MORE: IS MORE

Two brand spanking new restaurants opening a day apart but separated by much longer in their approach to the food they serve. Yesterday I visited the Eastside Inn in Clerkenwell which I will post about, as we used to say in the Civil Service, in the fullness of time. Today I visited a place that I hadn’t read or heard anything about – a real restaurant bolt from the blue.

When I worked on the South Bank in the early Nineties there were three top notch places to go for a long, usually boozy, lunch (they all were in those days): the estimable Masters Super Fish; Trevor Gulliver’s Fire Station and probably the best of the lot in terms of cooking, Livebait. A few years later when I relocated to the borders of London’s trendy Hoxton, there was another superb restaurant that had just opened called The Real Greek. What all these places had in common were restaurateurs Theodore Kyriakou and Paloma Campbell.

They’ve now sold up and moved on and opened a small restaurant near London Bridge in an area being rebranded as More London. More is going to be open seven days a week for Breakfast, Brunch, Lunch, Dinner and (phew) Takeaway. As Paloma told me they want to provide, well, more.

I was initially drawn in by the interior. After eating out in so many gastropubs which to be honest can be a bit gloomy, or in more upmarket places which are the epitome of good taste i.e. as boring as hell, it was nice to find somewhere with a bit more oomph in the décor. The fab furnishings seemed to have an effect on the efficient staff as well – there were plenty of smiles all round – and made for an agreeable atmosphere. Once they start getting bums on seats More will have a real buzz.

There was also a brightness to the cooking from a menu which drew from sunny regions around the Mediterranean and had echoes of food I’d eaten at The Real Greek.

A dish of braised Squid tasted a lot better than its rustic appearance. Chunks of the small cephalopod were al dente but not at all tough. They came in a deeply flavoured broth enriched with fennel and saffron with flecks of chili adding a welcome kick.

Two fat, pink Lamb cutlets, came with some seasonal vegetables that had been slowly cooked but retained a little bite and were anointed with some of the cooking juices. There was also a big blob of a tremendous smoked Auvergne puree. Roast potatoes needed a bit more crunch but I finished them all anyway.

For sweet my selection of Ice Creams, freshly made every day, were superb in taste and texture and worth the entrance fee alone. Monmouth coffee was, well I don’t need to tell you, do I ?

All apparently simple food, sure, but prepared with such a light hand and with decent ingredients that I felt virtuous just eating it all. And I don’t get to feel virtuous very often.

You might get the impression from the above that I liked More a lot. You’d be right. At the risk of coming over all Sunday Colour supp and sounding like a complete div, it was fresh, fun and funky and I left with a smile on my face. It will be a Month of Sundays before I’ll a) use those words again and b) have a smile on my face so make the most of it pop pickers.

EATING FOR BRITAIN: A SHROPSHIRE LAD

The night after our Balti fest, Stuart, James and I spent the night at The Hundred House, a small and entirely charming country house hotel in Ironbridge close to Telford, which Stuart’s family has been running for nearly thirty years. The rooms were warm and comfortable if ever so slightly eccentric and I was interested to notice that my abode for the night had its own swing. No one told me that it was that kind of hotel.

Most impressive of all however was the hotel’s kitchen garden from where nearly all of its produce was taken by Stuart to use in his daily menu. Stuart trained under Rowley Leigh at Kensington Place and the next morning he treated James and myself to a “Shropshire breakfast” before we headed out to on the food trail James had laid out ahead of us. Superb bacon, meaty sausages, gently scrambled eggs and, best of all, three types of new season asparagus.

Fuelled by our breakfast James pointed the car towards the foodie Mecaa that is Ludlow and our first stop, The Ludlow food Centre, a new local food store owned and run by The Earl of Plymouth (er, I think)

It was an interesting if slightly sterile environment for highlighting food products from the surrounding regions of Shropshire, Herefordshire and Wales, but it did give James and myself the chance to meet up with Catherine Moran who takes advantage of the kitchen space at The Food Centre to run her award winning dessert company, Sweet Stuff Low, The Observer Food Monthly’s Producer of The Year 2008. It’s good stuff and we were particularly taken with a superb lemon possett. Well worth checking out on Catherine’s website.

A few years ago with the move of Hibiscus to London and the change of hands of The Merchant House, Ludlow began to lose its lustre and its allure to the list tickers of the dining world. But, I am pleased to see that it is already bouncing back as was evidenced by our lunch at La Becasse in the space that was formerly Hibiscus.

After Claude moved out, Alan, Murchison, moved in and, butting against the trend avoided the obvious route of opening a casual restaurant to compliment his Michelin starred L’Ortolan and set his sights on gaining another star for this new venture.

He placed young star chef, Will Holland in charge and earlier this year the efforts of all involved were recognised when they received their first Michelin accolade. Before lunch, James and I sat in the small courtyard of the restaurant with Will as he talked with considerable passion about the quality of ingredients he was able to source and, music to my ears, although he is keen to source locally, he does that only when he is sure it will not impact on quality.

Will, not yet thirty, confounded my views of most young chefs usually so keen to show all they know on each plate and when he began to enthuse about the quality of a side of lamb that was just being delivered as we sat there, I suspected that lunch would be well worth the slightly unpleasant drive through twist and turns of the Shropshire countryside.

I can’t offer a proper review of our meal, for two reasons, the first being that we were the guests of the chef and the second being that I write this in NYC and I am jet lagged and so knackered from my book tour that I struggle to recall every dish. I can however say, with hand on heart that the £26 three course set lunch must be one of the great bargains in UK fine dining.

The standout dishes included a spot on terrine of pig’s head with small rings of crisp squid and slivers of deep fried pig’s ear, slices of rare Herefordshire beef with more new season asparagus and dainty little beignets filled with sharp Shropshire Blue cheese and desserts of Rhubarb mouse and chocolate tart with poached golden plums

Will may be young chef, but our meal was the stuff of a serious operator and a serious team at work and on this showing, it wont be long before Hibiscus is just a fuzzy memory in Ludlow and La Becasse is on every food tourists “must visit” list.

THE PRINCE OF WALES: A RIGHT ROYAL REPAST

Who’d have thought it ? Two visits in as many weeks to areas of London with SW in the Post Code. Actually, not so strange. Before I ascended to the heights of North London a decade ago, I lived in various locations south of the river. My first job was in SW15 and (hard to believe, I know) I even did some courting involving many trips back and forth across Putney Bridge. So any return was always going to be very evocative and full of amazement at the rapid passage of time.

The Prince of Wales is situated on the Upper Richmond Road a short walk away from the rather ghastly Putney High Street (Chain coffee stores ? We got ‘em). It’s the elder sister of The Bull and Last in Highgate and the MO is roughly similar: a bunch of people with a lot of experience in the restaurant biz have got together, found some great ingredients, cook them with care and accuracy and serve them in a professional yet relaxed manner. Piece of piss, really. As I said in my post about the B&L, all (shudder) gastropubs should be like this but sadly aren’t.

In some ways I preferred the PoW. It’s a lot more relaxed. The Pub bit is separate from the restaurant bit so there isn’t the scrum at the bar to order food. On a Saturday lunchtime it was more or less full but things felt a lot less harried. And most importantly, you’ve no chance of running into Giles Coren. A deal closer or what ?

The menu here isn’t as diverse or as large (the small kitchen and brigade probably mitigate against that) but the food is terrific. I always order Scotch Eggs whenever they’re on the menu. This one was great: porky and herby and the perfect amuse with a well-kept pint of Black Sheep.

The Native Oyster season has finished but some Colchester Rocks were briny and delicious and were as good as you’ll find. Au Naturel is best when it comes to bivalves but a drop or two of lemon juice or some shallot vinegar is always interesting to try.

Small Cornish Squid was sliced and coated in a mixture that had a little paprika in the mix then quickly deep fried. It was some of the most tender I’ve tried (apparently flash freezing does the trick) and really didn’t need the accompanying dip or salad, decent though they were. They didn’t need a fork either – this was a job for fingers.

A slab of Rump Cap was cooked pink and was nicely beefy although the unctuous Wild Garlic Butter slathered over the top stole the show. Triple cooked chips were crisp and crunchy and the real thing – they’re not always. I didn’t think the wooden board thing added anything but it only really registered after I’d eaten my main course.

The signature dish in terms of what the other punters were going for appeared to be the Fish and Chips and the big hunks of Haddock wm ith Chips looked the business, although seeing them on a board brought back unhappy memories of those I’d had at Tom’s Kitchen. Difference is, these examples looked much, much better, cost a tenner and were served with proper ketchup.

I’ve gone right off puddings in high-end restaurants. They tend to be an unwelcome sugar overload at the end of a usually very rich meal. I’ve had much better desserts in pubs which are restaurants, for example, The Red Lion. Like the Bull and Last puddings at The Price of Wales - well, the one I had – was impressive. A Salt Caramel Chocolate Fondant with Peanut Butter Ice Cream was rich and luxurious without being cloying – every mouthful brought a little smile (well, that’s as much as you’re going to get from me). A comped glass of Recioto widened that smile.

Coffee was superb – I knew it would be – and there was a very nice Calvados that spoke of apples and le trou normand.

Service from manager Bernie was friendly and on the ball and he seemed to breeze through a busy service, even with me interrupting and asking stupid questions. The kitchen seems to work without muss or fuss and turns out accurately cooked and tasty grub at what I think are very reasonable prices. It all looks so effortless, but of course that’s professionals for you – always making it look easy. Bastards.

EATING FOR BRITAIN: BACK IN BRUM ( CURRY GOAT & BALTI)

On the last of what had turned out to be three hugely enjoyable days in Birmingham, I decided to remind myself of the impact of two of its largest immigrant populations on the food not just of the city but of the whole country.

First up, a short drive West of the city to Lozell's Road where, I was told, there is the highest density of people with Caribbean origins in the U.K. I had pencilled in “Curry Goat” on my list of the UK’s defining fifty dishes and headed off in search of one of its most famous purveyors, Russell’s.

It was already filling up when I arrived and it took me a second to figure out an ordering system that seemed second nature to everyone else. Joining a lengthening queue, I gave my order of a “mutton dinner with rice & peas” to an elderly lady and was told to “wait just a lickle bit” as my food was prepared in a large kitchen to the rear of the restaurant. In front of me, a huge man was ordering pea soup “ to give me strength” and behind me, a couple were ordering a dinner of akee & saltfish.

When my food arrived, wrapped in a small brown paper bag, I took it and a can of coconut water I had ordered and found a place in the crowded restaurant to eat my lunch. The “mutton” was of course goat meat and had the slight chew that I was told was the sign of a good curry goat (never goat curry, they tell me) and my portion was served on the bone so the meat could sucked from each small piece, which I did with a loud sucking noise which brought some tuts of disapproval from some of the older diners.

The rice was served with gunga or pigeon peas whose cooking liquor had been allowed to mix with it to give a slight red tinge and I mixed spoonfuls of it into the deeply savoury sauce of the curry. It’s filling stuff and, after polishing off most of my £5 lunch, I deposited my remains in the bin and went for a walk to work some of it off.

I had arranged a meeting with Wade Lynn of Island Delights. Wade is a bit of a local legend, a hugely successful local businessman who is slowly introducing the UK to the pleasures of the Jamaican pattie. For those who don’t know anything about them, the pattie is like a Cornish Pastie with rhythm. With a slightly yellow crust, coming from the addition of turmeric to the pastry and a filling of meat or fish, they are a staple throughout the Caribbean islands.

Wade and Island Delights have just about cornered the market and for a reason, his patties are really very nice, even if to capture orders from the supermarkets he has had to rebrand some as ‘slices”. His next target is to get his patties on sale at football matches up and down the country and, even speaking as a man who has a fondness for pies of the Pukka variety, I suspect he stands a very good chance.

Bu early afternoon it was time for me to experience my final meal in Birmingham, perhaps the dish for which it has become most famous, I am referring of course, to the Balti.

Although many assume that the Balti is an Indian dish mainly because its popularity in the 80’s and 90’s meant it appeared on every menu of every Indian restaurant in the country, the Balti is a uniquely Birmingham institution created by Pakistani Kashmiri restaurant owners in the mid 1970’s to meet the demand of local customers for healthier dishes.

The true Balti is made in a specially constructed stainless steel pot, created in Birmingham just for this dish and contains only small amounts of oil, no more than five different spices and lots of fresh ingredients cooked quickly over a high heat.

I learned all this from Andy Munro, a passionate brummie who not only works to raise funds for the redevelopment of his city, but also heads up the Balti Association. He has, by his own admission eaten thousands of the things and he kindly gave me and two friends, James and Styart, also keen to experience the real thing, a tour of the spiritual home of Balti, Ladypool Road.

Andy certainly knows his stuff and seems to know everyone in the city. As we walked the length of the street, car horns honked as their owners called out to him and every shop owner had a word for him. He took us to the hardware stores where the dishes were originally sold. The man who designed them died some while ago and there are only a few hundred of the real deal left. Andy is trying to by the original molds to see if he can have them made elsewhere.

All of this is interesting enough, of course, but means nothing if the food is no good, so Andy took the three of us to one of his favourite places on the street, The Punjab Paradise, where owner and local councillor, Tahnaveer gave us a tour of the kitchen to see Balti being made properly before sitting us down to sample more food that was entirely sensible for anyone who had already eaten curry goat, rice & peas and Caribbean patties.

It was, however, great stuff and we used unfeasibly large naan breads to mop clean bowls of about four different varieties. Ironically, although the Balti was created for Western tastes, it is also popular with the local Asian community and Tahnaveer brought out a bowl of “chicken balti desi” made with little or no sauce, the way his Asian customers like it.

By some margin it was my favourite and proved to be the perfect full stop to my return visit to the city. I have to say that I really enjoyed my time back in Birmingham, the food scene there has certainly picked up in the twenty years since I have been away, both in variety and quality. It now has three Michelin starred restaurants and a thriving dining scene away from the excellent Balti.

However, like so many cities, it is the people who really make Birmingham. Not knowingly cool like their equivalents in Manchester or as dour as their equivalents in Sheffield, the brummies are just beguilingly down to earth and as welcoming as any in the country. I may have had to say “tara a bit” for the moment, but I know it wont be another twenty years before I come back