks the wonderful texture of American squeezy 'cheese', but it's probably the best artisan alternative. The chili comprises massive chunks of beef, and has decent flavour, but needs a kick up the backside in the heat and spice stakes. This dog was so loaded with chili and molten cheese that the bun collapsed halfway through.

Hawksmoor's chili cheese dog earns its hefty £10 price tag more than the pared-back hot dog, but is still over-priced; £7.50 would be about right.

Hawksmoor

11 Langley Street

London

WC2H 9JG

020 7856 2154

http://www.thehawksmoor.co.uk/

Paul A Young Soreen Truffles

2011-09-15T18:16:00.001+01:00

You've probably already heard of Paul A Young's new Soreen truffles, so you probably think I'm a little late to the party. In actual fact, I was at the party way before you. In fact, I organised the goddam thing. You see, I wouldn't usually feel compelled to write about something that others have already covered, but I have special reason to write about Paul's latest creation: I gave him the idea for it.

See, there I am. I never thought I'd see my username on a food product.

The idea came to me after noticing new banana Soreen in my local Waitrose. I liberated it from its shelf, toasted it for breakfast then remembered that it was Paul who first alerted me to the squidgy joys of Soreen; I'd always associated it with elderly people and assumed it was dry and dusty, like the awful lovechild of fruit cake and wholemeal bread.

I tweeted Paul to bring to his attention the arrival of banana Soreen, which he seemed to be fairly excited about. At that moment, a thought popped into my head: why didn't he try making a Soreen chocolate? I suggested it and, before Paul had a chance to response, people started tweeting both of us to say they loved the idea. Within a few days, Paul had created Soreen truffles and they were put on sale in his Soho shop.

The truffles are rolled in crunchy malt powder, which played havoc with the focus on my camera.

The ganache is made with actual Soreen rather than just its constituent ingredients, which Paul said is necessary to capture the flavour of Soreen and the memories we may associate with it. It's a very soft, almost liquid ganache that tastes purely of... well, Soreen. If you haven't tasted Soreen, the main flavours are malt, raisins and a treacle-like quality. Without wishing to be too self-congratulatory about the idea, Soreen makes a really lovely truffle, though credit must obviously go to Paul for successfully translating the taste of a well known product into an enjoyable chocolate.

Caroline from Sugargrain has suggested Jaffa Cakes as the next famous product for Paul to make into a chocolate. I adore Jaffa Cakes so love the idea, but sense that it may be a challenge to separate the flavours of the sponge, chocolate and orange. Now that's laying down the gauntlet...

Paul has retired the summer pudding chocolate dome and replaced it with this: a bakewell pudding dome.

Inside the dark chocolate dome are flaked almonds, a chocolate marzipan ganache and a raspberry reduction. It's a thing of beauty.

Paul's new pecan brownie is made with caramelised milk chocolate and is probably the gungiest, stickiest, richest brownie he's made to date, which is saying something.

This new Autumn brownie, however, is probably my favourite of Paul's thus far. It's studded with blackberries, hazelnuts and stem ginger that's pitched perfectly to offer just the right amount of heat. It's absolutely gorgeous; the acidity of the fruit and subtle heat of the ginger cut much of the sweetness, making this easier to eat than some of his richer creations.

Paul A Young

143 Wardour Street

Soho

London W1F 8WA

020 7437 0011

http://www.paulayoung.co.uk/

The End of Pitt Cue Co.

2011-09-14T21:43:00.000+01:00

Given my love of American food, I'm unsure why I didn't eat at Pitt Cue Co. more often. The pop-up trailer, which was parked under Hungerford bridge through the Summer, kept Londoners and Southbank tourists quiet with its ribs, brisket, pulled pork, beans, slaws and the like. It wasn't until Hawksmoor hosted a one-night takeover, however, that I finally got my chops round their superb pulled pork. I did pass by once in the hope of nabbing some ribs, but there were none to be found.

While I really enjoyed the pulled pork, I wasn't as excited by Pitt Cue Co. as most; I'd have sooner travelled further afield for the Meatwagon or Big Apple Hot Dogs. Nonetheless, the plans for Pitt Cue Co's final day were exciting: for the tweet-up, Abiye had supplied them with hundreds of franks; there'd be copious amounts of free or heavily discounted booze; The Icecreamists would be in attendance; and the head of creative development at The Fat Duck was bringing short ribs for everyone.

Breakfast was a Big Apple Hot Dog, which I slathered with Pitt Cue Co's "special chillies" and The Rib Man's fabulous homemade Holy Fuck hot sauce, which Anthony selflessly brought over from Brick Lane. I'm not ashamed to say I put away three of these dogs throughout the day.

Ed also came via Brick Lane, but with ribs for the guys at Pitt Cue Co. to heat and serve. We didn't get a bloody look-in.

I have absolutely no idea what this drink was. My memories of that Sunday are a tad hazy.

By the time Pitt Cue Co. started serving, I'd already eaten two dogs so I had room for only one thing, and that obviously had to be short ribs cooked by James 'Jocky' Petrie of The Fat Duck. The heavens opened but no one seemed to care about getting wet: we were just waiting for Jocky to arrive with the goddam short ribs.

Anthony saved the day when he noticed a tweet from Pitt Cue Co., saying that the Fat Duck chefs had arrived and were wearing chefs whites under their coats. They weren't difficult to find. I rushed towards Jocky and his colleagues to drunkenly ask if they were nice Fat Duck people with short ribs. They were, and the short ribs had already been passed on to the trailer. It was then that they produced white paper bags from their jackets, presumably containing some kind of illegal, narcotic substance. Even better: they'd brought homemade biltong. They dished out the bags to us for £2 a pop, and my god the biltong was fantastic: so succulent, deeply flavoursome and incredibly salty. They went down a treat with Kernel beer.

We finally got our hands on some short ribs, which were accompanied by Pitt Cue Co.'s usual sides of beans, slaw and rye bread. It also came with Jocky's chilli salt, which wasn't at all what I imagined: it was actually a salty chilli sauce. I'm sure it was brilliant, but I was far too pissed to remember; I just remember that the short ribs were properly flavoursome but that the fat wasn't soft enough.

The day ended with live music from the Josh Bray Band, plus dancing from a loveable tramp who seemed to be having the time of his life. The Icecreamists couldn't make it, so I popped round to the Real Food Festival for a cheeky brownie and honeycomb ice cream sundae from Choc Star.

If it wasn't already obvious, Pitt Cue Co's last hurrah was a spectacular day filled with great food, much rain, good music and far too much booze. It was a pleasure to meet Jocky and his fellow chefs, as well as London food blogger/restaurant insider Zeren Wilson and two chefs from Roganic.

Don't worry: Pitt Cue Co. will be returning...

Dante's Fried Chicken Shack

2011-09-13T19:38:00.000+01:00

The words fried chicken shack appeared in my Twitter feed like the second coming of a religious prophet: I felt as though I'd been waiting for this since the day I was born.

You all know how I feel about fried chicken: that there are few things I'd rather eat, and that I'm frequently frustrated by the reluctance of the new wave of London street food vendors to champion the dish in a similar fashion to hamburgers. So imagine my delight when I heard that Dante Gonzales was bringing his unique brand of L.A. fusion street food to London for one weekend.

If you want to grab the attention of Twitter food obsessives, this is the kind of menu to circulate.

The 'shack' was held inside Protein, a rather obscure 'art space', the purpose of which escaped me at the time. Actually, I was just preoccupied by the menu/food/aromas/lack of any real queueing system.

The lunchtime service was meant to run 12-4, but they didn't start serving until 1. I arrived at 2.

Dante is on the far right.

I was shocked by how little equipment they'd brought with them. They used one tiny frier and there was little organisation.

One hour after starting service, they'd run out of chicken and I nabbed the last bacon taco. There were a few portions of brisket left. I was, to be frank, pissed off.

Peach vanilla horchata. Sublime flavour, but the almonds weren't ground finely enough, giving a gritty texture. Horchata should be served really cold, but this was unrefrigerated on a warm day and pouring it over ice made little difference.

The deep-fried bacon taco was the standout dish. I'd like to know where Dante got his corn tortillas, because they were brilliant: full of flavour and characterised by an authentically rough texture. They reminded me of the superb ones made by Cool Chile Co.

Crunchy, deep-fried streaky bacon: what's not to love? This wasn't at all greasy or excessively fatty, just stupidly moreish. I usually like to describe the flavour of the food I eat, but I don't even know where to begin here: I tasted an astonishing variety of international flavours that my brain associated with Mexico, China, Japan, America and Thailand. I usually hate fusion food, but Dante is one of the few who really understands it. The flavours shouldn't work, but they do. They're so complex that I really should've taken notes at the time, hence my uncharacteristic vagueness in this post.

Blueberry Guinness smoked brisket taco. From hence forth, I will judge all brisket by the lofty standard set by Dante.

As they'd run out of chicken, I had a 'taste like chicken' fried tofu taco. It tasted nothing like chicken, but it was prepared in the same way so I got an idea of what the chicken tastes like. The crunchy coating was more Oriental than the usual flour crust found in the US, and that was echoed by the extraordinary mix of flavours.

I hope Dante returns to London, because his food is immensely exciting. Next time, however, he needs to be more prepared: despite the freebie dishes I was given, launching a pop-up with such a staggering lack of preparation is unprofessional and inconsiderate. Must try harder.

www.dantefriedchicken.com

Byron Uncle Sam Cheeseburger

2011-09-06T20:44:00.000+01:00

Following last month's Admiral Codrington Burger Swarm, there was a consensus that we had to do something similar again, and soon. Anthony took charge and entered negotiations with Tom -- owner of Byron Hamburgers -- to arrange a mass preview of the new Uncle Sam cheeseburger. 20 of us popped along to the Covent Garden branch for a night of booze, burgers and biscotti. Well, cantuccini, actually.

Tortilla chips, guacamole and salsa lined bellies.

This cute little cheeseburger was offered as a starter, of sorts. It was essentially a miniature version of the standard Byron hamburger, but with the addition of Montgomery cheddar. As always, I discarded the tomato.

I don't usually like strong cheeses in a hamburger, but the cheddar was used sparingly so as not to overwhelm the flavour of the patty, which I think was flame grilled. Said patty was flavoursome, tender and cooked medium. Surprisingly, the sharp cheese actually worked quite well: it contrasted with the fat of the patty while echoing its savouriness, though it didn't possess the ideal goo. The standard Byron bun was toasted for structure but still needs some work: it's quite dry and has a tendency to crack. The lettuce is a soft leaf variety so doesn't offer any texture.

The Uncle Sam. A 6oz patty with a Kraft Single, sliced pickles, ketchup and French's mustard in a toasted semi-brioche.

This is a very, very good example of a cheeseburger. The soft, slightly squishy bun is a huge improvement over the standard Byron bun; the medium-rare patty is quite loose and well-flavoured; the Kraft Single is, of course, perfect; the pickles are a little too thick; the condiments are ideal. This cheeseburger will make me visit Byron more often.

These sweet potato fries are fantastic but aren't currently available. They're rough and crunchy outside, while the inside is puffy, powdery and genuinely melt-in-the-mouth.

Mac and cheese. Al dente pasta, wonderfully cheesy crust, not so cheesy sauce.

Byron's standard fries aren't to Bar Boulud's lofty standards but are still bloody good.

The Uncle Sam is a fine cheeseburger, only £7.50 and available from September 6 (today) until September 30. I do hope Tom makes it a permanent fixture on the Byron menu, because it's far and away the best thing available.

Thanks to Tom for being such a great (and generous) host!

Byron
33-35 Wellington Street
London
WC2E 7BN

020 7420 9850

http://www.byronhamburgers.com/

Jaffa Cake Trifles

2011-08-14T19:19:00.002+01:00

I was scoffing Jaffa Cakes a few weeks ago when it suddenly dawned on me that they might make an interesting base for a trifle. I finally got round to trying it last week and was sufficiently pleased with the results as to offer the recipe here.

NB: quantities are approximate and from memory!

To make six individual trifles (as above) you'll need:

15 Jaffa Cakes

A 50ml bottle of Cointreau

5 oranges

300ml Jersey double cream

300ml Jersey full fat milk

300ml whipping cream

7 free range egg yolks

1 vanilla pod

5 tbsp golden caster sugar

Pour the milk and double cream into a large saucepan. Scrape the seeds from the vanilla pod; add the seeds and pod the saucepan. Bring the mixture to scalding point (it will start to bubble around the edges), then turn off the heat and leave to infuse for an hour. Remove the pod and add to your sugar stash to infuse.

In a large bowl, beat the sugar and egg yolks together until fully incorporated, then pour on the warm, infused milk mixture. Mix thoroughly, then taste: the mixture should taste too sweet, since it will taste less sweet when chilled. Add more sugar if necessary, then return the mixture to the saucepan.

Heat the mixture over a low heat and stir thoroughly, constantly and gently. As it heats, the egg yolks will thicken the mixture into a custard. Be brave but don't allow the custard to burn or boil, or it will be ruined. Once it has the texture of thick custard, pour it into a bowl to cool. Once the custard reaches room temperature, chill it thoroughly. This will take a few hours; the custard should thicken significantly and take on an almost 'set' texture.

In a large bowl, whip the whipping cream until it is thick but still light, floppy and foamy. It should just hold a trail.

Peel and segment the oranges, catching/squeezing the juice into a bowl.

Cut three of the Jaffa Cakes in half. Pour the Cointreau into a small bowl. If children will be eating the trifles, you may want to dilute the booze with the reserved orange juice.

Construct the trifles. Dip a Jaffa Cake into the Cointreau until it stops bubbling, then pop into the bottom of a small glass. Add a layer of orange segments, then some custard. Soak another Jaffa Cake and pop onto the custard, then top with more orange segments and more custard. Finish with a little of the whipped cream and half a Jaffa Cake. Chill and scoff.

NB: I made a vanilla custard for this because I wanted to try the Mexican vanilla pods I found in Harrods. Next time, I'll continue the Jaffa Cake theme by making a chocolate orange custard.

Battersea Park Foodie's Festival

2011-08-11T18:49:00.001+01:00

Here's what you need to know from last month's Battersea Park Foodie's Festival.

The lovely Katie Caldesi cooking a regional meatball lasagne.

Crushed broad beans with mint and Parmesan.

Meatball lasagne.

Squash salad.

Wonderfully meaty mountain Loire sausages cooked with onions and white wine.

I bought a toffee brownie from The Little Round Cake Company; it's included at the end of this post.

Joe & Seph's are making the best popcorn in the country and their range has increased significantly since I last saw them at a food show.

Monkeypoodle take the award for prettiest stand.

On the left-hand stand in the blue cases are the imaginative Mr Whippy cupcakes. They look like ice cream cones and the frosting has a similar flavour and whipped texture. Clever and quite delicious.

Any food show is poorer if Oddono's is absent.

Simple Simon's Pies are, in my opinion, second only to Pieminister is the pie ranks. They're handmade in Scotland and packed full of local ingredients, including an interesting base of steamed potatoes.

Goody Good Stuff makes delicious, all-natural, vegetarian fruit sweets made with gelan rather than gelatine. They're softer than sweets made with gelatine, and the flavour is natural and bright.

It's So Mango is a fantastic new product: Alphonso mango purée in sealed pouches. Only a little sugar is added, and nothing else. The makers use mangoes from their own farm.

Taste of Texas imports an exclusive range of wonderful sauces, spices, rubs, salsas and the like. I haven't yet tasted everything I bought, but so far I'm really impressed. The owner is also a real pleasure to chat with: lots of enthusiasm, no bullshit.

Chatica is a South American bakery, café and deli in Elephant & Castle. Their chewy, flavoursome Colombian bread is unusual but gorgeous, especially the rolls made with cassava and cheese.

Orchard Pigs is owned by Robert Didier, who was trained by Raymond Blanc. He makes pies and pastries in Wales using local, free range, rare breed pork. This is a spicy Dragon's Egg -- a neat name for a Welsh scotch egg.

Of all the scotch eggs I've ever bought, this is probably the best. The quality of the pork is outstanding and the seasoning has a real kick. A lovely thing.

From Outsider Tart: a cookie studded with brownie and coconut blondie pieces. Really good...

...but not as magnificent as this, my absolute favourite cookie. This XXX-Rated Chocolate Chip Cookie is also stuffed with pecans, walnuts and marshmallows. It's a crispy, gooey, chewy joy, and the recipe is in the new book Baked in America. Never trust a cookie that isn't glossy and shiny.

The toffee brownie from The Little Round Cake Company. Overcooked and crumbly but with little nuggets of crunchy toffee throughout.

I prefer barbecue sauce to be flavoured with hickory smoke, but this mesquite sauced is nonetheless excellent. There are a few other varieties available.

David's Chilli Oil is fantastically flavoursome but I must have temporarily lost my senses to pay ten quid for a jar of the stuff.

My favourite flavour of Joe & Seph's popcorn is still the simple, crunchy sea salted caramel. The cheesecake flavour, however, is wow-inducing: it's coated with dried cream cheese that melts and offers the same texture as a baked cheesecake. The texture is supported by a seriously intense vanilla flavour.

After several years of declining quality at most of London's food shows, it was uplifting to discover that the Foodie's Festival hasn't diluted itself. Every year it unearths new artisan producers I've never heard of, many of whom make unique products that simply have to be bought. I don't think I spotted a single chutney or pickle all day, which was pleasing, and neither were there any large companies making up the numbers. Whereas some of the exhibitors at the Real Food Festival and Good Food Show often look glum and uninterested, all of the producers here had smiles on their faces and enjoyed engaging with customers and talking about their products.

There's one area for improvement, though: if the organisers want people to spend serious amounts of money, they must put bloody cash dispensers in the grounds!

José

2011-08-10T22:20:00.000+01:00

Plenty of people have already written about José Pizarro's new Bermondsey tapas and sherry bar, so I won't be verbose.

Don't visit José expecting a seat: this is a bar with a few stalls, and a busy bar at that. I haven't been to Spain, but José feels like the kind of place you'd stumble across down a Spanish backstreet.

Raw meat and fish is displayed in a glass cabinet at the bar before cooking on the plancha.

Croquetas filled with Picos Blue cheese béchamel but -- mysteriously -- no ham.

These boast an exceptionally delicate crust that cracks to reveal hot, gooey béchamel. The blue cheese flavour is present but pleasingly restrained. I could eat a bucket of these.

Pluma Iberica: Iberico pork seared on the plancha and served rare, with sea salt, olive oil and a piquillo pepper. This one of the most talked-about dishes in London at the moment, and deservedly so: the flavour of the pork is astonishing. It lingers in the mouth long after the plate has been licked clean (which I was tempted to do, such is the incredible quality of the olive oil used). The fat is pure melting joy. A genuinely phenomenal dish.

Hake with allioli.

Surprisingly, this was almost as good as the pluma. The hake was of supreme quality: spankingly fresh, deeply flavoured and pleasingly firm. The batter was a tad greasy, but I didn't really care. The allioli is all bouncy, creamy and quite subtle.

Pisto with crispy duck egg. The pisto is nice but you order this for the extraordinary deep-fried egg. In fact, it's worth the trip to Bermondsey just for this damn egg. The golden yolk bleeds; the white has the puffed-up texture of honeycomb-like chicharron.

Some dishes at José are over-priced (£6 for a little plate of cooked vegetables and an egg) while others are more generous (£9 for the wonderful pluma). But I don't really care, because the standard of cooking is sky-high and the quality of ingredients is show-stopping. Go.

José

104 Bermondsey Street

London

SE1 3UB

http://www.josepizarro.com/news/660

Geert Vercruysse Summer Collection

2011-08-09T21:59:00.000+01:00

Geert Vercruysse is a Belgian patissier and chocolatier, whose chocolates I first tasted at the Southbank Chocolate Festival earlier this year. I was so impressed with them that when Geert told me he was coming to London for two days, we arranged to meet at La Fromagerie so I could buy more of his creations.

The main thing Geert brought me was his new Summer Collection.

I love this gift wrap.

Geert packages his chocolates in transparent acrylic boxes which -- as with Lauden's chocolates -- adds huge visual appeal.

I won't review every individual chocolate in detail, because I really bought these chocolates for pure pleasure rather than to specifically review. What I can say is that they were wonderful. Geert's ganaches are textbook, and the Summer flavourings (mainly fruit) are very subtle because Geert likes the flavour of the couverture to fully express itself. To this end, he uses different couvertures from different small producers for each individual chocolate. That's a real point of difference for him; I don't know of any British chocolatiers who take that approach.

I actually preferred the previous chocolates I tasted from Geert, which were unflavoured plantation ganaches, though his Summer Collection is still outstanding and boasts the same heavenly aroma when the box is opened.

Geert's gianduja are made by Valrhona, which he then coats with different plantation couvertures. They taste heavenly and melt almost instantly.

Geert also brought me some of his financiers.

These are the best financiers I've ever tasted: beautifully rich and impossibly moist. A real treat.

The financiers boasted a hidden centre of solid, single plantation dark chocolate.

Geert is hoping that his chocolates will soon be stocked by La Fromagerie, and he is planning another collaboration with Chocolate & Love. He will also be sending more chocolates to Chocolate Unwrapped in October.

Patisserie Vercruysse
Doorniksewijk 115-117
B - 8500 Kortrijk

+32 56 21 68 81

http://www.patisserievercruysse.be/

Hawksmoor Hot Dog and Chicken Caesar Burger

2011-08-07T21:33:00.000+01:00

I tried. I really tried. I mustered every ounce of determination. But I just couldn't do it any more. I couldn't resist. Strength and willpower abandoned me and left me at the mercy of a chicken burger.

But this wasn't just any chicken burger. It was a Hawksmoor chicken burger.

Let me explain: I love fried chicken. There are few things I'd rather put in my mouth than hot, moist chicken encased in a crisp coating -- whether it be breadcrumbs or generously seasoned flour. I've written before about my adoration of southern fried chicken, so when Hawksmoor asked for ideas for their Third Burger -- which changes every month -- I was quick to plead that they create a southern fried chicken burger. Now that I no longer eat KFC, I make my own southern fried chicken, but there is still a Zinger Tower burger-shaped hole in my life. I sometimes construct my own southern fried chicken burger, but Hawksmoor has a wonderful knack of elevating simple, real food into the gastronomic stratosphere, so I still wondered what a Hawksmoor chicken burger would taste like.

Then, last week, a tweet dropped into my Twitter stream like a nuclear bomb. It was a link to The Skinny Bib's review of Hawksmoor's new chicken caesar burger. My disappointment that it wasn't southern fried chicken was quickly superseded by my intense desire to get my chops round the majestic looking creation staring at me from my laptop screen. I tried to suppress that desire, as a group of us on Twitter slowly started to arrange a visit. But progress was too slow -- painfully slow for me. I needed that goddamn chicken burger now, not in a week's time.

Then I remembered that Hawksmoor's hot dog had made it on the menu. I quickly found my loosest-fitting pair of trousers and rushed to Seven Dials.

This is the Hawksmoor Hot Dog, with onions and kimchi on the side. There's also a chili cheese dog -- with a pork and beef frank -- which will have to wait until next time.

Hawksmoor's franks are made with Ginger Pig meat by the guy who supplies Big Apple Hot Dogs. I didn't think I'd taste a better frank than Abiye's, but this pork one is spectacular. The smoking and seasoning are perfect; the texture brilliantly combines the processed mouthfeel of franks with the coarseness and meatiness of a British sausage. It's juicy, crisp-skinned and bursting with flavour. It's just a shame that Hawksmoor hasn't yet developed a frank to fit its bun!

Ah yes: the bun. Like a hamburger, a hot dog can be ruined by its bun, regardless of the quality of meat. Thankfully, this bun is up to the task. It is tremendous. It's a demi-brioche and very similar to Hawksmoor's hamburger bun. It's also toasted all over, which I'd like to know how they achieve. The toasting adds structure; the soft, buttery, slightly sweet bun is the perfect vehicle for the frank.

The most remarkable think about this bun, though, is the shape: rather than being a long bun split down the middle, this is square cut. Which is to say that all three sides are straight, almost as though three pieces of toast have been glued together. The advantage of this is that the frank isn't overwhelmed by the bun, as can sometimes happen with regular buns: there often seems to be too much doughy bread at the bottom of a regular bun in proportion to the frank. Trust Hawksmoor to show such attention to detail.

Despite the inflated price tag of £10 (it is essentially a sausage sandwich), I doubt I'll ever taste a hot dog that equals this.

Behold the Hawksmoor Chicken Caesar Burger: demi-brioche bun; shredded lettuce coated lightly with anchovy-heavy caesar dressing; deep-fried breaded chicken breast; crisp streaky bacon; melted Ogleshield cheese; fried egg.

After demolishing my hot dog, I stupidly thought that the following burger couldn't possibly better it. How wrong I was. This massive beast is an absolute joy, a riot of textures and flavours. The lettuce is crisp and fresh; the dressing creamy and intensely savoury; the chicken flavoursome, moist, well seasoned and crunchy; the bacon crisp; the bun outstanding. I even really enjoyed the Ogleshield here; it clashes in the kimchi hamburger. It had congealed and separated slightly, but the lack of gooey processed cheese was made up for by the melting egg yolk.

The one thing I wasn't overly keen on was the egg white: it was a little overcooked and rubbery, even though the yolk was still lovely and runny. A poached egg would be a good solution. Also, if you're a salt phobe, you may have an issue with this chicken burger: it's definitely at the upper end of the acceptable level of saltiness. Which is fine with me, because I like my food well seasoned.

Hawksmoor's hot dog and chicken caesar burger are both triumphs of sourcing, design, architecture, taste and pure, unadulterated satisfaction. You must have them.

Hawksmoor

11 Langley Street

London

WC2H 9JG

020 7856 2154

http://www.thehawksmoor.co.uk/