I believe it's possible to eat a meal at My Sichuan which doesn't contain either offal or vast quantities of chillis. But you don't want to read about that, do you? You want me to tell you about the intestines, the frogs' legs, the deep blood red of the chillis and the tingling numbing freshness of the sichuan peppercorns.
It strikes me that Chinese regional cuisine - by which I mostly mean Sichuan, because that's mostly what we've got in this country so far - has become the new macho eating out experience. Now that it's no longer socially acceptable to pop into your local Bangladeshi restaurant and order the vindaloo, checking first that it really is "the hottest dish on the menu", the adventurous middle class foodie needs an alternative outlet for their arcane knowledge and desperate need to impress all those around them. See: John Lanchester in the Guardian, drooling over his own "near-psychotic" consumption of chillis at this very restaurant.
But I'll tell you all the same, because this is good food, really really good food, and anyone who cares about flavour, texture, smell, hot, sour, sweet, salty, savoury, and all the rest needs to try this food. There's a good reason to eat this food, like there's a good reason to order a vindaloo (because garlic and vinegar are brilliant ways of cutting through and enhancing the unctuous fat of a pork shoulder), and that's because it will provide you with different experiences to those you can get anywhere else.
Let's start with the "weird" things anyway, to get them out of the way. Dry fried intestines were excellent, as ever (I've ordered them every time I've been here): you could fool yourself into thinking you were eating squid rings if you wanted, although there's a slight farmyard undertone that hangs around even after you've finished eating, a slight reminder that you are eating an animal, not an anonymous chunk of protein. Coated in cornflour and fried ("dry" fried they're not; there's been plenty of hot oil near these babies) till crisp, then mixed with plenty of dried chillis, they are aromatic without being excessively spicy.
The salt and pepper frogs' legs were, for me, probably the disappointment of the meal. Other diners claimed to be able to taste something of the sea in them; to me, they were just slightly watery faux chicken wings. The batter was fine but, for once, the dish was under-spiced, with just a tiny sprinkle of garlic, sichuan peppercorns, and spring onions on top.
The sichuan beef was at the other end of the scale: deeply, warmingly rich with chilli, fermented bean paste and five spice. It's described somewhat obliquely on the menu, but what you get is a bowl of thin, soft slices of beef, with beansprouts and slices of onion, in a broth, with a thick slick of bright chilli oil on top. A slow-burning dish.
I've had it many times elsewhere, and even made it at home, but I'd somehow never ordered the ma po tofu here before. I'm so pleased that has changed: this dish has a spikier heat than the sichuan beef, but some of the same depth of flavour in the sauce. We were unable to convert the tofu-hater at the table, despite our best efforts ("it's like pannacotta, but savoury and covered in chilli oil"), but this is honestly very good tofu, utterly lacking in structural integrity but a brilliant carrier of, and foil to, the spicy sauce.
We ordered two dishes for the non-chilli-fiends at the table, but that's not to say these were mild in flavour terms. The cumin lamb was spectacular (lamb and cumin are both used extensively in the predominantly Muslim north-west of China, where the cuisine is influenced as much by the Indian sub-continent or the middle east as it is by Cantonese traditions), full of dusty citrus notes and the slight smoke of the wok. The other dish was the gong bao chicken, otherwise translated as kung po chicken. This is a sweet dish, the closest to those you might get in normal Chinese restaurants, but it's well executed here, with fragrant dried chillis, beautifully soft cubes of chicken, and plenty of crunchy peanuts.
I'd normally always order at least one vegetable dish when eating out at a Chinese, although I'm aware that's not the norm. Those who don't are missing out on the amazing dry fried green beans, stir-fried till browned but still crunchy, with masses of sichuan peppercorns and little nubbles of minced pork. These are easily the best green beans in the world. We also had the brocolli in garlic, which did exactly what it said on the tin, and was also refreshingly non-oily, a pleasant comparison to some of the other dishes we ordered. I was dining with my partner, but those who are not should perhaps avoid this dish. Or eat it anyway, and just avoid your partner for the next few days.
The decor's not much; half the staff don't speak English; on a quiet night the atmosphere is grimly silent. In conclusion, if you give a damn about good food, you must eat here.
Massive thanks to my dining companions Robin (who recommended the frogs' legs and the ma po tofu), Peter, Jillian, Colin, Helen (who doesn't like spicy food, but loved the intestines) and Michael (who wasn't convinced about eating offal, but loved the spice), and to Chris, whose birthday it was and who brought together such a great bunch of people to eat this food.
Wednesday, 22 January 2014
Monday, 13 January 2014
Restaurant Review: The Magdalen Arms
One of the (many) things which drives me irrationally mad is that class of features in food magazines generally titled "Girls' Night In". Generally starting with a thrilling low-fat, low-sugar cocktail, they recommend progressing to a salad, perhaps with some raw fish on top, followed by a low-fat, low-sugar, yet still "naughty" dessert. Perhaps I'm doing it wrong, but the only girls' night in I regularly attend involves massive quantities of wine, loaves and loaves of bread, and half the contents of a cheese shop.
That's not to say, though, that I can't acknowledge some difference between the types of food my male and female friends prefer to eat when they're out. There does tend to need to be a greater supply of vegetarian dishes, of salads or fish dishes, for a restaurant to attract a group of female friends. Hence, despite loving the food on previous occasions, I had never considered that the Magdalen Arms might be an appropriate venue. Fortunately, I have friends who are less narrow minded, and so I found myself there with a group of four other females.
Well, eventually I did. As I've found on previous visits, the service at the Magdalen Arms always leaves a little to be desired. This time, the staff sent half the group through to the restaurant; when the other half arrived, they told them that no-one else was yet there, and seated them in the bar area. Thus the first 15 minutes of the evening were spent in two separate groups, each waiting for the other to arrive. We eventually found each other and settled down to study the menu.
It's worth saying that my general feeling about the food here stands: it's big portions of heavy food, with limited concessions to smaller appetites or lighter tastes. That's shown partly in the fact that two pairs of us went for the same options (two mushroom tagliatelles, and two partridges). One of the best suggestions came from the friend who sensibly chose to order a starter plus a side salad, in this case, the cheese souffle. I've had this before as a starter and it is delicious; I can just about squeeze it in as part of a three-course meal but it sits much more happily as a main on its own.
The mushroom tagliatelle was the only vegetarian dish on the menu. This does seem to be generally the case, and I've heard that it's not uncommon for the restaurant to have run out of this single option halfway through the evening. Luckily, we nabbed two potions of it: slippery, wafer-thin homemade egg pasta, rich in flavour but not weight, with mushrooms (sauce would not be the word here: a little seasoned butter, maybe) and a very generous dose of parmesan.
The mushroom tagliatelle was the only vegetarian dish on the menu. This does seem to be generally the case, and I've heard that it's not uncommon for the restaurant to have run out of this single option halfway through the evening. Luckily, we nabbed two potions of it: slippery, wafer-thin homemade egg pasta, rich in flavour but not weight, with mushrooms (sauce would not be the word here: a little seasoned butter, maybe) and a very generous dose of parmesan.
Finally, two of us went for the partridge, including me. To be honest, as my sister recently married someone with the surname Partridge, I always feel compelled to order it on menus, simply so that I can text her and suggest I am consuming her/her husband. It's funny, honest. But I probably would have chosen it in any case, accompanied as it was by choucroute and sausage. That sausage was superb, and, as expected, it appeared in generous quantities, oozing unctuous fatty juices all over the place. The choucroute was slightly underflavoured, but provided a nice enough background winey note. I was disgruntled to find the bird itself a little overcooked, but - *female friendly klaxon* - my pregnant friend was delighted not to have to worry about the dangers of underdone meat.
To finish where we started, it took an age to drag the bill out of a waitress seemingly reluctant to accept our money: again, a small example of how slightly shoddy service can let down a whole evening. But - and I suspect the Magdalen Arms knows this, and focusses its attentions accordingly - the food is good enough that the service doesn't matter. Like the vast majority of their clientele, I'll be back. I might even take some women.
To finish where we started, it took an age to drag the bill out of a waitress seemingly reluctant to accept our money: again, a small example of how slightly shoddy service can let down a whole evening. But - and I suspect the Magdalen Arms knows this, and focusses its attentions accordingly - the food is good enough that the service doesn't matter. Like the vast majority of their clientele, I'll be back. I might even take some women.
Monday, 16 September 2013
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.
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.
Wednesday, 11 September 2013
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?
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?
Thursday, 15 August 2013
Hadley Freeman at Blackwells
I was always sort-of aware that Blackwell's did events, as well as selling me books, but only in a back-of-my-mind not-something-that-actually-happens-in-my-real-world sort of way. And then, on Twitter (font of all knowledge) one day, they went and asked one of my favourite journalists, Hadley Freeman, to come discuss her new book there.
I may have gotten a bit overexcited. I think I may have sent something terribly embarrassing like "Do it do it do it! OMG!" to them both. I shouldn't be let near anyone famous: even when I rehearse my lines really carefully, I always end up saying something faintly stupid. Anyway, they did it, thank god. And to make me feel a bit better, the lovely folk at Blackwell's even gave me a ticket.
The talk was an interview set-up, which worked very well, and congratulations are due to Lizzie Porter for her excellent work in steering the discussion. Hadley spoke a little about her book, Be Awesome, and Lizzie did a great job in guiding her through some of the books key themes, enlarging on some of the more amusing or touching stories, without spoiling it for those of use who were yet to read it. Some of the best bits came in the audience Q&A at the end - my favourite was the question "what do you say to guys who catcall you in the street?" when everyone present dived in with their own suggestions!
You can see the upcoming events at Blackwell's on their blog, broadconversation.com, as well as other store and book news, or check events on the main Blackwell's website.
I may have gotten a bit overexcited. I think I may have sent something terribly embarrassing like "Do it do it do it! OMG!" to them both. I shouldn't be let near anyone famous: even when I rehearse my lines really carefully, I always end up saying something faintly stupid. Anyway, they did it, thank god. And to make me feel a bit better, the lovely folk at Blackwell's even gave me a ticket.
The talk was an interview set-up, which worked very well, and congratulations are due to Lizzie Porter for her excellent work in steering the discussion. Hadley spoke a little about her book, Be Awesome, and Lizzie did a great job in guiding her through some of the books key themes, enlarging on some of the more amusing or touching stories, without spoiling it for those of use who were yet to read it. Some of the best bits came in the audience Q&A at the end - my favourite was the question "what do you say to guys who catcall you in the street?" when everyone present dived in with their own suggestions!
You can see the upcoming events at Blackwell's on their blog, broadconversation.com, as well as other store and book news, or check events on the main Blackwell's website.
Monday, 5 August 2013
Restaurant Review: Royal India at the Chequers
A favourite restaurant needn't be the best restaurant. The food needs to be good enough, of course, but it needn't be exceptional. In fact, it probably shouldn't be exceptional, as a favourite restaurant needs to be cheap enough to eat at regularly, rather than as an occasional treat. Service is probably more important when deciding on a favourite restaurant, rather than making a recommendation to a friend of a best restaurant: your favourite restaurant needs to be excessively welcoming, with staff who remember your preferences and greet you as friends, as much as customers. But the service can't be too good, or the place will become busy, and part of what makes it your favourite restaurant is that you can always get a table without booking. Location suddenly becomes much more important than it might be normally: if you can't roll out of the place at midnight, walk home, and be in bed within 30 minutes, then it's unlikely to become a favourite.
I wouldn't therefore always recommend what used to be my favourite restaurant in Oxford - The Indian Room at the Exeter Hall pub on the Cowley Road - to people asking where they should go for dinner. A favourite restaurant is just too personal, and others are unlikely to understand its charms, so you come across as being somewhat ignorant about good food or good service. A favourite restaurant is also an emotional thing: we can get irrationally upset when other people don't like it. We can also have nervous breakdowns when it closes down, as I suffered recently when the Indian Room shut its doors.
I was somewhat wary, therefore, of trying out its sister restaurant, The Royal India. Also based in a pub (The Chequers), but in Headington Quarry, I feared some of the charm of my original would be lost in translation. Luckily, though, some friends recommended it to me, and suggested a group trip, so I could happily go along, without having to accept responsibility if it wasn't as good as I had raved about.
The menu has some more interesting options than your average Indian, several of which we recognised from the Indian Room. I'm not sure I will ever want to try the delightfully 1990s "Olive Chicken", a curry with added olives and sweet chilli sauce, but I would recommend the King Prawn Ruposhi (with mango chutney) or Lamb Rezalla (a fresher, spicier korma equivalent). However, we were there on a Wednesday, so we took advantage of the ridiculously good value "Banquet" option: for less than a tenner, you get a starter, a main, a side to share between two, and rice or naan. This is just silly: you don't get a single main course for that in most Oxford restaurants.
I went for the sheek kebab to start with, which was a little disappointing: dry and overcooked, though revived with an excellent spiced yoghurt sauce. Others went for the vegetable samosas, which arrive as a single magnificent giant samosa (as someone who normally find the filling-to-pastry ratio in samosas way too low, I definitely appreciate the giant samosa school of thought), or the chicken tikka, which was deemed well-spiced and nicely charred.
They definitely have a very very hot oven here; the tandoori prawns I had for my main were likewise gorgeously charred and smoky without, but perfectly cooked within. They came with a massala sauce: normally an english-style gravy I'd steer well clear of, but I'd tried it at the Indian Room and it was just as good here. Sharp with yoghurt, sweet with a little tomato sauce, warmly spiced without burning my tastebuds off, this was comfort food at its absolute best. A (Kiwi) friend, still familiarising herself with Anglo-Indian cuisine, tried her first ever dupiaza and was highly impressed.
The veggie offerings are incredibly wide-ranging: any of the "classic" dishes can be made with vegetables, and any of the vegetable side dishes (seventeen of them) can be served as mains. Particular praise was given to the mutter paneer, or cheesy peas as our beloved Kiwi called them, and the sag daal. Whenever I was ill I used to go to the Indian Room for sag daal; it is one of those nourishing dishes that makes everything better, and the Royal India version is just as lovely. It's reassuring to know that happiness is only a phone call and a 45-minute wait away, as the Royal India (of course) do takeaway.
Of course, it will never be my favourite restaurant, and given the location, I doubt it will be many people's favourite. But if you're in Headington sometime, do pop in.
I wouldn't therefore always recommend what used to be my favourite restaurant in Oxford - The Indian Room at the Exeter Hall pub on the Cowley Road - to people asking where they should go for dinner. A favourite restaurant is just too personal, and others are unlikely to understand its charms, so you come across as being somewhat ignorant about good food or good service. A favourite restaurant is also an emotional thing: we can get irrationally upset when other people don't like it. We can also have nervous breakdowns when it closes down, as I suffered recently when the Indian Room shut its doors.
I was somewhat wary, therefore, of trying out its sister restaurant, The Royal India. Also based in a pub (The Chequers), but in Headington Quarry, I feared some of the charm of my original would be lost in translation. Luckily, though, some friends recommended it to me, and suggested a group trip, so I could happily go along, without having to accept responsibility if it wasn't as good as I had raved about.
The menu has some more interesting options than your average Indian, several of which we recognised from the Indian Room. I'm not sure I will ever want to try the delightfully 1990s "Olive Chicken", a curry with added olives and sweet chilli sauce, but I would recommend the King Prawn Ruposhi (with mango chutney) or Lamb Rezalla (a fresher, spicier korma equivalent). However, we were there on a Wednesday, so we took advantage of the ridiculously good value "Banquet" option: for less than a tenner, you get a starter, a main, a side to share between two, and rice or naan. This is just silly: you don't get a single main course for that in most Oxford restaurants.
I went for the sheek kebab to start with, which was a little disappointing: dry and overcooked, though revived with an excellent spiced yoghurt sauce. Others went for the vegetable samosas, which arrive as a single magnificent giant samosa (as someone who normally find the filling-to-pastry ratio in samosas way too low, I definitely appreciate the giant samosa school of thought), or the chicken tikka, which was deemed well-spiced and nicely charred.
They definitely have a very very hot oven here; the tandoori prawns I had for my main were likewise gorgeously charred and smoky without, but perfectly cooked within. They came with a massala sauce: normally an english-style gravy I'd steer well clear of, but I'd tried it at the Indian Room and it was just as good here. Sharp with yoghurt, sweet with a little tomato sauce, warmly spiced without burning my tastebuds off, this was comfort food at its absolute best. A (Kiwi) friend, still familiarising herself with Anglo-Indian cuisine, tried her first ever dupiaza and was highly impressed.
The veggie offerings are incredibly wide-ranging: any of the "classic" dishes can be made with vegetables, and any of the vegetable side dishes (seventeen of them) can be served as mains. Particular praise was given to the mutter paneer, or cheesy peas as our beloved Kiwi called them, and the sag daal. Whenever I was ill I used to go to the Indian Room for sag daal; it is one of those nourishing dishes that makes everything better, and the Royal India version is just as lovely. It's reassuring to know that happiness is only a phone call and a 45-minute wait away, as the Royal India (of course) do takeaway.
Of course, it will never be my favourite restaurant, and given the location, I doubt it will be many people's favourite. But if you're in Headington sometime, do pop in.
Sunday, 28 July 2013
2013 Top Ten Restaurants in Oxford
Another Oxford-based food blogger recently published a list of his top ten restaurants in Oxford this year. I disagreed with his choices and so I was challenged to come up with my own list. I disagree in principle with the concept of "top tens": there's a compunction to include places that might be slightly sub-par simply to make up numbers. High Fidelity is an excellent lesson in this respect: top tens are used as a substitute for real conversation; as the film progresses and the narrator's situation becomes more serious, the top tens become less and less important, and real conversations become properly valued.
On top of that the ranking system often isn't explained. Are they personal favourites? Are they best for food, or for service, or for atmosphere? Or are they simply near to the writer's home, and therefore convenient? For me, a full-length (by which I mean at least 500 words) review will always hold more value than a headline-grabbing top ten.
That said, here are my favourites, in alphabetical order:
The best Lebanese in Oxford, and one that (in my fairly wide experience) could definitely compete at a national level. Particularly impressive is the wide range of vegetarian meze, as well as their bravery in putting some less traditional meats on the menu. I haven't dared try the brains yet, but the raw lamb kibbeh nayeh is excellent: refreshing and delicate in an unexpected manner.
As far as I'm aware, the only restaurant (now a mini chain!) in the country where the focus is on what goes on top of the burger. There's a rash of Gourmet Burgers/Byrons, and now London is even facing the invasion of New York's Shake Shack, but Atomic are merrily carving a path of their own. It's also great fun: popping candy in your milkshake; Thunderbirds videos on the wall; burgers names after 1980s film characters...
I nearly excluded Chiang Mai on price grounds: I never really feel I'm quite getting value for money here.That said, the food is mostly authentic, some is excellent, and all is well-spiced. It's served in the delightful setting of an Elizabethan townhouse and ex-prison, creating an intimate atmosphere, and it even has a decent wine list.
If I ever decide to open a restaurant, it would be very like Door 74. There's a reassuringly short menu, making it clear that all the food is cooked from scratch for each individual order, rather than being pre-prepped then re-heated or "finished" on demand. It's also one of the most romantic places I know for dinner, with its twinkly lights, small size, and unobtrusive service. It's also stupidly cheap.
Magdalen Arms (website actually useless)
I avoided the Magdalen Arms for ages, disliking the amount of hype it had received, mostly from London-based writers and bloggers. Unfortunately, when I finally visited, it turned out to be as good as they'd all said. The Magdalen Arms can easily compete with the London gastropub scene both in terms of the innovatativeness and the flavour of the food, as it should given it's run by the folk behind "the first gastropub" in the UK, the Anchor and Hope. The sharing dishes are always particularly interesting.
Intestines. Ears. Tongues. Oh, and last time I glimpsed into the kitchen they had entire storage boxes filled with dried chillis. Somehow, out of all that, have come some of the most interesting, exciting, and downright delicious meals I've ever eaten. It's not for the fainthearted, but if you're bored with lemon chicken and beef in black bean sauce, come here for some real Chinese food. The flavours will knock you backwards, pump you full of endorphins, and then soothe you back with delicious meaty fattiness.
The Rickety Press calls itself a gastropub, but both the food and the greenhouse setting are far too elegant for that label in my view. There are some standards here (onion and goat's cheese tarts, burgers, fishcakes) but also some more ambitious dishes, all in a fairly modern British range. Everything, though, is cooked with an exacting precision and presented stylishly.
If My Sichuan sounds a bit too much for you, then Sojo might be just right: still pushing boundaries but with a few more recognisable dishes. The service here is excellent, and the waiting staff are experts in identifying a customer's comfort zone, then pushing them to order something just a little bit more different, to surprise and delight them.
TSK, together with Oxfork (mentioned below) and now the St Giles' Cafe (also mentioned below) is at the forefront of a new hyperlocal trend in eating out, which in my view is unmatched almost anywhere else in the UK. That was reflected in the view that the Sustainable Restaurant Association took when asked to review TSK by Giles Coren. On top of all that, the food is in line with the latest trend for nose-to-tail eating. Oh, and it tastes really good.
I'm really sad that there isn't an Indian restaurant on this list. Oxford has plenty of good Indian restaurants, but nothing that stands out from the crowd, and definitely nothing that could compete with, say, Birmingham or Leicester. But we've recently acquired a rash of something else from the subcontinent: Nepalese restaurants. It all started with Everest (which doesn't appear here for the simple reason that I haven't eaten there!), and we now also have Yeti and Kadai&Naan. The flavours are really interesting, playing a lot more in the bittersweet/aniseedy range, and using a lot more dried spices than normal Indian food. Yeti also has the most welcoming service I have ever encountered.
And finally, three who didn't make it into the list because they're not quite traditional restaurants:
Olives
Best sandwiches in Oxford. They're not cheap, but then when your baguette contains an entire ball of buffalo mozzarella, who's complaining?
Best breakfast (to be accurate, by the time I get out of bed, it's more like brunch) in Oxford. As with TSK, hyperlocal sourcing combined with good British food traditions. The range of veggie options is particularly welcome.
Pukeko
Best coffee in Oxford - and it's a tough field. This is a very personal choice, as everyone likes a slightly different flavour to their coffee. Honourable mentions also go to Zappi's, Quarter Horse, and Missing Bean.
And one more who I suspect will make this list next year, once they're fully up and running with a regular menu and regular evening opening: St Giles' Cafe. The owner has really done his research, spending time working in several Oxford restaurants and discovering some of our best suppliers, before setting up on his own. Particularly of note is that they make all their own bacon and sausages - and you can tell.
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