YALLA YALLA: SCORING SOME LEB IN SOHO

It's probably fair to say that the more interesting places we've visited recently have been the small independent operations. I posted about More the other day which despite no advance publicity served up tasty grub in vibrant surroundings. HS visited a small hole-in-the-wall Noodle joint where they made their own Lanzhou La Mian. Compare and contrast with much more feted openings where the food hasn't lived up to the hype. Stand up Boundary and The Eastside Inn.

A new place to add to the first category is Yalla Yalla - Beirut Street Food in Soho. Hidden down an alleyway where'd you'd expect to find emporiums of a completely different sort, Yalla Yalla ("Hurry Up" in Arabic) is a small café dishing up, as the name suggests, Lebanese food. It’s so small in fact that when me and HS walked in the number of covers was halved. Still, it’s a pleasant enough room if a bit functional especially if you get the stool to sit on.

I only remembered they hadn’t got a booze licence as we were making our way there initiating a minor Middle Class foodie crisis as we fretted around trying to find a bottle of wine that would suit. In the end when we pitched up we found out they had just acquired a booze licence. Queue huge sighs of relief all round as the nice lady poured us some Chateau Kefraya. Lushes, us ?

If you’ve eaten Lebanese food before then there won’t be too many surprises on the menu – Hommos, Shawarma, Tabboule etc are all present and correct - although there were a few things that were new to us.

As the name suggests this is fast food so we didn’t have to long to wait before our mezze arrived. Soujoc were nice and spicy. We were split over the Samboussek: I liked the filling and the thickish pastry with a crisp outside, HS found them doughy. We both liked the Falafel. The Tabboule wasn’t bad either. There was some decent bread to go with the Hommos which had been supersized with the addition of Shawarama. The prices are cheap but the individual servings are quite small so you’re better off over-ordering if you’re hungry.

Mains mostly come in under the tenner mark and ours were both nicely done. My Mixed Grill had chunks of tasty Kofta and some grilled Lamb and Chicken, good rice and a sumac scented onion salad. HS’s Chicken Shawarma was more or less the same save for the marinated Chicken. On the side were a couple of bowls containing a pungent garlic sauce and harissa. The mains were a bit, as HS put it “All Filler , No Killer” but then again I don’t suppose rents come that cheaply in this part of town.

Desserts were disappointing. Backlawa were a bit hard as if they’d been sitting around for too long and the whilst the Knefe was good, the Rose Petal Ice Cream had melted. The latter probably due to the service getting a wee bit stretched as more punters (a rather apt term for customers in this area) piled in.

We liked Yalla Yalla, the food for the most part was tasty and well prepared. The service was friendly and we had a good time. It was only afterwards when there was a little post meal discussion that we decided we would have liked more substantial mains – even if the prices were a bit higher.

But maybe that’s missing the point of the place. For now just be happy that even in Soho you can find something other than Sex Shops or soulless chains to patronise. Mind you, HS said he smelled a roll out. He can be a very cynical man at times.

NOODLE BAR BONUS AFTER BAR SHOW BUST

I had my day all mapped out, well at least I thought I had.

I would spend the day at The London Bar Show, where attractive girls in short skirts or even shorter shorts would spend the day pouring rare and exotic spirits down my throat while I listened to the great and the good of the bartending world explain the origins of The Martini. I would come away with a goodie bag heavy with free booze and a liver buzzing the tune to “The Yellow Rose of Texas” and, I would be happy, oh so very happy.

Unfortunately, The current economic climate and the inability of the organisers of The Bar Show to organise a piss up conspired against me and, instead of my planned full day of boozing, I spent twenty minute wandering up and down the aisles of Earl’s Court 2 wondering where all the spirit brands were exhibiting while I waved away people asking me to sample energy drinks and electronic cigarettes.

There were some interesting demonstrations going on from people like Gary Regan but, with the noise from the stands of said energy drinks, I could hardly hear what was being said and, so after saying a quick “hello” to a couple of people I slunk out wondering what to do with the rest of my day.

Heading back to The West End, I got off the tube at Leicester Square and walked down Cranbourn St, that tawdry little road that links the Charing Cross Road with Long Acre. On the right, I spotted one of those small Chinese buffets of the sort that super serious food people like me walk passed with our noses so far in the air it is a wonder we are not looking in the other direction.

Except this time, I recalled that a Chinese colleague of HP’s had told him that a few months before the owner of the place had decided to do something a bit more original and, alongside the usual stuff, steaming away waiting for tourists, had brought in a chef to hand pull Lan Zhou La Mian noodles to order.

It didn’t look that promising and ducking inside, I saw two French tourists poking disconsolately at something day-glo orange on their plate. However, persevering, I looked at the menu and saw that they offered a range of dishes using the noodles from Northern China and for £6 ordered a bowl of Dan Dan La Mian with peanuts, sesame and shredded chicken.

I had to wait a while, the chef wanting to let his dough rest, but when it was deemed ready, he cut it up and then deftly flung it out until it had transformed from one strand to many, before plunging it in boiling water.

The end result was as good a budget lunch as I have tried in London for a long time. The noodles retained some bite and the broth, when spiced up with a liberal addition of chilli was nourishing and delicious. The price is, I imagine less than you probably spend at the Pret-a-Manger a few doors down on the same street. A real bargain.

I am not aware of too many people in London making hand pulled noodles to order, so this unassuming little café, called Zhen Zong Lan Zhou, is a little treasure and well worth a visit. The Bar Show on the other hand needs to show considerably more spirit before they can persuade me to go back next year.

DOS HERMANOS SUNDAY: RAAN AND ROSE

It’s probably fair to say I’m not particularly adventurous when it comes to cooking guided as I am by the principle of Primum non nocere. In other words once I’ve got the best possible ingredients I try and do as little to them as possible. That doesn’t necessarily mean a quick meal or a lack of care - I lavish as much time on the preparation and cooking of a Steak as some people might on a three course meal – just that I prefer to leave more complex creations to the professionals.

It does mean, however, that my repertoire is a bit limited . Eat with me on anything like a regular basis and you will have had enough Pork Loins for one lifetime, although they will have been the best you’ve ever tasted. Fact.

HS was busy working this weekend (when you work for yourself do you ever get a holiday, I wonder ?) so I offered to do the honours for Sunday lunch. Marine Biologists Sienna Miller and Sting have been telling us not to eat Bluefin Tuna so that was out and Macca has been telling us not to eat meat. So Leg of Lamb it was.

I decided to attempt something I’d never tried before: a Raan. HS does a very fine rendition of this dish and usually I leave the Asian cookery to him but I needed something other than "Roasted with Mint Sauce".

Recipes for Raan vary a lot so I decided to make the most of what I already had in the cupboard and fridge. For the marinade I mixed up some Yoghurt, Saffron, grated Ginger, Garlic, Chilli Powder and Salt. I also constructed a rudimentary Garam Masala from the bottles of spices that were knocking around and added that as well. I made lots of deep slashes in the Lamb (quite enjoyable, but not overly so you understand), then massaged the marinade into the Lamb (very enjoyable, but took a little longer than was strictly necessary). The prepped Lamb then went into the fridge for 24 hours although I believe some people leave it to marinate for longer.

The next day after letting it come to room temperature it went into a medium oven, loosely covered in foil for a few hours with a little basting from time to time. For the last twenty minutes or so I took the foil off and whacked up the heat to give it a bit of colour. After that all it needed was a little rest. Needless to say the smell emanating from the oven was bloody fantastic.

The taste was excellent and not so overpowered by the spicing that you couldn’t taste the Lamb. The top section of the Lamb was a little dry (next time I’ll give it the sizzle at the beginning rather than at the end) but the bottom was wonderfully moist.

We’re cutting out the carbs at the moment (remember kids: as Uncle HS so eloquently puts it CARBS = DEATH) so I just did a little Raita and to keep Macca happy a bit of Spinach cooked down with some Mustard Seeds. A bottle of Rosé in the fridge was a good accompaniment.

So going off piste was a qualified success and I look forward to refining and improving the dish but it has given me the confidence to try something different from time to time. Now where’s that copy of The Fat Duck Cookbook ?

SPAM COOK OF THE YEAR 2009: WHEN IT COMES TO JUDGING, I'M YOUR SPAM

A few months ago, those regular readers of the blog will recall, I visited a rather splendid chap called Stuart Higgs in Chester to talk about his success at the SPAM Cook of The Year competition for 2008.

As we talked, Stuart whipped up his winning dish of SPAM Thai Noodles for me to try while I countered with my own improvised dish of SPAM Bhajis with a coriander chilli dip.

It was a pleasing way to spend a morning and, after I wrote about it on the blog, the good people of Hormel, SPAM’s parent company, got in touch and asked me if I wanted to join them at the 2009 competition as a judge.

Well, of course I did. One of the things that I did develop during my recent trip was a willingness to say “yes” to new experiences and the opportunity to meet new people. Add to that the facts that I am a secret admirer of matters SPAMular and the promise to supply the judges with lots of wine and it did not take long for me to agree.

Move on to a morning last week and I found myself at The Commonwealth Club, near The Embankment, in a conference room that had been decked out Hawaiian style to reflect this year’s star prize of a ten day all expenses paid trip to those islands. Why Hawaii? Well, believe it or not food fact fans, they eat more SPAM in Hawaii than anywhere else in the world and the prize would even include a trip to the SPAM festival which takes place every year to celebrate their love of pork in a can.

All the regional finalists had travelled down the day before and enjoyed a night in a nearby hotel. They all seemed to be enjoying the attention and free booze as their dishes were prepared by the club’s chefs and brought out to us one at a time to sample and then pronounce judgment upon, the competitors quivering before us as we quizzed them about their dish.

Some, to be honest, were little more than “something with SPAM” with the canned meat replacing bacon or ham in a tart or omelette. Not bad, but lacking imagination. Others were more fun like “SPAM-doori with a yoghurt mint drizzle” and one showed far too much imagination, presenting us with a “SPAM-dora’s box” comprising a specially fashioned little chest of SPAM, filled with corn and then wrapped in filo,which in truth made us all recoil slightly in terror.

In the end, along with my three fellow judges, including last year’s winner Stuart, I gave my vote for the top prize to a lovely lady from the Midlands, for her creamy gratin of Gruyere cheese, potatoes and SPAM and she looked suitably astonished as the camera flashes went off and Stuart handed her the trophy.

I came away with a rather fetching SPAM baseball cap and a buzz from too much of the promised wine to show for my troubles along with an invitation to visit the SPAM museum in Minnesota, a promise I intend to take them up on next year. Perfect Honeymoon destination, anyone?

A fun day, even if I did have to face down something called a “SPAM-dora’s Box”

AGE & SONS: OH I DO LIKE TO BE BESIDE THE SEASIDE (AGAIN)

Spending many of our formative years in Rotherham, Dos Hermanos didn’t get to see the sea very often. There was the annual holiday to the Isle of Wight and occasionally a day trip to Skeggy or Filey but for the rest of the time the nearest we got to a large boy of water was the Don, an evil smelling and massively polluted river. When we did make it to the seaside it would inevitably be overcast and raining, a scenario which remains firmly etched into my psyche. Many, many, years on, nothing much has changed and on each and every visit to the seaside the weather, without fail, has been rotten.

Which, funnily enough was the weather forecast for my first ever visit the other day to Age & Sons in Ramsgate. As HS was busy writing his second book I went with fellow gastro-fiend and Chelsea fan Scott who likes his food and his booze as much as me which promised for much merriment.

Ramsgate is a bit chav central. Ok, I didn’t see much of it beyond a brief walk down from the station but it does have the air of a seaside town which has seen better days. There were some fine looking villas overlooking the sea which unfortunately had not been cared for and were strewn with drying laundry. There was a forlorn bandstand where bizarrely the music was provided, not by a band but by what looked like a big ghetto blaster. Even stranger, there was an old couple sitting in deckchairs watching it.

Having said all that there is something about an English Seaside town gone to seed that I quite like. A kind of wistfulness. If you like those qualities too I’d advise you get down there PDQ because at the end of the year there will be a high speed train service from London and all that decaying grandeur is sure to be gentrified to within an inch of it’s crumbling mortar.

Which is where Age & Sons come in. This café cum bar cum restaurant in an old warehouse might just be the shape of things to come. It’s a one stop shop for all your middle class foodie needs. Relaxing brunch in light airy space with like-minded people with kids and state of the art pushchairs. Check. Restaurant featuring British, seasonal and local ingredients. Check. Funky bar with fab cocktails . Check. Despite (or maybe because of) the abundance of bourgeois clichés I liked it a lot.

We were in the light and airy restaurant, where a slightly older crowd (that’ll be me then) were kicking back and enjoying a Saturday lunch. The menu is well-priced – none of the individual dishes were over £15 – and has enough inventive little touches to keep it interesting whatever you order.

I was a little surprised by the Bread which was a bit doughy and uncooked at the centre. I’ll put it down to a mistake and the fact that they do at least make it in house when many places can’t be bothered means I’ll give them a couple of brownie points.

My Fennel Risotto needed a little adjustment in the seasoning department but once that was corrected was really rather lovely with lots of aniseed notes from the baby fennel and its seeds. And it was good to actually taste rice that hadn’t been cooked to a pulp.

Most people are pretty accustomed to Fish Roe but less common are Milts which are the er, male equivalent. Very tasty they are too with a very light texture, like a sort of fishy sweetbread. The cucumber did make the salad a little watery but at a fiver only the most curmudgeonly would complain.

For a restaurant so close to the sea the menu is surprisingly meaty. The fish dishes we did try had some of the freshest specimens you could hope for. My Sea Bass’s skin had wilted a bit but the flesh underneath was super-fresh. There was a little taste of Spring/Summer with a mixture of Broad Beans , Peas and Asparagus bound together with a light sauce. The only odd note was the inclusion of some small pieces of what I think were Grapefruit.

John Dory was a good fresh hunk of the fish, again very well cooked. The Puy lentils were a little mushy and there was a bit too much sauce but with the brown shrimp and braised celery made for a fine dish.

After a suitable break and another bottle of Martin Codax Albarino we decided to supersize and see what A&S could do with their meat dishes. A shared plate of Lamb Shoulder was a big portion of Larry which had been slowly cooked to a melting, fatty, unctuousness. There was some good mash underneath which had soaked up the lamby jus. Some excellent Carrots (that actually tasted of that root were placed here and there and the whole topped off with a zingy gremolata that cut through the other components.

A selection of Ice Creams (mmm…Salted Butter) and some Chocolate Cake may have been a couple of courses too many but they were great and we polished it all off, no probs.

I can’t tell you exactly when we left Age & Sons but I think we waddled out with a very contented smile on our faces. And why not ? Good cooking with exemplary ingredients at very reasonable prices is a rare bird these days. Combine that with pleasant service and surroundings and you have a gaff that makes a lot of London eateries look very silly indeed.

And guess what ? In spite of the forecast it was lovely and sunny all day. I can see a bit of brain rewiring might be in order.