Soul Food

Dinings: Eastern Promises.

Sushi in London? Boring. It’s like the same old problem I have when meeting a friend for the first time next to my office. “Starbucks? It’s quick and there’s free Wi-Fi”. But which one? Within a 2 minute walk, there are over four, and two of each are on the same street. Bah! This revolution doesn’t just apply to triple decaf soya lattes.

All over the city, sushi counters/restaurants are popping up. (Even Nobu has two outposts that are within a 5 minute walk from one another). Each of them the same; cold and rubbery California rolls, some saccharine version of black cod and service that aim to get you out as fast as possible. “We will need the table at 11pm sir, you have it for an hour and forty five minutes”. Last Monday, when I had almost given up hope, I visited Dinings with a friend and former colleague.

A pokey entrance on an unassuming residential street in Marylebone revealed a tiny counter with six stools (the main restaurant downstairs offers more familiar western seating but is also relatively small). The menu was chock full of items, to be fair, most of them looked and sounded the same but our host made sure we were explained the full extent of each dish.

The concept was simple: Japanese tapas. OK, so it wasn’t that simple, the menu involved some old familiar dishes (for example, California rolls) but everything was done with a twist. Our California rolls were “open” and grilled with a chili miso paste under a blowtorch. The case for one-upmanship continued. We had tar tar snacks that were very similar to Nobu’s tacos but these were put on a base of U-shapes potato crisps and flavoured with jalapeno mayonnaise and ingredients that were far sexier than tomato salsa. We also had eel nigiri topped with foie gras (the sweetness of the kabayaki sauce was the perfect match for its seared partner) and sea bass sashimi, which arrives soaking in Japanese vinegar and accompanied with ponzu jelly and black truffles. The thought of the latter dish made me somewhat apprehensive but the aroma of the truffles is the first thing that hits you, followed by the sharp hit of the liquid/jelly mixture; a great ouverture to what is often a rubbery and flavourless raw fish.

However, it wasn’t all peaches and cream. We sampled seven dishes in total and four hit the ball out of the park. The others were the sad clichés of must-have sushi menus, deep-fried soft shell crab, something with wagyu beef that was unnecessary and one other I have already forgotten.

Dinings reminds me of NYC, where Sushi chefs are famous and sitting opposite them on the counter is where it’s at (Sushi Yasuda anyone?). If this is where we are headed, viva la revolution!

Dinings (4 out of 5): 22 Harcourt Street, London, W1H 4HH, +44 (0) 20 7723 0666

Hibiscus: Escape from the Country.

First, a lesson in economics: what does it take to meet the standards of a three star venue?

1. A maximum of 40 seats.
2. A table turn of one.
3. Closed for most lunch days and at least one evening.
4. A four to one ratio of diners to waiting staff.
5. A three to one ratio of diners to chefs.
6. A recognised wine steward and support staff.
7. A size-able front and back of house.

In short, a low revenue and high cost model. No wonder most establishments are loss making and depend on merchandise revenue as well a lecturing career or TV shows. Right? Not quite. Exist stage left, enter stage right.

If I were told that a one Michelin starred restaurant in Ludlow were moving to London to make it big, I’d have been skeptical. Isn’t the reverse normally true? Move out to the middle of nowhere to reduce rental costs and position yourself as a destination venue (or as the Michelin Guide puts it “exceptional cuisine, worth a special journey”)? Well, no. At the moment, la mode in cuisine is to break the mould, why not the economics too?

Last Friday, I visited Hibiscus for about the 30^th time. I cannot speak more highly of the place. A fizzy cucumber and pineapple pearl amuse bouche, toasted rice and mushroom soup, scallops with grapefruit jelly, an asparagus tart for dessert. Exquisite. At what price? Their set lunch menu at £29.50.

A higher table turn at lunch as they target business clients (this does not affect the service as a three course meal and staggered reservations provides the perfect balance). An extensive half bottle wine list to tempt clients to have just one during their lunch break. Open only for lunch during the weak to maximize the benefits of their prime location and just evenings at the weekend for a real destination experience (tasting menu now between £75-100). Cook books? Famous TV personality? No. Just two Michelin stars and totally deserving three for fantastic cuisine, service and guts.

Hibiscus (5 out of 5): 29 Maddox Street, London, W1S 2PA, +44 (0)20 7629 2999.

Koffman's: the Meaty Vegetarian.

So I had this romantic notion when I came back from Ghana that I would be a vegetarian for the rest of the month. New year's resolutions? Screw that, a month is enough. And why meat? Well, let's just say that I must have eaten at least a herd of cows whilst away. (Bear in mind that my version of vegetarianism involves eating fish). So far, it had been great, but along came this blog...

Where do I begin? I have already been to almost all the top 50 restaurants in the world and 90% of three Michelin starred restaurants. "Revisit my favourites" I told myself, and so I did tonight, beginning with Koffman's.

Pierre Koffman was known for La Tante Claire, back in the day, one of the few chefs in the UK to be awarded three Michelin stars. Sadly, this was before my time so when I discovered he had a pop-up restaurant on top of Selfridges a year ago, I did everything I could to get a table. And I did. For two months only, he fed the elite of London. Bone marrow, foie gras poelee, hare and partridge. The menu was rich in game and in cholesterol. Heaven on a plate. There was one noticeable thing, I must have been the only person in the restaurant that was under 50.

"Pierre would feel proud to know he's got a young following" exclaimed his partner after I introduced myself before leaving.

A year later, Koffman's was open in a spot in Knightsbridge that was surely cursed (prior to that Gordon Ramsay had an establishment there and before that Vong was open). Why there and what now? I made it a point to find out so I had dinner with a kleptomaniac (will embellish on this in some other blog post). Heaven in a glass. Two bottles of champagne later, the scallops in squid ink and cote de boeuf tasted like the divine heavens opened up to spill their sacred morsels onto us.

Tonight was my third time dining under the great chef and I felt like enjoying a glass of red whilst waiting for my guest. A bottle of Margaux later, we were sat at the dinner table and ready to order. "What's the meatiest non-meat dish you have on the menu?" I asked our dear Swiss who recognised me from my previous visits. "Well, we have an off-the-menu vegetarian tarte we can offer you", to which my friend stared at me and commanded I ordered the pig's trotters or some other form of sin on the menu.

Smoked eel with leeks and a chicory and roquefort salad to begin, finishing with a venison in dark chocolate and a cod in tomato sauce. I broke my resolution, and only halfway through the month.

The first course arrived and were gobbled up in seconds, then came the mains. I had the venison and the chocolate sauce was sublime, the meat was placed on a bed of braised cabbage that tasted like creamed spinach. "They are cooked in goose fat" remarked the waiter. And then it hit me, we were being taken back to the 80s, where health did not matter, a main always had meat and a prawn cocktail in a Marie Rose sauce would not be missed. Would they have crepe Suzettes on the dessert list?

I know I do things to the extreme so after my meal tonight, I was left with three options - complete my decadence with a cigarette, run around Richmond Park a couple of times or blog about it (as my friends so often threat when they are faced with rude waiting staff). I'm glad I had the latter option. A guilt free way to begin the new year it may not be, but what it is is a reminder that "I can't believe it's not butter" deserves to remain on the shelf once in a while.

Koffman's (3 out of 5): The Berkeley Hotel, Wilton Place, Knightsbridge, SW1X 7RL, +44 (0)20 7235 1010.

Speak to us of Eating and Drinking.

My fascination with food started when I was a kid. Growing up in rural Ghana, my mom had to create everything from scratch so she would spend countless hours in the kitchen making pasta, cheese, yoghurt, ice cream and numerous Lebanese, continental and Ghanaian dishes. She'd often invite me into the kitchen with her, hand me a bowl and a whisk to get involved or distract me with flour and water. I loved it.

For a while, I was obsessed with desserts. Every year, I'd look forward to my birthday only because my mom would bring out her big old book of kids novelty cakes and have me pick one; I'd always go for the most complicated. (Once, I picked a cake that was in the shape of a circus tent and filled with animals, she had to actually MAKE marzipan and mould them into a number of performing animals). This obsession didn't last too long for I soon discovered that I don't have a sweet tooth, I just loved making things.

And it didn't stop there. For a while I thought I was a wizard. I made potions and magical concoctions from countless bottles of shampoos, liquid soaps, conditioners and anything I could get my hands on. This soon became and expensive habit so for Christmas, my parents bought me a chemistry set.

I loved my chemistry set but I never followed the instructions. I could be frequently found mixing the brightest colours and powders with the strongest aromas together. Sometimes nothing would happen, sometime a loud pop followed by some violent frothing and pungent odours would follow. (Once the mixture my brother and I created became so hot that we dropped it on the floor and the stain still exists to this very day). A mad inventor, that's what I wanted to be when I grew up.

A decade later, I found myself graduating with a degree in engineering from Imperial College in London. It was a moment that made my parents proud but left me with one thought. The 100+ students in my year know exactly what I do. I needed more.

It was during my summer in Ghana that year that I decided to take a position as a PhD candidate in Cambridge. I got told by now former-supervisor that a PhD is designed so that you end up knowing the most about a narrow field. That sold it to me. So I moved to Cambridge, in what was an act of endurance (not academically, socially). But what surprised me is that I ended up in a lab, with fancy test tubes and blue superconducting liquids flowing through weird and whacky apparatuses. I was a mad scientist and all I could think about was my childhood years.

Three years on and Graduation day was (finally) upon me. I felt fulfilled from an academic perspective as I was no longer a sausage produced in a factory, but I made the decision to leave and work in finance for financial reasons. (I also discovered that I was a bit too commercial for academia in the UK and I was not willing to move my life to California).

Now I'm not going to lie to you, finance has it perks but it ranks zero on the creativity and "get your juices going" scale. One of the things that it did open me up to is the world of Michelin stars.

My true first memory of haute cuisine was in a restaurant in Sweden. What looked like a marshmallow stunk like a bishop, a bell jar filled with raw lobster, mussels and oysters presented on salty seaweed froth. I hated every minute of it.

So for a while I declined invitations to join clients at Chez Fancy because I loved home cooking and given I had been away from my family since I was 12, being alone eating what I ate back home or with friends eating somewhere wholesome was my priority. Then came my umpteenth invitation.

How can you turn it down? They asked and rescheduled a number of times, so I had to accept. What awaited me was an experience like no other.

Explosive olives, mimetic peanuts, salmon covered in liquorice, lamb served on a pillow of rosemary, bubble gum soup and oysters and pearls. Heaven. Concoctions that would be at home in a kitchen or a lab but dishes that conjured up childhood memories from the peanuts I bought off the side of the road to the smell of freshly grilled lamb on the barbecue every Sunday. I guess I just needed to find something to relate to and that's when I began to appreciate the various idiosyncrasies worldwide, understand the base culture/tradition and relate to the methodology.

So this spurred a fetish for dining in fun restaurants worldwide. Having done three years of traveling so far, a friend recommended I put this together, a way to share my experiences. Hope you enjoy it and suggestions are always welcome!