Bar Boulud, 25th July

On Wednesday evening I met old school-friend M for dinner at Bar Boulud in the Mandarin Oriental in Knightsbridge. I seem to be hanging out a lot in Knightsbridge lately - maybe one of these days I'll be whisked off by a plutocrat and installed in a life of luxury, you never know.

We'd planned to go for an aperitif at the Serpentine Bar and Kitchen, but it was another warm, sunny evening and the queue to get served lived up to the name of the establishment, so instead we went to Bar Boulud early and had a beer at the bar. The restaurant has its own separate entrance and I'd been under the impression it was in the basement, but actually it was more of a lower ground floor.

 

First impressions were favourable and there seemed to be a high staff-customer ratio. Although there were no seats together at the bar, three solutions appeared within seconds - someone offered to move up, some people left, and a spare bar stool was brought, so all was well and I had a good view of what appeared to be a jeroboam of rose sitting in an ice bucket ready to be served by the glass. I had a girly Liefmans strawberry (or was it cherry?) beer and M had a blond beer which appealed due to its name, Bitter and Twisted.

After that, we went into the main restaurant where although the tables were very close together, somehow the acoustics were good so that I could hear what M was saying but not what the people on either side of us were saying. Very fine bread and butter were provided and both were replenished the instant we finished, and there was no problem about having tap water which was also assidously topped up throughout the meal.

The wine list leapt into the stratosphere quickly, but there was a good range by the glass and, in the mood for red, we had three options under £30 which at least made choosing quite easy. We decided to pass on the 1990 premier cru Vosne-Romanee and instead went for a gutsy Corbieres for £26.50. 

We shared a charcuterie plate to start (£16), which included several hams and terrines, two kinds of mustard, cornichons and cocktail onions, and something that was probably remoulade which I left alone. For main course, it had to be the burgers as everything else is seriously pricey. M went for the embarrassingly-named "Piggie" which came with pulled pork, while I had the "Frenchie" which had what was described on the menu as confit pork belly, but actually looked very much like bacon. Let's just say I regretted not going for the Piggie and if I go back, that's what I'll have. We asked for the burgers to be cooked medium and in fact they were quite rare, but that didn't bother me. Both cost £12.75 and we had to order additional fries to go with them, at a toppy £4.75. Nevertheless, after coffee, the total tab was £107 including service, which I considered pretty good for such a swanky venue. I thought of our meal at Shampers wine bar last year which was a similar price but with nothing like such a sense of being looked after.

At lunch on Sunday we spent some time discussing a perennial favourite topic -why it's better to eat in than eat out, given how expensive eating out is these days and how most of the time you can cook similar food yourself, drink fantastic mature wines from your own cellar with it, and not be bothered by annoying waiters refilling other people's wine glasses but not your own, or obnoxious other customers, or noise levels meaning you can't hear your own voice...  I could go on. However, Bar Boulud has joined the select group of restaurants that are actually worth visiting, in my opinion. Thanks to G for recommending it and to M for her company on this occasion.

Lunch at mine, Sunday 22nd July

On Sunday,  ACC and Baron McG joined me and G for another epic lunch. It was my birthday a couple of weeks ago so I was in the mood to indulge!

Getting things off to a good start

The Baron kindly brought along some delicious little parmesan biscuits which he had baked that morning, based on a recipe by Simon Hopkinson. Some of them had a daring sliver of red chilli on the top. The secret ingredient was mustard powder, which I must consider adding next time I make gougeres, as the combination of cheese and mustard is one that appeals very much. To go with this we had a bottle of Krug 1989 left over from one of G's recent wine dinners. It was mature, yeasty, full-bodied champagne and very enjoyable. Obviously it costs megabucks, so not one we're likely to have again in the near future.

Next up was a bottle of Puligny-Montrachet 1er cru Les Folatieres 2007 from Bzikot. This had been sitting on my wine rack for some time waiting for a special occasion, and we had it with some smoked salmon from Hansen and Lydersen, who we had finally tracked down at Maltby Street the previous day, and some rye bread from the Nordic Bakery. The Puligny was a glorious golden colour. It took a little while to open up, was bigger than I expected and certainly ready to go.

Nom nom nom

On Friday night I'd been to the Ginger Pig and had fallen into the trap of losing all sense of perspective. This often seems to happen when I go to the Ginger Pig. Somehow, surrounded by enormous chunks of meat, one starts to think that a three rib roast is quite a normal size for four people and it's only when one finds out that it's actually five and a half kilos that one realises that perhaps it's actually quite a lot. But by then, of course, it's too late... actually that's not entirely fair as the butcher saw me wince and did ask if I wanted him to cut a bit off, but it looked so amazing that I decided to go for it as it was. We roasted it on Saturday to Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's instructions and it came out looking like this. Confirmation that the bigger the piece of meat, the better the result.

Back to Sunday lunch - as it was the start of the recent heatwave, we served the beef cold along with a tomato tart from Marylebone farmers' market and some salad. The first red was our old friend Beaune Greves 1er cru 1999 from Yves Darviot, which needs to be drunk up fairly soon. This bottle was beautiful as ever. I have often raved about it in the past and it remains the pinnacle of price/quality ratio as far as I'm concerned. Just amazing.

Next up, with the cheese course, was a bottle of Vosne Romanee 1er cru Clos de Reas 1999 from Michel Gros, another old favourite and again one which did not disappoint. I read somewhere recently that ideally reds should be served at cellar temperature which is lower than room temperature, so we chilled both reds slightly, which was a good move and one to remember for future reference.

The Epoisses makes a bid for freedom!

A digression about the cheeses, which came from Pascal Beillevaire in Montpelier Street just off Knightsbridge. I've written before about how offputting I find La Fromagerie in Moxon Street, with its incredibly heavy shoulder-dislocating door to the cold cheese room and a general sense that somehow you're not worthy to be allowed in there. I don't think this is just me being paranoid as G has noticed it too. So I was expecting this Parisian cheese shop located in the area of the London mega-rich to be super-snooty.

Au contraire! When I visited on Friday evening, the assistant was friendly and quite happy for me to have a look round by myself. After I'd spent a few minutes mooching about, taking care not to swipe priceless cheeses off the shelves with my rucksack loaded with 5.5 kg of beef, I enlisted her help. We had a serious discussion regarding the components of the ideal cheeseboard - I knew I wanted some Epoisses, some Beaufort, some Bleu des Causses, and a goaty thing, but fancied one additional wild card cheese. She suggested a sheep's cheese - bien sûr! - and I got to taste a wonderful pungent and smoky example of the genre which was the missing link. I'm not sure what the name of it was but will find out next time I'm there. I also got an evil dried-up little goaty thing for G - this is chevre sec, which is sold by weight so this particular one cost about two quid. I'm now the proud owner of a Pascale Beillevaire loyalty card and received a "little present" in the form of a chocolate mousse. All in all, a delightful experience and I think it may become a weekly habit!

I failed to take any photos of pudding, but made the world famous Petits Pots (to a closely-guarded family recipe) which is also basically a chocolate mousse. To accompany this, we had this Mas Amiel 1975 provided by G. This is a sweet red wine from Maury, an area in the Roussillon, one of the few wines that goes well with chocolate. Which it certainly did!

Finally, the piece de resistance was provided by ACC - a kirsch and a poire william liqueur, both with some serious age on them.

Good example of the Inverse Law of Labels

We think the kirsch may have been made in 1950 as there's a punched out 50 on the label (just below the second M of Commerce). These two made a very enjoyable end to the occasion - another five hour special!

Maltby Street Market

Yesterday morning I got up bright and early and walked down through the deserted legal district, along the Embankment, over the Wobbly Bridge to London Bridge station. En route I took this photo of the mighty Shard towering over Borough Market.

Shard!

Every time I see the Shard I'm reminded of the time G and I were admiring the view from Primrose Hill and overheard the following conversation:

A: Is that the Shard?
B: Yes, it's the tallest building in Europe.
A: It doesn't look that big, x other skyscraper looks just as big.
B: Yes, but it's further away.

We giggled all the way home. See here for the reference.

You know you're at London Bridge station when the people handing out leaflets for nearby tourist attractions (the London Dungeon and its imitators) are sporting ghoulish white face paint with red blotches to give the appearance of some hideous disease. I particularly enjoyed the zombie who was wearing a headset for no apparent reason.

I met up with ACC and our Maltby St Market Mission was underway. First there was the small matter of finding the place. I'd looked at the map beforehand so had a rough idea of what direction we needed to go in, but it was further along Druid Street than we'd expected and an element of doubt crept in. Eventually we spotted a cheery yellow canopy in the distance which turned out to be a fruit and veg stall. We didn't let that detain us but moved straight to the St John Bakery where we got custard doughnuts - top priority. After that, I got some amazing and almost certainly underpriced beef from Jacobs Ladder biodynamic farm and some 18 month old vieux gruyere from Käseswiss although in the excitement I completely forgot to look for oatcakes.

We turned the corner and were greeted by this cheery sight.

There were lots more stalls here, including one where a man was carving ham, a Jewish deli, and a bar selling cocktails, but since it was only about 10.30, we had a coffee from Coffee, Mate? instead which is the kind of place that likes to draw a leaf in the foam of your flat white. It went down very well with the custard doughnut. Memo to self: those doughnuts are squirty! Take tissues next time.

I only had one, honest

An article by Signe Johansen in last weekend's FT and a visit from my Swedish friend has reignited my desire to eat more Scandi food and I was hoping to get some smoked salmon from Hansen & Lydersen but was unable to find them. Still, I was pretty pleased with my haul.

The market had a friendly, relaxed atmosphere and there were no tourists - quite a contrast to Borough which is unbearable these days. It seemed that it wasn't necessary to get there at the crack of dawn to avoid the crowds, and in fact it might be better to go at lunchtime when one could visit the cocktail place or the wine bar, and get lunch. And the icing on the cake is that the 188 bus runs very close which takes me straight home.

This morning, to continue the spirit of adventure, I paid a visit to the Nordic Bakery just off New Cavendish Street where I got a cinnamon bun and a loaf of rye bread so I could make smørrebrød for lunch this week. The cinnamon roll looked like the one on the front of their book.

Which brings me to a new feature, Battle of the Pastries!

Nordic Bakery Cinnamon Bun v. St John Bakery Custard Doughnut:

1. Price: cinnamon bun £2.20, custard doughnut £2.00.

2. Size: the cinnamon bun was enormous and I should probably have only eaten half, but after a short pause at the half-way mark I manfully wolfed the rest down, while the custard doughnut was just the right size for one person.

3. Special feature: the custard doughnut got points for the delicious squirty filling, while the cinnamon bun had wonderful burnt crunchy bits on the outside. 

Overall: a draw - both excellent examples of their genre, but probably not something to indulge in every day.