"Homemade" in Oxford and Paris

There’s been a lot of discussion in the national and international press over the summer about France’s introduction of a “Fait Maison” law: the introduction of a little symbol intended to show which restaurant dishes have been entirely prepared in house, and which have had some kind of prep done off site. The majority of the fuss has been around the specifics of the rules: frozen chopped vegetables are fine, unless they’re potatoes for chips, which aren’t acceptable; paté can’t be made elsewhere but pasta can; that French classic, steak tartare, could be chopped up in some factory and then dumped on your plate and still qualify for the logo. But is there any point in having such a symbol at all? Would it improve food in Oxford?

You might think this is the sort of thing I would be entirely in favour of: I love supporting independent restaurants who craft and produce fantastic food that reflects Oxford and themselves, not mass-produced generic pap. Oxford is flooded with exactly the type of chain restaurant which France’s Fait Maison law is designed to expose, but would introducing a similar symbol here actually have any effect on them? We need to recognise that a large proportion of Oxford’s restaurants are sustained by the tourist trade, by visitors whose concern is not for the local but for the safe, the recognisable, and the comfortable. They prefer not to risk a chef at a local independent restaurant serving them something spicy, and what on earth are they meant to do when faced with homemade brawn on a menu?

These customers are unlikely to be deterred from visiting a chain restaurant simply because it doesn’t display a logo, so the restaurants which benefit most from their custom will continue to do so, squeezing out independent trade in the city centre. But what of locals? I like to think that I’m capable of knowing just from reading a menu whether or not the majority of the food is prepared and cooked in house, or shipped in ready-prepped. Menus with more than 15 main courses are unlikely to consist entirely of fresh ingredients, for example. And then there is the helpful weasel phrase “home-cooked”: not “homemade”, mind, but produced in a factory hundreds of miles away and then reheated in the restaurant kitchen once you’ve ordered it. No independent restaurant crafting dishes from scratch needs to specify home-cooked on a menu, because that is their default state; it is only restaurants where this isn’t the norm who feel the need to use this phrase. So I don’t think having a helpful little symbol on menus would help me much, either.

That’s not to say that there isn’t a group of people who this symbol wouldn’t help. There are thousands of local residents who want to eat better food but who struggle to know where to find it, or who want to support independents but are confused by restaurants owned by massive corporations masquerading as indies. Everything helps, and an easily spotted symbol on menus displayed in restaurant windows might enable this group to spend a bit more of their money on businesses doing good things.

And, finally, the symbol would allow me to easily avoid one of my greatest bête noirs, the nightmare that haunts me through even my waking hours, ruining meals just when my hopes are highest: the unexpected, frozen, oven, chip.

How to eat out sustainably

Eating out is a luxury. And, as with many luxuries, it can often be easy to forget ethical concerns when you’re enjoying them: I’ve been known to nibble on a bit of foie gras occasionally, despite knowing all the many reasons why I shouldn’t. But does that mean we should totally ignore all the noble ideals we would practice in day to day life? I think there are some simple steps we can all take when eating out to ensure the world, at least, isn’t a worse place.

That said, many of the main concerns of the sustainable food movement (how do we feed a growing world population with limited agricultural land, for example) simply aren’t relevant here: we are never going to be able to feed the world in the same way as we eat out, and we shouldn’t try to. What we’re looking for here aren’t solutions to world hunger, but working towards ensuring that our children might have many of the same options when they’re having a first date, a working lunch, or a family celebration in 20 or 30 years time.

First, you can eat seasonally. There’s one restaurant in Oxford which, in midwinter, claimed to promote “local, seasonal food” whilst serving a tomato and mozzarella salad. Luckily for us, many Oxford chefs are far more imaginative; especially in the depths of winter, what a chef can do with yet another bloody parsnip can be significantly more exciting than anything we might come up with in the confines of our own kitchen! Eating food which can be grown in the UK during its natural season reduces the amount of greenhouse gases emitted as a result of its production, whether that’s as part of the growing process itself or as a result of getting it onto your plate. It also supports the UK farming industry to keep producing great food - and if we don’t eat it now, who knows if it will still be grown in a generation’s time?

Second, try the vegetarian option occasionally! The days of vegetable lasagne and mushroom risotto are long gone, and lots of Oxford restaurants are serving vegetarian dishes as exciting - or even more exciting - than their meat or fish options. Check out <a href=”http://www.bittenoxford.co.uk/best-for-vegetarians.html”>the Bitten guide to Oxford’s best restaurants for vegetarians</a> for inspiration, and let us know if you find any particularly good dishes elsewhere. Producing a chunk of meat to sit on your plate uses far, far more of the world’s resources, and releases far more greenhouse gases, than producing the equivalent amount of vegetables.

If you can’t face a meal out without meat, then try some of the more unusual cuts on the menu. Bavette steak is fantastically tasty and just as tender as any other when it’s well cooked, and, let’s face it, the chances of that happening in a professional kitchen are much higher than when you’re at home! Restaurants love these cuts because they’re cheaper to buy (everyone wants fillet, so it’s expensive) and therefore represent more profit; you should love them because they ensure that less of an animal - and therefore less of the resources that went into its production - is wasted. For the truly adventurous, get to one of Oxford’s fab Chinese restaurants and order some offal. Britain is exporting pig offal to China at the moment, at vast environmental impact. Keep it here and let us eat it!

Third, when choosing fish look for varieties which aren’t currently in danger of becoming extinct in the wild. That might mean going for things like hake or pollock which are all still plentiful in the wild, or it might mean choosing farmed fish like salmon (although it’s worth noting that many fish farms have an appalling impact on the environment and the fish they produce, so do research, ask the restaurant lots of questions, and if you’re not happy choose something else). Choosing fish to eat can be one of the most complex areas out there, but even some small actions, like not having the cod loin, can make a massive impact.

When you read those stats about food waste (what’s the latest amount we throw away? A third?) it’s easy to assume that that waste takes place in our own houses. But massive amounts of food get wasted in restaurants, too, and especially at the end of the process. Who hasn’t had just a few nibbles from the bread basket, or pushed an unwanted salad garnish to the edge of the plate? Just as often, I find I can’t quite finish the portion of food I’ve been served (I’m only little!). When that happens, just ask to take it away - and hey presto, a free lunch tomorrow. Fantastic new scheme Too Good To Waste has just launched in Oxfordshire, and although only a few restaurants are taking part in the formal scheme, the more people ask to take away leftovers the more restaurants will join in!

Finally, sustainability isn’t just about making sure future generations enjoy the same food as we do - it can also be about sustaining the environment around them. Oxford has so much beautiful countryside just outside it, and that’s partly thanks to the wonderful range of local farmers we have. If you want to see that gorgeous patchwork of grass, wheat, and green veg in the future, then we need to support local farmers now. So when you see a local farm named on a menu, choose that dish; if no local suppliers are named, ask the restaurant why it’s not supporting them.

Modern Baker

Modern Baker may have seemed to have popped out of nowhere to land in Summertown, but it’s actually been a long time in the proving. It all began over four years ago, when owner Melissa Sharp was diagnosed with breast cancer. As she embarked on treatment, she gradually realised that her lifestyle certainly wasn’t helping her health, and may even be damaging it: her high-stress job as a management consultant, but more importantly, the food she was putting into her body, needed changing.

Melissa began to investigate alternative ways of eating and revamped her entire diet so that (mostly!) everything that goes in will do her good. Modern Baker is the result of four years of study, experimentation, and practical baking, and is Melissa’s attempt to share some of what she’s learned with others. She began by popping up at Worton Organic Garden, while taking artisan baking courses at Daylesford and at Virtuous Breads. However, a full-time bakery needs a full-time baker, and so she recruited Lindsey Stark. Lindsey comes with years of training behind her, and together the two of them began to develop their range.

The starting point for all the foods that Modern Baker produce and sell is that they should be as close to their natural state and as minimally processed as possible, whilst also tasting fab! Lindsey had trained to bake with sourdough starters, and was keen to continue using this more traditional (and, as far as I’m concerned, more flavourful) way of baking; this meshed well with the research Melissa had been doing into the health benefits of slower fermented breads. For many with gluten intolerances, sourdoughs can be considerably easier to digest than their speedily, mass-produced, supermarket cousins. They’ve also chosen to use a range of naturally lower-gluten or entirely gluten-free flours. Having experimented at home with spelt flours, I’m particularly excited to try their loaves made with kamut, an even more ancient forerunner of modern wheat.

But for many people, the cakes will be what entices them in to Modern Baker! As with their breads, Melissa has replaced processed ingredients with more natural ones, particularly focussing on replacing refined sugars with coconut sugar, honey, or maple syrup, which not only have the benefit of being less processed, they also taste significantly better. Alongside that, they try to use raw ingredients like nut butters, berries, and raw cacao.

The shop is aiming to be a one-stop centre for those interested in healthy eating, and one of the aspects Melissa has enjoyed most so far is putting together her “Wall of Health”, which runs all down one side of the shop. This holds a glee-inducing range of products I’ve previously struggled to find elsewhere: more of that raw cacao, heaven-scented herbal teas, and, joy of joys, a brilliant cookbook collection. Everything on sale has been personally tried and tested by Melissa; the cookbooks are just the tiniest selection from her collection of over 60 tomes. She’s got a way to go before hitting my total (currently running at over 80), but she’s certainly trying!

The whole space is light and airy, reflecting the cleanness of the food, and much of that is thanks to part-barista, part-designer, <a href=”http://www.charlotteorr.com/”>Charlotte Orr</a>. She drew the beautiful Scandi-inspired tree designs for the Modern Baker signs, and the whole space draws on that same feeling. I can imagine the cafe being a great place to sit, relax, and take time to focus on one’s self and one’s own health: I certainly look forward to spending many hours ensconced there.

Best for... cocktails

A lot of my eating out is done in a slightly rushed fashion: grabbing a quick bite after work, when neither of us can be bothered cooking. But when I have a proper evening out, I do like to start with a cocktail: it someone makes the whole dining out experience feel a bit more special. So where should you eat to get the best pre-dinner drinks?

My first mention goes jointly to two of the Mogford venues, Gees (61 Banbury Road, Oxford OX2 6PE), and Quod (92-94 High St, Oxford OX1 4BJ). Quod, in particular, is built for leisurely evenings, with a separate bar area staffed by charming young things. Their cocktail menu changes regularly but the bartenders are always well trained, able to advise you on which drink to choose before doing an excellent job of mixing it. They’ll provide you with nibbles and water without being asked, and even have a bar snacks menu if you’re not quite sure what to order for your main meal but are already starving hungry. After that, the main restaurant food will probably be a bit of a let down, but stick to the most simple sounding dishes on the menu and you should be fine.

I recently returned to Gees after a long absence, and it’s had quite the makeover in the meantime, making it now quite a relaxing venue to linger away an evening in. Their cocktail list is short and classic, but it’s the unfussiness of the staff which really impressed me: they were quite happy for me and my companion to sit for a good half hour or more before we ordered any actual food. The food here is certainly more interesting than at Quod – we had artichokes, soft shell crab, guinea fowl and wild sea trout – and the prices aren’t too excessive. They also serve a wide variety of wines by the carafe (or glass), in case you overdid it on the cocktails earlier.

Let’s be frank: the cocktail bar at Jamie’s (24-26 George Street, Oxford OX1 2AE), and the staff’s habit of referring everyone there for five minutes even when you have a reservation, exist solely for money-making purposes, encouraging people to spend on the drinks items with the biggest mark-ups. But once you’ve accepted that fact, you can happily sit at the bar, watch other customers come and go, and drink one of their cocktails. This is one of a few places in Oxford to serve my current favourite, the Aperol Spritz, which makes a great aperitif to Italian food, but they also mix a good Negroni. They also have a particularly good range (I’m told) of non-alcoholic cocktails.

Branca (111 Walton St, Oxford OX2 6AJ) are another mostly-Italian restaurant which recognises the importance of the aperitif. Their Prosecco-based offerings are particularly strong, and they have a changing “cocktail of the month”, so regular visitors need never be bored. Almost all their wines are available by the glass or “pot” (carafe), an even better offering than Gees manage. The food is classic Italian with some excellent sourcing - their antipasti are superb - and the atmosphere buzzes with people enjoying themselves. Definitely one for date night.

For a long time I thought that Kazbar (25-27 Cowley Rd, Oxford OX4 1HP) was only a cocktail bar: I didn’t realise it did any food, let alone excellent food. The atmosphere is so relaxed that you’d feel quite comfortable coming just for drinks, or for drinks and an occasional nibble, or for drinks and a full meal (or just food, but I’ve never tried that…). The sangria is traditional, and good, but they also do a range of more interesting cocktails. The tapas are mostly Spanish with a few Moroccan influences, and ideal for producing a leisurely meal with friends.

With the entire front half of the restaurant dedicated as a cocktail bar, Moya had to make it onto this list. You can sit at the bar and have nibbles served to you there, or you can go for the main restaurant space and have drinks at your table. They’ve got the usual range of classics, plus some fairly appalling-looking variations on Long Island Iced Tea, but their “contemporary house specials” and fizzy concoctions are where you’ll find the best stuff, like the champagne-topped Russian Spring Punch or the Walnut (brandy) Alexander. The food is robust enough to soak up a couple of drinks, so go for one of their excellently-priced bottles of wine once you’re done.

And finally, a slightly odd choice: Atomic Burgers (96 Cowley Rd, Oxford OX4 1JE). Not famed for their elegance, these guys nonetheless produce one of the finest cocktails in Oxford: the Vincent Vega Shotgun Shake. This is a peanut butter ice cream shake with a cherry on top, already an awesome thing, but with added bourbon. Genius. The only downside is that, after drinking one of these, I’m often too full to eat anything at all, let alone one of their generously topped burgers. But then, when the drink is this good, who needs food?

Meet the Producers: NBC

Since the Natural Bread Company opened their latest cafe just a 30-second walk from my office, I’ve been in regularly for coffee and sandwiches, so I’d almost forgotten that NBC are not just a single cafe but a brilliant producer, supplying farmers’ markets and restaurants across Oxford and the surrounding area. So I popped in a couple of weeks ago to chat to Charlotte and Charlie, the current managers, to find out a bit more about what they do and why they do it!

The very first hint of what was to become NBC came in 2006, when Charlotte’s mum, Claire, started baking cakes to supply to their local Appleton farmers’ market. Charlotte’s dad, Will, quickly realised he wanted in on the act, too, and in 2007 he started baking bread to supply alongside those cakes. The production was initially very small-scale (just Will in his garage), but they quickly expanded to cover other farmers’ markets in East Oxford (where I first found them!) and Wolvercote.

However, the first large expansion came in 2012, when they opened a shop in Eynsham and started selling hundreds of loaves a week, alongside a growing range of cakes and pastries created by Claire. The next year, they opened in Woodstock and paired up with HasBean coffee roasters so that they could run a cafe alongside the shop; just a few months later they opened their Little Clarendon cafe and shop. They now bake over 4,000 loaves every week, sold through their shops, various farmers’ markets, and direct to local restaurants including 1855, the Mogford empire, The Magdalen Arms, coffee fiend favourites Quarter Horse and The Missing Bean, and the Vaults and Garden.

Those not familiar with the rules of sourdough baking will be amazed to find that they’re still using the same “starter” - the yeast mother from which each loaf is born - as they did in 2007. That’s one of the elements of what makes their bread taste so great: the variety of yeasts all create slightly different compounds as they break down the flour, leading to a much richer tasting bread. The only exception to this starter rule is for their “Pugliese” loaf, baked with durum flour from a starter over 70 years old, shipped in from Italy by Will a few years ago.

Then there’s the flour. NBC decided early on that they were more interested in working with a local company, with whom they could build a relationship, than with an overseas company who might meet other sustainable aims, like producing organically-certified flour. They chose to work with Wessex Mill, based in Wantage, who in turn buy their wheat from a variety of local farms with whom they have personal longstanding relationships. Those relationships mean that NBC can be quite precise about exactly what flour they source for each individual type of bread.

After the starter and the flour, all the bread needs is water, salt, and time. Charlotte emphasised to me how important that last of those is: all their loaves rise for a minimum of 24 hours. The average supermarket loaf, on the other hand, is given less than an hour. The slowness of the rise, along with the variety of yeasts mentioned earlier, results in a much deeper flavour. The breads vary in the exact processes they go through before baking - their dark rye loaf needs more kneading, for example - but the aim through all the processes is to increase the flavour of the final loaf.

Having spent the last three years in solid expansion mode, NBC are now taking a year or two to settle back and, as Charlie says, to have a bit of a play with various new ideas! They’ve already imported a specialist cold-brewing machine for coffee from Canada, which I can testify makes an amazing iced coffee. On the other hand, they’re keen to keep doing what they do best. The Far Breton, an almost custardy prune cake, has been on the menu since 2006, and isn’t going to go anywhere!

Best for... outside dining

As I write this, another single day of vague sunshine has slowly declined into another grey Monday, and it’s increasingly looking like we’re in line for another delightful British summer. But on the off chance that we do get some balmy days, the last thing you want is to be stuck inside when eating out. I’ve found Oxford to be fairly lacking in restaurants with nice outside areas (I blame the colleges and their gorgeous quads, sucking up all the nice green enclosed spaces!), but here are a few of my top choices:

I’m a sucker for a good roof terrace, and at the time of writing the only one in Oxford belongs to the Ashmolean Dining Rooms. Admittedly, the views are mainly into the bedrooms of the Randolph, rather than of dreaming spires, but it’s better than nothing. Most of the time the Dining Rooms are only a lunchtime venue, but on Fridays and Saturdays you can sip cocktails and then watch the sun set as you eat. After a recent menu nadir, angled a little too closely at the Museum’s average elderly visitor, they seem to have had a refresh and are now offering a pleasant Mediterranean-inspired menu.

Quod is light, airy, and summery even in the depths of winter, and with their front windows open the main restaurant can feel like eating outside. But, hidden away at the rear, they have a fabulous little suntrap terrace, west-facing to catch dinnertime sunrays. It’s never the most reliable venue for food, but the drinks are excellent, the atmosphere is elegant, and service is some of the most charming I’ve had. Stick to the bistro classics (crab mayonnaise; steak; fish cakes) and you should be fine.

I wouldn’t normally recommend one Mogford venue, but I’m about to recommend a second within a single article, because I cannot talk about outside dining without mentioning the delicious, wisteria-smothered front terrace of the Old Parsonage. The pain of the frankly extortionate prices (£17 for a chicken and bacon pie?) is nearly entirely ameliorated by the quiet monastic hush, the scent of the flowers, and the fawning waitresses. They’re also quite happy to let you sit there with just a pot of tea, should the food be properly beyond your budget.

A paved area does not a pub garden make. But the one at the Jericho Tavern it is large, and sunny, and therefore fits in nicely here. Regulars of the Royal Oak or the Cape of Good Hope will recognise the menu, although it is usually better executed here than at its sister pubs, and the drinks tend to be a quid cheaper too. Probably one of the best for Friday after-work summertime drinks that might turn into dinner/more drinks/3 a.m. taxis home.

On Osney Island, the calm and the river can make it feel like you’re in the countryside, so the small concreted back garden of The Punter seems a little more romantic and outdoorsy than it might do elsewhere. The menu features the usual pub classics, but I’m keener on the more adventurous dishes: at the moment they’re advertising an aubergine soup, merguez sausages, and vine-leaf-wrapped sea bass. Not all on one plate, obviously. It’s really not that far from the town centre, but always seems to be quiet, so you’re basically guaranteed a seat in the sun.

The canteen-style dining offered by Vaults & Garden is not always the most tempting, particularly given its echoing interior and tiny little tables in regimented rows. But in summer, the “garden” element comes into its own, enabling you to sit just next to Radcliffe Square whilst you lunch, admiring the Camera and taking the piss out of tourists. Steer clear of the congealed pre-cooked rarebits and go for their nourishing health-food mains: the goat’s cheese and lentil gratin is a particular favourite.

Portabello has only a slim terrace to offer as outside dining, but on the thoroughfare of South Parade, it can sometimes seem to punch far above its size, providing a full view over the comings and goings at the other venues on the road. The mass of heaters also ensures that the season and time for eating here is significantly longer than at other places: still outside at 10 a.m. in April? No problem! The menu is starting to age, with a few too many 1990s influences hanging about, but for meat-based classics it’s still reliable.

It barely has an outside seating area (I’m not convinced by a couple of rickety chairs in the middle of a road), but with its massive windows open, Kazbar feels remarkably like sitting in a souk in Marrakech. Except with added alcohol! Most of the customers (usually including me) are focussed on those drinks, and the cocktail and wine lists should certainly be thoroughly explored, but the food is also excellent: Spanish tapas with the occasional North African excursion, often featuring ingredients which I haven’t tried. One of the best for making you feel as if it’s actually summertime.

Best for... sandwiches

The first thing that needs to be said about Oxford’s sandwich supplies is: stay away from the chains. There are plenty of branches of Costa in central Oxford, and if you want over-priced under-filled pap I highly recommend them, but let’s talk REAL sandwiches here: great bread, generous fillings, interesting combinations. A desk-based lunch need never be dull again.

Top of the list is the ever-brilliant, ever-changing Olives (42 High Street, Oxford OX1 4AP). Their everyday selection of baguettes is brilliant enough, stuffed to the brink with the finest of fillings: superb freshly sliced parma ham or salami, buffalo mozzarella, tomatoes that actually taste of something, but their weekly specials is where they really show off. The rare roast beef, blue cheese, roast onion and rocket baguette is generally reckoned to lead the field, but there’s always something interesting on offer. I once even spotted them stuffing baguettes with huge chunks of lobster and garlic mayo. On top of that, they’re a decent deli, and if you pop in and choose a bottle of wine at lunchtime, they’ll have it chilled for you by the time you leave work in the evening. 

Bread is often under-recognised as an important element in a sandwich: too many people are willing to accept a basic brown/white choice with no further questions asked. That’s the reverse of the situation at the relatively new Natural Bread Company’s Companion cafe, on Little Clarendon Street. As you’d expect from the makers of the best bread in Oxford, the focus here is on the gorgeous crusty rolls, chewy and slightly sour, but the fillings ain’t bad either. Last time I visited, the soft goat’s cheese was deliciously ripe and creamy, and the roasted vegetables actually had little charred bits on them: a far cry from the soggy mess of steamed aubergine served in many cafes. They also make an amazing coffee, with a choice of two different beans always on.

Good bread is also at the core of the offerings at the Organic Deli Cafe on Friar’s Entry, where they also make their own bread. Their range of vegetarian fillings is particularly impressive (butternut squash and brie, anyone), and all their meats are free-range at least, if not organic too. My favourite is the “Free Range”: roughly hewn slices of chicken breast with a deeply savoury homemade basil pesto and sweet sundried tomatoes. This is for those days when you are really, really, hungry. They also have a small selection of vegan groceries.

On the other hand, the next two places focus firmly on fillings, cramming them into the smallest possible amount of flatbread required to transport them to your mouth. LB’s (253 Banbury Rd, Oxford OX2 7HN) do the most dangerous garlic and tahina sauces I’ve tasted in Oxford: I’ve been known to lick the paper their sandwiches are wrapped in to make sure I don’t miss any. Order the chicken or lamb shwarma wraps, stuffed with marinated smoky grilled meat, crunchy salad, and drizzled with plenty of those sauces before being gently warmed through. Then try not to order the baklava unless you like looking like Mr Creosote.

Najar’s on St Giles might look like a small newspaper hut, but there’s a reason why the owners have been made honourary members of the Balliol JCR, and it’s not their range of magazines. Selling possibly the best falafel in Oxford (in a close tie with Al Shami), you could just take them away as they are, but for best results get them in a pitta with hummus and tahina. Just keep nodding when they ask you about the massive range of extras they will offer you.

Finally, it doesn’t exactly count as a sandwich, but one of the best treats on a sunny day in Oxford is to grab a baguette and take a trip to the Oxford Cheese Shop in the Covered Market. Let the guys behind the till know what types of cheese you normally like, or what flavours you fancy that day, and they’ll talk you through various different options, tasting as you go. Once you’ve settled on a couple (or more, if you’re greedy), add some of their chutney and amazing butter, take the lot off to University Parks, and munch contentedly.

Best for... Vegetarians

My safe bet whenever visiting a new city and looking for vegetarian food is to head for the nearest Indian. You wouldn’t go terribly wrong following the same principle in Oxford: all its Indian restaurants serve up the usual collection of vegetable and paneer dishes. However, none of them quite make this list, with their offerings being average at best; as the majority are in fact Pakistani or Bangladeshi rather than Indian, they don’t come with quite as much of a cultural background of non-meat-eating as you might get elsewhere in Britain.

The one exception to this is Yeti, which is actually a Nepalese. Alongside a range of Indian classics they have some exciting Nepalese dishes, including some vegetarian offerings. Try out any jackfruit, plantain, or bamboo dish.

For those looking for more variety though, here’s a rundown of our favourite venues in Oxford with great vegetarian offerings.

Best for… breakfast: OxFork

39 Magdalen Road, Oxford OX4 1RB

OxFork make a fantastic breakfast anyway, but I think you actually get a better offering here as a vegetarian than you do as a meat-eater. Alongside the standard veggie full English (beans, mushrooms, eggs, toast, spinach, bubble and squeak) they also always have on a veggie all-American (pancakes, eggs, halloumi and maple syrup) and a wide selection of eggs-on-toast items. I had their veggie special last time, which was one of the best breakfasts I’ve ever eaten: roasted purple sprouting broccoli, eggs, wild spinach potato cake, mushroom pate on toast and beans).

Service is charming but sometimes a little slow, so order your first coffee as soon as you’re seated, and the second when the first arrives, in order to avoid any dangerous un-caffeinated breaks.

Best with… a big group: Al-Shami

25 Walton Crescent, Oxford OX1 2JG

Al-Shami easily made it onto the Bitten Top 10. But it’s with a group of vegetarians, or even vegans, that it really comes into its own. The best thing to do is to order a selection of mezze between a group of people, aiming for 2-3 dishes per person, and then let everyone dive in and sample the diversity. Only four of the cold mezze dishes aren’t vegetarian, and nearly half the hot mezze are vegetarian. I’d particularly recommend the falafel, the crunchiest I’ve ever had, and the cauliflower in sesame dressing, which coincidentally are two of their vast range of vegan offerings.

An interesting wine list, including Lebanese wine by the glass, thick and aromatic coffee, and superb baklava will complete an excellent evening out.

Best for... those missing meat: Pink Giraffe

43b St. Clements St, Oxford OX4 1AG

Those sensible Buddhists. Realising that, although vegetables are lovely, people often like some interestingly textured protein with their meal, they’ve spent centuries perfecting the art of crafting tofu to look like meat. Pink Giraffe, alongside a somewhat less tempting regular all-you-can-eat deal, serve almost their entire regular menu in parallel, but vegetarian versions. The crispy duck, with the usual pancakes and trimmings, was an absolute life-saver for me recently.

Service is friendly and the rather small size of the restaurant means that it always feels cozy. The wine list and desserts are nothing to write home about, but then, they’re not what you’re here for.

Best when… dining with carnivores: Atomic Burger

96 Cowley Rd, Oxford OX4 1JE

I am told that there are unreconstructed human beings out there who just can’t contemplate a meal without a massive hunk of red meat in the middle of the plate. For times when you’re going out for dinner with such people, Atomic Burger is your best bet. They can have a hunk of meat topped with at least two other hunks of meat, and the chips topped with meat, and you can smugly order one of their veggie burgers plus one of their wide range of vegetarian toppings. The Frito Bandito and the Johnny Cash come particularly highly recommended.

It’s also worth noting that, if you ask for it without the bacon garnish, the Baconator milkshake is vegetarian...

Best for… lunch: Alpha Bar

89 The Market, Oxford OX1 3EF

A world away from the cheese sandwich based offerings of most cafes (that wide range of cheddar, mozzarella, and goat’s cheese always available…) Alpha Bar in the Covered Market make delicious healthy salads that mostly just happen to be vegetarian. Choose your size, choose a couple of fresh raw salads, and then add some cheese or falafel. Seeds also added for those of you on serious Gillian McKeith-style health kicks.

Best when… on a date: Door 74

74 Cowley Rd, Oxford OX4 1JB

Door 74 is one of the most romantic places we know in Oxford, and luckily it always has some interesting vegetarian dishes on. The menu is short, so options are limited, but I’ve never seen the standard mushroom risotto sneaking on to it. Instead you’ll find carrot fritters, beetroot risotto, spinach and feta pie or griddled polenta, but the menu also changes regularly based on season and the chef’s latest ideas, so you should always find something exciting to eat. Low lighting, candles, and unobtrusive service make this a gorgeous evening out.

Restaurant Review: The Rusty Bicycle

I love exercise. Oh, I'm sorry, you may have misunderstood that: I don't like it when I do exercise. I like it when other people do exercise, and then demand I go for a massive pub lunch with them afterwards. That's why exercise is so great.

My partner and a couple of friends had run the Oxford Town and Gown (10,000 metres! Madness.) one Sunday morning, and so we embarked on a search for a pub which served lunch, on a Sunday, that wasn't a Sunday lunch. It's not that we object to a roast, but  I've never had a good one whilst eating out and, anyway, I'm told that running that far requires something a bit more casual and face-stuffing than some thinly carved meat and a couple of veg. And so we hit on the Rusty Bicycle, sister of my beloved Rickety Press, and one of the nearest pubs to our house. Somehow, we rarely end up there: it's small and popular, so often difficult to get a seat, and as you can't book a table it's not tempting to trek there and then have to go somewhere else for our tea. We were surprised, then, to find it fairly empty on a Sunday lunchtime: are all the normal locals still sleeping off their hangovers at that time?

There was some serious menu consideration whilst they compared how sore their muscles were, but two of the runners went straight for the fish finger sandwiches, and couldn't be persuaded to choose something different, even when I pointed out how difficult it makes writing a review when two people order the same dish. This is nursery food, comforting but simple, but the Rusty Bike turned it into something sublime. There were homemade fish goujons, crisp (with panko breadcrumbs, perhaps?) outside and moist within. There were mushy peas, not the ubiquitous minted pea puree, actually within the sandwich. There was a leaf of crunchy little gem sat over a slick of chunky homemade tartare sauce. This was the Platonic fish finger sandwich, the one you'll be served in heaven.

It came (as any good fish finger sandwich should) with chips. Good chips, but not as good as the ones I had at The Rickety Press - why can't they import them?! These were fine, but the wave of disappointment was too much to bear.

The other runner chose the Angry Texan burger, a feast of protein perfect for post-race recovery, which Jacqui has raved about before. I would have chosen it too, but with two people already choosing the same dish, I had to make some sacrifice for my readers. I regretted it the instant the burger arrived: at least six inches high, this was heaving with all my favourite things: cheese, bacon, *pulled pork*... The only downside of this burger is that you do need a knife and fork to eat it: hands will not work here. Even the details are perfect: serving the gherkin on the side, rather than in the burger. That way people who don't like them can leave them out, and people who do like them can have a little nibble after each bite of burger, cleansing the palate perfectly.

I had heard rumours of a new pizza range (with witty names like "The Notorious P.I.G."), so had to choose one of those for my lunch. I was particularly intrigued to find them using a sourdough base: I'd been trying to make pizza with my sourdough starter for a few months with not much success, so wanted to see how the professionals managed it. It was, of course, very much better than my efforts, crisp and charred and just wilting in the centre under the toppings. I went for the mushroom option, with plenty of garlic oil and just a little parmesan to season, topped with lots of fresh rocket, and got one of the freshest tasting pizzas I've ever encountered. It was even perfectly sized (those with larger appetites will want to order a side with it), meaning I could crunch my way through every last bit of crust.

We finished with Ue coffees all round; there's an insanely tempting list of puddings (salted caramel slice: drool) but we were all left full from our mains. We left replete and happy and wondering why the hell we don't spend every Sunday doing this. The eating, of course, not the running. That would be silly.

Restaurant review: Qumins

The first thing you notice at Qumins is the size of the menu. What, no list of twenty-odd "classics", all available with any meat, fish or vegetable of your choice, all served mild, medium, or hot to your taste? How will the average Brit cope?

We stuck to script to start with: poppadoms and chutneys whilst we decided what to order. The chutneys barely went with it though, being exceptionally good. The mango chutney was properly fruity; the tomato chutney had a bitter bite from onion seeds; the onions in the fresh chutney had been salted, or sugared, or maybe both, to make them less angry and more floppy, all the better to drape over a crisp shard of fried dough. It all went very well with a cocktail (hang on: cocktails at an Indian? Something wrong here), chosen from a list which actually complements the food: a couple of fruity fizzy options and a couple of herby mojito-style drinks. The wine list, too, offered some sensible choices, including the oily Gewurztraminer that I chose. There's beer, too, if you want to be a bit more trad.

We skipped the interesting starter list (possibly a mistake: I'm still regretting not having tried the spiced sardine pasty), so once we'd munched our poppadoms I dove straight into the Marathi Lamb Steak Korma. It wasn't a lamb steak, actually, it was a shank, but I'm certainly not complaining. There was an absolutely massive amount of meat on my plate, spoonably tender, swimming in a highly fragrant, and not over-sweet, sauce. The menu says that this is the way Korma is cooked in Bangladesh, and if that's true, I'd like a word with whoever invented the vastly inferior British version and decided to give it the same name. The flavour of cinnamon and cloves had penetrated the meat right down to the bone, and the flavour of the meat ran right through the sauce: this was the product of lots of marinading and slow cooking, not a pre-cooked meat; pre-cooked sauce; combine jobby.

My partner went for the slightly more regular-sounding Chicken Rhogan (I'm unclear why it's lost the "high heat", the "josh", from its name, but has kept the "oil", the "rhogan"), from the "Traditional" section of the menu. Admittedly there IS a "Traditional" section of the menu, but it really is much smaller than in most restaurants. It was admittedly milder than you would get in most high street Indian restaurants, but still very highly flavoured. The chicken was breast meat, which I'm normally wary of in curries; there's a tendency to overcook it to the point of dryness. This, though, came in large chunks, so was still moist inside.

A side of Saag Dal was a little salty, and contained much more dal than saag. It didn't feel quite as nourishing as versions I've had elsewhere, and was a little too liquid for my taste: dunking a naan into it just resulted in a moist naan, rather than a naan with actual lentils or spinach on it. That naan was a peshwari, our standard order, and was an excellent example of its genre, not too sweetened. They clearly have some proper equipment in the kitchen, too: it was deliciously charred in some spots but fluffy elsewhere.

We considered ordering dessert, but this was where Qumin's let us down most seriously, presenting us with a menu of unexciting, pre-prepped, frozen sundaes. India has a great tradition of sweet making: where is the Indian restaurant in Oxford that will show us Brits some of that?

Qumins claims to cook homestyle Indian food, and in doing so they've placed themselves considerably ahead of most Indians in Oxford. It wasn't a perfect meal, but it was pretty close and I'll certainly be back, not least for the intriguing vegetarian options (chickpea flour and yoghurt curry, anyone?). It's stylish and welcoming but, most importantly, the food is just damn good.

Restaurant review: The Rickety Press

It took me a very long time, after first being employed, to get the hang of long lunches. Some puritanical streak within me forced me to bring in my own sandwiches or soups almost every day, for nigh on four years. For a real treat, I would occasionally allow myself a sandwich purchased from a nearby deli. Oh, how things have changed.

I am now a seasoned practitioner of the long lunch. It's such a healthy thing to do: take an hour and a half out of your day; see a friend; eat good food; return to work happy. When a friend, in something of a blue funk anyway, mentioned she'd never been to the Rickety Press, I immediately prescribed a lunch.

At the time of the visit, they had a rather nice little lunch menu at £12.50 for two courses, or £15 for three. I went for a starter and a main course from that menu, but with only three options for each course, my companion decided to order a la carte instead. I don't normally order soup in restaurants (it's one of those things I feel I can do better myself), but as the only veggie starter on the set menu, I was happy to break this rule for a minted pea soup. Except, when it arrived, it was the truffled cauliflower soup from the a la carte menu that arrived. Even better, as far as I was concerned. It was slightly too wintery for the sunny day we ate on, but wonderfully heady with truffle oil. It felt nourishing, whilst still being rather decadently creamy.

Revealing that there's been something of a gap between the meal and this review, my dining partner ordered a plate of some of the season's first asparagus, served with a hollandaise sauce. The sauce was truly superb, both rich and buttery and sharp and citrussy, and was served in a generous enough quantity for me to spend quite some time wiping her plate with my finger. It was, admittedly, slightly pricey for just a few spears, but then it was very early in the season.

Due to the soup mix-up, I ended up also having cauliflower for my main, but this did provide the kitchen with a convenient opportunity to show their versatility, for the two dishes could not have been more different. There was a giant slab of roast cauliflower in the middle of the plate, charred and sweet, hiding a heap of purple sprouting broccoli, and some lightly crushed new potatoes in a lemony mustardy dressing. The cauliflower was a revelation even to an established roast-cauliflower lover like me: I'd scoffed when people had told me about the "cauliflower steak" concept but this actually did manage to replicate some of the flavours you'd get from a good steak. The iron-rich sprouting helped, although roasting had left it slightly tough.

Across the table was a smoked haddock and salmon fishcake, and yes, the singular pronoun is the correct one. This was a massive beast of a fishcake, hulking in the middle of the bowl, dwarfing the poor little assorted salad leaves around it. It was so huge that the little dish of tartare had to be served on the side. It was generously filled, too, with a good ratio of fish-to-potato, but I think I would have preferred the better crunch-to-mush ratio of normal sized fishcakes.

However, the real highlight of the meal was the chips. There was some confusion as to whether they would even be ordered, with the waiter first recommending them, and then suggesting just a vegetable side instead. Then there was a debate about whether to order the "fries" or the triple cooked chips. We plumped for the fries. I'm not a thick chips person. And then the triple cooked chips arrived anyway.

What a relief, for these were easily the best chips I've ever had. Huge, crunchy shards, you might think to look at them that there would be too much soft interior, but the kitchen had somehow managed to cook them so that the outer crisp layer was a good centimetre thick. Some of them were *only* crisp layer. And the portion was massive: you could easily just order a side of these for lunch, and leave a very happy person.

To complete the occasion, we ordered prosecco, and were beyond delighted to have it served in 1920s-style shallow glasses. Why do more places not have such class? The service, mostly, lived up to that standard: despite being occasionally muddled, they were charming in a highly professional manner. Seated in the front of the pub, the decor was almost too casual for the food and drink, but better the bustle there than the silence of the linen-tableclothed restaurant proper at the back. We departed, as we should be, happy. 

Restaurant Review: Thai Orchid

The boyfriend and I have decided to embark on a nostalgia tour of the restaurants we ate in when we first started eating out, in that stage just after graduation and getting your first job, when you realise you finally have this thing called "disposable income" that everyone else has been talking about. As tastes expand along with wallets, these restaurants seem to slip off the list of places you visit regularly, so we wanted to go back and see if they're as good as we remembered.

First on the list was Thai Orchid, a favourite of my boyfriend's about ten years ago, but not visited since. And the first thing that struck me was that it looked like we'd actually gone back in time those ten years. There is an almost Baroque fear of the white wall, the empty space: ornate dark wood carvings are everywhere. Stylish topless mermaids swim in a "tank" by the door, and small elephants gallop across our table. The waitresses are all attired in an interpretation of traditional Thai costume, columns of vibrant colours and gold thread drifting around the space.

We tried to order a mixture both of more widely recognised dishes, together with some from the specials menu. Our starter of pork ribs fell into the first group, but they still managed to disappoint. The meat was actually overcooked, something I hadn't previously realised was possible in a spare rib, so was exceptionally dry. It was dressed with a meagre amount of incredibly sweet sauce, which had begun to congeal where it had been sitting under the lights on the pass. Our other starter, a chicken satay, was fine, but unexceptional. 

We were a bit more adventurous with our choices of mains, and when the Seafood Phad Phed arrived, we thought this strategy had paid off. This was a generous mix of prawns, squid, mussels, and battered white fish goujons in a hot, sour and herby sauce, including plenty of Thai basil. Overall, the dish was warmingly spiced, but it also contained some very spicy chillis. They were too much for me, but my partner loved them. On the side we had a dish of Phak Phad Prig, stir-fried mixed veg, which were freshly cooked, still crunchy, and came in a pleasant light garlic sauce.

The rice, however, was the highlight of the meal. We'd ordered the Khao ob Gati, jasmine rice cooked in coconut milk with pandan leaves. It was heavily aromatic, sticky, and rich, in a nourishing, comforting way, like eating rice pudding as a child. We could have eaten bowls of the stuff on its own, and left happy. Unfortunately, we didn't.

The Northern Thai Steak appeared on the specials menu, so we expected it to be something unusual. The menu description promised garlic and sesame, but what arrived at the table was a sweet and sour sauce straight out of your local cheap Chinese takeaway. We were so appalled that we actually had to check with the waitress that we'd had the right dish delivered; she assured us twice that, yes, this was the fillet steak with garlic and sesame. It was fillet steak only in the strictest definition of that phrase, i.e., it didn't have a bone in it, but the meat was extremely tough and sinewey, nothing like the soft slices we'd expected.

Sitting next to us all evening had been a dessert trolley straight out of the 1970s, the highlight of which appeared to be a Angel Delight topped with crushed-up Crunchie bars. We felt it was safest avoided. Nostalgia, we've found, can sometimes be pushed too far.

Dodo's pop-up restaurant

I often worry that, by focussing on the small elements of a meal, I can give the impression that the big things weren't done well. It's usually not that, but rather that I believe it's getting the small things right that change a good restaurant into a great one. With that in mind, let me tell you that I had the best butter I have ever eaten in a restaurant last week, and that restaurant was Dodo's pop-up in Will's Deli.

Dodo's originally came to my attention through a friend of a colleague; given that I was vegetarian for Lent and another colleague was vegan, their April pop-up seemed like an excellent opportunity to eat out without fussing about whether we'd actually be able to order anything off the menu. 

The butter in question came alongside a deep green nettle soup, herby and earthy. There was a light floral note, perhaps from the deliciously citrussy sorrel flowers floating on top, although the flavour seemed to penetrate further down than that. It came with a wodge of soft soda bread (my second most notable kitchen failure EVER, after the time I tried to make salt cod fritters...) and the amazing butter, slightly goaty like a very fresh goat's cheese, but mostly just clotted-cream rich and fresh. On the downside, the vegans didn't get any of it. On the upside, that left more for me.

The main was sausages and mash, perhaps not the most expected item on a vegetarian dinner menu, but always a pleasing thing for a vegetarian or vegan to see. Meat-eaters often assume it's bacon that gets missed most, but I think that the comfort of a big bowl of sausages and mash is perhaps even more of a loss when not eating meat. These were, of course, crisp cheesy sausages, with not a bit of meat in sight, and absolutely none the worse for it. I'm still unclear what the vegans were served; it looked soy-based but vastly superior to any veggie sausage I've seen before. Throughout the meal, there was little immediately discernible difference in the food served to vegans and that served to everyone else; a nice touch, as it made the vegans feel included. My vegan colleague was, throughout, absolutely delighted by the food she was served.

The side of wild garlic mash could have been more pungent, but then I am a bit of a garlic fiend. There were also some lovely spring greens with caraway, probably the best spice to have with cabbage but wildly underused, and a beetroot chutney that tasted of Christmas. The latter could, perhaps, have done with being more of a gravy: the dish as a whole needed a little more moisture.

For dessert, we all had lemon syllabub, served in hollowed out lemon shells. I have to confess I found this kitsch presentation absolutely adorable! The vegan version was made with coconut, not cow's, cream, but the flavour in both was zesty and refreshing, perfect after quite a filling main course. The rosemary shortbread served on the side was a really inventive touch, something I'd never think of doing myself but which went beautifully with the syllabub. It also managed to do a wonderful thing: it drew the whole meal together in one herbal theme.

Will's Deli, normally a very casual venue, had been utterly transformed for the evening, with linen tablecloths, tealights and flowers. In this incarnation, it would make a great intimate date night. The service was very, very, charming, attentive but not overbearing or formal. A huge plus, for me, is that Will's Deli doesn't have a licence, so it's bring-your-own-bottle, and they're happy to keep whites in their fridge throughout the evening. It would have been helpful, though, to have had the menu in advance, so that we could have chosen wine to match the meal: had I known it would be so herbal, I definitely would have chosen something else.

Dodo's will be popping up again on Friday 23 May; keep an eye on their Facebook page for dates further in the future. 

Restaurant Review: The Anchor

I got lost on the way to The Anchor. Actually, I didn't get lost, but I managed to convince myself of that to the extent that I had to call my partner and ask him to give me directions. I was running late anyway, and it was raining, and so eventually ended up falling through The Anchor's doorway stressed, tired, and feeling a bit stupid.

Their stylish and calming grey decor swiftly knocked that attitude out of me. This is a symphony in grey: on the walls, on the chairs, on the bar, everywhere. It's light and airy and utterly relaxing; the tables are placed quite closely together so in the evening it might be buzzier, but on a drizzly midweek January lunchtime, it was like being inside the head of a very good Buddhist. The service matched the decor: welcoming, relaxed, and present and prompt, without being at all overbearing or overly chummy.

As soon as we sat down, warm, freshly baked bread appeared on the table - none of your mass-produced baked-last-week stuff here, but a platter of three different types of loaf. An entire jug of excellent extra virgin olive oil was provided to dunk the bread into, and when us two greedy guts managed to hoover up the entire plate within a few minutes, more bread was offered automatically, with no charge placed on the menu.

The menu is small but uniformly tempting, so we spent longer than average choosing what to eat. The waitress was lovely despite our sloth, utterly unfussed every time we shooed her away from our table. In the end, I chose the smoked salmon rillettes to start. These were not, in fact, rillettes, but a very good salmon pate. That's no bad thing: this one was packed with plenty of dill and came with a good dollop of bright pickled cucumber on the side. Slightly oddly, given their earlier bread triumphs, this was served with somewhat dull wholemeal toast, but perhaps it was a good thing that I didn't consume any more carbs at this point of the meal. My companion chose the squash and coconut soup. I normally avoid soup on restaurant menus on the grounds that it's the kitchen's least inventive dish, but she assured me that it was an interesting soup, warmingly spiced but not enough to raise the heartrate. It also came in a massive portion: a bowl of this with some bread would probably constitute a lunch in itself for many people.

There's a good, reasonably priced wine list, with a wide range of them by the glass. After a perfunctory debate about whether we should have wine, given we were both due back in the office within an hour, I swiftly ordered a glass of their pinot noir. The waitress was able to make a specific recommendation for a glass to go with my companion's main course: impressive in a fine dining environment, but exceptional in a gastropub.

Having spotted on Twitter in advance that they had installed a high-temperature Josper grill in the kitchen, I had to order steak for my main course: the rib-eye was not only my favourite of the cuts on offer but also the smallest at 6 oz, so that was my choice. The Josper is doing its job: the meat and fat were caramelly crisp round the edges, but the steak was still insanely juicy and rare inside. It came with excellent frites (incidentally, if the Anchor can keep skinny chips hot, why are they cold in so many other restaurants?) and a homemade, yolk-yellow, bearnaise. A gesture of watercress attempted to steer the plate towards a balanced meal, but it wasn't necessary: this was artery clogging luxury at its best.

The other main we ordered was the chargrilled lamb with bulghar wheat, aubergine, pine nuts, and a yoghurt dressing. The waitress had promised - almost warned - that the meat would be pink, but it was almost cooked through; luckily it was tasty and moist despite that. The flavour of mint had permeated the entire hunk; the menu didn't specify but we suspected this had been sitting in a marinade for an appropriately long time. The aubergine was so melting it was almost liquid. When it arrived, the dish looked like a small portion, but the combination of elements was actually very filling: neither of us were able to even consider attempting a pudding.

The Anchor's first incarnation (at least, the first during my Oxford tenure) closed down around Easter 2013, and, like many others, I mourned its passing as one of the great foodie places in Oxford. I wasn't initially reassured when I heard that the people behind the Duke of Cambridge cocktail bar, possibly my least favourite cocktail bar in Oxford, had taken it over. I only got interested when they tweeted a picture of the Josper Grill they were installing in the kitchen, and, as I found, I was right to get excited by that, but this was far far better than I had expected. With easily the best service I've had in Oxford in a long time, I'm desperate to get back for more of their soothing care.