GEALES: SOLE-NO SOUL

To be honest I never thought that two and half years after visiting the execrable Tom's Place - Tom 'Pre-Pack' Aiken's take on Fish and Chips (yeah, right) where the fish proved to be more sustainable than the business model - I'd be back eating one of DH’s favourite platefuls of grub in exactly the same place. Now, though instead of a lame pun, the gaff is named after the venerable Geales, part of the proto-chain owned by the excitingly named Concept Venues.

The first branch of Geales in Notting Hill has been operating under its current owners for over three years which surprised me as when I visited it was a step down in enjoyment from the original incarnation. So they've either upped their game or maybe the Notting Hillbillies are not that fussed about the food they shove down their gobs. I suspect it's the latter especially as in an odd case of restaurant déjà vu I had an almost identical experience here compared to the one several years ago.

The staff obviously weren’t expecting a punter so early – though it was almost 12:30 – and the cogs weren’t so much whirring as grinding noisily. The FOH was doing a little on-the-spot staff training with young, posh lads who were doing the waiting and I had to ask for things several times. A tad irritating in an empty restaurant.

Nobody seemed to know exactly what the charmingly named Seaside Pick & Mix was. I offered marinated shellfishy bits which they seemed to think was a reasonable description. It was, in fact, shellfishy bits which had been lightly warmed through. It was under seasoned and pretty tasteless but for £3 was a harmless enough way to kill some time until my Whitebait pitched up.

Happily the kitchen’s deep-frying skills were well up to snuff and the lightly battered, little fish were excellent. The mayonnaise could have done with a bit of pepping up but I suppose they didn’t want to make things too exciting for the elderly locals who were gradually filling the restaurant up. (I had to have a little chuckle when one couple on a neighbouring table who had been visiting this spot since the fifties went on about how much they hated the last place. So you see – it’s not just me. Hah).

My main course of Haddock and Chips was technically spot on. The fish had a crisp coating which had allowed the fish to steam inside but not overcook – it flaked in a pleasing fashion. But, and it’s a big but, it didn’t taste of anything. Whether it was lack of seasoning or possibly the batter needing some beer in the mix I don’t know, but I do know it was all very, very bland and consequently a very dull eat.

Chips were fine. Mushy peas had been made (correctly) from marrowfat peas but had not been soaked or cooked long enough so there were hard bits still in. Perhaps it was the kitchen taking their lead from lazy TV chefs and keeping things “a bit rustic”.

The other accompaniments? Well, my last post on Geales probably tells you everything you need to know. And like that last visit the best thing I ate was the Ice Cream, which was a pleasant change after the rash of places serving up expensive, gummy Gelati.

Overall though it still is a truism that the gussying-up of the humble F&C supper had somehow robbed the dish of any heart or soul. Either that or the kitchen had never actually eaten or made proper fish and chips before but could execute a recipe very accurately. Certainly, the latter may be the case as I saw a cracking piece of grilled Plaice go out.

That said, much like its sister restaurant in Notting Hill, Geales is located in an area not known for it’s great restaurants and discerning clientele which probably means it’ll will do very well. Me, I’m off to find somewhere where the phrase “neutral oil” could get you a smack round the chops.

FISH CLUB

Those days are gone forever
Over a long time ago, oh yeah

A lot of my early working life in London was spent in or around Clapham Junction. Anyone who travels or lives (poor souls) South of the river will at some time or another pass through or stop here - the busiest rail interchange in the UK. Now, I’ve escaped to the hills North of the river I only visit because I have to. My rich dentist is here, so for me a visit is usually thrice painful (the treatment, the bill and just being in Battersea in case you were wondering).

To be honest Clapham Junction still looks the same as it always did – a bit of a hole. The only differences are that now the house prices are much, much higher and Northcote Road (aka Nappy Valley) has completely changed. Once just a normal street in SW with a market, now best described as (to borrow one of HS’s favourite words) hateful. If you looked up the word “smug” in the dictionary the definition would be “Northcote Road (see crap)”.

Battersea isn’t all bad, of course. There’s a little place called Fish Club which I visited one afternoon. I’d been meaning to visit for years especially as one of the owners, James Thomson, had previously been cooking up a storm at Medcalf’s in Exmouth Market.

The concept (there’s always a concept) is refreshingly simple. You order your food from the blackboard, queue up and pay, then the staff cook it for you. You can either take it away or eat it there. If you pick the latter option there’s a few tables at the front and a couple of refectory tables at the back where you’ll also find Heinz Ketchup. Not the poncy stuff you get at Tom’s Place. Fish and shellfish are from the well-regarded Ben's Fish based in West Mersea. There’s also beer, wine and light refreshments.

A starter of Prawn and Chorizo Kebobs (sic) were two decent sized skewers of little individual Chorizos and fresh prawns which had been grilled. Chorizo can be quite overpowering and the prawns not being the sweetest specimens didn’t really stand up to the sausage but it was still a gutsy and enjoyable dish, especially when accessorised by a little tub of pungent saffron aioli.

The one weakness in the menu was shown up by my piece of battered Coley. Now if my failing memory is correct Coley used to be preferred by at least eight out of ten cats and really it should have stayed that way because for us humans it’s a pretty tasteless lump of protein. It also wasn’t very firm which I don’t think was down to the cooking as the batter was a tad underdone. An inexpensive dish, sure, but there’s a reason for that.

I saw a couple of good-looking Royal Bream go out, though, so the grilled fish may be a better bet. In fact there’s such a good choice of other fish from Sardines and Mackerel to whole Plaice and Slip Soles I wonder why I got so fixated with having conventional Fish and Chips…what am I saying (you can take the boy out of the North etc).

Chips were bloody great. Tartare sauce was homemade and pleasant enough but the best of the accompaniments were the pickled onions. Also, made aquí, they didn’t look much but were as good as my granddad used to make i.e. the nuts. He was also a big favourite with clippies, but that’s a story for another time.

I liked Fish Club. I feared it might be some sort of sophisticated, corporate operation, totally lacking in soul but it’s the completely opposite. The raw ingredients are good, the cooking mostly spot-on and vibe (sorry) very friendly. The perfect neighbourhood joint, I would say.

Oh and it’s probably for the best if I don’t say anything about the mushy peas. I’m still a bit het up after thinking about Northcote Road.

RESTAURANT ONE-O-ONE

So long hey thanks my friend
I guess I'll try my luck again

I visited One-O-One about a year ago with my late much missed dining companion Tony Finch. From memory the room was hideous, the service ok and the food confused, over-complicated and served on odd plates which meant you couldn’t see the food. Worst of all they overcooked my fish. Given that this place is predicated on the life aquatic it was quite a big flaw.

So here I am a year later chugging on a ludicrously large grappa and pondering on the changes after the restaurant’s big refurb. Well, they serve things on white plates now which is a definite improvement. Er…that’s it, Ed. The decor is now less Servisair more BA Club Class but it’s still pretty blah and you just know it cost loads and they will have to recoup their money somehow.

The menu takes the form of several petit plats - and they really are petit - priced at a very un-petit and scary level. So that’s the bill for the refurb taken care of. Not a problem if the food is spectacularly good. Unfortunately, though better than a lot of London fine dining restos the cooking fell somewhat short of somewhere like Rhodes W1.

There were some elements of a good dish to be found in each plate that I had but the tendency to over-elaborate spoiled things, So a fantastically sweet Norwegian scallop paired with some unctuous Pork Belly was let down by the addition of quail eggs, truffle potato moussleine and Citrus Jus Gras (phew) which served just to muddle and mute the flavours.

A good Nantua sauce was the base for some overcooked Halibut but there was also a swirl of some unidentifiable green sauce with yet some more liquid with the Coco beans.

The tendency to throw in the kitchen sink culminated in a car-crash of a dish of Lobster and Veal Sweetbread. The gland was a good size chunk with a pleasant honey glaze sitting in a bit of jus merging into a sea of Vanilla Emulsion washing up on a shore of Saffron Carrot Compote. And just for good measure some segments of citrus fruits thrown in. The microscopically small piece of lobster didn’t stand a chance.

Funnily enough the best part of the meal was the pudding where a sort of cherry soup was topped by ice cream and came with scrumptious, warm churros.

In spite of the failing of the food I still had a good time. The staff were very friendly (although if you do go on about the home-made foccaccia it’s probably not a good idea to serve rock-hard bought-in rolls alongside ). The wine pours were extremely generous especially the aforementioned grappa which was more like a quadruple and took me a good half-hour to finish.

I really wanted to like this gaff more than I actually did but ultimately it’s just another disappointing London expense account fine-dining experience. Everything was probably “just good enough”. I’d probably return if someone else was paying (unlikely) as I only ate a quarter of the menu and there may well be some better dishes in there. Although somehow I doubt it.

Anyway here’s to you Tony. Glug.

SCOTT'S

UP ON THE HILL
PEOPLE NEVER STARE

I was travelling home on the tube doing my usual thousand-yard eye stare just zoning out after a hard days work when someone asked me if I was alright because I looked a bit out of it. I was tempted to ask the staff at the newly opened Scott’s the same question. My arrival was greeted by that same stare except in their case it was over my shoulder, presumably in case someone more important hove into view.

Scott’s is another offering from the Caprice group (Ivy, J Sheekey, Le Caprice) and is a refurb of the original Scott’s established over a hundred years ago. It’s located on Mount Street in an area so tony it makes Manhattan’s Upper East Side look like Upper Clapton. If you have the odd mill lying around you could probably afford a garage…with a short lease. In fitting with the surroundings the frontage of the restaurant is very classy as well with a doorman and everything. The lovely art deco theme is continued when you enter the room. I half expected to see a hair-slicked Larry or Johnny swan in arm-in-arm. Instead I got hedgehogs with their trout-pout girlfriends and the heady scent of money mixed with Botox.

After managing to getting the staff’s attention I was shown to a nice spot at the large central bar. There are some tables dotted around and a more formal space at the back but the bar is the place to be if you want to check out what’s going on. Although this was mostly meeting-and-greeting with lashings of air-kissing thrown in and a zero celebrity count.

Once seated I got a small pitcher of tap, some tough (as old boots) bread and a small tray with, bizarrely, pork scratchings (!), olives and nuts which I nibbled with a glass of chilled albarino while perusing the menu. And a very nice menu it is too. Mostly fish and shellfish based but with a smattering of meat dishes. It’s similar to, but larger than the one at J Sheekey's.

From a good selection of oysters I went for six natives accompanied by some spicy sausages. The sausages were ok but not particularly spicy, the natives were tip-top, as they usually are.

I decided to fit in a proper starter in the form of a double fried egg with some baby squid in a squid ink sauce. This was rather good: the egg perfectly cooked (not fried twice rather a double yolked egg fried er…once) the squid lightly cooked, fresh and clean-tasting, the sauce a winning amalgam of squid ink and olive oil. I like dishes like this a lot.

I resisted the temptation to fit in a portion of deep fried sprats and went straight to a main course of slip soles cooked in shrimp butter. A lovely dish that would have been even better if it wasn’t served directly after my starter. Instead of whipping it away there was some sort of bizarre fine dining standoff between the waiter, the man behind the bar and myself. Eventually, I offered to take it then. To be fair they did offer to cook me a fresh main but I didn’t want to send back a perfectly good dish. I also had some ordinary chips and a micro-dish of soggy greens. The slip soles were great though, all rich meaty flesh and sweet brown shrimps.

It seemed a shame to come all this way and not have a pud so I had a sloe gin jelly which with the sugar-frosted sloes on top was a nice finish to the the eating part of the meal. There was a bit more drinking to do though as I was comped a glass of dessert wine and then followed up with an excellent double espresso and grappa combo (well of course I did).

When eventually I hauled my body off my bar stool and out the door there was no farewell from the many staff - they were all far too busy. A complete contrast to St. Alban where the service was exceptionally friendly, even to a civilian like me. Still, an enjoyable evening recommended for good food but indifferent service (apart from the chap behind the bar who was very good).

To walk it all off I decided to go via Oxford Street to take in the 'world-famous’ Christmas lights. Oh dear. Back to reality and how.

PS Apologies to any residents of Upper Clapton for any offence I may have caused by comparing their lovely neighbourhood to the hellhole that is the UES