Goodbye London...

I remember when I first moved out of home. I can still picture my parents waving goodbye on the curb, as I drove away smiling, excited about the future, cranking up Bon Jovi on the stereo, headbanging away with the world at my feet. Then I promptly turned the corner and burst into tears.

Leaving London is a bit like that. Only a few months ago, we found ourselves with irresistible new job offers in Melbourne. Home! Think of the weather! The sunshine! A beach at the end of our street! The coffee! The Thai food! Brunches! Dim sims on tap! 


We were suddenly resigning, packing up the house, finding another, planning a wedding (complete with traumatic wedding dress dramas - who knew it would be the hardest part?), failing to plan a honeymoon (still on the to-do list!), trying to cram in every last bit of travel and London life we needed to squeeze out of our last 3 months.... It's been a whirlwind of excitement and a maze of cardboard boxes. 

But now the time has come to go - just as I've remembered not to say "pants" or "thongs" in the entirely wrong context. And there's a big heavy lump in my throat.

The last 5 years in London have been wonderful. When you travel to the opposite side of the world from all your friends and family, with only each other and a few boxes of clothes (none of them warm enough for December in London - the warmest thing I brought was a cotton jacket! COTTON!! Madness), you never know what's in store. But we've made new, life long friends, we got engaged (woot!), travelled high and low (every month, at least -  we have some serious trees to plant), expanded our culinary horizons (from spotted dick in Britain to oysters & pearls in New York to sea urchin at the Tsukiji fish market in Tokyo), enjoyed jobs that we have loved, explored every nook and cranny of London life, and treated each week like there's a new adventure to be had. The experience will change the way we live forever. 


Oh, and we've bought a lot of warm coats. Melbourne winters, do your best - I am ready for you.

I'll miss living on our beloved Rupert Street where we moved 5 years ago for its proximity to London's best flat white at the time, as you do (at Flat White - your only other option back in the day was Provs - how far London has come!). Rupert Street - so full of character and life, from its crack pipes in our doorway to the gigantic men in tutus across the road, from the food and coffee carts lined up along the cobblestones, to our stash of hams, cheeses, truffles and fresh pasta at the cute Italian delis up the road, from its flashing neon STRIPTEASE signs, to the rock 'n roll Spuntino diner downstairs. I'll miss the newsagent who thinks TPG's Italian L'uomo Vogue is a gay porn mag and wraps it in brown paper before he leaves the shop. 


I'll miss runs past Big Ben and Buckingham Palace through Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens, especially in Autumn, my favourite London season. I'll miss spotting celebrities in random places on the streets (even if it is sometimes just Jim from Neighbours). I'll miss riding at the top of the double decker buses and scoffing salt beef bagels on Brick Lane. I'll miss stocking up at the Lebanese grocers to cook the latest from Ottolenghi or shopping in Chinatown after work to knock up a quick bowl of Vietnamese fishy soup. I'll miss H&M and Anthropologie and reasonably priced champagne. I'll miss jetting off with my rolly bag after work on Friday nights for weekends in Paris or Rome. I won't miss the Tube. Or the weather. Most of all, I'll miss my friends.

Writing this blog has been a wonderful adventure in itself. I'm still so grateful that anyone reads it. It was born from an obsession for eating, cooking, rummaging through deli shelves and discovering new places to eat. TPG and I had already built a life around travelling by gut and reading endlessly about food, so why not share the joy of new discoveries - while indulging in a little creative outlet along the way? I'm not sure what form it will take going ahead - it's getting harder to keep it up and I value nothing more than spending my precious spare time with TPG and a bottle of wine, pondering life and love and the next big feast. But the magnificent Australian food scene is one I'm bursting to write about and share. So finger's crossed that I find the time, and that you still care to read. 

So tomorrow, we take off for Melbourne - but not before some travels through Venice, the wine regions of Amarone, Barolo and Bordeaux, the French gastronomic capital of Lyon,  and - of course - New York. Well, you only live once.

Thanks for tuning in. It's been a wonderful 5 years. Goodbye, London!


Gulp.

Nahm, Belgravia - London Restaurants

Prawn salad

I'm in the middle of packing to leave the country and I have to make a lot of important decisions. Does the hair straightener come with me, side by side across the globe, so that I have it for important Christmas parties and pre-wedding functions upon landing in Melbourne - or does it get shipped, not to be seen again for 3 long, harsh, frizzy weeks?

Hotel foyer-esque room

Given the weighty matters I am devoting my mental energy to, you will have to excuse some rather brusque reviews for the time being. You don't care anyway - you don't want to know about the complexity of the foam in the 15th amuse bouche, about the crisp (never crispy) textures contrasting with the fluffiness of the mousse or the char marks on the steak. You want a gut feel. The nutshell. Should you go or should you not?

Curry

Nahm feels like eating at the check-in desk of a barren hotel foyer, the service is irritatingly attentive, there are a lot of suits and your water will be topped up after each sip - generally right at a key moment as you try to whisper sweet nothings into your date's ear. Don't go there to propose. But the food is magnificent. It really is. I was expecting less, I think from things I have read, but I also think a lot of people wouldn't know good Thai food if it rolled itself up in a banana leaf and slapped them across the face.

For TPG's birthday, I took him to Nahm and indulged us both in the Thai tasting menu - a starter, salad, soup, stir fry, curry, main - a grilled fish or meat, dessert and some other bits for around £60 per head, plus drinks. They'll help you to get the right balance of things.  Everything is cooked really well and the layers of flavours are bursting and gorgeous as all good Thai flavours should be. The desserts are di-vine. It's really hard to find a decent wine to match Thai food - but, of course, TPG put about 75 thousand hours of research into it and struck gold with a nice riesling.

If you are a Thai fan or a David Thompson fan (his cook books are beautiful, if complicated), or you want to try Thai food at a Michelin star restaurant, go to Nahm for the food, but beware the soulless atmosphere.

Nahm, The Halkin Hotel, Halkin Street, Belgravia, London SW1X 7DJ (Tel: 020 7333 1235)

Pub Crawl - from East to West. And I didn't go to bed in my shoes.

Photo by Paul Winch-Furness

I was on my way to the ETM Group's pub crawl when I realised how long it's been since I've done such a thing. I am officially 100 years old. It seems like a lifetime ago that I used to have gigantic nights out inevitably ending with me hoovering down a giant souvlaki before collapsing into bed with my makeup and shoes on. I even had a fabulous business plan once involving taxis and a back seat "dial your nearest kebab shop" menu. Or it might have been chicken parmas. I was clearly drunk when I conceived it and I was too hungover most of the time to implement it.

Well, how times have changed. Now a night out involves a nice, cosy dinner (once thought of as cheating), picking wines by quality rather than maximising alcohol percentage,  taking my makeup off rain, hail or shine with the full hot cloth routine (one can't be too careful about one's skincare regime), and only occassionally falling asleep with my shoes on.

Fortunately, the ETM Group has rather nice pubs. And they put on the poshest pub crawl ever, which was just my cup of tea - discovering lots of nice pubs without ever have to deal with that stale beer and old man smell of the traditional pub crawl.

Here's where we went - some lovely pubs to put on your radar:

Foie gras canapés. Photo by Paul Winch-Furness

The Chiswell Street Dining Rooms in Barbican still smelled of fresh paint (love..!) and feels airy and fun - we only had cocktails and some very nice canapés, but a swanky setting in the former Whitbread Brewery and I would genuinely like to try it for a meal from the classic British menu.

Snail & bacon pie. Photo by Paul Winch-Furness

Tucked down a little alleyway in Clerkenwell, The Hat & Tun looks more like your traditional, Victorian watering hole, and was the perfect scene for steaming hot little Hereford snail and bacon pies with Guinness and mushroom cream sauce. Accompanying 1er Cru Burgundy wines were gorgeous - one to go too for good English grub and a top wine list. This one wins the award for most likely I would return to regularly - I liked it a lot.

Turbot. Photo by Paul Winch-Furness

For a main meal, we were bussed off to The White Swan, on Fetter Lane, where the upstairs restaurant and menu is a little more elegant and refined. A terrific piece of line caught Cornish turbot came with Dorset crab beignets, turnip tops, salsify and bisque butter sauce. More stellar wines - a South African Semillon - were beginning to become a common theme. 

Desserts aplenty. Photo by Paul Winch-Furness

The Botanist on Sloane Square followed for desserts, like fig pudding with Port roasted figs, and then it was on to The Cadogan Arms on the Kings Road for much not-needed Cognac and a game of pool. By this time, I'm quite a few glasses of bubbly under. I can't tell you much more than I had fun and everyone was my best friend. It may have been a while between pub crawls, but some things never change. See The London Foodie's blog for a more lucid account and some more lovely snaps.

In sum, put these pubs on your radar - the people behind them are lovely, there's a fab wine selection, and really good grub too.


Where indicated, photos used thanks to Paul Winch-Furness.



Chiswell Street Dining Room, 56 Chiswell Street, EC1Y 4SA (Tel: 020 7614 0177)


The Hat & Tun, 3 Hatton Wall, EC1N 8HX, (Tel: 020 7242 4747)


The White Swan, 108 Fetter Lane, EC4 1ES (Tel 020 7242 9696)


The Botanist, 7 Sloane Square, SW1W 8EE (Tel: 020 7730 0077)


The Cadogan Arms, 298 King's Road, SW3 5UG (Tel: 020 7352 6500)

Murano, Mayfair

You leave home and it's hot and sunny. Half an hour later, you find yourself sopping wet in a singlet top and sandals with no brolly. The English summer claims another victim. But not quite... Because when the doorway into which you duck to escape the sudden inconvenient downpour on a Saturday afternoon happens to belong to Angela Hartnett's Murano, it's only natural that you keep walking all the way in. The £30 lunch menu and spare table at the side of the room seemed beacons of fate.

The room is elegant, if a little hotel foyer-like, but the energetic chatter from the floor cuts through the boring formality that might otherwise set in. Posited in the moneyed up heart of Mayfair, you get the feeling that most of the crowd live in a trendy little mews somewhere not far off Park Lane.

It's seriously hard to choose from the Italian menu where everything sounds appetising, although quite a few dishes didn't live up to expectations - my fresh tagliatelle with Ligurian sausage and tomato tasted watery and monotone, and my porcetta carpaccio, though pretty, didn't move the earth for me.

TPG's entree serving of risotto with brown onion, parmesan and truffle oil was better, nay perfect, and he immediately positioned it above my favourite truffle risotto at Gauthier Soho. Tender steak bavette with sweet corn salsa was lovely, if not a patch on the flavoursome steaks of Goodman and Hawksmoor.

Dessert was where our meal really hit its straps with a dreamy custard tart and a cold chocolate fondant worth writing home about - the latter accompanied by an addictive sour cream ice cream, thick, oozy salted caramel sauce and heavenly little crispy chocolate bits lining the plate.

The wine list is expensive, but we had a lovely glass each for £6.50 and £8.50 respectively - this is not somewhere you need be afraid of the "cheapies" on the list. You also get lots of lovely amuses and freebies along the way - although none so perfect as the little bowl of cherries at the end.

A good value way to try a Michelin star restaurant, but not one I'll be hurrying back to for repeat visits.

Murano, 20 Queen Street, Mayfair, London W1J 5PP (Tel: 020 7495 1127)

St Ali, Farringdon

Nothing like starting off your weekend with a flat white and a Mexican.

And now we can. No need to be shy about it. Because one of my favourite Melbourne coffee shops has just hit London. St Ali has opened a new outpost in Farringdon. *High fives the computer screen, moonwalks backwards across living room, does the Risky Business dance on the coach*.

St Ali is said to be named after "the patron saint of coffee", Ali ibn Umar al-Shadhili, the man who first introduced coffee beans to the Muslim mystics. They make some of the best coffee in Melbourne, where the competition is hot, and now they're doing it in style in London.

My flat white was seriously good. I don't even know what blend it was, so enthusiastic was I to wallow in the smooth, coffee, heavenly goodness that I last tasted in South Melbourne. There was no time for inquisitive banter. TPG had a rich and pure drip filter coffee which was well worth the wait.

But, best of all, the Mexican has come to town. The Mexican, oh the Mexican. The Mexican is, my friends - crispy corn fritters, creamy, salty halloumi, sweet sliced tomato, sour kasundi and 2 poached eggs. Happy, happy days.

Another serve of poached eggs came with 4 large pieces of thick sourdough (too much for even us to eat) and 2 runny poached eggs - bargainous value at £5, while I think the Mexican was about £9. (This probably better value than most breakfasts in Melbourne these days).

The interior at St Ali in Farringdon is along the same lines as the industrial, hollowed out factory look in South Melbourne, although slightly more polished and newbie looking - and I don't like it quite as much. But it's a huge space (the bathrooms are bigger than my flat) with high ceilings, big impressive looking coffee machines and a chunky wooden communal table in the window. The stools there are at an annoying, knee hitting height, and it's a bit dark inside, but otherwise it's all good.

This part of town is becoming quite the foodie hub, with Bistrot Bruno Loubet across the road and St John and Vinoteca around the corner. As far as breakfasts and coffee goes, St Ali can hold its head high amongst them.

St Ali, 27 Clerkenwell Road, Farringdon, EC1M 5RN (Tel: 0778 011 2631)

Cecconi's, Mayfair

Spaghetti lobster

Cecconi's is a classic, old school, slightly glamorous and definitely-good-for-celebrity- spotting restaurant in the heart of Mayfair. It's the type of place to drop in at the bar for an excellent bowl of pasta and champagne, or a fine veal milanese, after a hard day's perusing the diamond jewellers and designer wares of New Bond Street. As you do.

TPG and I did just that (although unfortunately my hands were glaringly rockless and frockless at the time, despite my best efforts). The stripey black and white floor and green leather seats with art deco fittings give it a certain charm and its easy to while away an hour or so at the bar with a book, or to settle in for a longer session with friends at a table.

As I was largely feasting on champagne on our last visit, I snacked on a cichetti sized plate of plump baby octopus with dreamily creamy polenta (£8) - even TPG, who won't normally eat polenta,  lapped it up. TPG had a fantastic bowl of perfectly cooked spaghetti lobster which, while pricey, put most the attempts of most other similarly priced establishments to shame (£26). Generous amounts of sweet, fresh lobster meat and rich tomatoes flirted with satisfyingly al dente strings of pasta. Why is it so hard for other restaurants to make Italian food this good?

Starters are priced around £7-£12, pasta at £10-£20 (or £26 for the spaghetti lobster) and mains at £19-£28 - fair prices for the location, setting and quality.

We've had breakfast at Cecconi's several times before, when the venue somehow loses most of its charm and serves up far more boring fare and average coffee. Stick to bubbly at the bar, or the lunch and dinner menu.  The £46 set menu (3 courses) has just made my "to do" list.

Cecconi's, 5a Burlington Gardens, Mayfair, London W1S 3EP (Tel: 020 7434 1500)

Paramount, Soho - Modern food with panoramic views of London

There's always that fear that the better the view, the worse the food. Would the fear be founded at Paramount?

Paramount has 360 degree views of London, from the 32nd floor of the Centre Point tower. You can see the bridges line up along the Thames, past the London Eye, the Gherkin and unwary Londoners sunbaking on their rooftops. It's fair to say it has a good view.

The food itself has to be put in context. Paramount was a private members club, which has recently been opened to the public. The dining room is slick and modern, designed by Tom Dixon (I don't know much - ok, anything - about him, but judging from his website, he seems to like these suction cap style things on the ceiling):

There's a sleek bar area, where you can just go for a drink, which leads on to the restaurant - both are frequented mostly by 30-something men in suits drinking from big wine glasses and 30-something women dressed up in the latest Karen Millen gear, preferably with a bit of sparkle. It still feels like it's mostly filled with its members at the moment. It's smart, even if it does feel just a teensy bit soulless. This feels more like a place run by a faceless "management" than somewhere the heart and soul of its creators is in every corner and on every plate - but the crowd are not here nuzzling up to their cocktails for that. They're here for the view and the scene, with a bit of fancy pants food on the side.

I joined my dining companions in the private Red Room, and watched the sky line change as the sun set and the city lights took over for the night shift. Not a bad way to spend an evening.

Head chef Colin Layfield has created a menu which reads like one temptation after another. It's seriously hard to choose based on the print alone. But then everything is executed with ultra modern presentation, which is either your thing or it's an irritation - black slates, rectangular plates, cylindrical shaped food etc. The style certainly matches the architecture.

After a gorgeous amuse bouche (cappuccino of asparagus veloute), my double baked Roquefort souffle (£9.50) had a rich and lovely flavour, if ever so slightly too dry.

My wild sea bass with potato gnocchi, samphire and caviar cream (£23.50) was a luxurious combination which I mostly loved - the fish and firm little gnocchi were cooked perfectly but the fish was overseasoned, particularly given not much was needed in combination with the salty caviar.

For dessert, my walnut tart (£9.50) was "quite nice" and came with a lovely Pink Lady apple strudel, sweet ginger custard and a really powerful cider sorbet (which I didn't like).

It's fussily presented, ambitious food and it's generally pretty good, but doesn't always hit the mark. However, you won't be able to complain that you make one just like it at home.

Service was lovely and unpretentious (although I was attending an event for my meal and found the front of house area near the bar slightly more cool and aloof when I visited anonymously with friends the following week).

Paramount is open for breakfast, lunch and dinner - or just for drinks at the bar to lap up the spectacular view. There's a decent looking bar food menu, and wine by the glass starts at £6.25 while cocktails are a whopping £11. There's also a narrow bar (more like a carpeted corridor really) wrapped around edges of the 33rd floor which will be an oyster and champagne bar ... again with the view.

Although Paramount is apparently open to the public, when I rang to put my name on the list for our drinks in the bar this week, the phone was answered by a rather toffy, unwelcoming man who, when he could not find my name in their system (I don't always get around as "Greedy Diva"), explained that only those who have been before with a member or have some kind of link in can get in for drinks. What the..? Just call first and maybe you'll work it out.

Paramount, Centre Point, 103 New Oxford St, Soho, WC1A 1DD (Tel: 020 7420 2900)

I dined in the Red Room as a guest of Paramount with other food bloggers. 

For other places to eat with a great bird's eye view over London, see my earlier review of Galvin at Windows here.

Chilli Cool, Kings Cross / Bloomsbury

To say Chilli Cool is a no-frills restaurant is something of an understatement. But then, the aftermath of eating Sichuanese food over a white table cloth would just be humiliating.  This is a place to load up a big table with friends, feast messily on plates of spicy, chilli laden food and wash it all down happily with a beer or three. And watch out for the oil slicked floors.

First things first. The crispy pig's intestine. This dish has won the adoration of many a trusted food blogger and I wanted to love it too. It wasn't to be. Fried slivers of intestine, mixed with bright peppers, silken spring onion and gleaming lashings of chilli was a pretty picture of Sichuan goodness - but like an angelic looking child smiling sweetly on a sunny day, before breaking out into a full blooded, high pitched, screaming tanty, its looks belied the real truth, people. Slice by slice, it tasted precisely how one can only imagine a big old sweaty pig's arse would taste - after a long day at the trough. And it's a taste that not only lingers, but starts off more like a faint smell of arse, and then just when you think it's gone, it slowly creeps up on you and blows up in all its full arsey glory about 10 seconds after swallowing. A faecal creeper. Just not my thing. While I'm sure this dish is all about texture, these specimens were stiff giving way to a slightly disappointing softness, rather than living up to the crisp and chewy morsels I was expecting. However, others rave about this dish and I'm generally not a huge fan of offal so perhaps it's just me.

Nevertheless, our other selections made up for this initial disappointment and assured us of the potential within Chilli Cool's repertoire.

Dry fried green beans with pork mince and chillis were salty, tender and wrinkled like an old woman after a long bath. Not all that spicy (until I overdosed on 1 too many of the accompanying fried chillies) but lovely flavours and thoroughly enjoyable in all its simplicity.

Our whole sweet and sour sea bass delivered in black and glistening finery. Crispy flesh gave way to the moist meat of the fish which has been baked and smothered in a sticky, sweet soy based sauce topped with finely shredded strands of spring onion and fresh chilli. We were not expecting this dish to be all that spicy, and it wasn't, but a lovely, fresh option to balance out some of your meatier dishes at Chilli Cool.

Chilli Cool is good enough to go back again, next time with a table full of hungry accomplices which is the best way to sample a variety of dishes at places like this. But it's not up there at this stage with some of my favourite cheap eats, like Cay Tre (Vietnamese in Shoreditch). Nevertheless, I was impressed by the look of other plates making their way to surrounding tables, and any luke warm feelings may be more down to my menu selections than the competence of the restaurant. I remain confident there are plenty of gems still to be sampled (like the sea fragrant aubergine and the impressive looking spicy hot pots).

Expensive restaurants probably only get one chance to blow you way. However, this is a place that students go to feast. At just under £20 per head with a beer each, rice and service, it's not going to break the bank to go back and experiment with our selections at Chilli Cool again.

Chilli Cool, 15 Leigh St, Bloomsbury, London WC1H 9EW (Ph: 0207 383 313)

Empress of Sichuan - Chinatown, London

The emperor may be wearing no clothes, but the Empress of Sichuan knows how to dress up a plate.

Based on the fringes of Chinatown, near the Prince Charles cinema, the Empress Of Sichuan looks a little prissy on the inside compared to some of her neighbours. Normally elegance is not an advantage in my book of tracking down no frills, gutsy but good Chinese fare. There are wine bottles on formal display and enough room between tables to make it near impossible to surreptitiously eye off the meals on neighbouring plates - almost. There are even linen napkins. 

However, service immediately puts the heart at ease - it is friendly, non stiff and helpful (despite the occasional language barrier).  Waitresses have a little more time to talk through your options than they do on Gerrard St, where they're often shrieking out "fried pork, crispy duck!" before they've even completed the 180 degree turn from your table.

Wines by the glass are as cheap as chips. I enjoyed a couple of glasses of the Hazy Bay Chenin Blanc (Sth Africa 2008) while TPG chose a zingy Gerwurtztraminer Verdelho from Opal Ridge. Both were around £4 - £4.50 per glass and got our night off to a happy start.

Our bowl of sliced, spicy chicken (pictured above) - so full and juicy - came first, wallowing in a bowl of flame coloured chili oil, with a hefty smattering of sesame seeds and coriander. At £6, this was good value and 100% more enjoyable than the version I've had at Soho's trendy Bar Shu in the past. It was swimming in oil, but somehow this seemed nourishing rather than greasy.

Our whole steamed seabass was gorgeous. Hunks of delicate, moist fish balanced beautifully with the subtle flavours of the ginger and spring onion. It would be hard not to choose this again next time. At around £20, it could easily feed 3 people. Or us.

Our bears paw tofu was delicious, although being thinly sliced and quite dry, I'm not sure I prefer it over chunkier cut styles which retain a softer texture. Braised with scrumptious slithers of pork and big, slippery cloud ear mushrooms, this was another fiery delight with contrasting textures.

The Empress of Sichuan is all substance over style, especially when compared to some of the trendier looking Sichuanese players which have answered the call for this fiery cuisine nearby. She's playful, but chef Kang Dong (who hails from Chengdu) keeps her on track, focused on what we're really there for: delicious, comforting, flavourful food in an ambience that doesn't steal anything away from the plate.

She's not the cheapest option in Chinatown but, in just one bite, you'll understand why.

Our bill came to around £60 for 2, with wine, steamed rice and service. And I'll be back. Oh-ho yeees [rubs hands gleefully]...


Empress of Sichuan, 6-7 Lisle Street, London WC2 (020-7734 8128)


If you're interested in Sichuanese food in Soho, you might be interested in my earlier review of Bar Shan. Bar Shan has funkier decor that EOS, but I think the food at EOS has the edge.

Kikuchi – Again. A second bite

It was rather remiss of me not to try the sashimi at the time of my first review of Kikuchi. Please excuse me. But the time has come to share the good word.

Kikuchi has now become a regular haunt when we crave good, local Japanese food. Or the bustling atmosphere of Tokyo. Or a night on the sake.

So, we’ve been diligently saving up our vouchers from each visit (£5 for every £50 you spend) and recently had a big blow out which the neighbours of Hanway Street are still talking about.

So, I won’t rave on (and on...) (again...) about Kikuchi (see my earlier review for more details). But I will say there’s a big difference between bad sushi and good sushi. This stuff’s good. The happy hoards of Japanese business men crowding the room are a testament to the fact. Sit in front of the cartoon character-like sushi bar man, knock back some sake or Japanese beers and watch as the chef’s selection of deliciously fresh slithers of fish, lush flavours, and slippery smooth textures are lavished up on you. Bless him.

The nasu dengaku (aubergine grilled with miso sauce) is another essential for us. The miso caramelises in the grilling process over the smoky aubergine – scoop it out, sit back and luxuriate in the sweetness. If you don’t normally like aubergine, this is the one to convert you.

And I always like to finish off with some cold buckwheat noodles (soba) which come with a side of spicy dipping sauce (often bland, but delectable here). There are reportedly over 30,000 soba restaurants in Japan. Soba noodles have been eaten in Japan for over 400 years, and it is a distinguished Japanese art to perfect them so they stay firm, slippery and intact. Close your eyes, slurp loudly and wallow in the traditions behind your feast.

It’s all wonderful, and you’ll even feel healthy* when you finish (*depending on beer consumption).

Book ahead, and don’t forget the £20 minimum food spend (plus drinks/service).

Kikuchi, 14 Hanway Street, London W1T 1UD