The Garrison, 99 Bermondsey St, SE1

Beautiful Jen

I’ve been going to The Garrison on Bermondsey Street for a few years now and the gastro fayre never disappoints. After buying some foodstuffs in Borough with my mum on Saturday we headed there for a spot of lunch and a glass of Pimms before jumping aboard a Thames Clipper for Greenwich.

The best steak sarnie and chips in London

I was craving their bloody steak sandwich but she was far more abstemious and ordered a summer salad of prosciutto, peaches, boccini mozzarella with a light vinaigrette and a side of hand cut chips. This seasonal dish is so simple but always delicious when the ham is good and the peaches are ripe.

We were eyeing up the pudding blackboard before we had finished the mains and were taken by the salted caramel ice-cream. Sadly they were out of this so we shared three scoops of pistachio and walnut which were still very good.

I had a birthday meal here a few years ago after being charmed by the shabby chic decor while out on a work lunch. As it’s just along from our flat I often go for breakfasts or an evening drink if it’s not too packed in there.

Petits mots left in the secret drawer

My favourite thing about it is a secret drawer I discovered on a night out. I had to get a snap of it (above) on Saturday as we were seated on the next table along- it is filled with amusing little notes left by Garrison regulars/scrawls from bored diners fed up with dates who have nipped to the loo- go for lunch and add to the pile!

All aboard to Greenwich!

Sweetcorn fritters

Sunday brunch was sweetcorn fritters with blueberries. Sounds 'unique' but I felt like revisiting a delicious Providores dish I had eaten a few months back with my brother.

Ok so they ain't that pretty but Rob's gallant effort is pictured above - (I helped place the blueberries ;) He tweaked this and this recipe but added more milk as the measurements were a bit out. I thought they could have done with a bit longer in the pan to cook through and would have liked a fatter patty but the flavours of the parsley and corn kernels came out nicely with a generous pinch of salt.

Note to anyone thinking of tucking into leftovers of these the next day- don't! Rob made a 'cheese sandwich' with two of the spare fritters and the accompanying chilli jam and it was like chewing on two wet sponges!

Petrus, SW1

Last month I read a long interview about Gordon Ramsay in the Observer Food Monthly.

Ramsay is akin to Marmite, the public either love or hate him but I’ve never felt strongly either way. I’ve always thought the F-ing persona that he is famed for is staged and I actually felt sorry for him when the red tops went to town on his personal affairs and financial problems at his numerous restaurants. The Observer article is worth a read and sets the scene well for the reopening of Petrus so when I got an invite to go there with work I couldn’t turn the opportunity down.

After finishing late at work yesterday I dashed through the streets of Knightsbridge onto Kinnerton Street which is an oasis of charming but (unfortunately for me) unaffordable white mews buildings and flash cars. From the street I wasn’t sure whether Petrus would be another stuffy fine dining establishment but the nervously efficient staff couldn’t have been more welcoming under the smiling but firm direction of slick Belge restaurant director Jean-Philippe Susilovic.

The claret and oyster coloured interiors designed by quintessentially English designer Russell Sage curve round an impressive glass cylinder centrepiece which is stacked high with bottles of wine. Our party crammed ourselves inside and fondled the metal core which is sprayed with holes that blow out cold air to keep the red and white wine at an optimum temperature.

We had quaffed a nice glass of Henriot Brut Souverain on arrival with sweet paprika and black pepper and lemon popcorn and were whisked downstairs to the chef’s table which directly faced onto the chrome kitchen. This is the third chef’s table I’ve had the fortune of trying and it was by far the most exciting as there was real interaction between the chefs and diners with no pane of glass to drown out the expletives that would be thrown around by executive chef Mark Askew as the evening progressed.

We grazed on parmesan and black olive polenta chips with tomato sauce (posh chips) which were pleasant but not mind-blowing. The next course of Cinco Jotas Jamon was and was washed down with a gorgeously fruity glass of Wien 1 Austrian white wine. The coarse ham, we were told, is the most expensive in the world. I wouldn’t mind being a 5J ham -bar the slaughter obviously- the piggies spend most of their lives roaming around beautiful woodlands in Western Spain and snuffling acorns which gives their flesh a really rich nutty flavour. It was some of the nicest ham I’ve ever tasted and the thought of eating slimy supermarket Parma ham again makes me sad. Next to the plating up counter they had a whole leg of it in a vice that looked very similar to the ham I photographed in my last Borough post. I asked our host how much it would cost and he said around £350!

The next amuse bouche of onion veloute with chives was served in a miniature chefs hat and was divinely creamy, I would have liked a whole bowl of it and mopped up the last dregs with a piece of crusty bread.

Next came crispy veal sweetbread with choucroute carrots and a sherry vinegar sauce. The texture of the carrots against the meaty sweetbread was lovely, some of the group found the vinegar a bit overpowering but I’m always overly liberal with it on salads so found it just right. Sweetbreads are another food that I have to detach myself from when eating and just taste the flavours as thinking about a gland of an animal unsurprisingly makes me lose my appetite. Silly really as one eats their muscle and skin without a second thought.

The great thing about a chef's table is that it pushes you to try dishes that you would not naturally choose off the menu. A case in point is the next course, which was John Dory with mushrooms lardons and a classic Bordelaise sauce. I wouldn’t think of putting a punchy red wine sauce with fish but it was really flavoursome and held its own. We had a lovely Pinor noir with it – Harwood Hall (2008) from New Zealand. This was very drinkable and my favourite tipple of the evening so I’m hoping I can find somewhere local that stocks it at a reasonable price.

Sean Burbidge is head chef of the restaurant and was there on the night but Askew had his eagle eye on everyone in the kitchen and seemed to be calling most of the shots. He came over to talk to the group at the beginning of the meal and was very likeable though had a foot tap which suggested he was impatient to get back to his boys in the kitchen.

He returned later on to invite us to plate up our next course which was Gressingham duck breast with confit leg, braised beetroot and ginger sauce. Another journalist Lorraine was tasked with the julienne of beetroot which was full of juicy sultanas. I took charge of the beetroot leaf which looked like braised spinach and the slices of duck breast. Each of us had a seemingly simple job to do in the production line but I still managed to cock it up wherever possible. The duck was served with potato dauphinoise and the most delicious buttered and zesty lemon broccoli I’ve ever tried- both served in mini silver pots. This course was probably the highlight for me, the duck was beautifully pink and was brought to life by the tangy fruity beetroot.

At this point I was comfortably full so probably didn’t need the creamy hunk of St Simeon cheese with oatcakes and semi-dried grapes which followed but when does 'need' come into it?! The grapes were a revelation. On first glance they looked a bit droopy and sad, like a forgotten bunch that should have been binned weeks back but they were deliciously sweet like prunes and half way to becoming a raisin. I polished off the last stragglers before the plate was snatched away (was a shame for them to go to waste after all) and reflected on the two desserts and petits fours which remained.

A blink of an eye later and our smiling host was back with a round of Meyer lemon cones to cleanse the palette. The Meyer lemon is apparently like a hybrid of a lemon and a sweet orange. We inhaled the refreshing citrus syllabub and munched through the biscuity cone in a matter of seconds.

First pudding out was fennel crème brulee which had the perfect crunch – I’m not keen on liquorice/anise but the fennel seeds added a really subtle aromatic dimension to the custardy vanilla cream. Gordon has a guest chef recipe for Waitrose which sounds very similar and one I plan to give a go.

Back to the kitchen to construct the piece de resistance- the chocolate sphere with milk ice cream and honeycomb. The critics had been divided on the trademark pud but largely reeled over it so I was excited to be putting it together myself. First we used a heavy pressurised contraption to pump a mound of condensed milk onto the plate before sinking half a chocolate dome into it which had been glazed with gold dust. Next we had to squeeze chocolate cream into the middle, twisting and rolling the piping with our hands which felt a bit like milking a cow, I imagine. I was struggling to plate up while documenting it all with my iPhone and started to have problems with the pump but the pastry chef helped put things right again.

Afterwards came lots of honeycomb, I added twice the amount taken by the rest of the group (not unintentionally) and managed to sprinkle it over the white mound of condensed milk which didn’t go unnoticed by Askew who joked that a drunken hen party had managed to do it with more finesse a week earlier despite sinking nine bottles of wine!

I pulled it back with a generous scoop of milk ice-cream and the second demi-sphere lid which hid the mess inside.

Back at the table with a sweet glass of 2007 Maury wine in hand, our host poured molten chocolate sauce over the plate and the sphere peeled back quickly to reveal the honeycomb inside. The pudding bought back school day memories of a melted Cadbury’s Crunchie and had the same wow factor as Ice Magic did on me as a child when I saw it harden on a bowl of vanilla ice-cream.

We were all pretty knocked out by the end and eased back into our seats to digest. But it wasn’t the end, as Askew kept on giving and reappeared with a silver dish in one hand and an oversized syringe in the other saying he had another surprise for us. He pumped the syringe into an opening in the top of the dish and dry ice smoke plunged out as he unveiled a round of frozen white chocolates on sticks.

Warm, comforting eggy Madeleine cakes from the oven appeared after with my macchiato along with cocoa dusted chocolate almonds and dark square chocolate thins housed in something that resembled a narrow cigar humidor but by this point the table (apart from me) was defeated.

The whole meal was so memorable, not because of the buzz of being at a new opening, which was exciting, or because the menu homed in on personal favourites, which it did, but because the brash risk-taking Ramsay is often accused of was nowhere to be seen.

Chocolate sphere video:

The Anchor & Hope, 36 The Cut, SE1

I finally got round to trying out The Anchor & Hope with the brunette after a short tour of the Southbank chocolate festival to whet the appetite.

Sadly, we went the day after a glowing write up in Friday's Evening Standard magazine so the place filled up rapidly. Expecting a long wait (as this is another eatery that doesn't take bookings) we turned up shortly after 5pm - dinner service isn't till 6- and shared a bottle of Beaujolais at the bar. The wine came with quaint little goblets that we sank very easily. Half an hour later a red haired lady appeared and the crowd pinned her down to put their name on the coveted list. We were in a prime spot so were told we would be seated at 6pm and carried on drinking and watching staff prep herbs and bread.

By the time we sat down we'd run through the menu several times and both decided to go for the baked pig's cheek and fennel, shredded celeriac and mustard as it sounded interesting. I nipped to the loo to wash my hands and came back to find the dish already waiting for me. I like efficient service at restaurants but not if they churn you out the door as soon as you've walked in so we agreed to take our time and admired the wall of charming paintings above our head, all by artist Aldous Eveleigh.

The pig was an impressive rich brown colour and looked pretty against the celeriac and green cabbage but when I put my knife to it, it was rather gelatinous and quivered like a breast implant. I was expecting it to be crispy like pork belly but when I flipped it over found to my disappointment that there was a limited amount of meat there. Having said this, it was very well seasoned, as were the accompaniments and was not wholly unpleasant but like my mum I have a certain fat threshold with meat and left a fair bit of it.

Our waiter was very friendly and upon looking at our plates asked how we had enjoyed the dish. We confessed that we hadn't expected so much fat and he agreed adding: "but at least it's crispy". The brunette looked at me with a raised eyebrow. I'm not familiar with pig's cheek- should it be like that? Or, in their efforts to rush plates out did this little piggy lose its crunch? We saw subsequent covers emerge from the kitchen that looked more in line with what I was expecting..

Puddings were a triumph. Mark had a pistachio cake with rhubarb and creme fraiche. It was quite a dense piece but as we weren't overloaded by the first course this wasn't unwelcome. I went for buttermilk pudding and blood oranges which were nicely caramelised. I was expecting a hot rice pudding but it was like a pannacotta, and like my main had a wobbly consistency though this time was sweet and creamy and a lot more appetising!

Vinoteca, 7 St. John's St, EC1

Vinoteca - 'best wine bar in London'- boasts its website. Not far off. My friend Helen raves about this place in Farringdon so I was eager to try it out for dinner with Robert, Leah and her boyfriend Guy on Saturday. On a weekday in London one is always in a rush- rushing to catch the tube, rushing to meet deadlines or rushing to escape the gym- so waiting for a table to free up isn't viable. But at the weekend there's no such urgency and so it was sadly liberating to rock up to Vintoeca without a booking (they don't take them) and wait for a table while dipping into a pot of olives and a really smooth glass of Malbec.

As it happens, we were seated very quickly, despite talk of an hour and a half wait from the bespectacled barman who greeted us. I say greeted, he had a fairly nonchalant attitude actually but he was harmless enough and anyhow I was more bothered by the menu.

There were several dishes that caught my eye which is always a good sign and we all shared so there was no serious food envy to sour the experience! I started with burrata, grilled aubergine and preserved lemon. Burrata is made from mozzarella and cream and this was rich and buttery as its name suggests. It married well with the charred aubergine which was not at all greasy as it tends to be when I griddle it despite being sparing with the oil.

Robert and Leah had old spot pork belly which was given an Asian kick with chilli, ginger and coriander and melted in the mouth. I didn't try Guy's butterbean and chorizo soup but it quickly dispelled the hunger brought on by his marathon training. Next was juicy lamb rump, stewed pepperonata, nutty ratte potatoes and a generous helping of Sicilian olives- they tasted just like the big green Puglian ones at Borough - my favourites.

Leah had sauteed squid (minus the red mullet as they were out) with fregola sarda. I've seen this described as 'giant' or 'Israeli' couscous but it's actually a Sardinian pasta. I have a slightly unhealthy obsession with it at the moment as it has a really satisfying bite but haven't managed to find it in the usual places. I had rice-shaped Orzo pasta for dinner this evening which was almost as good but not quite so I'm going to raid the Italian delis and upload a recipe on here within the next month!

Guy wasn't drinking as he was designated driver so it was left to Robert, Leah and me to see away the second bottle of red. My attempt was feeble so I couldn't really justify a pudding and picked at Rob's champagne rhubarb and hazelnut crumble instead. The fruit was stewed to perfection and not eye-wincingly tart as it can be. They were out of custard but ice-cream would have been my preference anyway so it went down a little too easily, unfortunately for R! As expected the sweet wine list was also fairly exhaustive but again I was all boozed out so I'll have to test this out on my next visit.

The dishes were fresh, colourful and exciting, the atmosphere buzzing. Our waitress was very attentive and though it wasn't service with a smile throughout the establishment, Vinoteca's no nonsense approach to food and its seemingly endless choice of high quality wines are well worth the wait.

Fortnum & Mason 1707 Wine bar, W1

Housed at the bottom of Fortnum & Mason's is the 1707 Wine Bar, the brainchild of prolific restaurant designer David Collins who is behind some of London's chicest bars and restaurants such as The Connaught Bar, Nobu and The Wolseley.

After bracing the masses at Van Gogh's heaving exhibition at the Royal Academy (for a second time) on Friday and rainy Piccadilly afterwards my mum and I ended up at 1707 propping up the bar with Jermyn Street's finest suits and divorcees. Bouffed ladies and pushy maitre d' aside the place was faultless and our Polish bar man was utterly charming and knowledgeable about the extensive wine list. We plumped for a glass of New Zealand Pinot Noir each and shared a plate of three cheeses with ash crackers and dried fig and a cassoulet brimming with ham and Toulouse sausages.

Apologies for the lack of food pics but I had to take a snap of the talented strumming guitar player who soothed away Friday's fatigue. I also wanted a reminder of the wooden clad walls which were almost reminiscent of a Scandinavian log cabin and warmed us up for the journey home.

Corrigan's, Mayfair, W1

Last week, I had the good fortune of being taken to a chef's table at Corrigan's in Mayfair with work. I've done one of these before at Murano; Angela Hartnett's restaurant which is part of the Gordon Ramsay family. Critics have mocked Hartnett's portion sizes but I was adequately fed with the 'taster' menu there and anyway for me, a taster menu should do what it says on the tin and provide a 'taster' and leave you wanting more.

This is why I struggled with the menu at Corrigan's. We had 10 courses (and a different glass of wine with each) which though excellent felt rather drawn out and was just too much for the Gourmandiser.

Cauliflower soup and croque monsieur, octopus carpaccio seville orange and almonds, terrine of fois gras and caramelised apple, brill red wine and razor clam, tournedo rossini, pina colada, rhubarb souffle and ginger ice cream, cheeses and coffee/teas... equals exhausting!

The highlights were the soup and the soufflé - which our maître d' said would be like "eating air". I probably wouldn't pay to "eat air" at a Michelin starred restaurant but after seven courses it was just what I wanted. The soufflé was deliciously light and the slow cooked rhubarb chunks had just the right sweet-sour balance.

The lows were the octopus carpaccio and the beef. I'm not a fan of octopus at the best of times but with it thinly sliced and raw all I could picture was tentacles and suckers. I forced this out of my head and ploughed through as it is said to be Richard Corrigan's trademark dish. The orange and almonds gave it a lift and rescued the fishy flavour but I probably wouldn't order it a la carte. The beef was a bit disappointing- it was too salty and I had food envy looking at my fellow diners who were tucking into venison done three ways with ginger and pak choi- i suppose you can't win them all.

The tour round the kitchen was rather fun, I'm always shocked how hot it is in there and how the staff cope with such long hours. Stella McCartney was dining in the restaurant at the same time so I had a peek at the print out of her order.. all vegetarian dishes, naturally. I couldn't resist having a gawp at the main restaurant (and take a breather from the remaining courses) and glimpsed her on the way to the toilets. After the excitement I left before the cheese course which would have tipped me over the edge.

Undoubtedly Corrigan's is in the premier league but the food was a bit opressing as was the décor in our private room which had miniature game skulls dotted around the ceiling. I'd like to go back and try the regular menu (at someone else's expense) and sit in the main restaurant as it had more of a buzz - but only after some serious stomach-stretching!

Madisons Deli, Stanmore

If you ever happen to fall asleep and wake up at the end of the Jubilee line in Stanmore in need of a pick-me-up, Madison’s is your place.

Nana ‘B’ Strooooodell is a big fan of Madison’s (despite the fact that the food isn’t actually ‘kosher’) but at the ripe age of 94 she struggles to get out and eat-in there any more so when my brothers and I visit we often pick up a few bits to take away.

She likes their chopped liver and tongue, neither of which I can stomach- I was force fed tongue when I was a little girl by my parents and I can still remember gagging at the sight of its marbling!

So when my brother Matthew and I dropped in there on a recent visit for a spot of lunch I stuck clear of the cold cuts and tucked into some warming chicken noodle soup with kreplach.

Despite my rich yid heritage on my dad’s side I was first introduced to it at Harry Morgan’s, a New York style deli by my friend Leah. They used to have a branch round the corner to our office but sadly it closed a while back and since then I’ve been craving for a kreplach fix.

I have to say, I was a bit disappointed by Madison’s take on it. The chicken soup itself was really flavoursome; a sparkling consommé which was bobbing with carrots. But the kreplach was a bit doughy and stingy on the meat filling- Harry’s kreplach is stuffed with meat, beef, I think, and is a lot more tasty.

The mains were better. Matthew had a Reuben sandwich (£6.50) which came with lashings of salt beef, sauerkraut and Swiss cheese. He mistakenly smeared most of the accompanying mustard on it and it was so hot it almost blew off his head.

I went for salt beef on rye straight up and was more sparing with the condiments. I also ordered some gherkins which we shared- they looked like they were swiped from Mrs Elswood herself and added a perfect tang.

The ambiance of Madison’s is great and despite the kreplach let-down the restaurant is well worth a visit out to Zone 5- if only to check out the Craig David “all-over your body” collection of gold discs which adorn the wall behind the counter.

See below a Kreplach recipe from a vintage Jewish read by Jennie Grossinger that 'B' gave to me a year or so back:

Noodle dough:

2 cups flour, 2 eggs, 1 tablespoon of water, 1/2 teaspoon salt

Place unsifted flour on a board and make a well in centre. Add eggs, water and salt into the hole. Work into the flour with one hand, kneading until soft and elastic. Roll and stretch the dough as thin as possible. The thinner, the better.

Cut into 3-inch squares and place a tablespoon of your filling on each. One option is mince beef, onions, salt and pepper and a bit of a fat but any left over meat works.

Fold the dough into a triangle and press edges together with a bit of water to moisten. Cook in boiling water/soup for around 20 mins until they rise. Drain. They can then be fried or served in the soup.

Pizza East, Shoreditch, E1

The dingy entrance to Pizza East is a bit disconcerting but don’t let that put you off. It’s on the corner of Shoreditch High Street and Bethnal Green Road and leads to a fantastic industrial space full of exposed pipes and distressed concrete walls.

After a warm up of Basil-flavoured Hoxton 'teas' (mojitos) with friends at the Book Club up the road we had a bottle of red while waiting impatiently for our table to free-up. It was 10pm and the boys amongst the group were ravenous. I was too. After some strategic loitering and glares from my pal Polly we were soon seated at a long studded steel refectory table in a prime spot next to the bar which was draped with legs of aged ham.

I nearly made the error of going for a ricotta-based 10” pizza base as the toppings sounded lush but our oversized Ray-ban spectacled waiter encouraged me to go for the Margherita and DIY it with San Daniele, buffalo mozzarella and a pot of pesto on the side - I was so glad I did as the tomato-sauce base was just like mama used to make!

The company was good and the prices were really reasonable despite the popularity of this new opening so I’m already scheming to go back. Some of our diners had to flee for the last train home to the burbs but Pol and I were set on a pud so shared the salted chocolate caramel tart. I love salty-sweet desserts- they seem to be appearing a lot more on menus these days. This tart could have been a fraction less salty but still hit the spot. It reminded me of some tapas I had in Barcelona at a great little bar called Tapac 24 (Ex- El Bulli Carles Abellan’s bar). There they serve Chocolate con sal, aceite y pan (Spanish), literally chocolate ice-cream with bread, olive oil and salt. Sounds grim but they use good oil and chocolate and the flavours are subtle and really work. If you only have time to go to one tapas bar there make it this one!

Tierra Brindisa, Broadwick St, W1

Jen (that’s my mum by the way) was down for the evening on Friday so we had some tapas at Tierra Brindisa on Broadwick Street. Normally she’s reluctant to look beyond Le Pain Quotidien on Great Marlborough Street but I managed to twist her arm this time.

I’ve had a disappointing meal at this branch of Brindisa before but I must have chosen badly on previous occasions as the dishes were really good. Brindisa in Borough is always heaving and used to have a no-booking policy but still had buckets of hungry eaters through their doors.

Whenever I go for tapas I have to have Padron peppers with sea salt. You can get the occasional hot one but generally they’re very mild - these weren’t quite as good as those I’ve tried at Saltyard and Dehesa but were nice enough, perhaps could have done with 5 minutes more roasting time.

Next was some iberico loin, one of the more reasonably priced charcuteries with country toast with aioli. Then roasted butternut squash with pancetta, wild mushrooms, pine nuts and Manchego cheese and seared foie gras with lentil stew and PX vinegar - never heard of the variety and thought it sounded like some sort of blue-rated vinegar.

The foie gras had the perfect melt in the mouth factor and the pancetta had a satisfying salty crunch which complemented the sweet squash really well. Only gripe would be that the lentil stew was quite soupy so either could have done with being reduced down to a thicker consistency or they should have equipped us with a spoon!

Grilled rack of lamb with oven potatoes and green olives was good, cooked to perfection as it was medium rare.

Deep fried Monte Enebro goats cheese with orange blossom honey was nice though came as a rather intimidating large hunk with a few beetroot crisps - I prefer less of it - Saltyard serves it in deep fried courgette flowers as a trademark dish and that is far superior.

Desserts were ok but didn’t bowl me over. I had the soft vanilla meringue with blood orange sorbet and passion fruit. The sorbet was refreshing and a real palette cleaner after the tapas gorging that had gone before but the meringue was average.

Jen had the Spanish flan with rhubarb compote which was a bit like a crème caramel, nice enough but no wow factor and Robert had the chocolate fondant with vanilla and flaked almonds- by far the best out of the three.