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

 

Beard Papa, Soho (London)

I had never before seen a grown man thrust his entire head into a pastry. Then came the day The Peanut Gallery discovered Beard Papa. Since then, I swear I am sometimes woken up at 4am as Peanut fitfully shakes his head from side to side in his sleep, burrow frowed, muttering "Beard Papa, Beard Papa....".

Beard Papa is a Japanese bakery which specialises in cream puffs. It started out in Osaka in 1997, and like all good Japanese fads, has spread around the world. Specifically, in our case, it is conveniently positioned at the scraggly end of Oxford Street in London.

Its cream puffs are billowing clouds of creamy-custardy heaven.  They look a bit like giant profiteroles with custard cream overflowing from the edges. Decadent and delicious, they are the perfect dirty little secret.

The custard cream is more creamy than eggy - lightened by fresh cream and made delectable by vanilla bean. All this whipped up creamy goodness is encrusted in a puffy layer of choux pastry. Scrumptious.

There are ever changing flavours of the day, like green tea and chocolate. But I'm a traditionalist when it comes to custard cream (and creme brulee) so nothing will ever surpass the rapture of the original vanilla puff. Oh, they sell other things too. But when you can see your cream puff being freshly made, and a never ending stream of cream is squirted in before your eyes, there really is no other option.

Cream puffs are £1.30 (plus an extra 10p for the flirtatious flavour of the day). A tad hefty for a puff, but totally worth it if you want to come over to my place and see a grown man diving head first into one.

Beard Papa, 143 Oxford Street, Soho, London W1D 2JB

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