Bentley's Oyster Bar & Grill, Mayfair (London)

Feeling like Charlie on the way to the Chocolate Factory, on Monday evening I had in my clutches a much coveted golden ticket to the fabulous Dine with Dos Hermanos event at Bentley's.

I skipped merrily along the streets of Mayfair, eagerly anticipating a night with other obsessed foodies and the renowned culinary prowess of Richard Corrigan's restaurant. Plus, Simon Majumdar, co-author of the brilliant Dos Hermandos blog with his brother Robin, had mentioned a substantial goody bag.... I have been known to bowl over small children at parties for a goody bag. This was not to be missed.

I joined the buzzing roomful at 7pm, and was welcomed by a glass of oyster stout hearty enough to put hairs on your chest. Beckoning nearby were a steady stream of luscious, freshly shucked native oysters. Enormous trays frolicked around the room, bursting with succulent giant prawns fried in the perfect amount of light, crispy batter. So far, so fabulous.

All in good time, we settled down for some serious feasting. Joining me at the table was a fantastic array of food lovers - the lovely TGS, aka Robin, from Dos Hermanos; food writer, Andrew Webb; Bibendum wine blogger, Dan; Tim Hayward, a gregarious food writer (and recent winner of the 2009 Guild of Food Writers Award for New Media) passionate about many food issues, but evidently none more than a sensational fish pie; Michael from Sydney with superlative taste in worldwide food and coffee haunts; fun loving foodies, Vicky and Pam; and a man of great literary inclinations, Ivan, who actually reads my blog (a rare trait indeed) and will even pretend to recall bits of it when bribed with alcohol.

Throughout the night, I also met many other terrific food obsessives, including Simon who did a first rate job of making sure odd balls like me had someone to talk to, and the faces behind some of my favourite food writing.

But the main event was the outstanding feast the kitchen had in store for us.

Bentley's Oyster Bar and Grill is a London institution which has been in the game since 1916 and was rejuvenated by the appointment of Richard Corrigan as head chef in the early 1990s - Richard now owns the restaurant and the kitchen is headed up by the talented Brendan Fyldes. The style is robust, down to earth, seasonal food.

First course was a platter containing a delicious bounty of smoked seafood (including salmon, tuna, eel and mackerel) as well as potted shrimp and pikelet sized blinis. Oh, how I love blinis. I think I went back for 5ths.

The main meal was the real conqueror. A huge pot, resplendent with tender cheeks of beef cooked in oyster stout, was placed ceremoniously in the centre of each table, with sides of creamy mash and roasted potatoes, parsnip and baby carrots. This alone was enough to feed a gourmet army.

However, the best was yet to come, in the form of two delectable fish pies. The fresh "meaty" chunks of salmon, haddock, prawns and scallops, steamily heart warming, were absolute gullet pamperers. Upon first bite, Tim emitted an involuntary great whoop of delight. I had never eaten fish pie this good.

Pudding was also a lip smacker. We shared 2 immense toffee puddings, rich and moist, with thick cream which I greedily drowned in as much toffee sauce as I could get away with while avoiding eviction.

Each dish was accompanied by a superb wine. I can't for the life of me remember the names (Bibendum Dan will be most displeased, if not surprised) but the Australian muscat style sticky was head rollingly good. [Postscript: I now know the wines were generously supplied by Nepenthe and Wines Unearthed.]

With a guest list that included some astute foodies, the chefs were clearly out to impress. However, the dazzle certainly worked on this simple scoffer. I'm quite desperate to return with The Peanut Gallery to sample more. Until then, I'll have to make do with trying to hide my enormous goody bag.

An outstanding meal and experience all round. It has certainly inspired many adjectives from me this evening, but then I'm trying to make do without food snaps (can't snap, must eat...). Thanks again, Dos Hermanos.

Bentley's Oyster Bar and Grill, 11-15 Swallow Street, Mayfair, London W1B 4DG

HIX, Soho (London)

Of course, the moment I saw Mark Hix, I greeted him like an old friend. "Hi! (old Chum [implied])". Mark Hix is not an old friend. He is not even old. Or a friend. This is merely the cringeful reflex reaction to any "celebrity" sighting which I can't seem to shake.

Naturally, as I am not eminent on-trend artist or a member of the London glitterati, or barely even a sane looking member of society really, M Hix did not return the cheer. However, I decided not to take it personally. For one thing, I did have my nose pressed against the freshly polished glass of his spanking new restaurant while looking slightly deranged in my running gear and an enormous woolly beanie at the time. Also, I really like the food at his Hix Oyster and Chop House in Farringdon. So I decided not to let my pride get in the way of a potentially good feed (while secretly hoping some fabulous revenge would be delivered, like a tough serving of overcooked cod's tongue).

So I couldn't resist ducking back to HIX Soho for a quick lunch time bite yesterday. As I was flying solo, and heading out for a huge evening feast later, I perched myself up at the bar, befriended the barman, ordered a healing glass of red and peered sleuth-like over my menu at the plates on surrounding tables.

Hix does the traditional British fare thing well. The menu offers a tempting array of seafood, poultry and meats all of which looked and smelt as good as they read. Yesterday, I stuck to a dish of herring milts on toast with capers and parsley. Simple, but lovely, with a generous serving of milts, the only drawback was the toast being a fraction too thin. (Me persnickety??)

The delicious side loaf of bread was robust and served warm. Service was surprisingly friendly and I loved the casual but dapper feel of the classic styled room (despite the hospital type white tiles on the floor). Mark Hix was again doing the rounds among the regulars - steering well clear of me of course.

My lunch and wine came to around £14, and I thoroughly enjoyed my midday break. Next time I'm up for a leisurely splurge, I would definitely return to sample a larger feast of what's on offer. I'm not sure I would prefer HIX over other restaurants charging similar prices, and there is better value in town, but if you can get over the hype the man certainly knows how to serve up good British fare.

HIX, 66-70 Brewer Street, Soho, London W1F 9TR

Ba Shan, Soho (London)

It's a woman's prerogative to change her mind. Or at least, that's the line I've been using to justify my sudden change of heart about Ba Shan. Of course, this is much to The Peanut Gallery's inordinate frustration, since he has been expelling much hot air trying to convince me to return for some time.

I first visited Ba Shan many months ago and my studied and thoughtful synopsis was something along the lines of "wottever". Perhaps it was just that my loyal heart was already dedicated to its older sibling, Baozi Inn, or maybe my expectations were set impossibly high by a load of good sentiment on the foodie grapevine (although opinions are now passionately divided). But it's all by the by now, because I've given Ba Shan another burl.

It all came about because Tim doesn't like Baozi (wottever). So, amidst a frenzied craving for Chinese food, we offered up Ba Shan as an alternative.

In contrast to the clattering throng at most of the Chinese restaurants across the road in China Town, Ba Shan was almost eerily quiet when Tim, the lovely Sarah, TPG and I settled into position on Saturday night. The restaurant is divided into a series of separate crannies, each with their own theme and character, although I prefer the corner room with the windows overlooking the noble (cough) street scenes of Soho.

Ba Shan specialises in Sichuan street food and "xiao chi" (small eats). The food from this Chinese province is known for its spiciness and the liberal use of chili, garlic and peanuts. The menu offers a large array of salads, small meat dishes, dumplings, noodles, buns and vegetarian friendly plates.

We ordered up aplenty, all the while pretending to show consideration for Tim who is dancing with the devil (the Atkins diet) during his 6 week wedding countdown. But we can't all suffer...

We started with the five spiced beef salad with coriander and garlic, which I loved - colourful, fresh and tasty, if a little lacking in spice. We gave short shrift to the whole tawdry Atkins notion by stocking up on some chashou (Sichuan wontons) with spiced soy sauce, chilli oil and garlic, which were full of meat and flavour. Next came the unusual gutoie, a pan fried series of long wontons, golden and crisp on the bottom, filled with juicy pork and chive filling.

The twice cooked pork then presented itself (one of my favourites), followed by the spicy Sichuanese noodles (which were spicy by name, but not quite enough by nature) and a fairly run-of-the-mill beef stir fry.

I had urged that we try a couple of servings of the lotus leaf buns (soft, steamed dough filled with pork). The fact that they were unexpectedly bright, Kermit green, did not put us off. However, the overwhelming dill flavour reminded me more of a McDonald's burger than was likely intended in the recall of ancient traditions by our Sichuanese chef.

The best dish of the night was the spicy kung pao chicken. Despite our best efforts to spice it up, this was the only truly fiery dish of the evening. The chicken was delicious, as were the plentiful large peanuts and hot chillis immersed within.

Overall, the food was tasty, enjoyable and worthy of return. However, more spice is required in most of the dishes promising chilli if it is to live up to its full Sichuanese promise. While Baozi Inn remains my sentimental favourite, I certainly prefer Ba Shan to its other sibling, Ba Shu across the road, although I can almost see TPG shaking his head - so, perhaps I should give that one another go too. And we found it to be reasonable value, coming in at around £15 per head (with endless tea, but no alcohol).

Of course, the lack of desserts could have been a major drawback. Unless, of course, you happen to be nearby to one of the best Italian gelati shops in town. Just as Tim's ketosis was starting to take hold, we settled in up the road for a scoop or two. And as free late night tastings of chocolate cake and Nutella crepes were offered our way, the last words I heard muttered were a resounding salute to what the Atkins diet could do with itself.

Ba Shan, 24 Romilly Street, Soho, London, W1D

 

Dehesa, Soho (London)

 

Here's a hypothetical for you. You're booking dinner for a group which includes a steadfast Spaniard who respectfully considers that most Spanish restaurants in London are rubbish. So what type of establishment do you not go to?

Yuh. So, naturally, I booked us into Dehesa. No pressure.

And, of course, then I discovered that I wasn't even pronouncing it properly - it's De-esa, not De-Heesa. Not a flying start.

My companions on Tuesday were my lovable Peanut Gallery, the fun-loving Chris NC (again), Chris' fabulous wife Maggie, the lovely Yinglei from Beijing and our die hard Spaniard (and litmus test for all things authentically Spanish), Oscar.

Fortunately, De-esa is always pretty good. Its fare is a flashy combination of Spanish and Italian influences, with a modern London spin, so eating there is never going to mentally transport you straight to Madrid.

Some of its offerings are more authentically Spanish than others. I have it on good authority from my faithful Spaniard that the pork belly was true to the test. Delicious and crispy in all the right places, and set in a clay dish with flavoursome, rosemary scented cannellini beans, this was one of the favourite dishes of the night (£6.25).

The Jamon Iberica de Bellota "5J" Cinco Jotas (£12.80) also passed the litmus test. And more. Eating it in polite company was quite problematic - rich, creamy and mouth watering, it almost necessitated a minute's silence to worship each mouthful lovingly in all its glory. I could quite happily have limited the meal to a plate of each of the jamon, some bread, cheese and wine. Glorious.

The Spanish selection charcuterie was fine, but not in the same league - a nice selection of mild chorizo, salami, iberico pork with oregano and paprika edged loin ($8.60).

De-esa also offers up some of the Salt Yard essentials, such as our much loved courgette flowers with goats cheese and honey. But at only 2 per plate, they are hard to share without a surgeon's knife and a steady hand, and at £7.25 per plate it's pricey to order more.

We also sampled the classic tortilla - our Spaniard noted (head shaking, despairing tone) that the potatoes were not correctly sliced (£4). Our other dishes included some lovely chorizo (£4), the beetroot carpaccio with goats cheese, pinenuts and merlot dressing (£4.50), spiced butternut squash with chilli, ricotta and marcona almonds (great almonds, weirdly spiced squash - £4.75), patatas (always good - £3.50), braised shoulder of lamb with gnocchi, wild mushroom and speck (lovely! better than it looks above - £6.50), seared scallops with sweetcorn puree, truffle and peashoots (£9) and prawns with borlotti bean stew (I somehow missed this one, but it was Maggie's favourite dish which is good enough for me - £6.50).

Our puddings were chocolate cake with frangelico ice-cream matched with a glass of Pedro Ximenez, and calasparra rice pudding with stewed figs and cinnamon ice-cream knocked back with a sweet, golden Gerwurztraminer Passito.

The wines were among the winners of the evening. We shared a lovely full Rioja to start, followed by a bottle or two of red from Ribera del Duero (always delectable).

Runner up in the Time Out Best New Restaurant Awards 2008, my only real criticism of Dehesa is the prices. Ok, we drank a bit and ate a lot. However, at £45 a head, I would expect all dishes to be the quality of the Iberico, or at least somewhat more ample in size.

So, it's a really fun place to eat, drink and be merry, and the food is generally delicious. But watch your purse strings, and don't promise Madrid to your Spanish amigos. Salud!

Dehesa, 25 Ganton Street, Soho, London, W1F 9BP

 

Bincho Yakitori, Soho (London)

When dining Tokyo, it is traditional to be greeted as you walk in the door by an entire roomful of waiters with an enthusiastic "IrasshaimaSEEEEEE!!". It is important that you anticipate this welcome and the significant volume at which it is shrieked (1) to avoid a frequent change of underwear, and (2) to fully appreciate the level of service provided by Japanese dining establishments, where the customer is truly king.

Bincho Yakitori brings a Londonised Japanese izakaya experience to Soho. In Tokyo, izakayas are usually fun little bars closeted away behind unlabeled doorways in dark, forbidding alleys or among the murky depths of the underground metro system. Climb a narrow staircase and you will find yourself sitting before a grill drinking Sapporo beers and watching your dinner being charcoaled to perfection by a man in a bandana.

Bincho brings the flavours, style and the cooking prowess to Soho, but its brazen location on busy Old Compton Street (formerly in the Oxo Tower) and its less intimate setting detract from the full authenticity of the experience. However, while we didn't have the living daylights scared out of us by the traditional welcome greeting, our waitress was helpful and absolutely lovely. We entrusted her with the pivotal task of selecting our copious supply of dishes for the evening.

And so this became the story, not of Tokyo, but of an American, 3 Dutch persons, 2 Australians and an Englishwoman in London. An introduction that sounds like it needs a punchline (what, no Irishman?), but the tale is serious one of feasting on the good stuff and swilling our sake to excess.

Yakitori are grilled chicken skewers, while kushiyuku cover all other skewer varieties. Generally, they are cooked with salt and lemon, or a tasty "tare" sauce (comprised of sake, mirin, soy and sugar) which they are dipped into during the grilling process.

Our delicious array included pork belly (fatty goodness), tebasaki (this may be the only time I will ever recommend chicken wings), aigamo (duck breast, spring onion and wasabi - yes, lovely), salmon, cherry tomato and bacon, chicken and bacon, gorgeous perfectly grilled asparagus, and giant eringi mushrooms which were so scrumptious that, if a mushroom could ever beat a piece of meat, might even have been my favourite dish.

The only oddity arrived in the form of the yuba salad consisting of spinach leaves, grated cheese (or was this the yuba? - dried bean curd) and bacon. Call it what you will, it was basically a caesar salad.

Along with a constant supply of moreish edamame, Asahi beers, a flask of sake (for Greedy) and an impressive flow of wine bottles, we also shared some scrumptious rice bowls - tori yaki meshi - rice with chicken and mushroom (silky and nutty flavoured).

The Greedy Diva always finds the atmosphere is somewhat lost when one moves away from sitting at the bar, gullet poised near the grills, in establishments such as this. However, it's just not feasible for large groups and unfortunately we were down in the dungeon next to the loos. This is my only real criticism of the place (apart from the offending salad), which appears tiny from the street but seems to have lots of hidden pockets in which to sup. If I was going again, I would try to nab a seat at the bar or a table upstairs, although if you have enough sake and lovely food, it doesn't really matter.

I had walked past Bincho before and wasn't overly drawn to it. So thanks Ray, my trusty Tokyophile, for the tip!  Arigatoo GozaimashiTAAAA!

Bincho Yakitori, 16 Old Compton Street, Soho, W1D 4TL

Fernandez & Wells Food & Wine Bar, Soho (London)

Forget meditation and long walks through the park. On a chilly London evening, when I need to get to my happy place, I go to Fernandez & Wells.

Last night the Greedy Diva and her trusty side kicks hit the Fernandez and Wells Food and Wine Bar for some pre-dinner merriment. Chris was visiting from North Carolina and, having dragged him around to a few old man pubs during the week, it was time to turn things up a notch.

By day Fernandez is a cute lunch spot, loaded up with tasty bocadillos and ciabattas, salads, soups and stews. The ham, Montgomery cheddar and piccalilli, and the mortadella, aioli, sausage, rocket, shaved parmesan and parma ham, are particular Greedy Diva favourites. Grill them up and chow down in glee. The Portuguese custard tarts ("pasteis de nata") are also gold. All are the result of simple, fresh, quality ingredients, knocked up beautifully.

By night Fernandez transforms into a lively hive of revelry, particularly by the end of the working week. Binge on comte and manchego as you savor a delicious selection of wines by the bottle or glass. Crowd among the hanging hams while gorging on chorizo, cured hams, salamis and cornichons. And the raclette....well, they won't pour it directly down your throat (I checked) but forget about Weight Watchers for a night.

Service is smiley (wouldn't you be?) and helpful. One gets the feeling you need a passion for food and wine to work here.

For those who feel they have thoroughly done the rounds of the plentiful Fernandez wine board, word has it that the selection is changing in the next few weeks.

A little treasure on Lexington Street, Fernandez is just around the corner from the Fernandez and Wells Cafe on Beak Street - our morning coffee staple. In addition to similar sandwich options as at the Wine Bar, the cafe is a haven for rich espressos, cakes, pastries and the delectable toasted ham and cheese croissant.

The Fernandez and Wells Espresso Bar, just a short stumble away in St Anne's Court, recently snared a liquor licence. It will soon evolve into a more casual version of the established Food and Wine Bar (more tapas, less jambon), which is probably a format better suited to its narrow alleyway location. I'll be on the look out.

Until then, the Food and Wine bar remains a happy place to find foodie bliss. And a good one to pull out of the box when you need to impress your globe trotting friends.

Fernandez & Wells Food and Wine Bar, 43 Lexington Street, Soho, W1F 9AL

 

32 Great Queen Street, Covent Garden (London)

Finally, I can sleep again at night. No longer do I need to lie awake at grim hours, tossing and turning, racking my brains, for a worthy place to meet friends for a pub lunch in the realms of Soho.

Soho is great for coffee, wine bars, restaurants and, obviously, drinking out of a brown paper bag with a crack pipe in your pocket (if that's your thing). But foodie pubs are another story. The quest to find one has been the source of an inordinate amount of anguish and heartache in my obsessive little life. Yet somehow, despite my enormous snout for a good Sunday lunch, I had missed a corker: 32 Great Queen Street was that missing piece of the puzzle.

The Peanut Gallery and I had a date for Sunday lunch with our ever affable friend, Ray, on his brief visit from Australia. Ray is one well-travelled foodie, so the aim was to show him some decent British fare, vaguely in the vicinity of his hotel. Related to two other great British gastro pubs, the Anchor & Hope in Waterloo and the Eagle in Farringdon, 32 GQS was likely a safe bet.

There is nothing pretty or fancy about 32 GQS. The dining room is dark, scuffed and shabby with a hotch potch of non matching chairs, ricketty wooden tables and thimble sized wine tumblers. However, it serves up gutsy, traditional British pub fare. The food is simple, fresh, hearty and it's good.

The first promising sign was the bread - wholemeal, thick and hearty. Bread can say so much.

I happily tucked into a pidgeon with cannelloni beans (above) - seasonal and delicious. The Peanut Gallery's cuttlefish braised in its own ink (below) was so sumptuous he covertly tried to hide it from us (if you can call building a wall with the menus "covert").

Ray's shoulder of lamb (below) was juicy and sweet and I'm fairly sure I saw him licking the plate while I was distractedly ordering more beers.

I like to think we shared tasty sides of potatoes, fresh buttery cabbage, and mixed leaves - but, truth be told, I pretty much hogged them all.

We finished off with a chocolate pot that looked like a short macchiato (Ray reported it was more cakey than moussey, but in a good way), the white chocolate, raspberry and amaretto cheese cake (yes, it sounds scrumptious and it was) and chocolate doughnuts with sour cream and chestnuts.

This latter dish has since been the source of much lively debate between its owner and I. It has been noted before that The Peanut Gallery loves a doughnut. However, he was not overawed by these examples - he insists they should have been vanilla flavoured (not chocolate) and that the sour cream and chestnuts added nothing. At this point, I was hitting him over the head with my handbag and screeching denials in the middle of Long Acre Road. I loved this dessert and, as this is my blog, let that be the final word.

32 Great Queen Street, you are worthy of your pedigree, and I'm so delighted to have found you at last. I'll be back for the crab on toast.

Princi, Soho (London)

When I think Milan, I don't think Gucci, Prada, Armani. I think Princi. (Ok, I also think veal milanese and the best red wine I have ever tasted, but that's another posting).

It was a cool, overcast day in March 2008 when The Peanut Gallery and I, feet aching from endless hours spent trodding the well worn, cobblestoned streets of Milano's shopping district, stumbled upon a breathtaking bakery. In a trancelike state, we were forcibly drawn, mouths agape, into its bounty of loaves, cakes and delights both savoury and sweet. Like greedy piglets at the trough, we ate everything - pizza, bread, sausage rolls, pastry, cake. All at once and in no particular order, we devoured, pillaged, ransacked and consumed, leaving in our wake nothing but a scattering of crumbs at our feet and a trail of grease around our lips. This is my lasting and most pleasant memory of Milan.

So it was a certain amount of gluttonous anticipation that we watched the familiar Princi layout spring up in Soho last year. Could it be the same one? If it was, would we ever be able to look down and see our feet again?

And so it was that Rocco Princi, famed as the "Armani of bread", teamed up with Alan Yau, the man behind Wagamama, Busaba Eathai, Hakkasan, Yautcha and Cha Cha Moon, to bring the Milanese baker's delights to London last year.

Helen and Suzi joined me there late on Friday night, after our invigorating Italian feast at a nearby eatery. We simply followed the drool up Wardour Street, passed the noses pressed up to the glass and stepped into the buzzing throng that is London's Princi.

For the food lover, Princi looks like food porn. The counter runs along the left hand side of the restaurant with giant bread ovens and shiny loaves in the background. It is stocked up first with Italian pastries, then a glitzy array of cakes, biscuits and slices. Further along come the olive bread sticks, focaccias and pizzas, enticing one down to the amazing and colourful side salads, before the counter intersects with a hot food bar containing meaty meals and various pasta dishes.

But let me start by saying something controversial. As far as the sweet stuff goes, with some notable exceptions, the overall impact of looking at a smorsgasboard of 20 colourful treats oozing with cream, custard and chocolate is actually more magnificent than any one of them, individually, tastes. The croissants and chocolate pastries were the biggest let down for me - expecting the French style pastries I love, I don't bother with the heavier, breadier Italian style pastries here.

The exceptions include the delectable custard filled cannoncini and the chocolate chip biscuits. The Peanut Gallery is addicted to these and if he does not bound in the door on the way home to pick up an evening selection, he is at least blaming me for deterring him from doing so by espousing my ridiculous notion that we should, in the interests of good health, hold back at least one night per week. As we stare into space entranced by the after glow of dinner, it will be a rare night indeed if The Peanut Gallery does not break the silence with a hopeful "Princi?"

On Friday night, the divas and I chose the happy triangle of passionfruit cheesecake, chocolate fudge & biscuit slice (I'm sure it has a more technical Italian name) and a bold newcomer, the lemon custard and sponge slice topped with soft, gooey meringue. The cheesecake is tangy and creamy and the chocolate fudge thing hugely rich. Both are good, but they are not as amazing as you think they will be when faced with a counter-full which could only be conceived by an Italian Willy Wonka on acid. The meringue number was the best.

The pizzas and salads are delicious, although we didn't sample them on Friday. And all are reasonably priced.

Service is chaotic and often disorganised. Serious teamwork and strategic coordination of military precision is required to obtain everyone's food items at the same time. Finding a seat among the communal benches is tough. And what's with the water feature running constantly down the back wall?

However, despite the catches, I still love it. Princi has a late night buzz and enough good stuff to keep us coming back, and to be attracting the crowds in their droves. It's open for breakfast, lunch and dinner until midnight (although I believe the doors are open all night in Milan...).

Princi, 135 Wardour Street, London W1F 0UT.