Taro, Brewer Street ♥

Ok, so I have a major case of the non-sleepies and figured I'd better do some posting before exams take over my life and I have to go into dormouse style hibernation (that's if dormice flailed over revision while listening to the Smiths and downed Red Bull...hm yeah). Plus I had decent pictures I'd taken from Tuesday which turned out fine despite the fact that I'm an idiot when it comes to photography. 


Before I launch into my review, in light of the tragedies occurring in Japan, I felt it would be appropriate to include some links so readers can donate if they want. It goes without saying that this is a super worthy cause and the smallest amount can help make a world of difference. 

Click here to to donate to the British Red Cross Japan Tsunami Appeal 


Click here to see a list of legitimate charities that you can offer support to (This goes to a Time magazine link which is regularly updated with new and trusted charities working in Japan). 

Breakfast at Princi ♥♥♥

The Interior (Bakery to your left, Coffee Bar straight ahead...mhm). Photography by  Kai Hendry

Ok, so things haven’t been quite the same since I’ve stopped doing regular Friday latte and almond croissant time at the Terrace Café at the Southbank Centre. Unfortunately, there’s been a pretty big brunch shaped hole in my life and when Yi-Bin suggested we go to Princi on Sunday morning, I instantly perked up.

Uncharacteristically, on Sunday morning, Yi-Bin and I managed to wake up before our alarm clock went off, an amazing event I feel I should take care to record for posterity. After the usual, dazed morning confusion which usually consists of me staring into a mirror and wondering what it is that makes me resemble a reanimated corpse, we perused the papers and then made our way to Soho, the land of lost dreams.

Despite the fact that we’d gotten there super early by Sunday morning in London standards, Princi was already packed and bustling with the morning crowd – an interesting mix of families, couples, bachelors poring over copies of the FT and the occasional hipster. As soon as we walked in, we were greeted a potent and welcoming smell – a heady mix of freshly baked bread, smoky hot coffee and herbs.

Photography by Suziedepingu

The interior was simple and tasteful. Super clean lines, dark woodwork and a ridiculously cool marble bar with a hovering mini water feature perched alongside it means the décor gets a thumbs up from me.  It was obviously another Alan Yau creation – the minimalist interior was a little similar to Busaba and we also spotted three Buddha idols tucked behind the coffee bar. We managed to grab some seats at the marble bar and wandered off to order.

Being naturally indecisive, I’d already figured out what I was going to have when we checked the website last night– the usual latte and almond croissant. But when I reached the bakery, which was teeming with every type of bread imaginable - lustrous, golden mounds of deliciousness as well as palm sized, fluffy milk rolls decorated with a rustic smattering of poppy seeds, I was totally spoilt for choice. This wasn’t the only fare on offer– butter rich, flaky crescents and pastries encircling amber pools of jam were also displayed in the counter.

Major drool. Photography by Kai Hendry 

After uselessly gawping at the counter for what seemed like a lifetime, I decided to do something completely wild by Renie standards and instead of going for one of the delicious baked goodies, I decided to order the Princi Breakfast and a soy cappu.

The coffee bar is separate from the food displays and pay points and is manned by a team of ridiculously slick Italian baristas. My cappu appears almost instantly and the unmistakeable scent of good, strong coffee overwhelms my nose. Topped with a thick, coffee infused foam, it’s the perfect antidote to the hangover acquired having too much fun at LSJN awards.

The mini fountain - (I poked this). Photography by  Mark Hillary

I gaze at the water feature at the bar while Yi-Bin goes off to order and await the arrival of my Princi breakfast, staring longingly at the other clientele who seem to be digging into their breakfasts with gusto. And then suddenly, it appeared.

Before I launch further into this review, I have to point out that I don’t like eating breakfast. It’s my least favourite meal of the day (I can just about stomach a coffee), I stopped bothering years ago and I usually skip it because it makes me feel oddly uncomfortable. However, upon seeing the waitress approaching me, I had a mini-epiphany and in a fit of confused teenage angst, fell in love with the concept of eating breakfast all over again.

As the Princi Breakfast was placed before me, I paused to marvel at the sheer awesomeness of it. It was all pretty simple actually – perfectly creamy scrambled eggs, Tuscan sausage, crispy pancetta, deliciously spiced cannellini beans with an onion and tomato sauce, slow roast tomato flavoured with garlic and rosemary, Portobello mushroom  infused with rosemary oil and two thick, toasted chunks of freshly baked wholemeal bread.

Cappuccino! Photography by Katie Tang

All the flavours were simple, clean and most importantly fresh. I had a great time slathering the velvety smooth eggs onto the thick slices of wholemeal goodness and relishing the deliciously rich flavours of the pancetta and sausage. The spiciness of the beans and the tangy, garlicky tomato was just enough to cut across the richness of the meat, ensuring that breakfast was satisfying and refreshing as opposed to being too heavy and cumbersome.  

Yi-Bin had the same breakfast as I, but opted for a refreshing mint tea which came in a plain white china teapot. Although her serving of scrambled eggs were slightly overcooked and dry as a result, breakfast was definitely a success – the food was exceptionally fresh and delectable and service was faultless and fast.

It is therefore, not a surprise that Princi is becoming one of Soho’s new hotspots – opening early and closing late, it caters for a wide range of people and with its impeccable service and food, I’m already planning my next trip there for dinner. 

Street Kitchen Returns!!!

Ok, remember how I raved about Street Kitchen like a madwoman and stalked it around London?


Well it's back! *prances around with joy*


Click here for more info :)

Short and Sweet ♥

Major Macaron Love! Photography by Robyn Lee

‘All good things must come to an end,’ a phrase first echoed by Chaucer in 1347 and more recently by Nelly Furtado albeit through a different medium, certainly rings true in the following tale to which I now relate. This is because a short while ago, I made the life changing decision to do a sugar detox, that is, completely give up on dessert and excessively sugary snacks for an extended period.


This self induced tragedy may seem quite melodramatic to most ordinary folk, however any seasoned dessert lover will know that kicking this decadent, sugary habit is worse than giving up smoking. There are no friendly and supportive helplines to call when you feel like you’re missing out on a sugar rush, no NHS funded counselling, no patches, or even some sort of bizarre inhaler to help counteract the longing for something luxuriously sweet and yummy tap dancing on one’s palate.

Chocolate Millefeuille from William Curley, yum! Photography by suziedepingu

I did however, have an extremely good reason for taking this somewhat drastic step. For the majority of my life I had happily succumbed to the temptation of every yummy treat presented to me, be it a decadent Ladurée macaron or the humble sticky toffee pudding, with sheer and unabashed abandon, completely reckless as to the possible consequences of my inability to curb my appetite for anything that consisted mostly of sugar. 


Like a bad boyfriend I had indulged for too long, my relationship with sweetness had actually soured with my love for dessert and was playing havoc with my system, in the form of an expanding waistline and constant sugar highs which needed constant refuelling lest they fall into the dreaded sugar lows – all this possibly furthered by my potent fear and hatred of rigorous exercise.


This was quite an extreme regime, but I did want to distance myself away from anything too sugary for a fortnight to ensure that my evil sugar dependence was well and truly annihilated. I have to admit, the no cake rule was somewhat painful but I soldiered on, knowing that it was for the best. I have never crash dieted, mainly because I have zero self control and I am easily persuaded by food adverts (M & S anyone?) so this was really a test of my willpower.

Brownies and Whipped Cream? Ooh yah. Photography by Robyn Lee

My most embarrassing moment, by a mile, was probably when I spent a considerable amount of time eyeing up a gorgeous display in Pierre Hermé not unlike a slimy pervert giving a couple of buxom maids a long and salacious look of lasciviousness. I was however brought back to my senses by an assistant who peered at me through the other side of the shop window worriedly and gave a small wave. 


Although this was nowhere near as bad as being caught playing strip poker by one of my form tutors in senior school, this was pretty high up on my personal ‘everyday life embarrassing incidents’ scale, somewhat above the ordinary awkwardness of say, walking out of the house with hair rollers still attached or perhaps dropping a silver platter on a child’s head (unfortunately all real life incidents that have actually occurred within my lifetime).

Cinnananananamon Buns forever! Photography by Robyn Lee

Despite the fact that this was not a particularly pleasant experience, I now had plenty of time to reassess my excesses. What had originally been occasional comfort eating had turned to a discomforting habit and after my sugar free fortnight, I saw the benefits. My waistline had (not surprisingly) shrunk and I was no longer a victim of my mid afternoon sugar grouches. With great trepidation I have now decided to hit the dessert trolley once more but this time, instead of my previous regime of careless abandon, there will definitely be some casual calorie control going on.


One profoundly interesting thing I did discover though, when I took the time to retrain my palate, was that I was enjoying eating dessert far more than I previously had. I was no longer on a crazed, one woman mission to devour every single type of known dessert on the planet, for I had somehow managed to retrain myself to relish one tasty dessert and leave things be. And so readers, I leave you with another well known saying which summarises what I have learnt from this experience...when it comes to dessert and sugary treats, less is most definitely more.

♥

Garlic & Shots Review...

I told you it looked like a dodgy dive bar....

I had been looking forward to dinner at Garlic & Shots after hearing a close friend raving about how awesome it was. In fact, I planned the dinner to coincide with a Christmas send off for one of my girlfriends because she was returning home for the holidays and I wouldn't be seeing her for a while.

Located on Frith Street, it’s not too difficult to find although I did manage to walk past it twice due to my poor navigational skills. The front is frankly, pretty unremarkable and inside it looks a bit like a dive bar that one’s mother would not approve of one frequenting. Still, I hadn’t been expecting anything particularly glam – it’s marketed as a bar and kitchen and known for its wonderful array of vodka shots and garlic loaded cooking (hence the name, folks).  There was loud metal type music going on in the background which I’m usually not a big fan of, but I soaked it in since I figured it was all part of the atmosphere.

Unfortunately this was when our bad service saga began to unravel. Firstly, when I attempted to explain that I had a table booked under my name, I was greeted with a blank stare and then an insistence that my booking did not exist, despite the fact that I assured them repeatedly that I had most definitely made a reservation. I persevered. Attempt two with a different waiter fared somewhat better and upon checking the reservation book myself, I could see that I had indeed been booked in but for the wrong day. This was mildly frustrating because I’d been made to feel like it was somehow my fault and wasn’t even given an apology. Still, I didn’t want things to get off to a bad start, so I sat down and hoped that things would improve.

After my girlfriends arrived, we kicked things off with some shots – I went on the recommendation of the only friendly waiter we encountered and had a Tony Montana, a creamy concoction of vodka, Kahlua, kola and crème de cacao which tasted like deliciously alcoholic liquid butterscotch.  The Instant Margarita and the Bloodshot – a lethal but yummy combination of vodka, tomato, chilli and spices were also major wins.

Garlicky Nachos and guac, oh yeah.

The food was pretty good too and service was fast. We decided to share a couple of starters before picking our mains and chose the nacho avocado – essentially cheese nachos with a seriously garlicky salsa dip and some guacamole. Overall this was tasty and packed with intense garlic flavours but in the words of one of my dinner companions the cheese distribution was ‘lame,’ meaning that we were left with un-cheesed, and unloved chips at the bottom of the bowl which no one really wanted.

Deep fried Potato Skins and lame Snakebite salsa 

We also munched on deep fried potato skins which were served with a snakebite salsa garlic dip. Potato skins were crispy, not too greasy and lightly salted – perfect. Sadly, the dip had neither the garlicky flavour we were expecting, nor the promised spicy kick which was a tad disappointing. It tasted a bit like watery tomato juice which someone had made a half assed attempt to spice up.

Due to the generous portion size, we felt fairly satisfied after the starters but went on to order mains anyway. I opted for the garlic prawn mini-enchilada as I was feeling pretty full by this point, and it was deliciously filling without being too heavy. The little wheat tortilla was piled high with smooth garlic infused mash and three big skewered prawns which were flavoursome and fresh, which I suspect had been previously subjected to some light immersion in a chilli and garlic marinade. This was all topped with a creamy garlic and herb sauce.

Gruesome...I'm not entirely sure what Yi-Bin's arm was doing there...

My companions were equally pleased with their orders – the portion size of the garlic and honey roasted baby back ribs was gargantuan and came with sides of a whole roasted garlic and more crispy potato skins and unfortunately, the watery ‘snakebite salsa’ stuff. The sea bass looked pretty decent too – apparently very ‘nosh-able.’ The skin was nicely crisped and perched on the fillet like a perky fascinator, a style favoured by many middle class ladies of a certain age at the races in Ascot.

We decided to skip dessert as we felt that while the omnipresent garlic was a welcome guest where savoury dishes were concerned, none of us felt like embarking on the taste bud adventures presented to us in the form of honey and garlic ice cream or a garlic brownie. It was late, and even though I was only going home afterwards, I wasn’t sure I wanted to return to my abode with the heavy perfume of garlic hanging about me in the same way a gentleman might reek of cheap eau de toilette after frequenting a certain establishment in the early hours of the morning.

Enchilaaaaaaaadaaaaa!

The bill for the food and drink was totally fine- and as per usual, there was a 12.5% service charge, which we had decided we wouldn’t be paying the full amount for due to the stony faced silence I’d received while I was trying to tell them about my reservation and the total lack of any apology from them. 


This then led to an awkward five minute confrontation with a particularly irate waitress. Just as my dinner companions and I were about to concede and pay so the aforementioned angry waitress would leave us alone, she let off one final outburst and declared that if we ‘didn’t want to pay for the table service then we should go to Burger King.’ There was an uncomfortable silence, she stormed off and we finally realised enough was enough. We left their establishment.

I will definitely not be returning and I suggest you don’t either unless they sort out their staffing issues.

In short: Pretty decent bar food, weird atmosphere and frequented by an interesting crowd but certainly doesn’t live up to the hype. Excruciatingly disappointing service – the messed up reservation was forgivable, the rude comment most definitely was not.