Milan

Milan has its fair share of visitors, but it’s seldom chosen over Rome, Florence, or Venice for example. However if you find yourself there either for work (most likely) or en route to slopes or lakes, there are quite a few foodie highlights to occupy you.

I actually rather like the place. Maybe because it’s not a dainty ville museé but a thriving, industrious city far too busy getting things done to navel gaze in scenic piazzas. It’s tolerated as a necessary evil by most Italians, I’m guessing as its economic success has kept Rome beautiful.

But among the unlovely office blocks lie preserved tramlines and a network of bar-lined canals, and the shopping is worth the hype, especially in the spheres of design and smaller indie fashion labels.

On the subject of food, as this is Italy every region, town and village has their specialties. It’s one of my favourite things about the country. I think the grandeur of its secondary cities would not exist if they all hadn’t once been capitals in their own right. Compare to France’s rather uninspiring regional centres… although to be fair France’s cuisine is just as federalised even if its smaller cities are dull.
 

Milan has a few famous food and drink contributions, such as Campari, risotto milanese and vitello milanese. We had a great saffron risotto at the Maio restaurant up in La Rinascente department store. Now that sounds pretty tacky, but it’s actually a decent place with great views of the Duomo and plenty of locals lunching. Gawping at glamorous shoppers and dapper businessmen in sharp suits is a great pastime here. This risotto came without osso buco, but many do.

Osteria Delbinari is a family-run place across the tracks at Porta Genova, with a fantastic dining room and a less exciting garden. However, their veal cutlet is the real deal. Perfectly crumbed and griddled, it's juicy and absolutely massive. You only need a little salad on the side, but their herby parmentier potatoes were outstanding too.

  
Petit is a more contemporary resto for those who fancy something a little slicker and less traditional. Italian restaurants seem to be perfectly preserved in Milan, whereas the most modern places are sushi joints, so this is quite a find. It’s supposedly with a US twist, but the menu is completely to Italian tastes. The décor is more American-inspired I guess – it could be New York with the pitch darkness mitigated by tea lights (romantic, sweet and yet annoying when trying to read a menu) and with distressed white wood furniture.

Two different selections of antipasto were fantastic. The manual-rolled ham slicer was right behind me so I can vouch for the freshness, and that the smell was quite distracting (in a favourable way) during dinner. The buffalo mozzarella had extraordinary flavour too; richness with hints of both sour and sweet, and far superior to what is mostly found in the UK.

For the main, we shared the beef tagliata for two. This was a bit of a let-down – I would recommend the bistecca alla fiorentina instead. We had slices of fillet steak resting on a bed of salad and charred vegetables, but frankly there wasn’t enough of it. We saw Jedward in there (yes they’re bell-ends in real life), so ‘their people’ obviously think it’s a hot place. But don’t let that put you off, it’s cosy, friendly and wasn’t hard to get a table.

Finally, Milan’s other foodie contribution to Italy and the world: aperitivo. This is the period between roughly 6 and 9pm (including weekends) where many bars up their prices to about €8-10 for any drink, but assemble a buffet for you to lay siege to. Some bars compete to provide the best spreads, but many don’t go far beyond crudités. If you’re near Duomo, Bar Straf at the eponymous hotel is a decent bet.

However, my tip would be if you’re flying back from Malpensa in the evening, to arrive early at Cadorna station, buy your ticket and head to Noon. The cocktails are strong and the buffet is huge, so get your negroni sbagliato in and have a cheap dinner before your flight back.

A fantastic tradition (which is small but burgeoning in London), it explains why Italians don’t get drunk so easily, in contrast with a glimpse of Soho or the City on a Friday after work. You can almost pretend to be all continental and virtuous as you roll out and stagger to the airport train after scoffing three negronis and half a cheese wheel in one hour…almost.

April Bloomfield at St John Hotel

What to say about April Bloomfield and her two night residency at St John Chinatown?

In some ways, it was like being reunited with an old friend. But also it could herald very exciting things for the future.

April is a British chef from the River Café school, but her name has been made in New York. The Spotted Pig ‘gastro-pub’ in the Village, followed by John Dory and The Breslin within the Ace Hotel. Much like McNally, she’s carved a following among more food-obsessed Brits as she’s charmed New York, but has remained largely unknown in her homeland.

Her star dish is the Spotted Pig burger, a sloppy expanse of perfectly pink meat and gooey blue cheese, and the iconic rosemary matchstick fries. I first had it in about 2004, long before anything in London was edible away from ethcni or fine dining, let alone the burger mania of late. We spoke about it for years afterwards; the mess it created, the decadence, those amazing fries… could it now be coming to London?

April’s one dud I had at The Breslin a few years back. It was a fatty rancid rolled pig’s leg; basically a $50 battered sausage with pork pie gelatine. I was anxious I'd be facing that again, it's definitely to be avoided…

So I was a bit nervous about the menu, as her Breslin dishes are quite challenging in terms of nose to tail, but relief set in as the burger was leaked.

Starters were a fantastic haddock chowder and a creamy dish of gnudi with sage and brown butter. Both were excellent, and reasonably priced. I was pleased overall, as April could probably have charged a hugely expensive set price for the novelty, and it would still have been packed.

Rabbit with fennel and bacon was an interestingly flavoured dish. Very contemporary in that meat/fish + two ingredients formula seen at 10 Greek Street, Copita or Duck Soup, it would be bang on trend in an April London resto.

And on to the burger… 

Feelings of fondness and nostalgia for our first trip to New York together (and my first being over 21), have clearly been a powerful thing. Not because there was anything wrong with the burger: it was brilliantly cooked and tasted great.  But between 2004 and today, I’ve had so many great burgers (as any regular reader would groaningly attest) that it’s hard to exalt one above the many others. 

Underwhelmed would be too far, but there was that slight anticlimactic feeling of revisiting a childhood favourite film and finding it a bit meh. It wasn’t bad; it was very good, but London isn’t the foodie desert it once was. Especially where New York imitation comes in...

What irony where a Brit trailblazes in New York, creates a archetypal dish for that city, and upon repatriation is just a few years too late, and returns to a foodie landscape where aping New York is now honed to perfection.

£16.50 is about ok for the burger given the style of the event, but that price point for a permanent fixture of April’s would be inadvisable, given the range of burger between £7-12 in this town.

The red carpet was firmly rolled out for April (the restless, sceney dining room was littered with yappy C-listers like the F-Word, and not an insignificant velvet following), and I’m sure London could fall for her understated, accessible charm.

I remember being so excited about Bill Granger in London (more nostalgia from Sydney) and being let down...is his Notting Hill hellhole still going? I very much hope April doesn’t go the same way as greedy Granger, should she decide to venture a London resto.

She is far from a one-trick pony, and I have faith in her adventurous yet simple cooking, but reputation is everything, and a 2013 London cannot be conquered by blue cheese burger alone…

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. 

Ca N'Arabi, Ibiza

Just three kilometres from Ibiza Town, and pootling through a relatively dreary suburb, you certainly might feel a little anxious or confused on the way to Ca n’Arabi. But once you leave the urbanizacion, just a few hundred metres bring a complete change in scenery. It isn’t wild by any means, but you cannot no longer hear traffic and are surrounded by vineyards and orange groves.

The country hotel, or agroturismo as they’re known in the Balearics, is an old finca which has been refurbished and landscaped to provide the best of Ibiza shabby chic. The style is different to the billowing whites of Provence and Tuscany though. Ibiza is quite far south and the next stop is Algeria. While whitewashed houses do exist in abundance, there are Moorish influences everywhere; the terrain and cuisine are mountainous and meaty rather than delicate and floral, and so fiery hues of red and orange reflect the red earth.

Rooms are equally Ibicencan rustic – bold tiles, peasant artwork and lots of that oversized, broody Spanish wooden furniture. The inside area has deep sofas for relaxing, excellent wifi throughout and a few tables for breakfast. But the real appeal here is the outdoor space.

The pool combines hut tub, splashing around room and lap pool in a singular handy layout. Loungers surround it, as well as a few day beds to escape the sun. With about twelve rooms total, your chances of nabbing the best spots are good, given that many people will visit the beach. It’s perfect for that late afternoon post-beach flop and snooze.

Gardens are beautiful too. The buildings are laden with bougainvillea as well as quaint rural artefacts, and the surrounding area features ancient, gnarled olive trees as well as citrus and pomegranates, serenely framed by vines stretching into the distance.

On to matters of grape and other refreshment, unlike many of the more upmarket agroturismos on the island, it’s a little bit more DIY here. You can order drinks from reception, but the property is so compact that it’s easier to grab them from your minibar. Prices are very affordable; €3 for a beer, €15 for a bottle of wine, so it’s a no-brainer.

Breakfast is the usual Spanish continental, with a good range of meats and cheeses. The lovely, low key staff bake cakes and other treats throughout the day which are grab, as are Nespresso coffees.

Overall Ca n’Arabi is a fantastic place to stay in Ibiza, where it can be quite hard to avoid the hordes, or at the other end of the spectrum, to avoid paying €400 a night for not very much. The location is spot on – 5 mins drive to Ibiza town and about 15 to the southern beaches and airport. 

Prices here range between €150-250 depending on the month (Ibiza is incredibly seasonal, even May and October are a steal) and offers the balance of the luxe outdoor setting but without servile fawning which doesn’t sit right in Spain anyway. Ibiza isn’t Thailand, so get up and grab your own beer! One small pointer – as it's Ibiza, some hidden speakers with some chill-out music by the pool would be a nice touch in the afternoons.

No dinner, but see here for my previous post - a guide to Ibiza eating.

Royal China (Baker Street)

Going for weekend dim sum at Royal China on Baker Street is a London institution. It's not necessarily for the most discerning of Chinese diners, nor is it technically the best dim sum in town.

There are plenty of tourists but there are also Chinese families, hipsters and even the odd celeb (Jarvis Cocker getting stuck into some dumplings) so even if there is better dim sum in a car park in Croydon or every second Wednesday down an alleyway in Earls Court, this is still a fun, diverse London experience.

Long before Russell Norman, they wrote the book on no reservations. It’s egalitarian though; you take a numbered ticket and wait. Covers must exceed 200 I’m sure, and so the turnover is quick. You may see larger tables seated before you – the queue looked horrendous but we waited maybe 5-10 mins on a Saturday at about half three.

Honey pork puffs are one of my guilty pleasures. They’re obviously a very Western-friendly ‘entry level’ dim sum, but I love them all the same. Sweet in a way that few cuisines can (and should be able to) get away with, the combination of crumbling pastry and sweet porky filling is a winning one. Dim sum for the Gregg’s generation.

Prawn and chive dumplings and beef cheung fun are good. The texture of dim sum is something I’ve previously struggled with a little. The Chinese seem to have a steely propensity to handle the slithery and slimy. My initial reaction is a slight shudder, but then the fillings come through and save the day. Both solid dishes here. 

Char sui buns are the kings of dim sum for me. I could happily order 5 options of these and walk away as satisfied and accomplished as if I’d tried the most adventurous dishes on the menu. Pillowy buns torn open to reveal pieces of sweet, barbecued pork – this is a thing of beauty. Royal China’s version isn’t the best I’ve had (the meat component could have been more generous), but can you really have a bad one?

Our final dish (we had dinner in a few hours) were some deep fried duck rolls. These weren’t deep fried like spring rolls, but effectively battered sausages you’d get from the chippy except with some hoi sin tinged duck inside. The artery-clogging ability of these would be a challenge to equal - an absolute heart attack on a plate. Not that it stopped us wolfing them down.  

Service is standard Chinese: humorously brusque in that way which is somehow endearing and tolerated. If the servers were French, we’d be declaring an end to the entente cordiale. Rude, or at best, indifferent service is perversely one of my favourite things about Chinese restaurants; amusing and yet fair in its indiscriminateness. A bit like South Park.

Possibly the best thing about the experience is the ease of it. It’s super cheap (less than £20 including tea and service), very quick and thus perfect for a hangover. 

Food – 7/10 

Drink – 7/10 (tea spot on, otherwise I'd stick to beer) 

Service - 8/10 - exactly what it needs to be 

Value – 9/10 

Tap water tales – none asked, none offered 

Staff Hotness – 4/10 (beleaguered and frantic is not a good look)