Moroccan Restaurant in London

Posted on 20/02/2012 by

Mamounia Lounge
136 Brompton Road, Knightsbridge, London, SW3 1HY
0207 581 7777
http://www.mamounialounge.com

I loved Morocco! The bustling streets of Marrakech with its ochre city walls, blue mosaics and pushy street vendors. Getting lost in the souks, breakfasting on the roof of our riad, eating at the food market on Jemaa el Fna. The stray cats, snake tamers and fortune tellers. The prerequisite cups of sugared mint tea before a sale. Trekking in the Atlas mountains, sleeping in refuges, watching the Berber children disappear over mountain tops with their goat-like dexterity. Camel-back riding in the Sahara, sand storms and oases. And of course, there are the meals and the flavours – tagines, lamb, chicken, couscous, figs, roses, mint, dates, almonds, prunes, apricots, pistachios. We had high hopes for our Moroccan meal in London.

Moroccan restaurant in London

Lamb tagine – slow cooked lamb shoulder, served with prunes, apricots and almonds

Harrods sparkled with all the promises of an exquisitely cut diamond against a velvet-night London sky. Svelte men in silk suits sat back, cross-legged at street-side tables pulling hookah pipes, blue fumes billowing from their lips. Leopard-print skirts stretched taut over the rolling buttocks of plucked, pruned, manicured, bronzed, botoxed women. The Arabian quarters of Knightsbridge welcomed us with the the tappity-tap-tap of polished, candy-cane pink talons and the swift swipe of plastic.

Moroccan restaurant in London

Chicken with buttered couscous, carrots, butternut squash, courgette, turnip and parsnip, served with a spicy chickpea tomatosSauce

From the moment we stepped into Mamounia Lounge we had departed the hurly-burly of London’s street life. I half expected to find myself in a Bedouin tent on the edge of the Sahara. The restaurant is decorated in rich reds and golds. Gold fringe curtains offer the illusion of private dining as you sink into overstuffed silk scatter cushions and succumb to the sweet sounds of dulcet lounge.

Moroccan restaurant in London

Mahalabia, a traditional Arabic pudding garnished with pistachios

While the restaurant seems to be confused as to whether it is offering a dining experience or a clubbing experience, our meals were superb. Just looking at these photos I can smell the flavours in those wafts of steam as clearly as though the lid of the tagine had only just been lifted.

Moroccan restaurant in London

Passion fruit cheese cake

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Canadian Restaurant in London

Posted on 18/02/2012 by

The Maple Leaf
41 Maiden Lane, Covent Garden, London WC2E 7LJ
020 7240 2843

Clinton’s just returned from a snowboarding trip to Canada, so it seemed opportune to welcome him by visiting a Canadian restaurant in London. The Maple Leaf in Covent Garden was the obvious choice.

Canadian restaurant in London

Lining them up! And for the keen-eyed, that's ice hockey in the background.

The Maple Leaf is Canada’s answer to Australia’s Walkabout in London. The walls are covered in Canadian paraphernalia – the maple leaf flag hangs loud and proud at the entrance, welcoming you through the pub doors, a moose head (really just an over-sized toy version) adorns the wall behind the bar, a big screen dedicated to live sports, dominates attention at the ‘dining’ end of the room. Heavy wooden tables are pockmarked with condensation stains and grubby seating cushions promises relaxed ‘anything goes’ evening. This is clearly a favorite with after-work punters, ex-pat South Africans, Canadians, Australians and Kiwis and Covent Garden tourists.

Canadian restaurant in London

Poutine, apparently a Canadian favourite - french fries covered with lashings of gravy with melted cheese.

Well, I’ve read that Canadians aren’t exactly brimming with nationalistic pride over their cuisine. I would love to be challenged by this, though. I wasn’t expecting anything more than Canadian-themed pub grub and I am quite sure that’s exactly what we got.

Canadian restaurant in London

Lumberjack meatloaf (my first meatloaf!), not a green in sight.

As Clinton scraped every last scrap from his ribs he was licking his chops in memory of elk, bison and buffalo, tidbits from his tour in Canada. There was nothing quite like that on offer here. But if you’re after a winter-warmer, some home comfort or a cure to last night’s hangover, then this is the place to visit.

Canadian restaurant in London

Not very meaty ribs, but look some colour! And those pieces of corn on the cob were nothing but buttery goodness.

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Cuban Restaurant in London

Posted on 18/02/2012 by
Cuban restaurant in London

Cuban beer and a Cuban smoothie at Cubana

Cubana
48 Lower Marsh, Lambeth, London, SE1 7RG
020 7928 8778
www.cubana.co.uk

This was truly a case of third time lucky, and third time very lucky! We had been in search of a decent Cuban restaurant and it took a couple of misadventures before we got it right. I am glad we didn’t give up after the first try, otherwise we wouldn’t have found Cubana in Lambeth.

Cuban restaurant in London

Marinated free-range chicken breast in a sesame tempura batter, served with fresh tomato salsa

On our first attempt at a Cuban restaurant in London, we ended up at The Cuban in the Stables. Our meal was so awful (oily, tasteless, unidentifiable mush) that we decided we were just going to pretend it never happened. We would have stuck to that and I would never have mentioned it here, had I not left my camera. We had been one of three tables that evening, so it wouldn’t have been hard to check their reservations and call us to let us know. Obviously someone pocketed it. Despite a couple of visits, numerous phone calls, messages, texts and general pleading, not one person from the restaurant has ever bothered to get in touch, if even to say ‘we’re sorry’.

Cuban restaurant in London

Rosti Cubana prepared with sweet potato, a hint of ginger and cilantro

We then tried Floridita in Soho. We left shortly after we were seated. It’s probably a lovely restaurant, but it just wasn’t what were looking for.

Cuban restaurant in London

Pincho de gambas y mango - Char-grilled skewer of prawns, fresh mango & peppers, with plantain-chilli rice

Finally, we found Cubana in Lambeth, and loved it! It’s crowded and loud, popular with after-work drinkers, pre-theatre diners, gaggles of girls indulging in happy hour cocktail specials. Creolised fusion blares happily from loudspeakers. Rickety tables and chairs painted in primary colours are strewn haphazardly on different leveled decks. ‘Cuban’ and ‘communist’ paraphernalia like mock AK47s and the infamous red star hang on the wall above the bar, while colourful tropical fruit and sangria jugs crowd the bar tops.

Cuban restaurant in London

Pollo Criollo - casseroled chicken in fresh orange juice, sherry, onions and garlic, served with fried plantain and black bean rice

Our meals were brought to us speedily from the sizzling open kitchen on bright crockery; simple organic, homely fare with a few local touches like black bean rice and plantain (I thought I was eating banana).

Cubana has an extensive cocktail menu, as bright and exotic as the temperament of the restaurant itself. I’m really excited to introduce my girlfriends so we, too, can take advantage of the happy hour.

The first time I have ever tried plantain. I found these at the market the next day!

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New Zealand Restaurant in London

Posted on 05/02/2012 by

Suze in Mayfair
41 North Audley Street, Mayfair, London, W1K 6ZP
020 7491 3237
http://suzeinmayfair.com/

In my Argentinian restaurant in London post, I promised that we would visit a Kiwi restaurant in London to honour a Kiwi World Cup Rugby win.

My Dad was visiting from South Africa, and after a morning of exhibitions and taking in the joviality of the South Bank we spent the afternoon knocking back pints in an Australian sports bar while miserably watching the Sharks (our local rugby side) flail to the home team in the Curry Cup final (apologies, guys, for bringing up bad memories). We skipped out before the final whistle and headed to Mayfair for dinner.

We ran into a little difficulty finding a restaurant that celebrates New Zealand’s cuisine. An Internet search unveiled the Kiwi Kitchen, which would have been ideal, but it seems that the restaurant has closed and the website is live for anthropological purposes.

I questioned the lovely Kiwi barista who runs the gorgeous Department of Coffee and Social Affairs on Leather Lane in Farringdon. He was skeptical about a traditional Kiwi restaurant per say, believing local dishes to be simply Kiwi-fied versions of European fare, and pointed me in the direction of London restaurants whose chefs and proprietors hale from the far-away country.

I didn’t want to argue with him, especially with the gorgeous scents of apple-infused lattes tempting me to perch on a window-facing seat and wile away the afternoon watching market traders bargain off their wares. I couldn’t help but wonder, though, about the Maori influences in Kiwi cooking. Surely, over time and with the natural way of things, local cultures in New Zealand must have inspired one another in the same way that any colonial cultures have.

In the end Clinton found Suze in Mayfair run by a trio of Kiwis (a foursome, if you include Winstone, their champagne-sipping, blog-writing resident pug).

We took the back streets of Oxford Circus and blue moods soon rose as the promise of warmth, wine and food grew closer. Suze in Mayfair is really off the beaten track offering a reprieve from the hectic onslaught of crowds, lights and noise that any visitor to this part of London must expect.

In the calm and quiet of the restaurant we listened in on conversations as we examined our menus  (our waitress was very upset – apparently her work visa was expiring and the prospect of returning to New Zealand’s shores was making her miserable, a fact she happily shared with all her tables).

My Dad went for the scallops and grilled Australian rib eye steak with salsa verde and a peashoot and radish salad. Clinton opted for the seafood platter of New Zealand manuka smoked fresh salmon, New Zealand green shell mussels, crispy salt and pepper squid and marinated prawns. That was just for starters! For mains he chose the chilli and yoghurt marinated New Zealand lamb kebab with sweet potatoes and chilli jam.

I ordered the smoked New Zealand eel mousse with dill on toast (delicious!) and the pan fried pollock on a panzanella salad of olives, capers, sun-dried tomatoes, red onions and a balsamic dressing. For dessert we shared the Anzac caramel cake with chocolate sauce and vanilla ice-cream and the Suze New Zealand pavlova with kiwifruit and strawberries (I do think they could have made more of the fruit, especially the kiwi).

Sated and giddy on the wine, we bid our tearful waitress good night and headed home.

Verdict: Suze in Mayfair has a wonderfully homey atmosphere and it is perfect for a gastronomic evening with guests or if you’re seeking a place to chill from the chaos of the high streets.

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Cypriot Restaurant in London

Posted on 31/01/2012 by

Yia Mas
40 Upper Richmond Road, East Putney, London, SW15 2RX
020 8871 4671
http://www.yiamas.co.uk/

I have found that polite conversation in London touches on two subjects. Stereotypically, yes, the weather is one. Admittedly, I have ‘gone native’ and I am fixated on the topic, following the BBC weather updates as closely as a club football fan follows the premiership. After one has worn out commentary on the “extraordinary weather we have been experiencing lately”, and when addressing new company, it is typical to ask “Where do you live?”

I have come to realise that in London, where you live speaks volumes about who you are and your lifestyle choices. Where you live speaks volumes about what you like to do at the weekend, your style and what type of people you enjoy hanging out with. And where you are from. The “Where do you live?” question is a polite way of finding out more about you, digging a little deeper, even being borderline nosy. Replying, “Earlsfield”, or “Close to Wimbledon” is accompanied by knowing nods. Ah, yes, with all the South Africans.

I wish I knew why South Africans have settled in the South West, and why other nationalities have tended to congregate in specific areas. I imagine it started with something like “I’m moving to London,” says one South African to another. “Ah, well, I know a few in Wimbledon. I’ll put you in touch”. Of course, the next thing is to set up shop, specifically a food shop brimming with local goods not commonly found on commercial supermarket shelves. If I were Polish and I knew that a certain specialist food market sold all the ingredients to a traditional Borsch, I would definitely consider settling close to that shop.

Anyway, it should have come as no surprise that when we visited Yia Mas on the border of Putney and Wandsworth that our Cypriot restaurant in London experience was to be populated almost entirely by South Africans. In fact, the only non-South African accent we heard was Australian, and that accent belonged to a man who was dining with, yep you guessed it, South Africans.

Thankfully, the maitre d told us that he and the rest of the staff were Cypriot and we were consoled that we were at least sampling genuine Cypriot cuisine.

We spent a pleasant enough evening sampling the dishes on offer. The restaurant is popular and very quickly filled up, stressing the maitre d out to no end as he dashed from one table to the next, supervising the ebb and flow of the evening. We weren’t blown away by our meals, but neither were we disappointed.

Between us we sampled the pastourma (spicy beef sausage) and loukanika (traditional smoked greek sausage), garidas (grilled king prawns) for starters. For my main I had the koutopollo tavas which is tender chicken breast stewed in onions, tomatoes and a hint of cumin and served with pourgouri and sauteed potatoes. Clinton had hirino souvlaki, pieces of tender pork skewered, grilled and served with a salad and houmos. For the sweet stuff at the end of the meal, Clinton chose kataifi, a traditional Greek dessert made of shredded filo pastry with sugar and honey and chopped nuts filling.

Verdict: We had a pleasant enough evening at Yia Mas. The restaurant seems most comfortable with large, rowdy tables of friends and the menu is ideal for sharing.

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Argentinian Restaurant in London

Posted on 21/10/2011 by

Ironically, I’ve started writing this as the Argentinian Pumas are staring down an All Black team performing the ever-intimidating haka. The Springboks have just been knocked out of the Rugby World Cup by the Wallabies at the quarter final stage, so we’re feeling pretty down. Ah well, next time boys.

Santa Maria Del Sur
129 Queenstown Road, Battersea, London, SW8 R3H
020 7622 2088
http://www.santamariadelsur.co.uk/

Date visited: 18 August 2011

Sod’s law. As I mentioned in the Hungarian restaurant in London post, my sister was in town. I took a day off work and we had grand plans of heading north to have a picnic on the heath, taking in some galleries, doing a spot of shopping and finishing the day off with some sun downers on the South Bank. We got no further than Camden. When we exited the station we were faced with a down pour which had pedestrians wading ankle deep and playing at fencing with their umbrellas. We made it to the Stables where we hid under the eaves and browsed for as long as we could handle the hordes of tourists, before we admitted defeat and took shelter in a pub whiling away the afternoon with chatter and gossip. And I introduced Dominique to the wonders of pear cider. The day couldn’t have been lovelier!

We tore ourselves away from the pub only when our grumbling tummies reminded us that it was time to start thinking about dinner. Clinton had chosen Santa Maria Del Sur, an Argentinian restaurant in Battersea and we headed back south to meet him there.

Santa Maria Del Sur was firmly spoon fed to popular culturalists when it won Gordan Ramsay’s the F Word – best local restaurants, the Americas category. We believe, however, that the credits are firmly due. It only took a pavement view of the grill to tantalise our taste buds and the restaurant’s interior with its warming red tones and twinkling candles and fairy lights, transported us from the puddle sludge of the streets and the storm clouds which had burgeoned while we were underground.

Looking back at the photos from the evening and thinking about our choices of cuts of meat, it’s becomes difficult to decide who had what and which is which. Did Dom have the bife ancho (11oz grilled Argentine Rib-eye steak)? Was it Clinton who had the bife de cuadril (10oz grilled Argentine Rump steak)? Did I choose the churrasco a la parrilla  (8oz grilled Argentine Sirloin steak)? No no, Dom had the bife de cuadril and Clinton had the bife ancho, or did I  have the bife de cuadril  and Dom had the churrasco a la parrilla? (Throws hands in air!) It doesn’t really matter. What does matter is that the meat was succulently cooked, dripping and flavoursome, and we walked away with little beef babies.

At either end of our meal we also shared a spicey chorizo and the heavy and rich provoleta (grilled provolone) and a beautifully and uniquely presented (see photo) don pedro (ice cream with nuts and whisky) and cheesecake de dulce de leche (milk toffee). Perhaps it was all a bit much, but celebrating my sister’s visit to London couldn’t be anything but extra special and topped with a meal to remember.

Verdict: While we have to try new restaurants every time we eat out in order to continue ticking the countries off the list, I am tempted to take my Dad to Santa Maria Del Sur during his upcoming trip to London. The only person I would dissuade from eating there would be a not-such-a-big-fan-of-meat, but I have a feeling that if such a person 1) existed (the horror!) and 2) visited, they would leave the restaurant a meat lover!

PS The Kiwis knocked the Pumas out of the tournament. They are going into the finals head-to-head with Les Bleus. If the Kiwis (finally) take the cup, I think we should find a New Zealand restaurant in their honour, but not before I have updated these posts!

Santa Maria Del Sur on Urbanspoon

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Hungarian Restaurant in London

Posted on 07/10/2011 by

I’m very behind on my posts. There are many valid reasons for this! Our to-die-for summer holiday in Malta and Sicily (oh the food, the wine, the sea and sun), a visit from my sister and my consequent trip to Amsterdam, a brand-spanking new job and now this glorious summer weather. I went for a walk on Clapham Common yesterday and was astounded by the sight of sunbathers on a bed of autumn leaves.

So I’ve dragged myself out of bed on a Sunday morning to try and make a dent in the pile of posts that need updating. My head is heavy with after effects of pear cider and champers and I am staring longingly outside. Robbins are playing in the holly tree and yet another blue sky adorns London.

So here goes!

Gay Hussar
2 Greek Street, Soho, London, W1D 4ND
020 7437 0973
http://www.gayhussar.co.uk/index.asp

Date visited: 27 July 2011

Gay Hussar, established in 1953, is as much an established cultural symbol to Greek Street as the rainbow coloured flags are to Soho. For almost 60 years, this Hungarian restaurant in London has been counted as a firm favourite where other restaurants have come and gone, adjusting to trends and the fickle tastes of London’s appetite.

We stepped into a long narrow room, library-like with shelves of books aligning the walls. The long tables that ran along the walls were already packed at this early dining hour. I suppose Soho is easily accessible for the media-types. We were ushered upstairs, past walls dotted with portraits and caricatures of the famous and infamous who have dined there in the past.

Cumbrian-born Victor Sassie established Gay Hussar with the intention that guests should drink well, eat well and live well. The menu reflects the indulgent nature of the original proprietor and that tradition has been carried into current times.

Read all about the delightful history of Victor Sassie, Gay Hussar and how London’s Hungarian restaurant was established here.

I started with a chilled wild cherry soup. It was gorgeous and rich but it at odds with my obsessive compulsive nature which dictates that sweet dishes should come at the end of the meal. Clinton had the debreceni kolbász, or smoked Hungarian sausage, whose spicy aroma wafted over to the patron at the table next to us. She lent over and exclaimed in loud, plummy tones “Is that the Hungarian sausage? I’m definitely ordering that!”, before returning to her date.

For mains we ordered the chicken roulade served with asparagus and French long beans and vegetáriánus pörkölt, vegetarian goulash served with porcini and galuska, which I believed was a must. We topped off our dinner with poppy seed strudel and summer berry pudding.

Verdict: Gay Hussar is as much a must for the delicious food and the taste of Hungarian cuisine in London, as it is for it’s long and colourful history. While sampling your meal, take some time to ponder your surroundings and imagine the ghosts of patrons-past flitting the rooms. TS Eliot is scribbling feverishly while his goulash goes cold. Princess Alexandra holds court, surrounded by her admirers. The Bevanites are plotting and debating and munching on their töltött káposzta. Victor Sassie beams proudly from a corner before dashing to take an order or to spread the latest scandalous rumour.

PS I ditched the posts for cider in the sun in the end. I’m still far behind in these updates, but it was worth it!

Gay Hussar on Urbanspoon

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