La Petite Bouchee’s Croque Madame

Croque madame from La Petite Bouchee, Sydenham

This weekend I found the perfect croque madame in the back of a van in Sydenham.  Those are words I never thought I would type.  Allow me to explain…

To be honest, I was wondering when this was going to happen.  My search for a good croque madame has been a long one.  For there are many in London, but few that are actually any good.  Usually they fall down on the cheese.  I’ve seen it all from the poor-quality cheese that somehow refuses to melt, the cheese that tastes of practically nothing and the cheese that is so stingy in portion size that it is barely cheese at all.  I was beginning to give up, but then I was invited to a brunch that had a croque madame on the menu and thought I would have one last go at finding a good one.

There was to be no restaurant at the end of this invitation, but something altogether more special:  a 1973 Citroen H van that had been transformed into a perfect little dining room.  It is called La Petite Bouchee, which literally translates as “the little mouthful” and is parked up opposite a lake in this pretty little south-east London park.  It has everything you might expect when out for brunch: orange juice on the table, the weekend newspapers and a pot of fresh coffee with milk and sugar.  It can accommodate four people and is remarkably spacious considering its diminutive size.  An outdoor kitchen, where all the food is prepared, transforms it into a French bistro serving up local, organic and seasonal foods.

The brunch menu is typically French.  As well as the two croques (monsieur et madame), there are eggs Benedict, Florentine and Royale; and a selection of omelettes.  And like every good brunch, there is booze.  Either prosecco or a bloody mary made with their house-infused vodka.

So, about the croque:  this is not only the best croque madame I have ever had, but one of the best sandwiches I have ever had.  Every element is so well-chosen and executed with such care that when it comes together it is sheer perfection.  The bread is a good-quality white loaf, sliced thickly enough to hold together the filling and lightly crisped in the pan.  The ham is decent and a little smoked and the egg placed on the top perfectly cooked with a soft yolk.  The cheese, often the disappointment of a croque madame, was perfectly melted in the middle of the sandwich, and on the top made into the most delightfully oozing cheese sauce, spiked with just a little mustard.  I asked Anita-Clare, our cook, which cheese she used and she replied “Emmental in the morning and Gruyère in the afternoon.  Gruyère is too much in the morning.”  And she was totally right.

Try as I might, I couldn’t finish it. This is one huge sandwich.  Fortunately there were three other eager diners, forks poised, ready to polish off what I left.

La Petite Bouchee, Sydenham Wells Park, London SE26.  BOOKING IS ESSENTIAL.

For transparency I should mention that I was a guest of La Petite Bouchee, but not in return for a review, simply because they are kind … I just had to share the croque!

Kin Cafe’s Roasted Vegetables with Feta Sandwich

Roasted vegetables with feta sandwich from Kin, Fitzrovia

I really should rename this blog ‘half a square mile’ as a lot of my sandwich hunting seems to be concentrated to the little patch of Fitzrovia around Great Portland Street and Great Titchfield Street.  I really need to start branching out a bit further.  This post is not the beginning of this new-found sandwich wanderlust, in fact, it is almost as close to my office as you can get.

Kin Cafe was a treasure I found at a particularly low ebb, unusually on a Friday.  I had been up late the night before, partly due to having a disagreement with a friend, partly due to the disagreement that Scottish voters were having with one another.  Once the referendum results were in, I sloped off for a very short and disturbed sleep.  The next day, understandably, was difficult.  By the time lunchtime rolled around, I was craving not comfort food, which is the way I usually go when tired, but the restorative power of vegetables.  I went for a stroll along Foley Street and found this sign:

It made me laugh so I popped in for a look.  Almost as soon as I was in the door I was invited to play ‘Guess the Bride’.  All of the staff were dressed up as you might on a hen night: all plastic tiaras, veils and glitter.  Only one of them was getting married.  I managed to guess right.  It was so fun in there it cheered me up immediately.

Kin Cafe has been open since June and seems to be thriving despite the huge concentration of cafes in this area vying for the money of local office workers.  It has the classic Fitzrovia set-up of good coffee, home-baked treats, bright salads and a couple of sandwiches, enough space to sit in and quick enough to take out.  There were two sandwiches on offer that day, thankfully one that was heavy on the vegetables – a combination of aubergine, red peppers and spinach with a little feta.  They quickly whipped it into a panini press before I took it back to my desk.

The trouble with roasted vegetables is that they can lack flavour if not properly seasoned – not the case here.  The aubergine had a little smokiness, like it had been cooked over a flame, and the red peppers were sweet.  The salty creaminess of the feta brought everything together well and the bread was good and robust.  If I had one small complaint, it was that it was on the small side, but that might just be an example of my greediness.  £5 – obvs (Fitzrovia).

Kin Cafe, 22 Foley Street, London W1W 6DT.

Sylvan Post’s Angus Beef Burger with Cheddar

Angus Beef Burger with Cheddar at Sylvan Post, Forest Hill

First up, apologies for the worst food photo ever taken.  Photography in dark bars is not my forte.  I would have taken this burger to a better lit area if I were not so hungry. Sorry.

Sylvan Post is one of the new additions to Forest Hill that happened after both the Overground arrived and I moved out.  It coincided with the SEE3 project, an initiative headed by Mary Portas to boost the businesses of Forest Hill, Kirkdale and Sydenham.  The pub was not part of that scheme, but is a welcome addition to a high street with few places to eat.

It is on the site of a disused 1960s post office and has kept some of the original features of the building which, combined with some vintage furniture and interesting artwork, makes a warm and welcoming pub.  They have quite an extensive beer menu, offering a range of bottled beers, as well as some on tap.  The menu is largely British bistro food with a few international influences and seasonal ingredients.

I ordered the burger, billed simply as an ‘Angus Beef Burger’ (£10.50 with chips) and added some cheddar at a further £1.  You could also add blue cheese and bacon for the same price.

Without much description on the menu, I was not entirely sure what to expect, but was not disappointed.  I could see the shine on the brioche bun before the plate even reached the table, and they were definitely not stingy on the side.  There was definitely value for money on the cheese, as the patty was topped with a slab of cheddar so enormous that I feared what kind of dreams I would be having that night.  Having removed the slice of tomato and most of the raw red onion inside the burger (for me, neither add anything good – pickled red onions on the other hand…) I noticed that it was missing some of the additions that really make a burger.  For me, some gherkins and a sauce, either mustard or ketchup.

That being said, the patty was very, very well seasoned and cooked perfectly pink in the middle whilst retaining the outer crisp.  The abundance of cheddar may be too much for some but I loved it.  Given a few little extras, this would be an excellent burger worth venturing to Zone 3 for.  Also, the chips were homemade, which is a rarity in pubs and such a delight.  They were not quite as good at my Mum’s, but that’s an impossible standard to live up to for anybody.

Sylvan Post, 24-28 Dartmouth Road, London SE23 3XZ

Paul Rothe & Son Delicatessen’s Corned Beef and Pickle

Corned beef and pickle sandwich at Paul Rothe & Son

Since my joy at finding a fifty year old deli in Fitzrovia that sells some of the best Italian sandwiches in London, I thought it would be a long time before I found another experience that so beautifully encapsulated London’s continuity with its culinary past.  Then I went walking in Marylebone and found a 114 year old deli with a very long queue outside.  It seems that my fellow Londoners are more in tune with this than I.

Paul Rothe & Son was founded in 1900 and has been passed down through the same family to the current owner, who is the great-grandson of the original one.  The sign for HOT SOUP outside can be seen from much further down the street and is enough to attract the attention of hungry passers-by.  Apparently it is the soup that they are most famous for, but they also have a menu of extensive sandwich fillings, some of which are now so rarely found in London cafes I wondered if I’d stepped back in time.

It’s not just the sandwich fillings that give this feeling of history – the window display contains both bunting and stacked jars of jam, and the interior is probably unchanged, although wonderfully preserved from several decades ago.  The furniture is antique and the way of presenting the produce reminiscent of a time before minimalism or online ordering changed the appearance of shops.  By the time I arrived there was not a seat left in the place, clearly people like this trip back in time.

My choice of sandwich was influenced by a pang of nostalgia when I saw it up on the menu board.  My Nan always made us corned beef and Branston pickle sandwiches when we were children.  In fact, she had a bit of a thing for meat that came in tins and packets – corned beef, polony, spam – I think it had something to do with growing up in the war.  I have shed many of these childhood foods as I’ve grown up, but still have a bit of a weakness for corned beef.  The good stuff you can buy in delis, obviously, but also the basic tinned corned beef you buy in supermarkets.  The corned beef and pickle sandwich at Paul Rothe and Sons was exactly like the one my Nan used to make:  granary bread, real butter,  thick slices of corned beef and a good smear of Branston pickle.  And that’s it.  When I opened the paper wrapping to see that he had cut it into quarters, as she used to, I smiled.

Paul Rothe & Son, 35 Marylebone Lane, London W1U 2NN.

MEATLiquor’s Dead Hippie

The Dead Hippie at MEATLiquor, Marylebone

I don’t know what I can say about this burger that hasn’t been said before.  I have already hailed it as the best burger in London and put it to the top of my Top 10 Burgers list.  And yet somehow I still find myself wanting to write more about its many charms.  It seems that I have a bit of a thing for the Dead Hippie.

My love affair with these burgers goes back quite a long way.  It began when I used to visit a small van on a Peckham industrial estate.  It then moved to the upstairs room of a closed-down pub in New Cross, the legendary #Meateasy, very convenient as I was studying just around the corner at Goldsmiths at the time.  A brief stint at The Rye in Peckham brought these burgers dangerously close to my house before they finally moved to the MEATLiquor site in Welbeck Street, Marylebone.  This journey was just the beginning as sites are opening all the time, from the second restaurant, MEATMission in Hoxton, to the most recent establishments in Leeds, Brighton and, imminently, Bristol.  MEATLiquor; part restaurant, part Berlin squat; remains my favourite.  Yes, it’s dark in there and the queues are long, but it’s fun and the drinks are strong.

And it’s around the corner from my office.

I have sampled most of what the menu has to offer, but always come back to the Dead Hippie.  When asked to describe it, I always say “imagine a really, really, REALLY good Big Mac,” but, of course, it is so much more than that.  It has two mustard-fried patties that manage to be both crisp on the outside and beautifully rare within.  The flavour on the patty, probably due to the mustard is one of the best I have ever had.  It comes with a blanket of melted American cheese and the closely guarded ‘special sauce’, iceberg lettuce and thickly cut pickles.  I seem to remember from the old days of the open kitchen, that they are a fan of ‘sealing’ everything under a metal bowl on the hot plate.  The bread is soft and soaks up all of the sauce but somehow doesn’t disintegrate.

I have nothing negative to say about this burger, for me it remains the best of the best.  I would also recommend a side of either the deep-fried pickles with blue cheese sauce, or the chilli cheese fries if you’re really hungry.  Did I mention the drinks were strong?

MEATLiquor, 74 Welbeck Street, London W1G 0BA.

H T Harris’ Double Salami

The double salami from H T Harris, Fitzrovia

 In this ever-changing world of post-recession London, it is sometimes difficult to see too far into the past.  The constant churning of businesses opening and closing in the city means that streets can become unrecognisable from one year to the next.  Several times have I been to visit a cafe I used to love years ago, only to find that it has been turned into a Caffe Nero.  It’s quite a depressing thought.  Places that have been there for generations are becoming much fewer.

H T Harris on Great Titchfield Street has managed to survive the waves of chain eateries, new restaurants and ‘craft’ coffee shops that have moved into the area in recent years, and has become something of a Fitzrovia institution.  This little Italian cafe-deli has been serving up cappucinos and sandwiches to the local office workers for just shy of fifty years and has queues forming outside almost every lunchtime.  The approach is simple and probably unchanged for many years:  good Italian sandwiches, coffee and the usual deli items of pasta, amaretti biscuits, cheeses and cured meats.  The first time I went in, I asked for a sandwich menu.  The gentleman behind the counter replied:  “Anything you see here, we can do.”  He also gestured to the sandwiches piled up on three trays in the window, “Or we have double salami, some parma ham or a vegetarian one.”

I love this straightforward approach, he has probably been making the same sandwiches for years.  There’s no menu, no description of what the sandwiches are, or what is in them.  You just have to trust that they are good.  A double salami sandwich, in a piece of focaccia the size of a house brick was swiftly placed in the panini press for a few minutes and then was mine for a fiver (Fitzrovia, right?)

What I actually got was an enormous sandwich, generously filled with wafer thin Italian salami, some very good mozzarella, six or seven sundried tomatoes – sweet and almost black in colour, a layer of basil and rocket and more than just a hint of chilli (he did warn me that it would be spicy).  The focaccia was crisped and warm on the outside but still oily and moist enough that it was necessary to wipe your fingers before touching anything so not to leave greasy fingerprints.  A perfect example of how the best sandwiches are made with the best quality ingredients.  It’s easy to see how those piles in the window sell out every day.

H T Harris, 41 Great Titchfield Street, London W1W 7PG.

Korrito’s Pork and Kimchi Fried Rice Korean Burrito

Pork and kimchi-fried rice Korean burrito from Korrito

If you’re pulling a face right now at the idea of a Korean burrito then you’re looking at this all wrong.  Forget any ideas you have about the traditional burrito:  forget spiced meat, black beans, rice, guacamole and salsa.  Think instead of a burrito as a method rather than an item.  Now start thinking of all of the good parts of Korean food:  barbecued meats, spicy rice, kimchi and chilli.  Wrap these up in the way that you would a burrito…. Now you have the idea.

One of the beautiful things about street food is the freedom to create an innovative menu or product without the financial risk involved in setting up a restaurant.  This means that some of London’s most creative food offerings are to be found in its street markets.  Fusion is a huge part of this, and it can either work really well, or it can fail miserably.

Thankfully, there’s a bit of a precedent for the Korean burrito.  The Kogi BBQ truck in Los Angeles has been experimenting with this kind of Korean-Mexican fusion for years, drawing influence from the city’s biggest immigrant populations.  Korrito, London’s first example of this kind of fusion, was started by two Korean siblings.  Every time I see this stall set up, usually behind the Royal Festival Hall on the south bank, there is always a long queue, showing that Londoners are also on board.

The operation is fairly straightforward:  you choose a meat (pork belly, beef or chicken), a type of rice (steamed or kimchi-fried) and then whether you want this made into a burrito, rice box or salad box.  Each combination costs no more than £6.50.  They make everything in a kind of production line.  First the rice (KIMCHI-FRIED PLEASE), then the meat (PORK PLEASE) and then the additions (YES TO CORIANDER, CHILLI AND CHEESE PLEASE).  It’s wrapped up, you pay, that’s it.

It does indeed look like a burrito, but the flavour inside is pure Seoul.  The belly pork is both sweet and spicy with the usual strips of crispy meat and fat, and there is plenty of it.  The rice is also spicy, with a subtle pungency from the kimchi.  The cheese, that I thought would clash with the other ingredients, added no more than a very subtle creaminess against the other flavours.  The heat from the pork and the rice, combined with the sprinkle of red chilli added at the end made for a very spicy wrap indeed.  For a milder burrito, I would switch out the kimchi-fried rice for the plain rice and leave out the extra chilli.

The Meatball Sub of My Dreams

The meatball sub of my dreams

As the summer turns to autumn and the days get shorter and cooler, I find myself with an urge to fill up the freezer for winter.  One of the first things I make is a stash of meatballs and tomato sauce which can quickly be defrosted and turned into a quick and hearty meal when it’s just too cold to leave the house.  As well as this, they can be used to make one of the greatest sandwiches ever invented: the meatball sub. 

I first encountered this Italian-American creation at the Southampton branch of Subway in the 1990s during the dark days of sandwiches when few were available outside of chain restaurants, supermarkets and what you could buy in the buffet carriage of the train to Waterloo.  20 years, a move to London and two trips to New York later, not only have I tried many far superior examples, I have also perfected my own.  It seems fairly straightforward; a simple combination of meat, bread, melted cheese and sauce, but there are a few pointers that can turn a meatball sub into a thing of beauty.

A quick google search will bring up a number of recipes for this most delectable of comfort foods.  Reading them and tweaking them will lead you to the combo that is just sheer perfection.  Below is not a recipe for my own meatball sub, but instead a few pointers from years of trying to get it right.  Seriously, there are few things better on a cold autumn day. 

The Meatballs
I use this recipe by Polpo.  I have experimented with meatballs of various sizes, but have found that the best ones for a standard-sized submarine roll are 35g balls.  The best thing about these meatballs are that they are baked in the oven, rather than cooked in a pan, which gives them a lovely soft texture.  If you like the crispy edges, by all means, fry them instead.  They use both beef and pork mince, which gives a lovely depth of flavour and stops them being too dry.  The addition of garlic and chilli flakes makes them extra special.

The Sauce
The traditional sauce for a meatball sub is marinara, however as I always make large quantities of meatballs and sauce for the freezer, I tend to use what I have rather than make a whole new batch of sauce especially.  This  great recipe, also by Polpo, that uses both fresh and tinned tomatoes.  Once the meatballs have been poached in the sauce, I pick them out and arrange them in the sub before ladling a little sauce over the top.

The Cheese
Parmesan, or a similar hard cheese, is the best option here as the strength means that a little goes a long way.  You can also use a decent strong cheddar if you have one, although many meatball sub purists may wince at this suggestion.  Always finely grate and add after the sauce.

The Bread
Arguably the most important part of the meatball sub experience, only a white submarine roll is acceptable here.  One of the best ones I have found is a cheapo 2-pack from Sainsbury’s, it is just the right size and has that lovely dusting of polenta on the top which gives the otherwise soft sandwich a bit of crunch.  Slice the submarine roll in half lengthways and scoop out some of the bread from the inside.  This creates a groove for the meatballs to snuggle into and a neater sandwich.  You don’t need all that bread after all.

Other Additions
It’s up to you whether you add any salad.  Many don’t, but I always feel a little undernourished without at least a little something green, so add a single layer of lettuce leaves (soft part only) under the meatballs.  Because neither my sauce nor my meatballs contain any basil, I also like the addition of a few torn basil leaves.  Other salad items don’t really work.  Black pepper is essential.

Attendant’s Royal Chicken Sandwich

Royal chicken sandwich from Attendant, Fitzrovia

This is not the first time I have been to Attendant.  In fact, I have been going there for coffee at least twice a week since I started working in Fitzrovia a year ago.  I had my appraisal there and frequently meet colleagues there for meetings.  Initially it was the novelty of meeting in a converted public toilet that spurred me on, but I very quickly realised that they do very, very good coffee.

Let’s get the obvious characteristics out of the way first.  It is, indeed, an old public toilet.  With above-ground property prices soaring out of control, business owners are coming around to the idea of these subterranean spaces.  There are a few new ex-toilet openings in London, I am told, another one being WC in Clapham, but apparently this one was the best-preserved and least vandalised of them all.  So much so, that they have managed to keep the porcelain fittings intact and make a feature from them.  I was fortunate enough to be in there whilst the owner was recounting the history of the space. Fascinating.

Despite being in Attendant for coffee and cake so frequently, I had yet to try any of their lunch options.  Now that I am often out looking for lunch in Fitzrovia (or ‘sandwich-hunting’ as my colleagues call it), it seemed like a good time to start.  Attendant usually has three or four sandwiches on offer at lunchtime, as well as some rather delicious-looking avocado on toast that I have yet to try.  Once selected, they will gladly heat it up for you in a sandwich press before you either take a seat at one of the ‘urinals’ or head back to your office.

My sandwich of choice was the Royal Chicken, nothing, I was informed, to do with the recent royal baby announcement, rather that it was a take on the old coronation chicken.  The chicken was breast meat and (I think) roasted.  Along with this was a curried sauce, a little mayo, some sultanas and a herb salad.  The bread was good quality wholemeal bread, that lent itself well to being lightly toasted so the sauce sunk in and softened the inside.  I’m always partial to a good coronation chicken, but this is a great, slightly pared-down alternative that does not have the excess creaminess or overwhelming flavour of curry powder that many of them do, rather it is subtle and given a freshness by the addition of herbs.

It is £5 (isn’t every sandwich in Fitzrovia right now?) But is substantial enough to be your main meal of the day.  If you’re really keen to splash out, get yourself an americano and a lamington too.

Attendant, 27a Foley Street, London W1W 6DY (it’s underground!)

Chi’s Char Siu Pork Banh Mi

Char siu pork banh mi from Chi, Fitzrovia

Ever since I made a trip to Vietnam five years ago I have been on the hunt for a good banh mi.    Whilst staying in a hotel in Saigon that overlooked the main road, we would be woken up every morning by the sound of a woman shouting “Banh Mi! Banh Mi!”  We would then wander, hungry and bleary eyed, down to the street for our breakfast.  Her set up was incredibly simple:  a hot plate built over a motorbike, a couple of knives, a few tupperwares containing the rest of her ingredients, and a basket of rice flour baguettes.  A baguette filled with pickled carrot and daikon, a lot of chilli, a slick of pate and a fried egg was enough to shake off any hangover from the night before.

The banh mi is a product of the French colonisation of Vietnam.  Baguettes and coffee are as ubiquitous here as noodles, and can be found all over the country in various forms.  Such a European-inspired element of Vietnamese food was easily transferable to the culture-hungry diners of London.  Fortunately my return to London coincided with both the explosion of street food in London, so I never had to look too hard for a banh mi.  In more recent years, these have been so popular as to move off the street and into permanent cafes.

It was a tube strike that brought me into contact with Chi through a morning walk from Kings Cross to Oxford Circus on a previously unknown street.  I made a mental note of its location and went back at lunchtime.  It is a small cafe, sparsely decorated in the same way as the Vietnamese restaurants you would find on the Kingsland Road.  By the window is a small bench and there is one two-seat table.  Each time I have since been in there, there has been a few people eating in and a bit of a queue – mostly office workers.  They have a small menu, mostly of banh mi, but of a few noodle dishes as well.  There are a number of different banh mi on available, priced at £3.50 for a regular sized baguette, or £4.50 for a large.

The char siu pork baguette contains a few slices of the sweet roasted pork, warmed up as needed, topped with a generous amount of pickled daikon and carrot, some chopped parsley and coriander, and a scarlet slick of Sriracha.  The flavours from this banh mi are actually very good, the vegetables are nicely pickled and the flavour of the pork comes through well against them.  For me, it could use a lot more chilli.  I know that the western palate is not always amenable to heat, but this had barely any.  Even a second helping of Sriracha did not do the job that a handful of finely chopped red chillies would do.  Having this as an option would improve the banh mi immeasurably.  I’m not even going to get into the whole issue of rice flour baguettes as I have never come across anywhere that uses them.  Apparently there are hardly any wholesalers in London.  Somebody has definitely missed a trick there.

Chi, 168 New Cavendish Street, London W1W 6YX.