Mishkin's

Day late and a dollar short was this pig to the Mishkin’s party. On a Sunday afternoon, it was relatively languid but having been past several times (and with plenty of Polpo experience) I can imagine how loud and hectic it must get.

The food is an eclectic collection of inspirations and quite resolutely refuses to be pigeon-holed. Yes it’s heavy on the New York Jewish dishes, but East End Jewish features too, and yet it’s not kosher. You couldn’t expect so from the man famed for pork & fennel meatballs or the pork shoulder and pepper pizzette. And of course, it’s boozy, music-focused and sceney. So really it’s many miles from being Katz’s in London, which the laziest blurbs indicate.

However, matzo ball chicken soup (£6) isn’t something you come across every day in London. This was a small bowl with only one dumpling (you’d be strung up in NY for such parsimony) but it concealed plenty of shredded chicken and veg in a light chicken broth. Clearly this isn’t New York and there is better to be had in situ (for about $3-5) but I was glad of the escapism and warmth on that hideous afternoon. A regular ‘Jewish penicillin’ chicken soup might be a smart addition too, especially as a seasonal special.

Onwards from a wholesome bowl of cuddles to a rich, oozing mess. The mac ‘n’ cheese (with mustard and salt beef - £11) was quite something. Baked and crispy on top, with a select few of those teeth-threateningly burnt pieces.  Plenty of chunks of salt beef – absolutely delicious. Do not be deceived by the size, this is rich, heavy fare. I was stuffed full about halfway through, but persisted to the inevitable stupor and slump. 

 

East End chips with green ketchup were staggeringly tasty and moreish. The green ketchup seems to be something close to chip shop/Chinese curry sauce. Chips were crunchy, piping hot and yet soft inside, with some skins left on for a bit of variety. Superb.

Cinnamon donuts are rarely bad but I’ve had better (Disco Bistro’s were world-beating) - these weren’t fryer-fresh judging by the struggle they put up, and the chocolate sauce was thick but too springy, meaning it merely imprinted the donut, rather than transferring. Generous portion though.

Unlike Polpo and its small plates, there isn't any pressure to dine in a sophisticated or civilised Mediterranean manner – you are thoroughly encouraged to stuff your face, wipe the melted cheese off and waddle out. The size of the deli sandwiches (including the famed Reuben) attest to this. I would say it's by far the best value in the stable, for this reason. I'd struggle paying £10 for a pizzetta having gorged at Mishkin's.

Service and staff are similar (attentive, clued-up and quick, but totally into themselves) and drinks are top notch. The spiced negroni (£8) provided a zingy kick to the Sunday, desperately needed to attack the cheese gloop now sunken to the lowest fathoms of my stomach.

What I enjoyed about Mishkin’s its uniqueness and honesty. This is not healthy. These are not small plates. Or for sharing. It’s selfish, coronary-inducing food, far beyond the levels normally ascribed to ‘comfort’. It does have obvious themes, but constantly surprises, twists and ultimately bangs its own drum. Or shtick. I’m not aware of anywhere imitating it beyond the odd reuben, and in contemporary London gastronomy, a dash of originality is a precious thing indeed. 

Food – 8/10 

Drink – 8/10 

Service - 7/10 

Value – 8/10 

Tap water tales – 8/10 (jug brought and topped up) 

Staff Hotness – 9/10 (as ever, hand-selected by Russell I'm sure)

Bar Tozino

With neither a brioche bun or chashu slice in sight, Bar Tozino has burst onto the Maltby Street scene with huge success. Upon my visit at Saturday lunchtime it was absolutely rammed, with many more retreating upon peeking through the door, defeated and crestfallen. For the lucky ones, a real treat awaits.

Cava at a mere £4 a glass was light, fruity and yet complex, tasting closer to a prosecco and unlike many rough, astringent cavas I’ve had over the years. The food, as becomes immediately apparent when looking around you (here meat is indeed curtains) is focused on the exalted jamon iberico.

Cured ham hasn’t been a luxury ingredient in the UK for many a year, and having been wrapped around countless melons, sitting within limp paninis or adorning overpriced pizzas drowning in rocket, isn’t as excited as perhaps it once was. But as a luxury foodstuff, the Spanish have elevated the best legs to a crazy premium and prices of the best iberico can be outrageous.

Bar Tozino succeeds in enabling the best to be affordable and accessible. The menu features a selection of four hams ranging between £5-15 for a small plate, with sourdough con tomate. We had the Huelva bellota (which means acorn-fed, the best) and it was smooth, deep and frankly beautiful. You know it’s special when you’re even craving just the silky fat.

There are a few obvious menu bedfellows to the ham, such as some absolutely delicious acorn-fed chorizo (£5) and cheeses such as manchego or more pan con tomate, but there is also the odd surprise, such as the delicate egg atop bread and a ham and chorizo mix, served in a tapa bowl.

The interior is dark and sultry (or dingy if you don’t like railway arches) but it’s a superb use of the space, especially for the functional hanging of many ham legs overhead. There is a deli counter and separate menu for ‘take away’ which reminded me of the ham ‘bar’ at Iberico on Great Portland Street.

The vibe is pretty riotous – this is not a place for the shy and retiring. It’s loud, crowded and fairly uncomfortable (three types of stools ensure an inconsistent level of comfort – avoid the tiny ones) with staff clamouring to fit through the crowds and deliver the coveted boards and drinks.

Bar Tozino was fantastic, and possibly a victim of its own early success. I was told that later in the afternoon (once most of Maltby/Ropewalk has died down) it’s a lot more relaxed and people settle down for a good ham and booze session, rather than the flighty visit we had. 

I’ll be back again and again – the food was unadulterated pleasure, the booze great and you can easily imagine being in somewhere in Barcelona's Born or Raval districts. I'm extremely grateful for something unique on 2012-13 London’s bandwagon-y, predictable foodie landscape. Not to mention adding to quite an already impressive Mediterranean cluster of Zucca, Jose, Pizarro and Antico.

Here’s hoping for more openings in 2013 with as much originality, authenticity and flair.

 

Tuscanic

Tuscanic is a rather smart deli, sarnie stop and wine bar on Old Compton Street. It's quite an unlikely new opening for the area these days, but a smart nod to the area’s Italian heritage, intentional or not.

They specialise in meats and cheeses, either in paninis or focaccias, or as platters to be had with wine. It’s quiet and could probably do with some music, but the vibe is nice. There is a quaint, artisanal feel to nibbling on hams and cheeses with be-aproned Italians carving away amongst jars of ever-unsold, overpriced pestos. 

Our mixed selection at about £18 came with a huge dish of ricotta and some bread too. The part sheep, part goat cheese was a highlight, although salty chunks of parmesan and nutty pecorino always hit the spot too. Hits on the meat front were the delicious fennel-scented folds of finocchiona and pepper-specked salami. I was less keen on the slices of beef terrine which were more Pedigree Chum than Piedmont, but never mind.

The wine selection is Northern Italian dominated, and pretty good value for W1. We were on the prosecco so I didn’t try any Super Tuscans. Crowd is mixed: plenty of gays on first dates which are quite fun to spy on, and multitudes of Italian tourists and expats, who being Italian typically only like Italian things.

It sounds a bit TripAdvisor and provincial to say so, but Tuscanic does feel ‘continental’ and despite the staid vibes, is a refreshingly different place to come. We could do with more Roman-style enotecas which offer snacks on barrels, wine tastings and the like.

I suspect this is the sort of gaff the Licencing Act 2003 assumed we’d be in, sipping wine and pinkie waving up and down the country post-theatre, the Act itself having probably been written during a romanticised Chiantishire stupor. Never mind that we’re only doing this in 2013 in Soho then. But progress all the same...

Greenwich: Buenos Aires and The Hill

Greenwich is known for many things. Nautical history and the accompanying benchmark of world timekeeping. Old pubs and great London views from the royal park. Foodie highlights? Less so.

But there is hope, for an area which as a microcosm of tourist London is awash with tacky Tex-Mex venues, generic chains, smelly chippies and all you can eat Chinese buffets.

The market is a slightly condensed Spitalfields, with solid coffee from the Dose Espresso cart. Or if you’re daring, you could venture into the madhouse café Red Door. The abysmally named (and yet rather decent) Hola Paella offers Monmouth Coffee, the paella of course, but also a fully stocked Spanish deli and wine store.

Two recent meals I had were at Buenos Aires Café and The Hill. Buenos Aires café is on the villagey stretch of Royal Hill, with no shortage of Ye Olde Worlde cosiness, but not much in the way of modern hospitality trends. There is a fantastic butcher, greengrocer, fishmonger and cheese shop, but nay a flat white, negroni or rare iberico pluma in sight. Borough, Bermondsey and Maltby are not far however, and yes the traditional feel is Greenwich’s appeal. I’m not sure that this should apply to food though.

But on to Buenos Aires. It’s an Argentinian deli and café, which is to say ostensibly a regular Spanish or Italian deli, but with malbec, Quilmes and the odd empanada. I’m not sure which came first, but they also have a steak place in Blackheath, which is really where the Argies come into their own. My empanada here was fantastic, as are the sandwiches constructed to order using freshly sliced meats and cheeses from their extensive deli offering. Cheap too.

The Hill is an old pub converted into a neighbourhood Italian. But with a very regional British feel. There are huge pizzas, pastas and pints on offer. It’s a little bit like the inexplicably lauded restaurants of leafy Cheshire. That said, the staff are lovely (and Italian) and the food is reasonable. 

We shared a charcuterie platter (£9.50) and both had the tagliatelle al cinghiale – wild boar ragu, at about £11. It was sweet and well-flavoured but a little bit too mushy for my taste. I like my ragu slow-cooked for hours, with meaty solids and less of a sauce. It’s an ok option for a local, but not worth travelling for.

Greenwich itself is a little of everything we have in London. At the better end and not covered here, they have a Rivington Grill here as well as the fancy dining room at The Spread Eagle. But the good options are outweighed by the rubbish. To be fair, at weekends tourists outweigh locals – but this is seven minutes to London Bridge, not Sevenoaks itself, so the many '90s offerings are inexcusable.

Southeast London is on the up; Brockley, East Dulwich, New Cross, Bellenden Road – all these areas are dynamic and evolving. Greenwich would benefit ridding itself of a lot of the absolute rubbish in the centre, and keeping up. Contemporary dining does not detract from the many historical attributes of London’s film set. 

Salusbury Pizzeria

The Salusbury Pizzeria is the night-time incarnation of their deli and café – itself part of quite the local empire. Notwithstanding all scurrilous rumours of wife-swapping, benefaction and fragile partnerships, the two guys who set up these foodie establishments in Queens Park have always been ahead of the curve.

Like little Russell Normans of the North Weezy, they succeed in creating good, buzzy atmospheres and are excellent product buyers (the wine shop has exceptional food, beers and spirits in addition to regular wines and enomatic bar service too). 

The pizza here is authentically Italian and yet a bit more contemporary in ambition – toppings such as bresaola, nduja, pecorino and pancetta show a respect for their clientele and a more thoughtful approach to ingredients. Even Pizza Express do a rendition of that naughties favourites of prosciutto, rocket and parmesan I believe.

The “pea n ‘am” – or pancetta, gorgonzola with sweet piselli is a handsome looking chap.

This fellow is a pizza bianca with chicken, pesto and mixed peppers:

And this bad boy sports olives, mixed peppers and spicy, crumbled nduja sausage from Calabria. With a little chilli oil, this pizza had a real zing.

Service is friendly and efficient. Drinks are a little bit lacking considering, but I appreciate they may not want to cannibalise their enomatic bar or pub by offering great wines and beers. It’s a popular hang out – punchily priced at £9-11 for a pizza, but some love and thought has definitely gone into these pizzas. An easy, solid week night option for the area.


Food – 8/10

Drink – 6/10

Service - 8/10

Value – 7/10

Tap water tales – 8/10

Staff Hotness – 7/10

 

Iberica

I’d wanted to visit Iberica ever since Marina O’Loughlin of Metro fame gave it such a glowing review. I’m a massive tapas fan, as anybody going through this blog’s keywords would quickly realise. The appeal for me is the relaxed buzz and that it takes me back to warm nights in Spain, knocking back cañas and cava, and wolfing all manner of meats and cheeses. 

Of course, not all tapas is traditional and safe. El Pirata de Tapas in W2 and Barrafina are both more adventurous and urban, and the recent opening Copita offers another fresh take on it. Iberica is similarly slick with some creative use of ingredients and presentation.

The location is a little staid, being at the very top of Great Portland Street by the eponymous tube station. Its neighbours are the Portland Hospital and not too much in the way of foodie or coffee stuff (save Villandry) so it’s quite alone here.

The space is cavernous. A little disconcertingly so, especially with the lack of music and the bright lights. It does feel a little like it could be in a mall or an airport. Featureless high ceilings and mezzanine levels can do that.

Food itself was good though, a little punchy on the prices but excellent quality. Patatas bravas (£5.65 – eek) came with two options: the more paprika aioli sauce (Catalan?) or the more spicy tomato sauce. I liked this as it’s can be a bit Russian Roulette which one you get sometimes.

Fresh bread was warm and came with a very fruity oil.

Chorizo lollipops with pear aioli were delicious, inventive and fun (£5.60), and the padron peppers were perfect: hot and salty with a little zing. They were very pricey though at £6.90 - I'm used to them being among the cheapest staples on a tapas menu.

Asparagus tosta (bruschetta effectively) with truffle oil was fine and not overpowered. I’m not sure where it came from in December but it certainly wasn’t this hemisphere.

Jamon de teruel (£9.70) was silky and rich. They do many more high-end Jamon Iberico types – as can be witnessed at their deli counter.

The mixed cheese and meats platter (£12.30) gave a little more variety of the usual lomos, chorizos and manchegos – worthy of note was the Spanish blue (first piece alrerady eaten in the pic) which I’d not had before and was excellent.

Croquetas didn’t compare to José, but is there ever such a thing as a bad one? Sprinklings of paprika was a nice touch.

The apricot sorbet, chocolate, olive oil and strawberries was amazing. As was all the booze.

Overall, I liked Iberica but I didn’t love it. The food was thoughtful and well executed, and very carefully presented. The service was a little bit patchy considering the amount of staff on – I’ve been in tapas joints in Spain where one person has run the place with ease. Even though it was fairly busy, it felt quiet and a touch sterile. Lower lighting and decent music would help to bring some much-needed intimacy to the space.

One final event but probably the most memorable, and dare I say authentically Spanish: a couple of old gypsies came in begging at the tables! This goes on in Spain with a blind eye turned, and certainly when sitting outside, but I’d have expected a quicker reaction in London. The staff saw them enter and didn’t rush to evict them or appear very surprised – to the extent of “Oh, them again…”

Maybe the Spanish are a little more tolerant, but the diners were pretty astonished and I can’t imagine many them would return. No matter what kind of person or cuisine it is, you don’t expect beggars in a London restaurant.

Food – 8/10

Drink – 9/10

Service - 6/10

Value – 6/10

Tap water tales – 8/10

Staff Hotness – 8/10