Restaurant review: Moya

I first tried to go to Moya with the now-boyfriend over 3 years ago. The evening did not start well: a sudden thunderstorm soaked my jeans to the knee, I was running late, and then Moya was closed. The entrails were not auspicious.

Somehow, we had a wonderful evening. And we've been meaning to give Moya another chance ever since. We made it as far as cocktails once, but already had dinner reservations at Door 74, not wanting to take a risk on it being closed again. So, three years later, we headed back.

Moya have an extensive cocktail menu - normally the sort of thing that would make me wary but, with around half the floor space occupied by a bar, we decided they might be serious and ordered a couple. His Sloe Gin Sling was pleasantly bitter, refreshing, and almost savoury in a herby fashion. My Honeysuckle Champagne veered just the right side of sweet, and also had a lovely floral scent. The wine list is short but also excellent: we went for a very reasonably priced bottle of Malbec.

As a starter, I simply had to try the fantastically-named Devil's Toast. Knowing I would choose a meaty main course, though, I went for the vegetarian version. I certainly didn't find it as scary as it threatened to be; there was a pleasant dry warmth from the paprika but it didn't get near blowing my head off. In any case, the heat was tempered by the generous helping of creamy goat's cheese, grilled over the top. He went for the fishcake, perhaps a little short on fish but very light and fluffy. With finely chopped mixed vegetables in the mix, it was a fresh-tasting start to a meal.

I tried two things I've never heard of before for my main course (quite an achievement on the part of a restaurant!). The Segedin pork stew was surprisingly light and delicate - perhaps too delicate, as I struggled to detect any of the promised caraway in the sauce. It was served with knedla, a steamed bread. This was easily the fluffiest bread I've ever had, almost too light to be capable of mopping up the juices from my plate, but utterly delicious nonetheless. On the other side of the table, he had Smoked Sausage, possibly the most disappointing dish of the evening. The portion size was definitely on the small side (two sausages), and the promised bacon/garlic/shallots were a tiny dash of seasoning, not the major feature that their inclusion on the menu might suggest. Note to chefs everywhere: you do not need to list every single ingredient of every dish on the menu. However, this came with a side dish of some good gratin potatoes, so it wasn't a total loss.

I could tell that the main dish must have been a bit small, because he managed dessert. And a good thing too, as it was raved about: a Bublanina sponge cake, incredibly airy and fluffy, doused with assorted forest berries on top, and served with a you-know-that's-homemade-real-stuff light vanilla custard.

Service throughout was very professional, hitting just the right note between friendly and overbearing. Overall, it was an enjoyable meal, but perhaps not quite enjoyable enough for me to rave about for weeks. The flavours, the portion size, the service: everything felt as if it was slightly held in, aiming to be a tamed version of Slovak cuisine, palatable for English unused to spice and fat. I left wanting more, despite being full.

Restaurant Review: Oxford Grill

Oxford Grill is easily one of the least prepossessing restaurants in Oxford. A bright red sign across the door, white text splurged across the windows, and one of the worst-punctuated social media presences I've ever read. So I avoided it. I passed it every day, lurking at the top of the Cowley Road, on my way to and from work, with no intention to ever visit.

Luckily, others less prejudiced than me popped in. They raved to me about the food: first one, then two, then more. I asked to go for dinner with a friend, letting her know I'd be reviewing the place, and she insisted we try it.

Admittedly we visited early on a Monday evening, but it would appear that most people had the same impression as me: we were the only customers present for almost the entire evening. However, the interior decor is stylish enough, and the space small enough, to feel warm even in such circumstances. The incredibly warm welcome we received from the manager certainly helped, too. Instantly, hot, fluffy flatbreads appeared - more like a focaccia than a pitta - together with a plate of hummus.

There's a lengthy starter menu, and on a return visit I'd definitely consider ordering a range of these dishes, rather than a traditional starter and main. Vegetarians in particular will enjoy this selection; the main dishes contained few vegetarian options (and should probably avoid, for example, the vegetarian tagliatelle dish, which apparently contains chicken). I went for the dolmes, vine leaves stuffed with well-cooked rice (so many restaurants either over- or under-cook theirs), tangy with lemon juice but rich with olive oil. I love dolmes, but I think I made a poor choice compared to my companion, who selected the cacik. I've never had an exciting cacik, but as soon as it arrived I realised my error. The cucumber was not carved into tasteless hunks, nor grated to the point of dissolving into the yoghurt, nor even sliced delicately. It was cubed into the tiniest little brunoise, smaller than many a fine Parisien restaurant would bother with. Each piece was imbued with flavour from the yoghurt and garlic, whilst retaining crunch. It must have been prepared incredibly recently, too: no liquid had leached into the yoghurt to thin the overall consistency. The yoghurt itself was rich, almost cheesy, and with a pleasant waft of garlic.

I chose the hunkar begendi as a main course, a dish I've read about before but never tried. It's therefore possible that all versions are actually this good, but I'll rave anyway. The base of aubergines was a slightly well-textured baba ghanoush or similar, smoky and creamy. This was topped with little cubes of chargrilled lamb, again, smoky, but providing a good texture contrast to the aubergine, tender as they were. Finally there was a drizzle of chilli sauce (presumably this was the "peppers" listed on the menu), just enough to spice up the occasional mouthful without overpowering the rest of the dish. It was a piece of very well balanced and precise cooking. My companion went for a regular favourite of hers, the not-particularly-informative "Lamb Saute", which appears on the "Daily Specials" section of the regular printed menu. So not a special at all. The dish itself was rich, served in a sweet reduced tomato and herb sauce, but I didn't find it quite as exciting as the rest of the meal. Both mains came with rice.

There you go: don't judge a book by its cover. I have no intention of actually following this maxim, but felt obliged to churn it out anyway; it's such an appalling cliche. And besides, when I have people around me who are happy to ignore covers and recommend places like the Oxford Grill, why should I?