Resto 50 Bistro l’Envie, Paris

September 5, 2017

It’s always a good idea to try your nearest café wherever you are. So we met for dinner at Bistro l’Envie, warming up with a Ricard. There’s a few tables on the pavement (recommended for people watching) but we chose to sit inside to eat. There was a smattering of locals and ourselves.

The room is sparse but all the better for that. Tastefully done and encouragingly normal. On the food side things are uncomplicated but well executed. We shared charcuterie to start and in less capable stomachs that could have been the meal. But we pressed on and my volaille was crispy skinned good thing. Mash, not so keen but that wasn’t the main event. A red Ventoux on the side did no harm to the conversation and I was content, very content.

So content I went back for breakfast.

8/10

#food #paris

To see which other restaurants I’ve visited in 2016/7 check out my GoogleMap

Resto 49 Brauhaus Georg Braeu, Mitte

September 5, 2017

Having briefly gone off piste to the east we returned for the last evening of our stay in Berlin to pig paradise. We wanted trad German and Shaun knew where to get it. Georg Braeu is right next to the Spree in the heart of Berlin and we feared the worst. This was like eating fish and chips in Leicester Square, not a thing I would willingly do. But I was wrong.

True, the clientèle was mostly made up of tourists (including ourselves) and five of us slotted into a booth opposite a Chinese family. The food, however, was excellent. Football sized knuckles brought back memories of Death by Pig in Bonn back in 2014 so I went for a goulash. This was richly favoured and generously meated. A couple of cannonball sized dumplings for stodge and a slick of sauerkraut completed a Teutonic trio that will live long in the memory (and a fair while in the stomach).

I was ready to be excited by the beer as we ordered a metre of it in a dozen 0,2 measures. However, rather than a kaleidoscope of ale this turned out to be 6 dark beers and 6 lagers. But it tasted good. The waiter asked us why we were in Berlin. To play and watch football we said. He looked nonplussed that we’d travel all this way to do either when both were friendlies. But he wasn’t witness to the greatest second half ever played by a bunch of still drunk people since the last time we did that. Or to the 9-9 thriller at Union which seemed the soccer equivalent of a WWE bout.

Would I recommend the Georg Braeu? Yes, but make sure you’re really hungry and don’t bother with the metre of beer. It looks good in a photo but seems an awful lot of washing up when you could deliver that beer in a couple of jugs.

8/10

#food #berlin

To see which other restaurants I’ve visited in 2016/7 check out my GoogleMap

 

Resto 48 Salt and Pepper, Ostkreuze

September 4, 2017


Having played one football match and watched another (the first finishing 2-6, the second 9-9) our team was looking for something other than pig to eat for a change. We found it in the shape of Salt and Pepper, an Indian restaurant which rather curiously allows you to order from the menu of the Mexican down the road. I have to say that alarm bells were ringing at that prospect but while the food was unspectacular it wasn’t awful.

The highlight came from a pungently spicy green dip among the three on offer with the popadoms. The other two were suffering from blandular fever. My main of mutton curry had good flaky bits of meat in an unspectacular sauce and a generous helping of rice. Naan wasn’t as luxurious as you’d normally encounter in the U.K. but maybe that was to fit in with the local taste.

Given that we were about 10 at table the service was straightforward and friendly with good beer (well, it’s Germany isn’t it?). Not being listed on the menu an enquiry was made as to whether Irish coffee was available. They didn’t know what it was but they said they’d endeavour to satisfy the demand. Presumably after a quick scan of Google a nausea-inducing glass of whipped cream, coffee and whiskey (what a waste) was provided which though not to my taste appeared to meet with the approval of my fellow diners.

S’n’P may not be the greatest Indian restaurant in the world (or even Ostkreuze) but it did the job for a hungry football team on a Saturday night.

6/10

P.s Cheers to Gavin for the picture, I forgot to take one.

To see which other restaurants I’ve visited in 2016/7 check out my GoogleMap

Resto 47 The Keeper’s House, Piccadilly

August 28, 2017

Having lunched at Caravan, I was rather improbably dining in The Keeper’s House later the same evening. Sometimes the most banal days turn epic. Hence my memory of the meal is sketchy, especially given a couple of days of August Bank Holiday (one of which drinking Gamma Ray in the hottest car park in London) occurring since we ate.

The room is down the warren of corridors off the main body of Burlington House. But it’s worth the trip. As you’d expect there’s a selection of artworks on the walls to occupy the eye if you’ve had enough of looking at your fellow diners. There was a smattering of these but it wasn’t difficult to get a table on a Friday night.

The food is solid high-end stuff. Pea soup was a decent warm up, then a bit of fish for main (I don’t remember the brand of fish … hake? No. Umm, possibly salmon) was good too. The new potatoes on the side were perfectly cooked (not always the case) and the best thing I’d eaten all day. The only disappointment was an underwhelming pistachio ice cream.

There’s stiff competition round these parts for this kind of food at this kind of price (plus £25 for most mains) but I kind of liked it’s dungeon-y vibe and could be tempted back for a post-show scoff. Matisse is definitely worth the trip, even if (like me) you feel a bit Matissed out from a holiday in Paris.

7/10

#Food #London

To see which other restaurants I’ve visited in 2016/7 check out my GoogleMap

 

Resto 46 Caravan, Kings Cross

August 27, 2017

For once it was actually too hot to eat comfortably outside in London so we were looking for a shady place for lunch in King’s Cross. Caravan’s terrace was rammed but there was plenty of room inside where we squeezed in between a lone office worker and a group of mums and tots. It’s that kind of place.

So if you’re looking for tranquility Caravan is not the place to come. The music is loud, the ceiling is cavernous and the chatter rattles of the stripped brick walls. Which is a long-winded way to say that there was a good atmosphere.

You can share small plates or go for mains but in the end we both plumped for pizza with a shared rocket salad. When I ordered boquerones the server asked me if I knew what they were. I did but I couldn’t remember. I knew I liked them. When I saw them I remembered that they were slivery anchovies from scoffing them elsewhere. The pizza had a good crispy base but not in Paesano’s class. (I think Paesano might have ruined every pizza I ever eat by totally outclassing the field. )The salad was good but with a little bit too much oil in the dressing for my taste. A pint of Camden Pale was a good thing.

So I’d put Vagabond above Dishoom but below Grain Store on this strip. At around twenty quid a head it’s mid-range and a useful place to go if you want a bit wider menu than you’d get in Pizza Express.  But only if you’re in the area.

7/10

#Food #London

To see which other restaurants I’ve visited in 2016/7 check out my GoogleMap

Resto 45 Ristorante Villa 600, Torcello

August 20, 2017

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We were in Torcello on the recommendation of a friend to see the churches. Torcello Cathedral, pictured below, is quite easily the greatest work of art that I saw during our stay in Venice. Outside it’s a great barn of a thing that is an extraordinary sight in modern times as you approach the island. Imagine what impact it would have had in the eleventh century.

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Torcello Cathedral, a maginicent sight.

If you think the outside is extraordinary wait till you go through the door (sadly something that few tourists manage owing to the extortionate 5 euros entry fee.). Above the door a three storey high mosaic of the Day of Judgement, complete with a bonk eyed devil ordering the consumption of identifiable rotters by various fabulous beasts and demons while the saved polish their nails on the other side and go, ‘Good riddance.’ Above the altar Christ in Majesty and the Apostles and Saints ranged in equally spectacular glory. Utterly breathtaking. And then a troop up the bell tower for a great vista of the Venetian marshes which gives you a perspective on the isolation of the founding community when it came here in the (not so) Dark Ages. All that culture made me hungrythirsty.

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The Devil.

My friend had also recommended a restaurant, the Locanda, but it was shut owing to it being Assumption Day. Fortunately Villa 600 was open across the way and although they seemed reluctant to take on extra diners at first (I’m guessing the staff wanted to get along to the festival at some point, we’d seen a bunch of musicians arriving all day on the boat) the waiter kindly gave us a splendidly appointed table in their shady garden. The rest of the clientèle was mostly Italian, a good sign.

We four ate like kings. First up we shared a mixed seafood antipasti. When we ordered one only he did seem a little crestfallen and when it arrived we found out why. A prawn, no matter how king-sized it is, is not easily quartered. We should have got a couple of platters. However, we managed, and sloshed a bottle of Pinot Grigio as we did so.

For main the turbot was a magnificent thing, a big chunk of fishmeat cooked to perfection with courgette crisped and a bean sauce. Nay stodge but we were loading on bread so that was okay. The mixed salad was a dress your own affair and all the better for that. I sprinkled a bit of balsamic, olive oil and pepper on that and it was good.

A second bottle was near termination by now and we were in an expansive mood. Yes, we would like dessert, we very much would. Sorbets with liqueur seemed a winner. I plumped for the pistachio. It was like the ice cream soup of your dreams, staring up at me like a crocodile’s eye. I wanted to linger over it but it tasted too good, I wolfed it down greedily.

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Pistachio sorbet. Looks like a crocodile, tastes like heaven.

By this point I was glad I’d been for a run in the morning. Coffee next. Proper espresso. And what about grappa? When the waiter said they had two kinds of home made grappa it seemed rude not to take an option on both of them so we did that. One was golden and slightly briny, smooth like a real tequila. The other was white and flavoured with rosemary from their own herb garden. I supped and tried to decide which was the better. They were both good.

It was a treat, and at €50 a head objectively it wasn’t cheap. But it was the kind of meal that was not just a highlight of this holiday but of holidays for years to come and I didn’t begrudge giving a decent tip. We got back on the boat to visit the hell that is Burano before making an inspired decision to decamp to Mazzorbo for a glass of wine at the Venissa Ristorante. Also recommended. Go to Torcello, it really is worth the hour long boat ride.

9/10

To see which other restaurants I’ve visited in 2016/7 check out my GoogleMap

Resto 44 Hostario All’Ombra, Venice

August 19, 2017
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Apologies for the blurry shot, it was taken during a morning jog.

Famished after a hard day’s art-looking we couldn’t get a table at the three places nearest our hotel so we had to widen our scope to a more touristy part of Venice, Via Giuseppe Garibaldi. This is a proper high street with shops and restaurants intermingled and we just plumped for the closest on Hostario All’Ombra.

Don’t let the picture fool you, it looks a lot more glamorous in the evening when they have shutters up and plenty of tables out on the street for you to watch the world go by. The menu is a standard selection of Italian fare with. I made a mistake by going for pizza. Theirs wasn’t a patch on Vecia Gina’s, it was bland and doughy with a scarcity of topping. Fellow diners who’d opted for liver and squid ink pasta respectively were far more satisfied though so I guess my tip would be to stick to trad Venitian fare rather than the Neapolitan pizza.

The service was idiosyncratic I’d say … the manager (I assume) gave us a burst of dialect Venetian in what could have been a rather unnerving way but wasn’t. Otherwise the wine was pretty good for the price and there are worse places to go on this street. We had a villanous set of drinks in Bar Cin Cin up the road that rather improbably nearly put me off booze for life.

7/10

To see which other restaurants I’ve visited in 2016/7 check out my GoogleMap

#food #Venice

Resto 43 Caffè la Serra, Venice 

August 15, 2017

Having consumed plenty of hotel buffet breakfast we were looking for a quick bite, and more importantly cold beer, in between Biennale sites. Talk of dick-walloping muppets* in the Finnish pavilion put us in a merry mood and so when it came to ordering we weren’t organised at all.

But rather than getting the rats our waitress was charm itself and returned when we’d focused attention on the important stuff.

This was a good slug of draught lager with a  sandwich classico (or croque monsieur) for me and Kas, and ‘salad pies’ for the rest. We speculated about what salad pies could be. Turned out they are a kind of quiche so all good. As was the croque. We sat half shaded, half scorched in the garden with other Biennale goers.

So, the Biennale? I might blog on it if I can summon up the energy. My top three were the Finns (natch, I didn’t know what the sh*t it was about but it was a fun ride), the Austrians (interactive sculptures are always a winner in my book) and the Uruguayans, who followed up last year’s hole in the ground with a wooden animal pen this.

8/10

*Kas’s summation. I think it was described  as a playful investigation of contemporary society or some such in the blurb.

To see which other restaurants I’ve visited in 2016/7 check out my GoogleMap

#food #BiennaleArte2017

Resto 42 Vecia Gina, Venice

August 15, 2017

Dog tired and hungry after a day of travel we were looking for good, simple food within staggering distance of our digs. And we found it at Vecia Gina.

A terrace from where we could watch the local kids play football was where we sat under a crepuscular sky. We went big on the order. Three plates of antipasti, a salad and two pizzas.

The antipasti – three helpings – arrived quickly, followed seemingly immediately by the rest of the food, necessitating a complex rearrangement of wine and table items to fit them all on. It looked liked the world’s largest tapas.

But it tasted good. Quality meat,  big carves of melon (I could see the cook cutting up a fresh one in the kitchen) and plenty of salty cheese. The pizza had an excellent crispy base and a decent smattering of sausage. Wine was passable but cheap.

The food had been delivered in such a hurry that we assumed they were closing imminently. But no, closing time was 10.15 so we laid in another bottle and chatted in the dark, enjoying the warmth of the Mediterranean and the light nibbles of hungry mosquitos.

7/10

#food #Italy

To see which other restaurants I’ve visited in 2016/7 check out my GoogleMap

Resto 41 Restaurant du Musée d’Orsay, Paris

August 13, 2017

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Day two of the Paris trip saw us take the easy option in the face of mucky August weather and stroll the short trip to the d’Orsay for art and food. Of all the places in the world this is the worst in my experience for selfie arseholes. Unlike at the Louvre where much of the art is on a colossal scale and thus less prone to being ruined by a gurning fool standing in front of, say, Liberty Leading the People, the overwhelming majority of art in the M d’O is domestic in scale and poorly equipped to resist the morons. The unoriginality of this observation doesn’t mean it isn’t true.

My sensitivity to such things may have been heightened by the fact that we’d skipped breakfast with an eye on having a two hour lunch to prep for the journey back to Blighty. I was hungry and anxious. It tipping down with rain we went to the Museum’s restaurant despite having had a rather crappy experience last time round. Our waitress was of the type to soothe scowls and restore order, a rather rare breed.

This time, arriving at the stroke of midday, we weren’t packed in a side room next to a coachful of excitable Japanese tourists but rather had a prime spot in the magnificent old ballroom. If only they’d ditch the garish chairs though, they look like some remnants from a line that Ikea ditched as a failed experiment in 1995.

To the food, another set menu with up front a rabbit terrine. This did the job, a thick slab of meatiness with plenty of bread to go with. For main grilled salmon with couscous wasn’t as effective on the flavour side of things but again was generous enough in size to make me forget I’d missed a meal earlier in the day. But where was the veg? I was beginning to see why the people at Sequana grew their own, perhaps it was the only way they could ensure a regular supply.

As we moved through the courses I observed the queue to the restaurant growing and growing while our waitress manfully tried to serve, clear and do the billage for about twenty tables all by herself. This crazy system whereby the staff don’t have a minion to carry out the menial tasks may be due to restrictive work practices or a desire to skimp on wages. Either way it’s stupid and not apt to make for happy diners. Not that I cared, I had a table. But the businessman in me (there is one in there somewhere) was weeping for all that lost revenue.

We spurned dessert and took coffee, which was excellent. And then to the Orangerie, the rain having stopped, to join a whole bunch of Nymphéa-ruining arseholes. Aargh.

7/10

#Food #Paris

To see which other restaurants I’ve visited in 2016/7 check out my GoogleMap


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