A Never-Ending Obsession
It began with my grandmother's lemon mousse. Now, I'm building my own food map of a new city.
Food has always been an obsession; flavour, texture, provenance, the why’s, how’s and everything in-between. It’s been my life for as long as I can remember.
I would sit at my grandmother’s breakfast counter watching her scoop fat from stock that she’d let solidify in a red jug in the fridge, to then make dumplings she’d cook in what I can only remember as being some sort of magic water. (It’s hard to find words to describe scenarios when you’re 6 or 7, but the innocent description from a child can be both simple and beautifully practical.)
My grandmother was a cook and a baker. The first thing she taught me to make was a lemon mousse. My first ‘job’ was on a Saturday morning, carrying loaves of warm brown bread to the local shop, stacked into a cloth bag, steam still rising, and the smell of fresh bread wafting through the air. I’d walk slowly, peering down, examining the bread, wondering which ones I’d get away with picking off the crispy corners to eat without visible damage. My first tastes of mango, avocado, lychee, all came from my grandmother’s kitchen in Killenaule. She was a woman in her late 70s then, and these food’s were new to her, too, but I’d always get a cut of whatever it was. I think she knew I was into it.
When she passed away that chapter ended. My concentration turned to my mother’s food; eating crispy stuffing from the chicken still roasting in the oven so I’d get the nicer bits before my brothers. Eating the raw bun dough before it was put into bun tins to be baked, and, my personal favourite, meticulously opening up tins of Afternoon Tea biscuits before Christmas. I would take all the jellies off the ‘jelly stars’ and tape up the tins perfectly again, letting my mother give them as gifts to people for Christmas.
Jelly-less.
When it came to food, nothing was safe if I was around.
Thankfully, that’s changed somewhat. If something’s ambrosial, I want someone else to eat it and I’ll just watch their reaction. It gives me an indescribable buzz. I now imagine that’s what my grandmother was doing when she was giving me new things to try, watching my reaction.
Anyway, I’m back on my obsessive bullshit. Scanning and sniffing out the best food I can get in this gorging metropolis. There’s deliciousness to suit any kind of budget and the diverse landscape of outstanding food is never-ending. But with that comes an equal amount of fad. Conveyor belts of cheese? No thanks. Beetroot lattes? Get away from me.
With that, I’ve devised a list of 10 of my favourite places to eat in London so far. Restaurants that don’t break the bank. Where you can eat and drink well and still be able to afford a train (or plane) home. Some I’ve eaten in once, some multiple times.
Mr Ji - located in Camden, this place is top of my list. I tell everyone I know who comes to London to eat here. They describe their food as a blend of “East Asian & European Cuisines”. The dishes are smart, yet casual. The flavour combinations are exciting and delicious, and, to be honest, quite filthy. But it’s brilliantly-executed filth. Their cocktail list is small, but carefully thought-out, and their wine list has a great variety of biodynamic, low-intervention wines. What’s not to love? Their prawn and pork-stuffed chicken wing with brown crab and yoghurt sounds insane, but I guarantee you it’ll be one of the tastiest morsels you’ll eat. Their Basque cheesecake with yuzu marmalade is (imo) the best in the city, hands down
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Padella - Solid pasta bar. One of the best in London, no question. Their cacio e pepe is spot-on. The desserts are typical for Italian eateries (think: tiramisu, affogato, etc.) and the neat wine list consists of two reds, two whites and a rosé. Simple, unctuous, does the job.
Tacos Padre - The food in this Borough Market taqueria is tasty, authentic and bang-on with seasoning. I’ve ploughed through all of their tacos on multiple occasions, with the lamb barbacoa and cauliflower al pastor being most memorable. Washed down with a few of their mescal margaritas and you’re laughing.
Berenjak - I’ve not had much experience with Persian cuisine, so I didn’t know what to expect when going here. It’s described as a “small mazeh style sharing plates and charcoal grilled kababs, using seasonal British produce”. Sat at the bar with a friend, we ordered a bottle of wine and dishes we didn’t recognise, which was most things. The flatbreads are the best I’ve had to date in London. Their hummus is made from black chickpeas. It’s so smooth that it has the texture of a well-made duck parfait. It’s then dressed up with crispy shallots, roasted walnuts and good olive oil. I think about it regularly.
Kiln - If you’re on the hunt for good quality grilled meats and fish, this is the place. But it has a Thai influence. So expect a lemongrass-y, spicy, smoky vibe. The grilled yaw chop was one of the most flavoursome pieces of meat I’ve eaten. The laap sausage and sour curry with mussels are also absolutely class.
Dishoom - Consistency is key when returning to restaurants. Dishoom never, ever fails me when I want good Indian food. From Bombay classics to smaller, street food-style dishes, everything is amazing. You’ll find it difficult to make a decision when ordering, so, if there’s a few of you, I’d basically suggest ordering the entire menu. But I’d also recommend the black lentil daal and the khichia and chundo. Flavours are moreish, so go starved.
Er Mei - My favourite Szechuan restaurant. Located slap-bang in the middle of Chinatown. I’ve tried a few, but this was most memorable. Make sure they don’t go easy on you with the spice; those Szechuan sweats are part of the experience. The mapo tofu is the best I’ve had to date.
Song Que - Kingsland Road in East London is well-known for it’s Vietnamese food. Every second building is a Viet’ restaurant, but my favourite is Song Que. The pho is sensational; cloudy, very beefy and shimmering with fat. The accoutrements are crunchy, fresh and fragrant and you know it’s good when it’s full of people on a Sunday afternoon.
Koya - I’m a sucker for good ramen, but Koya hits differently. Handmade udon noodles are unbelievably good; chewy and with a good slurp. The broths are comforting and delicious. Their tempura isn’t oily; it’s light & crispy. When I walk in the door, that warm, umami essence permeates through the air. It reminds me of smells wafting from small, tucked-away izakaya’s in Kyoto. So that has to be a good sign.
Berberé - Sourdough pizza joints in Clapham and Kentish town. The bases are crispy, a bit tangy and a bit salty. The toppings are good quality. I don’t care for people’s opinions about it being authentic or not. I’m just not a fan of floppy, wet pizzas, where the toppings fall off and the dough tastes of nothing. You won’t get that here. For me, it’s the Speck & Zola: lightly-smoked prosciutto, gorgonzola, fior di latte, hot honey and walnuts.
Desserts Worth Mentioning
Rhubarb & Custard - Sessions Arts Club, Clerkenwell
Chelsea Tart - Fallow, St. James
Blood Orange Tart - Lyles, Shoreditch
Green Tea Purin - Humble Chicken, Soho
