Meal Club

The Whitechapel Gallery, Whitechapel

2012-01-29T11:57:00.003Z

Year seven of Meal Club began, as per the tradition, with 'Sam's birthday Meal Club!'. We opted for Becca's recommendation of the Whitechapel Gallery dining room and had managed to bag ourselves a private room. After a last minute illness-driven bailout by Vicki, we were:

Becca

James

Laura

Linz

Mamps

Pete

Sam

The evening began with the news that our table had been given away to another group. Brilliant. No private room then and we'd been placed in the small, main dining area along with the other plebs and hoi polloi. James, Laura and I arrived to find Sam 'debating' with the waitress about the situation - with the outcome being a free glass of prosecco for each of us. Not a bad recovery I guess but not the best start to the night. Some big, fat, green tasty olives helped drag us further towards having a good night.

The gift-giving prompted questions about the brand Joseph Joseph and specifically why Will pronounces it Joseph Josef. FYI, they are brothers so definitely have the same name-pronunciation. Look, here they are: http://www.josephjoseph.com/about. The only thing left to do was to decide who was taking notes. James concocted an impenetrable system to decide who it should be. I think it involved pulleys, levers and mirrors. Laura drew the short straw. Note to iPhone app developers: develop a short-straw-pulling app. Make it free.

Starters arrived. I had salt and pepper squid which was pretty good but no better than anywhere else I've had it. Laura's quail with aioli was average although had a decent game flavour. Elsewhere some people had some salads. I have no comment about those.

The gap between courses was pretty long all night but luckily Linz was on good form claiming that her birthday had never fallen on a Tuesday and sprinkling 70s sitcom lingo into her conversation. Examples included referring to girls as "birds", referring to someone with a quirky personality as "a bit of a one" and describing her early relationship with James S as "shilly-shallying around with him". I don't know what that one means.

James and I had just enough time to nearly convince Becca that me and Laura's wedding was having a medieval theme before the mains arrived. The first plates down on the table were haddock with poached egg. These caused much sniggering by those of us who had ordered something else as it was a pathetically small portion. Seriously, why even bother. And certainly don't charge £16 for it. What is going on with this country?!?

Mamps took the brave option with the haggis (burns night being the night before so it was probably leftovers). It was liberally shared around for novelty value and universally deemed to be pretty damn good. Those scots certainly know how to boil up the heart, lungs and liver of a sheep and encase it in its own stomach lining.

My longhorn beef cottage pie was OK but I wasn't feeling it to be honest. After having spent an afternoon tasting wedding food, I simply wasn't able to muster the energy to break through the 3cm of mash potato that encased the dry, gravy-free beef below. I barely made a dent.

After a smattering of desserts and a debate about how Louise Redknapp's fitness has evolved over time we left wondering when the last good Meal Club was.......

.......Actually Delhi Grill in November was pretty good..

End of Year Stats

2011-12-11T18:11:00.001Z

So, we come to the end of year 6 of Meal Club. Who'd have thought we'd get so far?

Total number of Official Meal Clubs = 62

The only year with a maximum 12 Meal Clubs: 2011

People Ranking:

1. Pete (Head Chef) - 58

2. James (Sous Chef) - 52

3. Sam (Sous Chef) - 52

4. Vicki (Sous Chef) - 50

5. Linz (Maitre 'D) - 39

6. Becca (Waiting Staff) - 33

7. Laura (Waiting Staff) -27

8. Will (Dishwasher) -24

9. Mamps (Dishwasher) - 17

10. Andy (Oven Cleaner) - 10

11. Ger (Oven Cleaner) - 7

The Compass, Angel

2011-12-11T17:14:00.001Z

There's only one word to describe the organisation of this year's Christmas Meal Club....you know the one. Frankly I'm surprised we managed to get a booking anywhere, such was the confusion surrounding both the venue and the menu. James had thought he'd booked The Compass in Angel - a revamped gastropub replacing the previous work-boozer of Pete and Laura, the Salmon and Compass. For some reason, when the confirmation email came through it was from The Green in Clerkenwell. How odd. But actually their menu was preferable so we thought, sod it, let's switch. But in a shocking twist to the tale, the Christmassy-named manager Holly said we could have the same menu in both locations (same group y'see?) and that the Green had a big party going on which meant we'd have to eat in the bar area. Back to Compass we went!

So definitely a shambles but not really James' fault so I don't suppose we can blame him. Christmas cheer indeed! This year we were:

Andy

Becca

Frankie (who, incredibly, Mamps has never met) (guest)

James

Laura

Linz

Mamps

Pete

Sam

Vicki

Will

The evening started off poorly with Laura admitting that we weren't her genuine friends. She'll deny this of course but both James and I were there to hear it. Clear as day.

People slowly filtered in and made their way to our long table which dominated the back end of the room downstairs. Thoughtfully, the Compass staff (specifically the waitress who served us) had provided Christmas crackers for the table - although as we were to soon discover they were clearly bought from the "Everything a Pound" shop a few doors down in Chapel Market. Pete and Laura were first to pull theirs and were greeted with.....nothing. A no-pop cracker!! Will protested by not wearing his hat (as usual) whilst Laura failed to grasp the annual game of 'guess the joke from the punchline':

James: "Push him down the hill"

Laura: "Trifle!"

The pre-ordered starters arrived and there was a mix between prawn cocktails (nice enough), soup, terrine, and other stuff I can't remember. The big comment on the terrine (from Sam) is that there wasn't enough bread provided - although the staff recovered well by bringing over a massive extra portion.

It was at this point I realised that there were no napkins on the table. Instead of asking for some I decided the better option would to MacGuyver a solution and simply used the tablecloth. Worked pretty well as within 20 seconds it had caught a stray prawn from staining my jeans. Weird oversight though.

After starters, we began what was to be the highlight of the night: Bad Santa. Stage 1 was to simply select a numbered bauble from Jame's magic hat. See below for who did well and who got shafted.

The mains came and much confusion was had by all. Thank god for James and his iphone record of who had ordered what. Having that kind of record removed all doubt from the discussion with the staff as they brought out 1 extra roast turkey meal too many. As soon as they said we could eat it for free, Pete, Laura and James (who were closest) dived in like vultures after having decided that Linz had 'won' with her original choice of turkey which did look good.

Elsewhere the mains were no better than "ok". James thought his beef was poor and my lamb was acceptable but nothing special. Once again, a restaurant fails to impress when faced with a large table in December. Maybe I should open a restaurant that only has bookings from late November to Christmas Eve where you're guaranteed a good quality meal regardless of your table size. What do you mean it's not a viable business venture? Fuck you!

The waitress then decided that she fancied James but hated Will. To the former there was lots of giggly, girly nonsense during a needlessly protracted conversation about dessert options; to the latter there was a gruff "What are you trying to say?" before walking off. Perhaps kind of schizoid behaviour was in anticipation of the dessert shambles where we had to send back our puddings not once, but twice due to them being cold. Very shoddy (although we did get a free bottle of wine out of it). And Will didn't get a spoon for his either.

So, it's hard to tell to be honest. This may be a perfectly decent option for a table of 4 on a quiet night. But things definitely fell apart after a strong start and once again, Christmas Meal Club didn't meet our high expectations.

Now, onto Bad Santa. The premise (for the fools who don't know) is that the person who picked out #1 gets the pick of all the gifts, but subsequent pickers can choose to steal the gift of any previous one. I would have liked to have seen a lot more stealing and backstabbing but I guess we're just a nice bunch of people. The running order was:

1. Vicki

2. Mamps (kept gift)

3. Laura (stole from Mamps)

4. Frankie (kept gift)

5. Pete (kept gift)

6. James (kept gift)

7. Linz (stole from Laura)

8. Will (stole from James)

9. Becca (stole from Will)

10. Sam (kept gift)

11. Andy (stole from Becca)

Most stolen gift was a crisp fiver which suggests the rest of us are pretty bad at buying presents. Or, in my case, bought something to deliberately stitch people up).

So that's it for another year. I'll do a separate blog entry about the end of year stats.

Delhi Grill, Angel

2011-12-03T15:34:00.001Z

Another relatively last-minute booking this month, we went to somewhere that had been recommended to Pete as being similar to New Tayyabs but without the chaos. I see Delhi Grill as Dishoom's younger brother; he may have a bit less class but is still a good guy to know. He's more 'street' and less slick but, as we'll see, what he chooses to do, he does well. We were:

Becca

James

Laura

Mamps

Pete

Sam

The evening started in a pub at the end of Chapel Market where Pete had to entertain himself for more than half an hour before someone else turned up. Luckily a combination of twitter, Shortlist magazine and Led Zeppelin on the jukebox made the time more bearable. Becca and Mamps (the latter voicing a concern that Delhi Grill might stink out her new coat in the same way that Tayyabs funked out every fibre of our being when we went there). James arrived late and, like last month, demolished a half pint before we headed off down the road.

The menu at Delhi Grill is concise (which Sam liked but Becca found unnerving) - just a few options for starters, a few mains plus some specials which rotate each month. I'd say this simplicity fits well with the weathered blue brick informal decor. We pressed ahead and ordered several large Kingfishers which looked much larger than normal but according to most were perfectly normal. For starters we shared a couple of Delhi Grill Platters between 5 of us, with Becca sticking with the veggo option of a couple of paltry samosas. Despite some pressure, I failed to convince her that one day she would turn to the Dark Side and taste the flesh. The meat platters were awesome - sheek kebabs, chicken tikka and lamb chops - all served on a bed of fried onions which is normally nothing special but they had a certain unidentifiable marinade taste about them that tickled the tastebuds.

The waiters were all pretty friendly. Mamps said they gave her a good vibe (aka she fancied them) but they certainly came up with the goods when, after having informed me that the goat curry had run out, came back to let me know they had a couple left. Good darts!

At this point, the snickers anecdote came out. 31 minutes which is quite late but even more surprisingly, it was the 4th poo story of the night!

So starters were polished off and the mains were hot on their heels with barely enough room on the busy table to fit everything on. As mentioned above, I went with the goat curry which was nice but had a bit too much cardamon taste for my liking. Still finished it all though of course. Elsewhere Mamps, Laura and Sam all went with the chicken karahi. Now normally I tend to avoid chicken in a restaurant as it's often dry and bland but this stuff was awesome. The sauce was the killer and we made sure it was all mopped up by the end of the evening.

The lamb rogan gosht was ordered by James who felt the sauce reminded him too much of a stew. Everyone else disagreed with him for the second time that night (the first being when he said he's rather smell of poo, than smell of fish). Becca's fish curry was excellent but the lentils dish we ordered for the table was a bit lacking in substance. All in all though, the food was of a better standard than most indian restaurants and felt a lot more authentic. Certainly it's enough to attract you back.

I'm forced to point out my failure to identify a the massive leaf in my goat curry. I claimed it was too big and soft to be a bay leaf so must therefore be a curry leaf. Mamps and James disagreed and the damn waiter, upon questioning, sided with them. Luckily my lack of knowledge was quickly overshadowed by James screaming "Yes! You Benchod!" at the top of his voice for all the brownies to hear. Sam so so embarrassed she started blushing on his behalf.

Mamps was also on fire. Here is a summary of some of her comments:

Humans may all stick of either fish or poo
She's never heard of (or seen) Where's Wally
She can raise 1 eyebrow due to wishing really hard to be able to do it
All black actresses look like Floella Benjamin

At this point, the anecdotes and stories were flowing thick and fast and ranged from James' failure to understand basic road rage stories, Becca's failure to say "Ball Crawl Balls", Sam talking about periods during wet playground lunch breaks instead of playing penny football or rugby like a normal person and Andrina Nichols pinning Laura up to the wall by her throat (the bitch!).

All good banter and definitely helped by the buzzy atmosphere in the restaurant (even though by the time we left we were the last ones there). Would definitely recommend and I'd go so far as to say that Indian restaurants have the highest average rating of all of Meal Club cuisines we've tried. Discuss.

Next month is Christmas Mealclub featuring Bad Santa. What will you buy? Something good or something shite? I know which one I'm going for....

Greig's Grill, Mayfair

2011-11-02T18:36:00.000Z

Hello! As a result ofa lack of decision making last time, this month’s venue came via arecommendation from a non MC source. UnfortunatelyI can’t remember who the recommendation was from, which is a shame as I am surethat all who attended would like to find them and place a plague upon theirhouse – more of that later.

Greig’s Grill is is located in a cheeky mews in Mayfair, andafter a number of dropouts due to holidays and other equally weak excuses wewere:

James

Laura

Pete

Sam

There was an old boozer handily located next door to the restaurantand I turned up just in time for a pre MC drink, and found Pete and Lauraalready well tucked into the sauce. Sameventually turned up, smashed back a half a glass of wine in record time, andwe were off.

The restaurant is supposed to be a traditional Englishaffair, and it certainly looked, well, traditional. Old fashioned wood panelling and lots of redvelvet. Nice enough, but we more thandoubled the number of people in there, so the atmosphere was a bit lacking.

We made up for that though with a third outing of detailedtalk about the upcoming nuptials of Pete and Laura. Pete quickly put down a marker with thestatement that he wouldn’t marry Laura if she didn’t change her name. Bravo sir. There was also talk of Pete changing his middle name to ‘Benchod’ bydeed poll – a little treat for Pete’s family at the wedding: “Do you Pete Benchod Pereira takeLaura.........”

Bread came and it was thick doorstep style slabs of eitherwhite or brown. Essentially half aloaf. Not overly impressive, and theymade some schoolboy errors providing butter that was too cold and alsounsalted [Pete shakes head in resigned dismay]. Getting the basics like thiswrong was not getting them any brownie points, with Sam being particularlynon-plussed.

Sam’s feminist credentials were then in danger of beingblown out of the water as she was outraged by the fact that the waiter asked themen first when taking the order. Quiteright I say, quite right.

Fun size snickers story time check: 18 minutes. Not a record, but respectable.

The starters came out fairly sharpish and they were a mixedbag. I went for baked camembert withfresh cranberry, Pete went for the smoked trout and Sam had the prawn cocktail.Laura opted out of the starters, and my, what presence of mind she showed. Sam felt that her starter was good – and took her back toher days of going to a Bernie Inn for a birthday treat.

Pete’s trout was roundly described as “meh”. Not a ringing endorsement. My starter however was astoundingly poor. The cheese wasclearly first battered in the mid nineties and re-heated for my pleasure thatnight. The best bit though was my freshcranberry sauce. This turned out to becheap strawberry jam. Quite a statement,but confirmed by all at the table.

We then had a MealClub first! The only other people in the place left andwe were the only customers left. Notsure if this counts as private dining, but it will do. However, they then turned off the music, andI had the sneaky suspicion that they wanted to start putting the chairs uparound us.

Whilst trying to best describe the place we considered‘upmarket greasy spoon’, before settling on it being closest to somewhere Del Boywould take Raquel for a slap-up meal uptown.

Between reminiscing about Will going mental at New Tayyabs,Sam being tarnished as being the most confrontational of the MealClub group andthe revelation that both Laura and Mamps make people at work cry, the maincourses arrived.

Greig’s specialises in steak, and so we all went for thesteak and chips option with Pete and I having the sirloin and Sam and Lauraopting for the fillet. Despite Sam’sbeing over cooked and Laura’s underdone (Pete’s genius suggestion that theyswap solved this debacle), the steaks were generally well received and itseemed that Greig’s was redeeming itself.

We had a look at the desserts, and these simply cementedSam’s belief that this was a Bernie Inn in disguise with banana split and applepie being two of the four available. Although partially tempted, we all quickly dismissed the idea of dessertas the vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce was £10! Ridiculous!!

Sam went for a coffee which was supposed to come withturkish delight. Could they possibly getthis wrong? Oh yes they could. The coffee had to be sent back as accordingto Sam it was a “cup of ming”, and then they didn’t provide any turkishdelight, allowing Sam to demonstrate her confrontation credentials.

We were then joined by a lone diner, who foolishly decidedto take a solo dinner here. They didhowever then turn the music back on – clearly there is a 5 person minimum forthem to turn on the CD player.

We topped off the night discussing Young Apprentice (which Ihaven’t seen) and discovered that this show brings Pete’s racist side out withgusto, Laura also informed us that Pete’s poo smells of meat, something thatPete all too gleefully confirmed. Delightful.

Looking at the scores, they don’t really do justice to howshit the place was: Sam gave a 4 for her starter and 3 for main, Pete gave a 3for his trout and like Laura gave a 3 for the steak, whilst mine was worthy ofa 2 and 4 for starter and main respectively. Although I am a vocal critic of this scoringnonsense, this time it is a shame ambiance and service were not factored in.

There was partial redemption for Greig’s though, as the billarrived and they gave us 50% off all of the food (apparently they had a nonadvertised offer on – or perhaps they were too embarrassed to charge full whackfor their shambles) which made it a respectable £21 per head. At the risk of allowing us to leave on apositive note, the staff topped off the evening with another example of goodold fashioned poor service. As Peteheaded to the toilet (for a meaty poo?) we waited by the door as the waiterwent off to fetch our coats. Afterdestroying the facilities, Pete returned and we were still waiting. I had to go and find the waiter who clearlyhad no intention of getting our coats, and with an irritated grunt gestured forus to leave as our coats and bags were hanging in thieves paradise practicallyoutside the front of the restaurant.

All in all, this is a place to be avoided, and if anyonerecommends it to you, make sure you return the favour and tell them of LittleBay’s exquisite soup which they simply must try as soon as they can

Giant Robot, Clerkenwell

2011-10-01T17:20:00.000Z

Hello all. In a shocking break from tradition I'm writing this blog pretty soon after this month's outing which means I can not only remember much of what happened but also I haven't lost the notes that were taken on the night. James announced that last month's write up was possibly the worst ever (and only worth 4 out of 5 stars) so hopefully this will redress the balance.

We started off at the venerable Jerusalem Tavern for some drinks and we were stunned to see Ger saunter down the street towards us. Yes that's right. Ger came to Meal Club!! And Linz also put in an appearance - her first in quite a while seeing her slip tragically down the rankings. We convened at the bar/restaurant Giant Robot and we were:

Ger

James

Laura

Linz

Sam

Pete

Vicki

For the second Meal Club in a row there was plenty of wedding chat with the picture of Pete and Laura's conference bedroom getting another airing much to James' amusement. We could offer disappointingly few details about our wedding plans apart from the decision (made that night) to play Ebony & Ivory at some point during the festivities.

I realised I'd been to Giant Robot before but only for a drink (which I remember being stupidly overpriced). But they have a small selection of dining tables on the ground floor which is where we were seated.

Just 13 minutes after we sat down the familiar "poo on the seat" conversation reared its ugly head although this time with a twist: this one was found at Laura's workplace! What's the common factor we all wondered whilst attempting to pour the cucumber-flavoured water without spilling it all over the table due to a crazy jug shape. Why do they make jugs that look good but can't pour for shit? James came to the rescue with his innovate "side-pour" technique which worked a treat.

Back to the water: Sam, Vicki and Laura all gave it two thumbs down and when ordering some normal water the waitress allegedly rolled her eyes causing Sam to declare her hatred of her. She was certainly brusque and not particularly friendly; especially when we asked her to guide us through the frankly bizarre menu. "Balls" and "Sliders" might make sense to L.A Hipsters but this is London fella, and we don't take kindly to such bullshit. Luckily Linz knew the score - "Balls" are meatballs and "Sliders" are meatballs in little buns.

Note, if you've clicked the link to the restaurant above, you should be aware that the menu is entirely different to the mix n match affair they present online. We started with a crostini selection (mushrooms, tomato, red cabbage) along with some fat, fat olives plus some bread and oil. The verdict was "meh". The crostini was simply ordinary with nothing to say about it at all (good or bad) whilst there wasn't nearly enough oil and balsamic for the bread. Seriously, how hard can it be to get that right? The olives were nice although I think Sam and I gobbled them before anyone else had a look in.

Conversation turned to Xmas Meal Club which probably needs to be booked in sooner rather than later. Here's a question: If Xmas Meal Club clashed with your work Xmas party, which would you go to. I remember Sam's answer and my answer, but what about the rest of you? Answers in the comments please......(yeah right, who am I kidding?)

Between seven of us, five people ordered the Slide Selection which achieved a mode score of 3 out of 5 (one for the maths fans there). Ger gave his spaghetti and meatballs a 4 (although he cryptically described this as his "Meal Club Score" and not his "Ger Score" whatever that meant). I thought my meatloaf balls with olive oil mash was pretty dull and nothing to write home about. A solid 3 and nothing I couldn't have made myself at home. So it's fair to say the main courses underwhelmed us and it didn't get any better when Sam's affogato dessert needed to be cancelled due to the vanilla ice cream being he wrong consistency.

Laura: "Maybe they make their own ice cream"

Sam: "I don't give a shit"

And on that bombshell we closed out the night. £22 each including wine so not too bad; we wouldn't have been happy paying much more than that though. Next month we were thinking of somewhere a bit classier so watch this space.

Riding House Cafe, Fitzrovia

2011-09-20T18:43:00.000Z

Welcome to the 100th Meal Club blog post. I know it's the 100th because the technology told me so.

This month’s outing was to the Riding House Cafe on GreatTichfield Street. We were:

Andy

Becca

Laura

Pete

Sam

Vicki

Will

The restaurant’s biggest table size is for6 people, but with a bit of sweet talking from Mr Pereira, they agreed to squeezeseven of us on – it was tight, but cosy.

When discussion about who should write the blog this monthsurfaced, we decided on a bit of an experiment - everyone present shouldcontribute. So Pete put together a listof topics to discuss and gave them to me to disseminate (as – self quoted –Isabelle’s a doddle and I have nothing to do!) However, in true baby-brain style, I have managed to throw the list awaywith a bunch of old receipts.

The only topic that Ireally remember (because it is such super,duper totally brilliant MEGA news) is that Pete and Laura got engaged. It’s an awesome story – not to mention thesmall disaster at the beginning of their trip – but not my story to tell. Pete? Laura? [too long to tell in blog form. Contact Laura for full details. - Pete]

I’ll offer up thefood as my contribution. Mine atleast! To start, we debated whether toshare the small plates or just order our own. We decided to order our own with the view to share – which sort ofhappened – I got to try mine, plus four others! They certainly were small plates – but tasty nonetheless. Andy was a disappointed with his Beetroot Carpaccio– but Vicki, who also ordered it, really liked it. A matter of personal taste, I guess. My Chicory, Pear, Radish and Gorgonzola wasyummy (albeit on the light side) and Pete’s Slow Roasted Pork Belly was melt inyour mouth.

I had a taste of Laura’sSalt Cod and Becca’s Prawns – both also very good (in my opinion).

I don’t actually remember too much about what other peopleordered for main, but my Chorizo Hash Browns (with mushroom and poached egg) weredivine. I ordered the dish primarilybecause I was craving a runny egg post pregnancy – and I’m really glad I did asit was truly delicious. The dessert Ishared with Andy was also top trumps – the Hot Fudge Sunday. All in all, top marks for food (from myhumble perspective).

[Pete takes over the writing from here]

Sam has forgotten the awesome stories of Andy nearly getting arrested by the filth on the way over (for naughty cycling) and the time he accidentally phoned Alistair Campbell to tell him what was on the news that night. But she's right about the food which I thought was extremely good. I had a seared trout with a fantastic lemon vinaigrette which was just as good as anything you'd get in a one Michelin-star place. And it was all washed down with a pure beer (called "Pure") and copious amounts of Prosecco (Andy getting the big glass pour from our eager waiter).

So it looks like I can't really add much more from memory (apart from the end-of-meal debate about which tube station was closer to walk to - Will providing TfL evidence for his case the next day) but I do recall the list being full of funny stories and that James missed the Best Meal Club Ever!

Sardo, Fitzrovia

2011-07-31T10:12:00.010Z

Hello! This month we were due for a high turnout but Mamps had to go to the leaving drinks for someone I've never heard of, Becca and Will were defeated by illness as was Andy (who, predicting our natural suspicions, emailed us his official BBC sicknote as evidence). So we were:

James
Laura
Sam
Pete
Vicki

The key highlight of the pre-dinner pub conversation centred, of course, around Vicki's new and improved face. We all agreed that the side profile was where you could see the difference most and once the pleasantries of how nice it looked were out of the way, we degenerated into sniggering at the post-op photos. Comparisons were made with Quagmire from Family Guy and the corpse of a dead Mexican bandit snapped for the front page of a tabloid. Vicki also claimed that these photos were on par with the famous "Vicki eating toast" photo from university which (I'm sure she'll be pleased to hear) can be viewed here.

Anyway, enough about Vicki's face (it does look nice). Onto the restaurant. This month we went with a Sardinian option, Sardo, which was a last minute replacement for Zilli Green (a veggo restaurant suggested by Becca which, unknown to us, closed down recently - probably due to lack of custom).

Immediate plus points were awarded for giving us a round table but they were a tiny bit eroded by a continual vibrating hum we could sense. We figured it was a refrigeration unit placed somewhere close by but we quickly forgot about it. The table was quickly furnished with some bread and crisp bread but not enough olive oil was given, no balsamic and, frankly, the crispbread could have done with some lime pickle and mango chutney in my opinion. Laura also spotted the small print on the menu stating the bread was £1.50 per person. Sneaky.

Vicki ordered the wine (waitress: "the first one on the menu? or the last one?"..........take a wild guess) and debate ensued about whether Montepulciano was a grape or a region. It turns out it's both but when in the context of wine, it's a grape. It's one of my three failsafe wines where I've never had a bad bottle.

For starters we had a smoked salmon and octopus salad, a mushroom salad, a mozzarella salad (good) and James had a beef carpaccio (very good, but a bit salty). Service was a little slow but the food was perfectly good up to this point. Conversation was also lively ranging from Vicki's Daily Mail opinions when it comes to GCSEs (they're getting easier) and how Sam's baking for her work's bake-off was clearly the best but she lost due to political reasons.

Mains ranged from an average veal dish for Laura (it lacked something and had a weird honey sauce that didn't really work) to my very good crab linguine and James' sausage (although Sam didn't rate James' sausage quite so highly). Vicki had a massive plate of healthy pasta. I don't know how to describe it any other way but she liked it..

Sardo's an interesting place that had a good buzzy ambiance about it. Service was definitely slow at times but, to be fair, always polite and friendly. And food is above average and probably worth a shout if you like Italian food but fancy something a bit different. Price wasn't cheap - £35-40 a head (there are no Toptable or Taste London deals at this point) so it's probably not the kind of place you'd pop into after work.

Meal Club notes from July:

Laura has suggested we have a "Celebration of Meal Club" event hosted in someone's house in the cosy winter months, whereby people would read their favourite blog entries to the group while getting well oiled with wine. Good idea?
It has been decided that no one does good desserts apart from the British.
This month's fun-size snickers bar reference took place at 9.37pm
There is a rival Meal Club out there. I won't dignify them with a link but rest assured, Meal Club's hotshot team of uptown lawyers are preparing to open up a can of legal whoop-ass on them.

Awana, Chelsea

2011-07-01T19:13:00.003Z

This month’s jolly was to Awana in Chelsea. I’d booked twice – once via the restaurant and once via Toptable – and Pete had also booked on Toptable, so, with three tables booked for just four us, it was no surprise that it wasn’t overly busy. We were:

Sam
James
Pete
Laura

The restaurant was pretty spacious, with a good sized lounge area – although James and I opted to sit at the bar to wait for Pete and Laura – where I ordered THE most expensive non-alcoholic cocktail (£8 for some juice and fizzy water!) Nice, but definitely not worth the money (especially since the Toptable meal was only on the food).

The staff were incredibly attentive. So much so, that Laura was pounced on twice and offered a drink before we’d even sat down. Pete immediately scoffed as we approached the table– declaring the pointlessness of decorative under plates (there were four large gold plates on the table). He had a point – they were taken away the minute we sat down! The menu was vast with literally hundreds of dishes to choose from (although the chef’s specials were denied to us Toptable plebs – which pretty much limited us to beef, chicken or fish). The waiting staff certainly proved their professionalism when we finally reached our decisions by demonstrating that they knew the entire menu off by heart – if you gave them the number, they repeated the name of the dish back to you, and if you gave the dish, then they provided the number!

I ordered chicken satay followed by chicken stirfry; James ordered egg roti followed by beef curry; Laura opted for chicken parcels also followed by the beef curry; and Pete went for hot and sour soup followed by the monkfish curry.

While we waited for our food to arrive, conversation flitted between whether Pete would put his finger down a builders bum for £3.20 to whether there is such a sport as roller-hockey; and from whether it was possible to re-grow severed limbs, to the plausibility of some fandangled tennis rule that James and Pete had clearly concocted (I can’t even remember what it was – but I know that Laura and I disbelieved them).

The starters arrived promptly. Both James and Pete gave their starters top scores of 5/5, whereas my satay got a 4 and Laura’s parcels a 3. Then followed a lengthy debate about standardising the ratings for meal club – and what the appropriate scale would be – a 5, 7 or ten pointer? The discussion had really only just begun before the mains arrived – there was barely a second to take in a breath between the courses (and our plates were also whipped away before Pete had finished! The initial attentiveness and impressive memory skills of the waiting staff were soon forgotten because of their haste). We reached the conclusion (ish) that a simple five point scale would be best (very poor, poor, OK, good, very good). Although James wasn’t massively happy about this as he believed it wasn’t possible to compare a Petrus 5 with an Awana 5 – how could they be on a par? Anyway... main courses failed to score as highly as the starters, with Laura and James giving their curries a 3 (too much cardamom was the main complaint). I also gave my stirfry a 3 – it was perfectly fine, but nothing out of the ordinary and a little lacking in taste. Only Pete went higher, giving his monkfish a 4 out of 5.

We opted to give dessert a miss, and decided to do a bit of people watching whilst waiting for the bill. I spotted a guy who was a pretty good cross between Andy and Adam, and James spotted a rich white guy with two Thai hotties on the neighbouring table (much to his and Pete’s amusement). The bill was pretty steep considering it was a Toptable deal – a hefty £32.50 each.

Overall – average to good food; hasty service; overpriced for what it was; and a bit of a transport black spot (and no free parking until after 10pm on the streets – James and I had to cough up an extra £9 for parking!) – so not really worth a special trip, but a sound option if you're in the area and can book via Toptable.

Brixton Cornercopia, Brixton Village

2011-05-31T10:52:00.002Z

A venture outside Zone 1 for May’s meal club as we head to Brixton to sample a tiny restaurant suggested by Sam. We have to move to a Thursday to fit in with its opening hours, but due to a lack of inspiration or any alternative suggestions, the motion carries. So we’re off to Cornercopia, located in the optimistically titled Brixton Village (aka Granville Arcade round the corner from the station). We were:

James
Linz
Pete
Sam
Vicki

A pre-dinner drink in a pub nearby called Dogstar (which reminds me of an Australian backpackers bar) sees James whipping out his laptop to give Pete and me a quick presentation in advanced Meal Club statistics. There’s some pretty impressive data extrapolation, although Pete and James then get quite involved in discussing excel formulae and pivot tables. Geeks.

Sam arrives and we stroll round to the restaurant. Described on its Ning page as “ultra local food – restaurant and cornerstore deli”, first impressions of Cornercopia are that it does what it says on the tin. Housed within a 1930s indoor market there are lots of small boutiques, coffee shops and cafes all around, most of which have buzzing tables outside them which creates a really good atmosphere. We’re seated at an outside table and despite still being theoretically indoors, a few big heaters wouldn’t go amiss as we huddle into our coats. Whilst waiting for Linz to arrive, we decide upon the evening’s wine and pick an English one for novelty, selecting a white from Kent in honour of Sam’s roots. It tastes pretty good, not going to blow your socks off but perfectly palatable.

Whilst waiting for Linz, we entertain ourselves with some amateur sleuthing as Pete brings out some old photos of James, Sam, Becca, Will, Mamps and Andy at a pre-meal club dinner that he found amongst a selection of photos an old workmate had. Weird. I spoil the winding-up of Sam that Pete came across them in a shop window and had to purchase them by blurting out the truth, but we still can’t figure out where they’re from. Sam’s got blonde hair, Becca has a pack of Marlboro Lights, Will’s wearing a big polo neck…..? Eventually we realise by looking on the back that they’re date-stamped 2002 but that’s still no help in working out exactly where and when. [Pete - actually James discovered from some historical diary scanning that the meetup took place on December 13th 2002]

Linz pitches up and we place our order with the (slightly) miserable waitress. There’s not a huge choice, three dishes per course, but this is a tiny place and I guess they’re focusing on doing a few things well. It’s at this point we notice a message scrawled down the side of the photocopied menu….no credit cards accepted. Points lost for not mentioning this to Sam when she booked. James and Pete disappear to find the nearest cashpoint.

Starters arrive and are generally rated as good. James and Pete have a duck egg caesar salad (or egg on toast) which gets a solid six out of ten. Linz and I have a terrine of confit duck with piccalilli which again rates a six – losing marks for lack of bread and being a bit cloying. And Sam scores highest with a seven for the crab tart with apple and fennel salad.

Mains come out pretty quickly after the starters are cleared. In my opinion, not a great choice considering they’re only offering three choices – whole roast plaice, gammon and parsley sauce or olive tartine with roast red peppers. Between us we cover off the plaice and gammon options. General consensus is there is not enough food! Sides aren’t on the menu at all and the only carbs across the five meals is the tiny pot of boiled potatoes that Sam and Pete share with the plaice. Cue much snuffling round for the scraps from each others plates at the end, with James suggesting that we all visit the pizza place round the corner rather than staying for dessert. Although there is the suspicion that he is just trying to detract from the fact that he NFI’ed Linz from his birthday extravaganza coming up in July.

Scores are again middling. Plaice gets a six from Sam and Pete as there isn’t enough fish on it, even though Pete received some extra help as a passing chef dived into his plate partway through and attempted to fillet and flip his dinner. Gammon only garners a 4.5 from a still-hungry James, whilst Linz bemoans the poor presentation and we all feel that the addition of some spuds was a huge missed opportunity for the cost of a few extra pennies.

Talk turns to Pete’s (hopefully) new house whilst we wait for dessert. Whilst the girls request details of layout and décor, James moves to the all important question of flush strength. Apparently one should always carry poo in a bag whilst house-hunting in order to test out this vital element during viewings. Who knew. Linz attempts to tell us what’s going on in her life, until Pete decides it will be far more interesting to discuss Twitter and the Ryan Giggs story instead and starts a new conversation over the top of her.

Desserts rate well. We all choose between a raspberry and almond tarte with white chocolate ganache or a dark chocolate and pistachio terrine. General consensus is a seven or eight out of ten and they pulled back a bit of value for money at the end.

The bill came to £27 per person; once we’d re-added the bill and made the maths work. It was quite a lot of money for the amount of food received, especially when you include the extra supper that some of the party were planning afterwards. Although there’s no dispute that the quality and imagination put into the food was good, they are chancing their arm with the prices (£6 starters and £11 mains). Apart from James, none of us felt it was worth the amount we’d paid and wouldn’t be rushing back.

However, it was a good grassroots meal club experience and the first one held in an arcade. Put that on your spreadsheet Hallam.

Dishoom, Covent Garden

2011-04-30T12:31:00.005Z

As Laura sits watching a replay of the Royal Wedding, I shall take the opportunity to write the blog for this month. And in a break with tradition, I'm writing this in less than 7 days since we actually went out which means I might actually remember something.

This month, we opted for Dishoom - a relatively new offering on Upper St. Martin's Lane that bills itself as London's first Bombay Cafe. I bet they don't charge £7.50 for a glass of Sauvignon Blanc on Chowpatty Beach though. Some fine trivia, gleaned by Manpreet, was that Dishoom is named after the sound of a punch landing in a Bollywood film. If you haven't see one, I urge you to watch this video.

Anyway, we had a decent turnout this month. We were:

Andy
Becca
James
Laura
Manpreet
Sam
Pete
Vicki

Andy, Sam and James were already sat in our booth when we arrived and were munching on some fantastically light chilli and lime crisps. We quickly ordered another bowl of these bad boys for the rest of us and proceeded to demolish them. The waiter also gained some early brownie points by:

a) being a friendly northerner
b) getting a chair for Manpreet to sit at the head of the table without being asked
c) looking like Johnny Depp apparently

Downstairs, the low-ceiling booth/alcove we were sat in had a level of acoustics such that my eardrum was nearly perforated by a Manpreet guffaw early on in the meal even though we were sat at opposite ends of the table. But despite being able to hear everything, it wouldn't have been practical to share dishes across the entire table as Johnny Depp had suggested. So instead we split into sharing-teams.

Team Apollo got off to a poor start when Laura gave James a massive NFS by saying she would share with me but not with James. She denies that's what she meant and managed to smooth over the situation quickly enough.
Team Cryfield (Andy and Becca) got off to a super start with an unparallelled level of ordering efficiency.
Team Do We Have To? (Sam, Mamps and Vicki) were the opposite, taking up far too much of the waiter's time for my liking.

After discussing Andy's new guns and torso that was about to pop the buttons off his shirt, plus whether you flaunt, flounce or flout a rule (very disdainful look from Becca given in that particular conversation...), the food started to arrive. The menu isn't that huge but all of it was appealing and the starters and mains arrive together as Dishoom avoids the formality of courses. Across the table we had samosas, bombay sausages, desi fish fingers, lamb chops, salmon tikka (very good), paneer and mushroom and pots full of biryani whose meat was extremely soft. I think they must seal the ceramic servings pots before cooking to effectively pressure-cook them. Nice technique.

Most of my notes appear to be about conversations (like James "watching" the new Battlestar Gallactica via reading episode guides online) rather than the food but a quick straw poll on the way out confirmed that it was all really good quality, which combined with a buzzing atmosphere made for a fine evening. I'm certainly going to be checking out the Dishoom Chowpatty Beach Bar when it opens on the South Bank in May.

Next month, Vicki is in charge of note-taking and blog-writing duties. There, it's in black and white. No excuses this time!!

Zucca, Bermondsey

2011-04-09T07:28:00.003Z

Hello all - and once again I've left the blog writing so long after the actual meal that I'm now relying on my meagre notes to do this justice. Strap yourselves in, here we go....

This month's MC was booked on the fly by Sam while we were in a pub full of babies about a month ago. Zucca is one of London's host of new restaurant openings from the last 18 months. Plenty of MC fodder to be sampled! It serves Italian food (but not pizza/pasta) in a relatively upmarket environment on Bermondsey Street (which I really should visit more often cos it's ace). We were:

Becca
James
Laura
Sam
Pete

We met beforehand in a typically trendy pub and in a foreshadowing of the glorious early April weather, we housed ourselves in the beer garden for the first time this year. Becca duly arrived and insisted that we notice her weight loss which had been delivered by some crazy-ass diet she's on. No carbs and no fat. No taste by the sounds of it.

We lost track of time and walked quickly down the road to meet Sam sitting on a round table (plus points!) in the corner of the restaurant. Some boring chat about the financial cuts later and we were on to ordering the starters. We asked the waiter a lot of questions about the non-translated Italian dishes and he answered them politely for us - even when it was clear our standard response to his explanation was "hmm, nah I don't like the sound of that". I had a carpaccio of seabass which was fantastic. James' mozzarella and pesto was also good, as was Sam's pumpkin tempura (although it was "just pumpkin"). Weaker reviews for Laura's plate of cold meats (looked like it had come out of a packet) and Becca's mixed salad (a salad).

The gap between the starters and main was livened up by Sam's inability to count (1,2,4) and a dog that was being hidden under a neighbouring table yelping when the waitress trod on it. We also brought up the forthcoming Jamestock/Bectival/Dadfest or whatever we're calling it this year. Much discussion was had about the logistics and the only conclusion we made was that at some point during the weekend we needed to melt a tub of celebrations (or similar chocolate) in the oven for people to gorge on during some crazy game involving hats and scarves (ask Sam and Becca). Note, in no way will this new game jeopardise the status of "water in the face" as the premier Summer game of our group. The only stipulation of this new game is that sherbert fountains should not be included as the very thought of them gives Laura a funny turn.

Onto the mains: There were two griddled lamb chops, a couple of seabass dishes and a pasta with pork and fennel for James. General consensus was that a score between 3 and 4 out of 5 was appropriate. Good but not amazing.

The service was good, the environment was buzzy but still quite classy and the food was reasonably priced and good to eat. So better than a lot of places you could go to and definitely worth another visit at some point.

Some Meal Club admin:

The next Meal Club will be Pete's 50th (!)
Vicki's absence this month has allowed James to draw level on 44 (with Sam 1 behind on 43)
Mamps - you have not attended MC since La Ruga in Walthamstow last June. Sort it out!!

The Glasshouse, Kew

2011-03-10T21:09:00.003Z

Busiest two weeks at work ever but I've finally come up for breath and can now write the blog. Obviously I can't remember much and my notes are pretty cryptic. But here we go....

Sam had originally suggested The Glasshouse on the basis of it being the sister restaurant to Chez Bruce and because she had a voucher which offered three courses for £20 instead of the usual £39.50. The location of Kew isn't exactly convenient for most of us (I don't think I've ever been so far on the district line) but the motion was passed due to Manpreet's enthusiasm to go somewhere vaguely close to her locale for a change.

She didn't turn up. We were left with:

James
James S (guest!)
Laura
Linz
Pete
Sam
Vicki

The evening started in a positive fashion when a couple of the gaggle of waiting staff at the door immediately rearranged our tables to avoid having a full stop. Laura, who arrived last, was awarded the head-of-the-table position and took full advantage by showing off her new lashes which quickly became the talk of the town. Sam referred to them as "amazing" on no fewer than seven occasions.

After debating who would win in a fight, Bauer or Bourne and whether your second child is more than 50% likely to be the same gender as your first, we were offered some bread. In his customary style James nabbed two pieces but, alas, the butter was unsalted. A small black mark against what was to prove a great service and food experience.

There was a choice of seven starters and between us we have five of them (although a pregnant Sam had her choice limited to one. I can't remember which one it was but looking at the menu I'm going to guess at the artichoke and chestnut soup. She gave it a 4 out of 5 after my intial 3-point scale was pooh-poohed by the table. Elsewhere people had a salad of endive, quail and ham terrine, salmon ravioli and I had what I'm declaring to be the best starter I've ever had in the form of a seabass sashimi with wasabi mayonnaise, shrimp beignet and guacamole. Awesome stuff and a cracking start.

By the time the main courses came around James had been defeated by his fourth bread roll and we had agreed that Jamestock is a perennial failure and must be cancelled forthwith. Ideas were being thrown around about what we could do as a group this Summer but my idea of a boozy barge holiday was visciously shouted down by James S who took massive umbrage against the very notion!

For mains, we had the braised lamb shank (3), cote-de-boeuf (3, although would have been higher if belly wasn't full of bread), miso crusted duck breast (5) and a roast coquelet (aka poussin aka small chicken) which Linz awarded a 4.

So food was great and dessert was to come. I loved my warm ginger cake with poached rhubarb whilst Sam gave extra extra bonus points to the cheese guy when he allowed her to order off-menu and grabbed some wensleydale from the back to pad out her meagre pregant-friendly cheese selection. Service was great all night as a matter of fact. Not too pushy and certainly not inattentive, they were all very accommodating and I was particularly impressed by the waitress' ability to squeeze seven glasses of wine out of one bottle.

That's all I can remember and my notes have run out. Next month has already been decided. Italian!

Gauthier, Soho

2011-01-29T10:34:00.010Z

Welcome one and all to the shambles to end all shambles.

The evening started off pleasantly enough with a swift drink in a nearby boozer the Golden Lion. It wasn't long before we headed round the corner to buzz on the imposing black Georgian townhouse door, which opened to reveal a group of staff welcoming us into Gauthier. We were:

James
Sam
Pete
Vicki

Our coats were removed and we were ushered into our private room (a MC first!) which turned out to be their wine store-room. It had a nice little round table for the four of us, tiny bose speakers playing the hits of 80s songstress Sade and walls full from floor to ceiling with wine bottles and the odd spirit. We could have easily filled our boots, especially (as James pointed out) if we were fat birds. But for all its atmosphere, we were still essentially sitting in the wine cupboard - and this was confirmed throughout the evening as the bald-as-a-coot sommelier would wander in every now and then, have a little search around, find his bottle and wander off again. I think James was subconsiously trying to ward off these interruptions by upping his swearing levels throughout the evening, especially when we got onto the topic of 2011 parking permit prices in Brixton.

Now then, I'm sure you're eager to hear about the shambles. Patience, my padawan. Firstly the good news: The restaurant is clearly at the upper end of the market (the decor and formality are a giveaway) but unusually, and awesomely, the menu has its water policy printed clearly for all to see: "We always offer still & sparkling filtered tap water free of charge". Maybe restauranteurs in the UK are finally starting to get the fecking message!

Another good point at the start was the flexibility and accommodating nature of the menu. A quick glance online will reveal that the point of difference here is 4 grouped courses (exclusing cheese and desserts) with three dishes on each course. It was explained that we could order in a completely fluid manner. All three dishes from the first group and another from the third? No problem sir. Skip the first and have one each from from the other three? As you wish!

There's also the option of an 8-course £68 taster menu but Vicki had already pointed out that she wasn't game for an expensive night out and it was only after she pointed out that three people is too small for an official MC that James backed away from his threat of not allowing her to come.

So far, so good......however, this unusual menu system was to prove their downfall.....

Let's get the food review out of the way. They got the basics spot on with excellent bread (chorizo bread - I'm a convert!) and they passed the classic Pete-test of having both salted and unsalted butter which wasn't rock hard.

The main dishes were, pretty much without exception, first class. The head chef (Alexis Gauthier) had been awarded a Michelin Star at his previous restaurant so this wasn't a surprise. I think between us we tried 7 or 8 of the 12 available dishes. Highlights were the monkfish loin with wild mushrooms and pancetta, the rose veal with dry plums (ooh-er missus) and the blood orange sorvet with candy floss pre-dessert dish.

The food can't be faulted. The food was great. Food? Pretty damn good.

What's that you say? That 80% of your overall satisfaction with a restaurant comes from the service and not the food? Well plump up a cushion, my friend, and prepare to be astounded.

What a fucking shambles. We were given a third-party review of the service during our first course when we could see and hear an unsatisfied customer leaving the restaurant giving the staff a proper earful about how he's never coming here again. The quality of service was also hinted at in this review by Metro harridan Marina O'Loughlin.

To be fair, they weren't overtly rude but we were ignored for large stretches of the evening (Vicki at one point clearly wanted to lamp someone). Possibly this was due to the fact that our room was a little hidden away from the main dining area but that's no excuse. Their main error though, as mentioned above, was driven by their failure to handle their own ordering system. Our waiter (Pierre was his name according to our bill) was a young fella and it's quite possible this was not only his first night on the job but also his first night in the country. Here's a tip for anyone thinking about opening an upmarket French restaurant: Prioritise ability to understand English over french authenticity in your choice of staff. Unless you're restaurant is actually in France in which case it's OK.

Pierre took our order and wrote it all down but somewhere, somehow, something had gone horribly wrong. It later became evident that he's written down courses incorrectly and completely missed an entire course out. Allow me to explain in bullet points:

8.20pm; Amuse bouche arrive but Pete gets his 1st main dish because he ordered 4 dishes while the others ordered 3.
8.40pm; Pete's 2nd main dish arrives with everyone else's 1st. This puts the four of us on a level playing field, except for the fact that Pete's dish is wrong. They've given him foie gras instead of monkfish.
8.41pm; Pierre looks like he's about to cry and flitters worryingly between the kitchen and the table not knowing what to do. The Monkfish has clearly been forgotten.
8.45pm; Pierre suggests to Pete that he should just "eat it anyway". No charge. Pete eats the foie gras. It's very nice but very rich. Pete struggles with heart palpitations.
8.55pm; Pete is served his monkish while the others sit around with empty plates
8.57pm; Pierre puts Pete's 4th dish (beef) onto the middle of the table - lining it up like it was two pints at a busy bar!!. Others still sitting with empty plates
9.15pm; Pete wolfs down the beef while the others remain a full 3 courses behind.
9.25pm; Finally Sam, James and Vicki's 2nd course arrives along with Pete's 5th course (lamb). However what's served as a 2nd course is actually what the guys ordered as their 3rd course. Hmmm.
9.45pm; The table begins to be cleared and it's obvious to us that the missing dish isn't coming. We have a "debate" with Pierre who doesn't have a clue what we're on about. They admit their mistake.
10.00pm; They apologise by bringing out the cheese platter for free.
10.15pm; Pre desserts arrive. Pete has had way too much food by this point. Not feeling great.
10.30pm; Desserts are polished off and we duly refuse to pay the service charge on the bill. They don't argue with us.
10.40pm; Coats on and we shuffle out disappointed into the freezing night, warmed only by the realisation that our table had a name instead of a number; and that name was Sade.

I think that pretty much sums up the shambles. We had debated earlier in the evening whether MC was losing its mojo and even though we'd categorically denied the motion, this experience nearly killed it off! I won't be going back.

The Beehive, Marylebone

2010-12-18T17:41:00.007Z

And so Meal Club bids farewell to its fifth year with a Christmas meet-up at The Beehive just south of Baker Street. James took on the organisational duties by finding it, booking it and arranging Secret Santa for the group. We were:

Andy
Becca
Frankie (guest)
Ger
James
Laura
Lisa (guest)
Pete
Sam
Vicki
Will

I arrived earlier than most to be greeted by two things. The first was Ger who was sat on his own reading the Evening Standard with a pint in hand. The second was the smell of wee. It may have been fish but wasn't pleasant whatever it was and it was in direct contrast to the impression you'd get from visiting their website (which makes The Beehive look like an establishment that oozes quality, as opposed to....a pub).

No matter - always give somewhere the benefit of the doubt I say. Although my spirit of goodwill was tested by being charged £4.00 for a pint of lager (after having turned down the option of a half pint for £3.50). Does it sound like I'm moaning? Well a definite positive versus last Christmas was that it wasn't brass-monkeys freezing.

The Secret Santa gifts were controversially distributed before any food had arrived. This was made easier given that there was no bread on the table (which we decided was a "xmas menu thing"). Still shit though. The gifts had been placed in an overstuffed M&S carrier bag (Laura's emergency carrier bag) under the table, away from prying eyes (except for Andy who forgot to put it in the bag leaving James to bluff his way through a shambolic "it fell on the floor" story). Here are the key points:

Next year we'll be doing Bad Santa (re-christened by Will as "Santa Steals") whereby presents are opened one by one and each subsequent person has the option to swap with a previously opened goodie.
Magic snow for £3.99. Will hasn't happy.
Would a vajazzle kit be inappropriate?
Laura's gift of a framed photo of an X-Factor contestant was voted worst. Whoever bought that one is a fucking idiot.
I got a sky-lantern from Will who bluffed magnificently claiming they were a filthy fire hazard.
James had Meal Club hardback books made! Well played sir! Definitely the highlight of the night.

OK, so on to the food. We had to lay the table ourselves which wasn't a good sign and the lack of bread has already been noted. We'd already been asked to choose our menu before arriving so the kitchen could prepare and the staff had helpfully prepared little name tags with our menu choices on the back - which was good because there's no way I would have remembered what I'd chosen.

Starters arrived. They were a mix between winter vegetable soup, goat's cheese with spinach and quail with plum and rocket salad. Laura's sitting next to me as I write this and she's saying "bland" but I think the general feeling was that it wasn't too bad. My quail was decent enough, if a little small on the portion size.

For main courses, most people had decent enough fare but none of it could be classified as "great food". Andy said he enjoyed the roast pumpkin and no other major complaines were voiced about the turkey and smoked haddock dishes. But the pork (had by myself and Laura) was a shocker. Laura gave it a rating of 3/10 and declared it the "worst pub meal I've ever had". I'd concur; it was fatty as hell, the carrots were virtually raw and we were both still hungry at the end of it. Horrible!

The service wasn't great either. It can't be easy serving big groups at Christmas but standards have clearly gone into decline since Frankie used to work here. The best (worst?) example was not only clearing people's plates while others were still eating but actually starting to take dessert orders too!

Sam went for the cheese (obviously) with everyone else split between the christmas pudding (stodgy) and warm chocolate fondant (not warm).

Sigh. Oh well - the key thing about Christmas Meal Club is not the dining, it's the company, the fun, the laughs and other cheesy stuff.

Onwards to year 6!

The Larder, Farringdon

2010-11-28T12:59:00.002Z

This month started with a shambles. Technically this was the fault of the restaurant (The Tiroler Hut in Notting Hill) who had doubled booked and couldn't accommodate us, but I'm blaming James who took on the organisational duties this month. Laura was openly glad that the Austrian fare (complete with Tirolean Cow Bell Show) was no longer going ahead. Let's face it, the Austrians (like the Germans) have an even worse reputation for food than the English.

No matter, James redeemed himself by quickly getting a table at The Larder in Farringdon/Clerkenwell. We were:

James
Laura
Sam
Pete
Vicki

We started the evening with pre-drinks and these also quickly developed into a shambles with Pete and Laura in one place and James and Vicki in another. I kept trying to phone the other two to tell them where we were (and even went to the trouble of chasing a Vicki-lookalike down the street as she walked past the window) but they made it in the end (and them complained that it was a restaurant, not a pub). Before the meal we regaled each other with travelling stories and Vicki proved to us all that she's a one-way story teller: Gets her story out of the way and then buggers off to the toilet when someone else is telling theirs.

The restaurant is large and somewhat canteen-like and while it was empty-ish when we arrived it filled up pretty quickly and had a good atmosphere about it. Sam immediately kicked off the night with an argument with the waiter who oddly didn't seem to understand the concept of a full-stop seating position. This was quickly resolved and brownie points were awarded with the unprompted production of bread with little shot glasses of hummous and olive oil.

After discussing how Meal Club had seen its competitors and imitators come and go (Lunch Club, Cocktail Club, Camera Club....), we ordered. For starters, Vicki had goats cheese beignets, long stem broccoli, cashew nuts; James had spinach and ricotta ravioli and the rest of us had a haddock risotto with poached egg which arrived served in a sealed storage jar. Different but also awesome - it tasted fantastic!

The mains could be described in one word: Filling.

Vicki and James went for the braised lamb shoulder; Sam and Laura had the steak and ale pie (which, having been steamed, looked like a wobbly brain) while I had the belly of pork which potato and black pudding hash. A quick poll around the table revealed all dishes to be top quality and no complaints were needed. After the Austrain debacle, James had chosen...........wisely.

Sam was on good form regaling us with her favourite Bible scripture (she doesn't have one) and telling us how she'd willingly be spitroasted by Take That (Gary up front, Robbie at the back) but she failed to notice spilling half a spoonful of dauphinoise potatoes into Vicki's red wine. Then for some reason we started trying to remember old Eternal songs (yeah yeah yeah yeah) and James stunk the room out with an alleged "joke" which used "I wanna be the only one" in some kind of pun. Poor work.

Did I mention this was 50% off on a TopTable deal? Well it was, which made the night about £20 a head. Not bad at all. The only criticism we had was that the fod came out very quickly, not really allowing us much time to breathe in between. But you can't win them all. I'd go back.

Next month: Christmas Meal Club on the 15th!

Via Condotti, Mayfair

2010-11-02T18:54:00.001Z

The smallest maitre ‘d in the world. That was what I was confronted with when I arrived at Via Condotti for this month’s mealclub extravaganza. So small infact, that he fooled me into thinking he was sitting when he was actually standing in front of me. Now, I normally point and stare in these circumstances, but this time I took the only reasonable course of action, and left immediately, going to the Windmill pub round the corner for a pint. By the way, I was also early and would’ve been a billy no mates. That had no bearing on my actions.

Via Condotti is an Italian restaurant on Conduit Street which has quietly been building up a reputation as a fine eatery, so it was ripe for a once over from the mealclub glitterati, who this month were:

Andy
Becca
James
Sam
Will

Despite his size, the maitre ‘d got us off to a flying start by seating us at nice round table for 5 people. There was some speculation that he was clairvoyant as we had booked for 8 people. I however have the sneaking suspicion that he could count….the fraud!

The menu was reasonably extensive, and took quite a bit of studying to get to a choice. This was then promptly rocked by the waiter giving a list of 4 specials which all sounded great. Took a while, but we all got our orders out in the end, with Sam changing Andy’s order of Tuna steak for him as she felt that it would be too pink for him. So swordfish it was. Sam, Andy thanks you.

We were then confronted with the startling revelation that Andy often performs random acts akin to the wheelie bin cat lady. He declined to elaborate further even under pressure. Not to be beaten by this, Becca went on to explain how she gave the keys to her house to the fox drowners who live next door. One can only assume it is just in case they run out of water, and have a desperate need to dunk another defenseless creature.

The starters came and were all excellent. My beef carpacio was one of the better I have had, Sam had some parma ham and artichoke thing that she rated highly, Bex and Will loved their fried goats cheese and Gilhooly seemed to enjoy his squid. A very promising start!

The service was also up there. Attentive but not over-powering. The waiter even decided that we were to have another basket of bread when we bizarrely couldn’t decide between us if we wanted one - the mark of a good restaurant in my book!

So what about the décor and atmosphere– would we have the holy trinity of good restaurant boxes ticked? Well – I can’t really remember what it looked like, but this probably means that it was at least ok.

Conversation turned to a mix of the usual witty banter regarding Becca’s emotional hoarding, confusion regarding the revelation that there are at least 2 different people named John Craven and the fact that Charlotte is no longer a little pagan after getting religion in a monastery over the previous weekend. Of course this was punctuated with serious points being made in regards to house ownership. The pre-main course highlight though was discovering that Andy nearly went to a secret screening of Laurence of Arabia dressed as Star Wars’s very own C3PO. I am sure we would all pay top dollar to see that.

Consensus was that the mains were excellent. Will and Sam went for the mushroom, truffle and walnut Ravioli, Andy the Swordfish, Becca the Cod and I had Scialatelli (essentially minced Veal with pasta and sauce, which yes, was the closest thing to spag bol I could find!). The service also continued to impress.

Desert came and 10 out of 10 was given for the presentation of the tiramisu (see pic). Alas, the schoolboy lack of booze in the tiramisu meant it was marked down by both Sam and Becca. My apple pie was excellent, although Will claimed it had too much pastry – the wuss. Over desert we debated and concluded who had the best and worst parents. Results will not be published due to a number of sneaky internet savvy mums and dads potentially getting their mitts on the blog.

Coffee wrapped up the evening and it all looked so rosy for Via Condotti. But then something happened that ruined it. No it wasn’t Sam saying c*nt so loud that 2 tables behind us simultaneously left the restaurant, nor was it the (fairly reasonable) bill of £40 per person all in. It was a drastic change in music in the restaurant from inoffensive background tunes to some random tripe from the Elton ‘Rocket Man’ John, and non-other than Glen Medeiros. It was the effective equivalent of DJ Will Head playing New York New York in the market place to signal to drunk students that it was time to pack up and leave.

And leave we did! All in all though I would say that this place was very very good, and I wouldn’t hesitate recommending it.

Final word though goes to controversy of who would “win mealclub”. Some strong opinions were aired by Connock, but we all know it would be me. I look forward to continuing that conversation next month at the YMCA Indian where we’ll (hopefully) be for November’s mealclub.

Meal Club On Tour: Indigo, Mumbai, India

2010-11-01T18:56:00.005Z

Not an official Meal Club but somewhere worthy of a short note as it delivered by far the best meal Laura and I had on our recent holiday in India. The fact that it was the only meal we had that cost more than £4 per head is entirely coincidental. The restaurant in question is Indigo situated close to the Gateway of India in Mumbai.

We highlighted it in our Lonely Planet as being the ideal escape from the Family Pereira for a night. When we walked in for our 8pm reservation, the downstairs was completely empty and souless. The offer therefore that we have a look upstairs to see if we'd prefer to sit there was eagerly accepted. And it was the correct decision as there were at least some other diners there plus it had the added benefit of being a covered roof terrace complete with fairy lights and a comedy step near the door which people kept falling over.

The menu actually had my name printed at the top of it. "Dinner for Mr Peter Pereira" it said. In your face, Fat Duck!

Laura had a starter of garlic prawns and saffron risotto followed by a main of braised beef with mash and roasted vegetables. A nice change from the curry we'd shovelled down our throats every night for the previous 10 days. I had a gravad of tuna with ginger sorbet and coriander vinaigrette to start followed by Rawas (a salmon-like whitefish) with artichoke hearts, coconut spinach, olives and a "panchramut-inspired sauce" whatever that was.

The quality of food, environment and service was easily on par with a mid-to-high end Meal Club (think Morgan M) but for a fraction of the price. Including a couple of champange cocktails plus a shared dessert it weighed in at about £35 a head. Stupidly expensive for India but at least it keeps the riffraff out.

Over and out.

Mestizo, Hampstead Road

2010-10-10T19:33:00.002Z

Evening all. A slightly delayed write up here. Once again I've been too busy. If this carries on I shall have to delegate blog duties to someone else. In fact I definitely have to do that next month cos we is on holidays innit? This month we went Mexican. Specifically Mestizo on Hampstead Road on the way to Mornington Crescent. We were:

Laura
Sam
Pete
Vicki

We only just about scraped official MC status due to the last minute no-show from a sickly Linz. She probably needed to conserve her energy for all those Russian soldiers on the Trans Siberian.

Once again, Meal Club coincided with torrential rain. I made it to the restaurant at about 7.30pm to find Laura and Vicki. Laura was a bit discombobulated due to seeing a friend of ours in the restaurant and getting confused as to which group of friends she was supposed to be going out with tonight. We shared a pleasant bottle of white in the bar area while waiting for Sam who was stuck in traffic (in a cab naturally) on Euston Road. She finally arrived at 8.05 but we had yet to order so no harm done. The only thing on the table at this point was a plate of nachos which tasted a bit stale. Or maybe that's how they do them in Mexico. This was an authentic run-by-Mexicans Mexican you see? No cheese and jalapenos on these nachos thank you very much.

The theme of the night was good food, weak service. For example I had to leave the table and get a wine glass from the bar for Sam despite asking the waiter for one 10 minutes previously. We used this 10 minutes to demonstrate the Vicki that the other three of us had turned into iPhone wankers (which Will used to call something very different indeed).

For starters, Laura and I had prawns marinated in lime and tequila. Normally I avoid tequila like the plague (ever since an unfortunate incident as Top Banana one night), but I was pleasantly surprised. In my notes it has two ticks by it which I can only assume we thought it was a great dish.

For mains we had lamb chops, beef & plantain and a massive chicken enchelada. I have ticks against the first two and a question mark against Sam's enchelada which, from memory, was OK but nothing special.

Sam's desert made up for it - she ordered off-menu by demanding a shot of espresso was poured over her ice-cream. Sounded minging to me. Still does. Can't remember what Laura and I had but in my notes it says "edible" which isn't exactly a ringing endorsement.

Whoever does the blog next month, here's my tip: Write more notes than me and then write it up quickly because frankly I can barely remember any details from this month! Good luck!

Feng Shang Princess, Regent's Park

2010-09-08T20:29:00.003Z

Hello dudes. Due to a combination of attending a wedding abroad and being generally manic at work, I haven't had time to write this month's blog until now. Yeah? Wanna make something of it?

A few weeks ago we celebrated James' birthday in the torrential rain of Regent's Park. Whilst there we spotted a restaurant Becca had earmarked the week before as a potential Meal Club venue. Our natural laziness to think of new places led us to defaulting to Feng Shang, a boat moored on the Regent's Park Canal. We were:

Becca
Frankie (guest!)
Ger
James (guest!)
James
Laura
Linz
Pete
Sam
Vicki
Will

A big turnout supplemented by a couple of welcome guests!

We met in the World's End (otherwise known as the World's Biggest Pub, AKA the World's Worst Pub) for a drink beforehand (£8 for a bottle of beer and a small coke!) and then braved the downpour we'd now come to associate with this are. Sam and Laura were on a mission to get a cab and almost succeeded before a rude bastard who Sam later described as a "gangly wanker" legged it past us and got into the cab we had hailed. When we arrived we were drenched. Laura's feet were swimming in her shoes.

Will and Becca were already sat at our large round table when we arrived. Extra points for the round table I noted. Shame the restaurant was pretty dead. Only a couple of sporadic tables were filled throughout the night and we were clearly the life and soul of the restaurant that night.

I've got in my notes "Will's continuity hair".....can't remember what that's about....

The first argument of the night came when everyone except me wanted to do the sharing thing. I'm sorry, but fuck off. Order what you want and then eat it. Why does this only happen at Chinese restaurants (or at a stretch, anything oriental)? Tapas I can accept because the food is not "main meal" sized. But otherwise make your choice and stick with it.

Having said that I ended up sharing a duck starter between 4 people and my main with Laura. So I'm a big fat hypocrite. So what? Wanna make something of it?

Sam noted that we didn't get any prawn crackers (I think the restaurant probably thought they were too good for that) but that the prawn toast she did get (with Set Menu A) was the "best prawn toast she'd ever had". A bold claim I'm sure you'll agree. But not unbelieveable as the quality of the food throughout the night was really pretty good. Not your usual chinese fare - actually genuinelly nice food that had not been laced with MSG. My malaysian prawns were awesome. So awesome that Laura and Becca ate half of them.

Elsewhere people had crispy chilli beef, sweet & sour prawns, vegetable spring rolls, mock chicken (better than quorn!) and other stuff that I can't remember as usual.

I should state at this point that James (Hallam) rocked up superbly late. Everyone had finished their food but technically there was still enough on the table for him to get his fill which meant it still counts in the ranking for him. Speaking of which, Sam is still annoyed that she's behind Vicki in the standings (39 vs 36 after this one) and went as far as to tell Vicki she hoped she died in a plane crash on the way to the Himalayas to allow her the chance to catch up. I'm not even joking.

James (Hallam) WAS in time to accuse Sam of thinking it was called a Lazy Susie rather than a Lazy Susan.

So back to the food and the restaurant: All good I think. The location is a bit of a dead zone but I think it's probably worth the short walk from Camden. I don't normally like chinese - too sickly, not enough quality - but I was quietly pleased with this place. I'm officially adding it to my small list of Chinese restaurants I'd go back to.

Just time to say that the most awesome moment came right at the end when Ger whipped out his £5 Meal Club voucher (a gift from Secret Santa) to pay towards his meal. Good darts sir. Good darts.

Alain Ducasse, The Dorchester

2010-07-05T20:48:00.002Z

Meal Club on Tour!

Only a day after Meal Club, we were out again for more grub. Well Sam, James and I were anyway. The impetus for going to Alain Ducasse was his recent award of a 3rd michelin star. Would it be up to scratch? How would it compare to the Fat Duck? These and other questions shall be answered in this here blog entry. We were:

James
Linz
Pete
Sam
Gino (guest)

Ger gets half a point for coming for a drink at the Grenadier beforehand.

The first annoyance (for me anyway) was an instance at a dress code for the gentlemen - jacket and trousers a must. Tie preferred. Well fuck that. I don't wear ties outside of weddings and funerals and I ain't changing that rule for an ageing frenchman. Trousers and a jacket I can stretch too although it was pretty galling when the latter was ensonced into the cloakroom before we even entered the dining room. Good effort their Alain.

Anyway, I'm starting off by sounding like a miserable git so I'll redress the balance by saying that no miserable git would ever drink the drink I had in the bar beforehand. Yes, the Pereira curse struck again when I ordered a seemingly inoffensive-sounding cocktail only to be presented with a glass Delboy would be ashamed of drinking out of. I kid you not, this glass was about 30cm tall and 3mm wide until it expanded with a floursih at the top. Think of a spinning plate and you're halfway there. James and I both attempted to hold it from the stem but bottled it instantly for fear of spillage.

Back to the restaurant. I'd previously been tipped off that the room had had bad reviews and was a bit dull / lifeless. Not so. It seemed to me to have good level of quirkiness including walls which appeared to be covered with limes (or as James used to call them, "green lemons") and a fantastic private table encircled by a floor-to-ceiling curtain of light.

As with all places like this, the waiter tried to upsell us into some champagne straight away. We all looked at each other for a second before deciding to peruse the wine list. Linz was in charge seeing as she now has a certificate AND a badge (which disgracefully she doesn't wear). She redeemed herself by selecting a very nice bottle of white. They initially poured it whle Sam was in the toilet and they deliberately didn't pour her a glass until she returned. Although she was sitting for at least 10 seconds before the waiter was reminded by another than she was back and the time for him to spring into action had come. This was followed by a selection of breads and butters. They passed the test. You know which test I mean. Plus the butter was sculpted into the same garlic clove shape as the porcelain sculpture in the centre of our table. We eagerly looked around to see if other tables' butter matched their own porcelain sculptures (artichokes, mushrooms etc...) but alas it was not the case.

Sam and I both went for the fish-heavy tasting menu while James, Linz and Gino ordered a la carte. The various courses and options are too numerous to go into here. This is the menu if you're interested. I'm not sure I could identify a personal highlight standout course in the menu. Was it as good as the Fat Duck? No way. Was it better than other 2-starred places we'd visited? Probably not. Was it worth the money nevertheless. Yes. Don't get me wrong, the food was excellent and the service was as good as you'd hope for with the little touches we've now come to expect. A special bonus point should be given for allowing the table to split between tasting and non-tasting menus. Something of a rarity.

The cheese course was still minging though.

Trattoria La Ruga, Walthamstow

2010-07-04T20:59:00.003Z

Oh the controversy! Meal Club was split right down the middle this month with two warring factions. I am of course referring to the decision as to where Pete and Laura will end up living - north or south. Will and Becca had home advantage this evening determined to show us the delights of Stow Village stalwart, La Ruga. We were:

Andy
Becca
James
Laura
Mamps
Pete
Sam

After leaving Will and Peggy holding the baby, we headed out into the summer evening sunshine for the short walk around the corner to the restaurant. The normally punctual Sam and James were running late so we sat down and ordered a bottle of rose wine. We agreed that this was the first time this year we felt rose to be an appropriate beverage and our waiter obliged us.

La Ruga doesn't have a printed menu. Actually that's a complete lie. It does. But it only includes their standard pasta dishes. The a-la-carte starters and mains were all written on a blackboard hanging on the wall behind us. These were read out and simultaneously translated by our uber-italian waiter. Let's call him Guiseppe. Guiseppe is what you'd call a character and if you're not in the mood it would seem grating - but luckily our moods were lightened by the arrival of some proper summer and we went with it. In fact Becca in particular was loving all of his dad-gags - probably a hormonal thing.

After the 14th airing of Manpreet's cock story (Andy: "did you touch it?"), we ordered starters. James went for the crazy option of the potato and leek soup. In this weather? What a crazy motherfucker. Becca had the rocket salad with goats cheese whilst Sam and I both had the chargrilled prawns. Massive buggers they were. Properly meaty and properly chargrilled. A good start.

James then decided he didn't like the wine but still continued to drink it while ordering his usual main course of steak. Once again, he ignored the "Pereira Dictum"* and he was soon to pay for his foolishness.

Laura and I went for the deal which was a blackboard starter + a pasta dish for £14. We had the Napolitana and the Pizzaiola respectively and very large they were too. James thought his steak was OK but left quite a lot of it. A bit tough I reckon from the taste I stole off his plate. And um I can't remember what others had - sorry - I didn't have any paper to take notes on. Plus it was one of those evenings where the food wasn't really the focus - we were too busy talking and comparing wallet passport photos to talk about it. One thing I can say is that no one was disappointed - we went away feeling pleasantly content and strolled off into the dusky evening pausing only for Sam to call someone's flat tacky despite their windows being wide open. Nice.

*Never order steak from anywhere except a specialist steak restaurant

Eyre Brothers, Shoreditch

2010-06-01T19:13:00.002Z

The 43^rd (ish) meal club was a shambles before it had even started, and for once it wasn't Pete's fault. We had decided to go Spanish; Pete gave a firm deadline to commit either way and then booked Dehesa. And then James decided he wanted to come. And then Will. And then that meant we were too many for a table at Dehesa, and alternatives Fino and Moro were already fully booked. I was impressed by how nice Pete was about it all: I'd have made them mud wrestle for the last spot at Dehesa (my money would've been on Will: closet beserker if ever I saw one).

In the end Becca, being on "lazy arse maternity leave" (her words, not mine) came up trumps and booked Eyre Brothers. We were:

Becca
James
Linz
Laura
Pete
Sam
Vix
Will

Let me be clear: I wasn't late. In fact I got there bang on 8pm, shortly before Vix (who had been shopping for a dress for George's wedding: very nice, and definitely not too short) and James, who turned up a good half hour late in a poorly disguised bid to steal my latecomer crown. Hands off, Hallam...

It didn't start well: no asparagus left, cue collective grumblings from the table. Then Sam declared the house red undrinkable, and dumped it into Vix's glass. It could all have gone horribly wrong at this point, but instead Sam fell in love with the waitress. Un-flummoxed by claims that the wine was revolting, she promptly brought glasses of two other reds for Sam to sample, free of charge. Later, she brought butter on request and didn’t flinch when Sam mistakenly (so she claimed) brushed her arse… In fact just as Sam was declaring her undying love for the waitress (who, let it be noted, did have a very fine head of hair), the waitress appeared out of nowhere, forcing Becca to loudly make up a spurious story about the worst wine she had ever drunk in order to mask the embarrassed silence. Fine acting work Becca, I believed you!

But on to the food: I wasn't overly enamoured with the menu. This was probably because I wasn't in the least bit hungry, having been to a 3 course breakfast meeting and having had a 3 course work lunch. It was generally agreed that the concept of a 3 course breakfast (fruit, then pastries, then full English) was frankly, ridiculous. Anyway, good job I was on the receiving end of all that food as James and Pete both accused me of looking thin around the jowls, and debated whether it was down to diet/gym/stress or a combo of all three. Perhap I should endeavour to catch mumps again, in order to swiftly rectify the jowl situation and for everyone's collective amusement? (If anyone hasn't seen the photos, I'm sure James will be only too pleased to oblige….)

The bread arrived and was excellent: good bread, fresh out the oven. I had potato, cabbage and chorizo soup as a starter and it was pretty tasty. The kind of hearty fare Vix will need on her just booked trip to Everest Base Camp later this year. "Shag a sherpa!" exclaimed James immediately, and appeared genuinely expectant that Vix might oblige if he talked about it for long enough. You won't catch Becca undertaking anything as strenuous as a Base Camp trek. Looking very pregnant (under 2 weeks to go!) but very well - and very sun tanned, Becca revealed that maternity leave was incredibly time consuming. All those coffees, long lunches and the sunbathing in the back garden, she wondered how she'd ever had time to go to work.

The conversation then turned to the last episode of Lost, everyone present being an avid fan (except me). I can report Sam and Will totally didn't get it and everyone else seemed to think there were lots of loose ends not tied up. But at least now Lost has finished, Pete and Laura can focus on moving south, sorry I meant moving house. On a recent exploratory outing, Laura reported Earlsfield got the thumbs up over Wandsworth, but they are yet to check out Walthamstow. South v North... hmmm. Let’s be honest here. What it really boils down to is, do you like me, Sam and James better than Will, Becca and Vix? In order to be fair, I suggest a meal club rank "off" and I think you'll find the Southerners tot up more meals than the Northerners. Decision made! [note from pete: piss off]

The mains then arrived: Vix and I had the veggie paella, and it was very good (and very big). Pete chose well with his Iberian pork [note from pete: best pork i've ever had I think], James was less impressed with his steak. The general consensus was that the food was good, but a bit on the pricey side. I guess they have to pay their trendy Hoxton rent somehow.

I went to the bathroom at this point and James/Pete took over the note taking. In my absence, apparently the following was discussed:

Jamesstock: Saturday 7 August people. Picnic and pub crawl. Probably.
Whether meal club could be franchised
Whether northerners poo in the bath
Whether James is gay

We skipped dessert and pondered instead whether we will make it to one hundred meal clubs. For everyone’s edification, I have done the math. Presuming we are on meal club 43 and have a meal club every month from now on, the 100^th meal club is due to take place in February 2015. Right, that’s it: no one is allowed to move out of London until then…

The final bill came to £357.64. The date of the next meal club is still to be confirmed (may be shifted to the Thursday), and big meal club best wishes to Becca and Will - by the time the next meal club comes round, they will be new parents!

L'Art du Fromage, Chelsea

2010-05-03T19:28:00.002Z

And the award for the wankiest restaurant name goes to.....

Ooh la la! Aren't we sophisticated? This month we headed to awkward Chelsea. Specifically the end of the King's Road where nothing is. Not even a pub for pre-dinner drinks dammit! We were:

Becca
James
Laura
Linz
Mamps
Pete
Sam
Vicki
Will

Not a bad turnout. Good work team! I walked in just before 8pm and was hit in the face by the funk of 40,000 years. Good God, the cheese did funk. As you'd expect from the name of the place, this relatively new restaurant specialises in cheese as an ingredient. Now I'm not a massive cheese fan but both of the reviews I read said that only a fool would order strong cheese for the full 3 courses so I thought I'd be safe.

The small restaurant was relatively empty and we were by far the loudest table. Especially when James was being abused for insisting that you could find out how anyone voted in the election if you wanted to. Still waiting for the evidence on that one Hallam. Face it, you've been rumbled.

The inside back page of the menu had a short history of cheese. I didn't read it.

By the time most people had turned up (Linz was late and Sam was all dressed up), I had already been mocked for ordering a belgian beer that tasted like vinegar according to James, Laura and Becca. I honestly thought it was OK (and really should be cleared of blame because when I asked the waitress which beers were light beers, she looked at me like I was speaking greek). Mamps was less lucky with her drink choice when she was told that they "don't do coke". Eh?

We got on with the ordering. For starters I had the snails, Mamps had leek and asparagus soup and everyone else had either the asparagus with poached egg and ementhal or the MASSIVE starter of munster cheese. Seriously this thing was stupidly big - learn your portion sizes you surrender monkeys! The general concensus was that it was all a bit average.

For the main course, Linz has a Tarte Flambee (the one with ham, goat's cheese and acacia honey), Sam and Will shared the fondue (which stank to high heaven even before the cheese had been put into it!) and the rest of us decided to be unimaginative by all going for a tartiflette. When the waiter asked me if I wanted the meat one, for some reason I regressed back into 1st year French and said "oui". Maybe I should have said "mais non" because instead of having nice bits of chicken and mushroom embedded within the laters of potato, cream and comte cheese, I ended up with a leg and breast piece of chicken, surrounded by (admittedly good quality) mushrooms and a very small tartiflette on the side. So somehow I'd managed to come to a cheese restaurant and eaten less cheese than I'd normally make for myself in a cheese toastie. Bah!

To top it all, the wine wasn't particularly nice (at least according to me and James who referred to it as "vin de pays de Londis".

We didn't bother with dessert (Mamps, note the spelling) and headed back as it was getting late and we're all getting on a bit (except for Laura). Questions for the wash up:

1. Are Pete and Linz brother and sister?
2. When was the last time you took your shirt off to have a poo?

Sabor, Islington

2010-04-05T12:28:00.006Z

I'm back! And while Linz and I will be rotating blog-writing efforts after her stirling work during my absence, I was bullied into taking notes for this one.

This month's restaurant was deliberately chosen to be South American (cos we ain't not done that before innit?). We chose Sabor on Essex Road. We were:

Andy
Becca
Ger
James
Laura
Linz
Sam
Pete
Vicki
Will

Go on. Add the names up. 10 people! The highest turnout since Rootmaster in January 2008 (which was also 10 people but technically it was a full house at the time cos Laura hadn't been awarded full membership by this point). Mamps - shame on you! Trying to manage the racist storylines of Eastenders is no excuse! Linz's prophesy that one person would drop out had been fulfilled.

The restaurant is somewhat canteen-y. A long corridor of a room with bright lighting and plastic chairs. Maybe I had the Gaucho Grill in my head a bit too much, but not to worry; hopefully the food will be up to scratch!!

The choosing of the wine was delegated to Vicki and Linz who'd recently got gold stars on their wine exams (although feely admitted they still didn't really know which was the best one to choose for the occasion). We went for a malbec which is always a reliable choice. James, meanwhile, had stumbled into an early humiliation by asking who wanted to share four tortillas with him......although the menu item was actually as follows:

After being regaled with stories about Charlotte's nose-picking escapades, the waitress arrived to take our orders stunning us all with her bizarre chest-tattoo. Maybe she was a member of some latino street gang in her youth. She had a shaved head so may have even done some time in the slammer. My mind is wandering...

What I DO know is that she referred to the girls on the table as "lady" (e.g. "any drinks for you, lady?"). That was weird.

The general feeling about the starters was "OK". Nothing special, a bit "meh". I had pork tenderloin skewers because my first choice of "chorizo columbiano" wasn't available for some reason. Others has sweetcorn fritters and James had his four quesadillas. All were passable but nothing to write home about.

The biggest problem with the mains was Sam's steak which was tough. I had one too and while it wasn't as rare as I'd have liked it, it wasn't tough and chewy. In true Sam style she sent it back but had to wait a pretty long time for it to return correctly cooked. Even then it wasn't up to standard. Vicki had duck which was "meh" (a bit dry). I can't remember what others had but the general feeling was that it was all a bit bland and uninteresting. Not that therewas anything particularly wrong with it. It was reasonable value so we can't complain too much; and the service (apart from the steak wait) was fine.

Deserts were along the same lines but it's worth mentioning the offer of milk to add to Becca's peppermint tea. An interesting idea I thought but Becca was too gutless to give it a go. Must be the hormones playing up.

Pasha, Gloucester Road

2010-03-14T13:10:00.004Z

With Pete and Laura still abroad, Linz has once again taken on Meal Club documentary duties

Another month without Pete, another chance to sidle up the league table... Vix pointed out that we were remiss in not having sampled a Middle Eastern/North African type restaurant yet, and so we chose to go Moroccan and visit Pasha.

We were:
Becca
Linz
Vix
Will

A small but perfectly formed "meal club elite" as christened by Becca. I am quite taken with the concept of being elite, but I digress.

First off, I was late. Again. But I would have been there sooner if Vix and Becca hadn't blatantly ignored my phone calls for a good fifteen minutes. In my lateness, I missed the first event of the evening: Will chipping his tooth on an olive. An OLIVE? In fact he actually chipped a cap on his tooth, the result of an old skateboarding injury (he was thirteen, the ramp was wet and he face planted...).

Apparently angry Will had resurfaced momentarily. "I chipped my fucking tooth!" exclaimed Will, in an attempt to justify his quickness to rage. The evening only got worse for Will as he had to send not one, not two but THREE beers back for tasting metallic.

Pasha offers various "Feast" menus, with a selection of starter dishes and then a choice of mains, followed by traditional sweets and mint tea. It also offers a clairvoyant called Rosemary to read your tarot for £15: random, and no one was game. For the first (actually second - Rootmaster was first) time ever, we all ordered vegetarian. Becca suggested we should go vegetarian every February from now on: motion carried...

As we waited for the starters to arrive, we discussed baby names and how difficult it was to find something that goes well with "Head". It would all be much easier if Will just took Becca's name, but Will can't do that because it would cause serious issues with his Twitter following...

The starters were unfortunately accompanied by three belly dancers and some bangingly loud music. Only one of the dancers really seemed to know what she was doing, whilst the other two tried their best. It was entertaining for one dance, but after that we were desperate for them to leave so we could continue a proper conversation. The starters were really good though, including humous, some a great aubergine dip thing and some cheese fritter things as well. I’m sure the actual menu describes them better than me.

The mains weren't quite up to the same standard - Becca, Will and Vix all went for a wild mushroom and asparagus tagine. Vix had one shrivelled piece of asparagus in hers, and declared it "over figged" (three figs and a load of apricots). I went for the other option of aubergine stuffed with goats cheese accompanied with couscous, sun dried tomatoes, rocket and a sweet red pepper coulis. Nice, though slightly random. Eventually the belly dancers disappeared and we could talk properly again.

As is traditional at every meal club, the conversation eventually turned to me and Vix still being single. Becca admitted she is a "tall man thief", along with far too many short girls everywhere. (Note to short girls: cut it out.) In an effort to make up for diminishing the available tall man populace, Becca is now pimping an unspecified relative. However he is short and so Vix has first dibs.

I was also reminded that it was a party at my house in Leam and specifically my bed that faciliated the Becca and Will romance. Lest anyone get the wrong idea, my bedroom was on the ground floor and was generally treated as the second lounge. After some silly posturing and spending most of the night in separate rooms pretending they weren't interested in each other, Will brought out the killer line of "Can I walk you home?" To which Becca came back with a swift "Yes please" and the rest was history. Although Becca is not one of Will's 1200 followers on Twitter. Question: is Will trying to start a cult?

The sweets were brought out on a layered stand, and comprised of pistachios, turkish delight, a baklava type thing and some fresh fruit on top. No one likes turkish delight except for Will, and the fruit disturbed me because it contained things with skin on. The baklava stuff was good though. As we grazed, we reminisced about school cooking lessons. At Becca's school they got given baskets to bring in on home economics day, but as a result of her bad behaviour she was kicked out and got to take CDT instead. Much more fun. My main recollection of home economics was my mum binning everything I ever made. Coupled with her refusing to stick any of my drawings on the fridge, I definitely had a scarred childhood. Though she did let me watch anything I wanted on TV though, whereas Vix and Will were cruelly banned from watching the sauce fest that was Grange Hill...

The final bill was £140, which was a veritable bargain considering it including a bottle of wine and several beers. Isn't London great that you can have such a good time on a Wednesday night - they don't do this kind of thing in surburbia. Next time: possibly South American? Or failing that British (to celebrate Pete and Laura’s return to Blighty).

Dean Street Townhouse, er, Dean Street

2010-02-01T15:36:00.005Z

Due to Pete and Laura being on ~~sabbatical~~ a long holiday the following account was written by Linz:

How time flies; January 2010 and we are now into the fifth year of Meal Club. Happy Birthday Meal Club! How could Pete and Laura shun such an auspicious occasion in favour of New Zealand? In true Meal Club spirit though we carried on regardless and headed to the Dean Street Townhouse, chosen due to it recently receiving a virtually unheard of five out of five stars in Metro.

There was an excellent turn out, with the lure of being able to gain a place on Pete just too much to resist. Or maybe it was because Pete wasn't there? Who knows. Mamps is on a personal mission this year to overtake Will in the Meal Club league table, but was cruelly thwarted by Will not only turning up this evening but also declaring his firm intent to come in February as well. We were:

Becca
James
Linz
Mamps
Nina (debut - Meal Club guest, Rule 8 invoked!)
Sam
Vix
Will

Some people doubted me when I said Nina was the first official Meal Club guest, and frankly, I was offended; I don't get these kind of things wrong. I think you'll find that we have had guests to certain December MEALS but they were not official Meal Clubs. And we voted Laura in as a full member at her debut Meal Club. So there we are: congratulations Nina! I trust it lived up to all your expectations. I think it is also important to note that for once, I wasn’t late. Sam was though.

Vix kicked things off by taking charge of the wine list: three lessons in to her NVQ Level 2 in Wine & Spirits and she thinks she's the expert. What kind of geek does a wine course with an exam at the end anyway? She ordered a Muscadet "sur lie", which means it has laid in sediment, and it certainly tasted good to me. Will got a beer in a proper old man pint glass with handle. I asked the waiter to bring some jugs of tap water and he came back with bottled and starts pouring. When questioned, he said the first guests had started on bottled (James, Becca, Nina, Vix: haven’t you heard of the credit crunch?) and so he presumed we would continue. Strike one....

Let it be noted that the vegetarian menu was excellent; in fact Will was SO excited that he had to tweet about it. In fact both Will and James ordered off the veggie menu and had mushrooms and egg on toast for their starter. Unfortunately they both received their starters sans egg: shambles. Strike two...

Fortunately this was not New Tayyabs and Will was not moved to anger. Apparently it was "the standing around" that pushed him over the edge last time. James started to tell a story about the one time Zoe ever got angry, and threw a pen at him. Surely not? Nina reminded him that it was she who got cross and threw the pen, thus Zoë’s temperament remains unblemished and James is again shown to be a liar. The waiter soon appeared with new starters, with a perfect runny egg on top. The rabbit, black pudding and scotch quail egg salad was clearly the best starter, ordered by four of us and absolutely delicious: 5/5 worthy indeed.

The winner of the mains was Mamp's chicken, leek and mushroom pie, which came topped with a ceramic blackbird baked into the pie crust. I think Will may have taken a picture. Becca and I went for Cornish monk fish with fennel, which was fine if a bit bland. The portion sizes were decent, but it was one of those places were all the sides were extra. No one went for the "mince and boiled potatoes" (£10.50) option, which apparently is the signature dish.

James then initiated an inappropriate dinner discussion regarding whether people remembered when they got pubic hair. Someone (I forget who) explained that they remembered getting just one long one to start with. Someone else (who shall remain nameless) recalled that they saw their sibling’s first pubes as they bathed together – and pointed and laughed. This leads on to the bathing with your siblings debate and James reveals there was no need as they had a proper shower at his gaff, even when he was young. Posho: now we know who ordered the bottled water. Becca, Nina and I all recall when times were hard and you washed your hair in the bath before graduating to a rubber wash basin attachment. Meanwhile, Will and James quickly agree that they would both hold their brother’s penis for half a million pounds.

Becca and Will now know that they are having a baby girl; hurrah! Vix laments the lack of a husband to be for Charlotte, but is reminded that civil partnerships are legal nowadays and she shouldn’t be so quick to make assumptions. Tsk. In the face of the grown up behaviour of having babies, I reveal concerns that I am actually regressing in maturity. I think I lost a decade somewhere (if anyone finds it, don’t give it back to me!) Will is excited that I could turn out just like Benjamin Button. I’m not sure this would be a good thing, but Vix and Mamps make me feel better by admitting they too are emotionally immature.

Mamps also promises that she will bring out boyfriend Phil to meet everyone… but only if I start acting 18 and get a bong first. “Bring on the bong!” declares Sam. Hmmm. Though Mamp’s current behaviour leaves much to be desired - going to see a play with hundreds of naked women in it. She is quick to point out that she didn’t get naked and get on stage with them, as did half the audience. Though her friend did suggest it. Mamps explains that flashing your boobs is fine, but showing your pubic hair in public is undignified. Gosh. Why has no one ever told me this before? Surely it should be on the national curriculum.

Everyone is too full for a pudding each, except Will. He goes for some blood orange chocolate mousse thing which looks very good. The rest of us make do with ordering the sherry trifle and seven spoons. It is £10, stated as being for two to share, but really big enough for four. There is too much cream on it for my liking and it contains peaches WITH THE SKIN ON which is almost enough to start me rocking, but everyone else seemed to enjoy it. And it was liberally doused in alcohol, as a trifle should be.

So, did it deserve 5 out of 5? Personally, I think not: I’d give it 3.5, maybe. It is owned by the same guy who owns The Ivy, Caprice, etc, and you can see they have gone for the same winning formula: similar décor, friendly staff, good British food that people actually want to eat. I think they fall down on the menu choice though – a bit more expensive and a bit more pretentious, I can’t say there were loads of things grabbing me off the mains list. So it’s not as good as the Ivy, and it’s certainly nowhere in the same league as any of the Michelin starred establishments we’ve frequented over the past four years.

It was almost time to go, but there was still time for a longest tongue competition over coffee. I can’t believe James was stupid enough to start that one; doesn’t he know? I win of course, though apparently it is more freaky when observed in profile. "You'd be a good lesbian," observes Sam. Perhaps that's where I am going wrong? No comments on that please. The final bill was £401.91, including service. Vix is organising February, and Will – you’d better turn up, because Mamps is hot on your tail…

Driver, King's Cross

2009-12-19T17:20:00.003Z

To round off the fourth year of Meal Club, James organised a Christmas get-together at this bar-restaurant-clu b off Caledonian Road. With the venue booked and secret santa gifts purchased, we were all set for only the second ever full house in MC's history. We were:

Andy
Becca
Ger
James
Laura
Linz
Mamps
Pete
Sam
Vicki
Will

The table originally intended for us was on the ground floor, sandwiched between the toilets and group of lairy tossers in cheap suits. Luckily the staff reassured us that if the blokes hadn't moved by the time we wanted to sit down, she'd move our table across to the other side of the room. A few minutes later this is exactly what they did and in theory it was the right call. However, in practice, our new table was in some kind of arctic-zone - placed as it was near 3 doors on one of the coldest nights of the year. One side of the table kept their coats on so it wasn't exactly a comfortable evening for them....

Three quick Meal Club notes:

1. As previously confirmed, even though this was not the last Wednesday of the month, it DOES count as an official Meal Club, thus increasing Ger's attendence record by 50%.

2. Mamps was ill and would blatantly have bailed out if it hadn't been her who forced us to move the date to the Friday so she could come.

3. Linz was late.

I guess the fact that Driver is primarily a bar was the reason why the food service was a bit inattentive. What they needed was a fearsome head waiter in the mould of the one from Petrus who, frankly, was awesome at making sure you never felt abandoned. So while we were waiting for our orders to be taken we amused ourselves by pulling crackers and making the most out of the bounty within. This included mocking Laura for failing to master a simple puzzle, delivering the joke punchline and guessing the question, trying to work out the instructions for the worst card trick in the world and, best of all, using a small tape measure to see who around the table had the biggest head. There were a surprising number of people weighting in at 56cm but the top thee are as follows:

Joint third with 58cm = Mamps and Becca
Second with 58.5cm = Linz
The Winner with a massive 60cm = James

Unfortunately for James, the glory went to his head, so to speak, and he embarked on a story about inuits using cutlery which he boasted was "very interesting" but was viewed by me, Laura, Will and Becca to be an absolute stinker. We've warned him about this kind of thing before and it's high time it stopped before someone comes down with brain damage.

At last the food arrived. The table was big so I can only speak for myself and the people sitting near me. My duck starter was excellent (although Laura thought hers was a bit overcooked). Will had teeny-tiny peppers stuffed with goat's cheese. The general view was "yeah, not bad, nothing offensive, decent stuff". Solid but not spectacular but to be honest we weren't here for the food. We were here to see who had the biggest distance in between their nipples.

After the main courses (lowlights were Will's "average" risotto, Becca's "oily" fish and Vicki's "medium" steak) we came to the business end of the evening: Secret Santa!!! Despite James insisting that we rank the gifts from best to worst, everyone seemed happy with theirs (or at least that's what I assume based on the fact that everyone raised their hands when asked if they thought their's was the best).

Clearly the best present was received by Sam and whoever got it for her is a bloody genius. It was a small bag of this shit which Sam gleefully tried by eating a lemon and enjoying it. It worked on me and James too although Linz and Will didn't seem to be affected. Maybe they have some kind of super-tongue as the lemon still tasted sour to them; however when they tried some white and red wine the difference was much clearer. Yes, all in all, this was the greatest present in the history of the world.

After a quick discussion about whether you would rather have big boobs or a liking for wine, we were ready to admit defeat in the face of the relentless freezing conditions and we called an end to the night.

So without further ado, all that remains is for me to update and communicate the 4-year attendence record* for Meal Club. Laura and I are going to miss the next two allowing others to catch up but I'll be back. Oh yes. I will be back.....

Pete, 38
Vicki, 33
James, 32
Sam, 30
Linz, 29
Becca, 19
Will, 13
Mamps, 11
Laura, 9
Andy, 4
Ger, 3

*only Meal Club's with at least 4 attendees are included

The Fat Duck, Bray

2009-12-06T17:51:00.007Z

A year and half after the idea was initially tabled, we finally made it to the second best restaurant in the world. Our first attempt was thwarted by a little tyke named Charlotte, but we managed to bag the one and only table for 5 people by booking precisely 3 months in advance. We were:

James
Linz
Pete
Sam
Vicki

The evening started off shambolically when a fire alert at Paddington tube meant James, Linz and I were all turfed out at Edgware Road shortly before our train was due to leave. This led to a mass exodus as several hundred people all hurried through the pouring rain down Praed Street to get to the station. Naturally we missed our intended train and the one we did eventually get was packed to the rafters. No seat therefore for us. And not a good start to the night.

The restaurant is about 5 minutes in a cab from Maidenhead station so we still made it on time. And in fact because you have the table for the whole night, it's not like they'd turn you away for being late. One of the advantages of michelin-starred service is that you're never in doubt that you, as the diner, are the boss. If you're late, they will wait. Linz was taking notes so I can't claim to have all of the little anecdotes covered; but I do know that when Sam asked how far down the road she'd need to walk to get a mobile signal to check on Charlotte, they simply brought the restaurant phone to the table for her. A good indication of the level of service we're talking about.

We started with some champagne - Sam's being the priciest at a cool £31 a glass. It was vintage after all.....

These days at the Fat Duck, the only option you have is to go for the £130 tasting menu and frankly, that suited us fine. Matching wines are, of course, available and these range from £90 a head to £885 a head. Fuck me, that's gotta be some good wine. Sam and James went for it (the £90 version naturally) but Sam's attempt to bully me into joining them failed.

I'm not going to go into every course in detail. The full 13-course list is here if you want to know them. Somewhat cryptic highlights were:

- The copious use of liquid nitrogen
- Oak moss
- Mock turtle soup including a dissolving gold coin
- A conch shell with an ipod inside and a shovel full of seaside on your plate
- Flaming whisky sorbet
- Egg & Bacon ice cream
- Hot and cold tea (truly a bizarre experience)
- The final course being stuck to a framed map of Europe
- A sweetie bag to take home with you (including a chocolate playing card)

The final bill, for reference, destroyed our current record holder weighing in at a hefty £1143.56 between us. Was it worth it? Well it's certainly unlike (and probably better than) anything we've done in the 4 years of Meal Club by quite some distance, so yes.

We were sat at our table for four and a half hours and knew we had approximately 5 minutes to get back to the station to make the last train back. Despite having the slowest cab driver in the world we pulled into Maidenhead car park with about 30 seconds to spare. Linz and Vicki sprung out of the cab and legged it; James and I did the same except my wallet somehow sprang from my pocket and exploded all over the tarmac. We frantically picked the cards from the puddles and ran into the now-deserted station to hear Vicki cry out from somewhere, "PLATFORM 4!!!!". After taking us a second to work out where Platform 4 was, we scrambled up the stairs and dived into the train just as the doors closed on us. And that was my exercise done for the month.

OK Linz - over to you. What have I missed?

First off, and most importantly, Pete has forgotten to relay the MEAL CLUB BUSINESS. Tsk!

1. Henceforth, the December meal club does not need to be on the last Wednesday of December in order to be an official meal club. It was noted that Ger in particular is aggrieved that prior December meal clubs haven't counted in the meal club league tables. Hopefully this change will incentivise him to turn up to this month's Christmas meal club on the 18th December....

2. The Fat Duck is not an official meal club, but falls in the newly created "Meal Club on Tour" category, which merits a blog entry but doesn't count for league table purposes. James is already touting el Bulli for next September.

3. If any of the attendees ever win the lottery, the winner has to take the other four back to the Fat Duck and we'll do the meal again with the £800 matching wine option. No cash alternatives!

Pete has also forgotten to tell us he is moving to Brixton. Or was that just a rumour started by James, embarrassed that he fell for Pete's wrong toilet directions and ended up in the kitchen? We briefly debated South London v North London, with the swift conclusion that South London Is Better because Sam and I live there. We also agreed unanimously that unsalted butter tastes like lard and mused whether the food might melt Vix's brace ahead of receiving the first course, aka the palate cleanser of lime mousse. Which deserves a special mention, because not only did it involve some serious nitro action at the table, but the waiter also squirted some spray thing over each person's head as they popped it in their mouth. Hmm. In ten years time, will we look back and laugh at ourselves for such foolery, like people do now at the 80s for Nouveau Cuisine and the 70s for prawn cocktails and cheese & pineapple on sticks? Probably.

By the time we got to the "Mad Hatter Tea", we were only five courses in but Sam made an early call that it was "the best restaurant I've ever been to". Perhaps this was due to being given a book mark to keep with a quote from Alice in Wonderland, to remind us of the story of the Mock Turtle Soup and the March Hare. Good job, because otherwise I wouldn't have had a clue what was going on! We were served a china tea cup with what looked like a gold coin in it, which apparently resembled the March Hare's watch... the waitress poured on the hot water and it melted, gold foil and all, looking suspiciously like beef stock to me. Then we had to pour the stock into a soup bowl, which already had some ham bits and things in it. I'm sure Heston wouldn't describe them as "ham bits", but there we are. Tasted like beef stock too.

In comparison to the shambles that was the November meal club, the service at the Fat Duck was exceptional as well, though they were all French. Why is that? Probably because they have some super fantastique waiter training school, whereas English waiters are pimply youths working their way through colleague. "Good Morning!!" sings our waitress in her exaggerated French accent as she begins to dish up our parsnip cereal (packaged in tiny box marked "Fat Duck Cereals") followed by the famous bacon and egg icecream with hot and cold tea. Am still perplexed by the tea. It was liquid but viscous, and the left side was cold and the right side was hot! Bizarre indeed. Speaking of the November meal club, James recalled that he'd only ever seen Will that angry once before, at Fredericks in Islington. Perhaps he needs to consider anger management therapy? Don't hit me for suggesting it Will, it was James' idea...

There were precisely zero celebrities at the Fat Duck (not even Heston himself), one bloke who looked suspiciously like a chav and otherwise a mix of suits and casual diners, plus a woman who looked like she could give Cher a run for her money on the plastic surgery front. In the absence of anyone famous, Vix regaled us with her tale of sitting opposite Trinny on the train back from Cardiff last weekend (looks very good in the flesh apparently!). James tries and fails to trump her story with a tale of Ger turning down Edwin van der Sar (Man Utd goalie, non footie followers)'s copy of FHM. It's not your story to tell James (if it was true in the first place). Get your own celeb story! I get things back on course by mentioning I'd spotted Trinny's buddy Susannah in the Connaught last week.

Inevitably the meal club conversation has to turn to my and Vix's inability to snag an eligible bloke. James went on Big Andy's stag do recently and out of 33 attendees he was the third shortest. Did he bring me back some tall bloke's phone number? Nope. Probably for the best, as I doubt any of them own a Jaguar XJ. Note to James: get a better class of friend. Meanwhile Vix has opened her age range to 25 up to late 30s, but really she's holding out for Eric from True Blood. Note to Eric: get in touch!

If we'd been invited to Pete's millennium house party, MAYBE we'd be married by now. But we weren't. Thanks for that Pete. He invited James & Sam, and Becca & Will, and what did they do? Left at 10pm to go into central London, and got back at 3am. That's what happens when you invite the wrong guests.

We finish on the wine gums, and Vix fails to follow the strict instructions to eat in them in numbered order. "Taste does not have geographical boundaries" pronounces Pete. Amen. The waitress comes out with what look like marshmallows on a tray, and pours hot water on them so they expand. Sam tries to eat one and discovers they are in fact hand towels. Heston makes up for it when we get given a take home goodie bag of sweets (James and I devour on train home; Vix and Pete have more willpower).

Overall, Sam's early call was completely the right one; definitely the best place I've ever eaten. I guess I wasn't really expecting that - I was expecting it to be weird and cutting edge (which it was in places), so I was taken aback that it was also the most delicious food I've ever had as well. The quality of food with the exceptional service and presentation made it well worth it in my book - only shame was having to do it on a Wednesday night, after repeatedly failing to get a weekend reservation.

Finally, the verdicts on our favourite course(s):
• Linz & Pete: the jelly of quail, crayfish cream. We got a tiny bit of film/oak moss to put on our tongue first, then there was some impressive nitro induced smoke and finally the parfait which was absolutely superb. Though I also thought the bacon and egg ice cream/hot cold team combo was seriously good.
• Sam: the "Sound of the Sea", but not the Sake that accompanied it ("minging"). Although it was also the best foie gras Sam's ever had (and she's sampled a good selection, people!). Has to be said, the presentation on the Sound of the Sea was exceptional: it looked like a scene from the beach but the sand, seaweed and fish was all edible. Special mention that Vix got a vegetarian option that looked identical, but had no fish in.
• James: the pigeon with confit of umbles. Delicous, though we couldn't spot the black pudding!
• Vix: the bacon and egg icecream, with the foie gras a close runner up.

New Tayyabs, Whitechapel

2009-11-28T11:36:00.003Z

Holy Shit! A few of us are off the the Fat Duck on Wednesday and I can only imagine that it will be the direct polar opposite of New Tayyabs in terms of an experience. It's somewhere Sam had been talking about going to for a while now as it had a reputation for Ramsey-esque quality food for dirt cheap prices. Also some of us knew other people who'd been and recommended it. Unfortuntely both Sam and James were struck down with illness beforehand so we were:

Becca
Laura
Linz
Mamps
Pete
Will

We had the table booked for 8pm and after a quick pre-meal drink headed to the restaurant off Whitechapel Road (via a Tesco Express to pick up some BYO booze). As we approached the place we could see, from afar, a large throng of people milling about in the cold outside. Odd..... When we got closer it became clear that these were people who had either not booked or had not been seated yet. Well we had definitely booked a table so would surely face no trouble. WRONG!!! We entered to be hit in the face by a cornucopia of noise, bustling staff and about a hundred people just standing around looking angry. This number was soon to become 106 because when we asked the nearest waiter about our table he promised us a 5 minute wait. Lying bastard. We took up a residence at one side of the restaurant right in the middle of a superhighway of food-carrying waiters. Every so often Will would get angry and accost the waiter about our extended wait and which point we would be asked how many people we were. This repeated at least 4 or 5 times until the clock had hit 8.45pm. At this point a table of men left so Will and Linz thought "sod it" and just sat at their vacated table without waiting to be seated. When the waiter asked one more time "how many people are you?" Becca lost it and literally screamed at him. Awesome. Mamps then had a go at him under the impression that he'd allowed another group of girls to have the vacated table even though he hadn't.

He later came over to our table to say sorry and ask if everything was OK - but Becca didn't appreciate this gesture because "he's not sorry, he's just scared".

At this point, the retaurant was so crowded, so busy, so noisy and so chaotic that our collective instinct was to order, eat and pay as soon as physically possible and get the hell out. And to be fair, once we'd sat down it was pretty eaay to pick off a passing waiter. Mamps had to ask 3 times for some wine glasses and when they arrived we received 4 more water tumblers that were already on the table. Nice touch there.

We ordered starters from a waiter who'd clearly been taking tips from watching Basil Fawlty or Paxman on University Challenge (miserable face, "come on!"). They arrived as and when (and there was a gap of at least 10 minutes between some people receiving their food). All of it was very nice though. You can't really fault the food at this stage.

The mains soon got ordered and arrived; however Will's was cold. At this point Will was about to burst with anger. I'm not sure I've ever seen him so stressed. Here are his tweets from the night which conveniently explain the staff's cunning solution to Will's cold food problem (click on it for a clearer view):

Later, I went off the the toilet which gave me a chance to consider whether the food was good enough to justify the experience. I also considered why the floor on one side of the restaurant was covered in lard. I concluded that I'd been to other places (like the nearby Lahore Kebab House) where you can get the same good food, for the same cheap price but for a service which, whilst basic is not absolutely shit. Which is what it was at New Tayyabs.

The final bill was £68 for 6 of us (not including our BYO). Cheap I guess. We left no tip.

Would I go again? Perhaps I'd go on a Monday afternoon or something to try more of the food at a time when the experience wouldn't be so stressful.

A final note worth making is that the next day we all smelt badly of curry. I woke up, went to the bathroom, came back into the bedroom and the curryfunk was like being hit in the face with a brick. We all had the same thing with our reeking bags and coats making us very self conscious in the office the next day.

I'm organising a curry for my team's work Xmas meal; I think I might do a dry run first just in case...

ps. Mamps blamed it on the fact that asians "don't give a shit".

Bocca Di Lupo, Soho

2009-11-01T19:55:00.000Z

Um..I should have written this about 2 weeks ago. But I haven't so I'm at the mercy of my meagre notes on the night. This month we went to Bocca, a newish Italian tapas restaurant; one of the leaders in the new trend of small portion dishes (aka tapas under a new name). It's tucked away down a dark street in south Soho cosying up to dodgy strip clubs and brothels. It sticks out like a sore thumb. We were:

James
Linz
Pete
Sam
Vicki

We were approached quickly by our waitress for the night who guided us through the extensive and unusual menu. She was unequivocably awesome from start to finish. Very honest too which was refreshing. It's the kind of place where you order a bunch of dishes and share them around as and when they arrive at the table. James decided that the best way to approach this would be to take a pencil to the menu and create an elaborate gridline system. I'm still not convinced.

We ordered 11 dishes in total plus a suckling pig. The waitress recommended we split these into 3 loose courses which we were happy to do. While we waited for the first food to arrive, Linz regaled us with tales from Thailand including how she "had to put up with a spaz".

Here is a list of what we had:

Radish salad
Lamb proscuitto
Soft shell crab (for me and Sam)
Crescentini (fried breads with cheese)
Fried mozarella balls
Fried artichokes
Tortellini
Tagliatelle with pigeon ragu
Cotechino (a soup that I can't remember)
Grilled squid
Grilled radichio
A Widgeon (not a pigeon, a duck)
Suckling pig

Pretty much everything was very good. Only a couple of things missed the mark including the widgeon which, despite looking like a badly packed kebab, delivered very little in the way of actual meat.

The pork crackling was good though!

Sorry that's all I can remember except this Meal Club marked only the second time in Meal Club history where James' "birthday" claim actually worked. And both times it's been Linz. Having said that, all they did was bring out the deserts we'd ordered with some candles. Still, better than nowt.

Hibiscus, Mayfair

2009-10-04T19:18:00.003Z

There are eight 2-michelin-starred restaurants in London and this is one of them. Sam is on a personal mission to eat at all of them and Hibiscus is one of the few to remain untried. Located just off Regent Street we were:

James
Linz
Pete
Sam
Vicki

This was a designated expensive month - the first in a long while. And Hibiscus certainly disappoint. Vicki, James and I arrived from a quick pitstop in a nearby pub to see Sam and Linz waiting in the front-of-house area for us. We were led to our table and Linz started a furious session of signing utility bills for Sam and James. Something to do with moving house and Linz being the most upstanding member of the community in our midst apparently. Vicki and I looked on blankly.

The room was a good size. Not too big, not too small. And the lighting and volume level was about right (although when we sat down we figured we were going to be at least triple the volume level of the next loudest table; things livened up though and by the end there was a good level of conversational hum).

There are basically three menus you can go for:

1. A la Carte (3 courses for £65)
2. Taste of Autumn (4 courses + a couple of palette cleansers for £70)
3. 7 course tasting menu (£85)

We went for the middle option and the friendly staff were only too pleased to substitute the fish dishes for Vicki and James. We ordered the food but not until we had been served and had polished off a number of cheesy balls. That description makes them sound a bit bog-standard but they were anything but. They were awesome. Warm and with just the right level of cheese. Quality stuff.

The first appetiser was a frothy pineapple and jelly shot. We were advised to sip a bit first and then down it in one like you would any other shot. There was quite a lot of it which made downing difficult. It was refreshing though.

The starter was an iced cauliflower veloute with warm rice and walnuts. An odd little dish which was a bit like a shallow soup and pretty much the only time in my life I've found cauliflower to be acceptable. And speaking of vegetables Vicki and Linz admitted to having recently visiting former Meal Club favourite Archipelago and to have compeletely ignored the entire point of the restaurant by ordering exotic vegetables. A debate ensued about how exotic a vegetable can possibly be. James was arguing the same point for fish but was quickly defeated by the suggestion of piranha.

The next course followed which was a confit of salmon with mucho beetroot, goat's cheese cream and a damson puree. This was pretty top drawer too and maintained the sense that Hibiscus was probably worth its 2-star reputation food-wise.

Wood pigeon quickly followed much to the amusement of our table because when sitting on the plate, it looked like...well....a fanny. Or as James described it a "slapped vag". It came accompanied by a dollop of peanut butter and some more dollops of what looked like poo but turned out to be a smoked whimberry puree.

What the fuck is a whimberry?

I should point out at this point that Sam, James and I had ordered the matching wines to accompany our meal. We'd had three glasses by this point (to add to the cocktail we'd had at the start of the meal). All of them were good but I can't say I could notice them complementing the dishes in the same was as I've done in the past at somewhere like Petrus. I'm no sommelier of course and the fact that I was trying to juggle these wines with a nursed mojito probably had something to with that.

Desert followed (I honestly can't remember what it was. The website says a dark chocolate tart but that doesn't ring a bell). Maybe because I was distracted by the fact that we didn't get a desert wine which meant we'd paid a cool £50 for 3 (three) glasses of wine. Fuck me that's an outrage.

Some chocolates and coffees finished the night off (which incidentally was a lot shorter than normal - we were in and out in about 2 hours).

Overall verdict? Good but not in the same league as somewhere like Petrus (on food and service) or Nobu (on style and atmosphere). For the price, I think there are other places that do better.

Stop Press: Sam asked the menu to be emailed to her and lo and behold it revealed that they'd blatantly fogotten to serve us our final desert wine. Sam replied with this fact and they phoned back to apologise and send through a free bottle.

They say that you can tell good customer service not just by how well they do the good things but also by how well they deal with the bad things. A phonecall gets them bonus points as it's more personal and shows confidence and maturity. But at the end of the day, there's NO WAY somewhere that merits 2-michelin star service should ever have forgotten something like that (not to mention 4 wines for £50 remains somewhat steep!).

Madsen, South Kensington

2009-08-30T20:14:00.002Z

Bit of slackness on the organisation front this month. Firstly I forgot that it was me who was supposed to be organising. Then I thought I wouldn't have time to organise it. Then I thought I would have too much work to actually go. In the end, everything worked out well and we ended up at a scando restaurant pitched by Vicki and Linz called Madsen. We were:

Linz
Pete
Vicki

Becca was planning to come but got scuppered by work which meant that technically this doesn't count as an offical Meal Club....or does it? I'm proposing that under the current climate of reduced commitment to the Club, we allow "threes" to count from this Meal Club onwards. If you want to object then you need to comment on this blog, otherwise the motion shall be carried. Suck it!

So, onto the restaurant. It was pretty quiet - possibly because it's only been there 10 months and is perhaps not very well known. It's not even on Google Street View. The decor is modern, clean and...well....scando. There's lots of wooden furniture and all the staff were blonde. When I arrived Vicki was waiting and we quickly ordered a bottle of their finest, cheapest white wine (which I have to say was very decent for a house win). We spoke about househunting while mulling over whether to order the pigs' hearts. The menu helpfully has a little symbol to identify traditional scando dishes although this wasn't one of them which made me wonder why it's on the menu in the first place.

Linz arrived and we ordered starters while discussing whether Oscar is a dog's name or a baby's name. And what about Molly? Linz has strong opinions on the subject. Maybe she could get her two PAs to do some research on the subject. Vicki, on the other hand, was getting vexed about me saying she could pass for being jewish. I think it's her skin tone and slavic look. "Stop looking at me like I'm a jew" she ordered me at one point like I was Goebbels recincarnated.

All the starters were excellent. I had the breaded plaice with crispy capers, Linz had the asparagus with melba toast and Vicki had the salted ox tongue. Vicki, in particular, was thoroughly impressed by her tongue. A good start.

The mains soon followed. Vicki and I both went for the special which was danish meatballs with sidedishes of roast potatoes with bacon and onion and new potatoes with thyme. Very nice indeed. We were dubious at first at being presented with a mere four meatballs....but actually they filled us up quite easily. Linz had the haddock fishcakes. All of them were great. Perhaps it was just good to have something different to the norm but we were all in a good mood about this place. Perhaps it was the fact that our waitress looked like Su Pollard that cheered us up.

Vicki and Linz were curious about deep fried camembert being offered as a desert instead of a starter. Personally I didn't give a shit. We ended up having a Danish biscuit cake (me) and two "cold bowls" which is a buttermilk sauce with egg yolk and vanilla. Plenty of taste in that.

And the best bit of the night was still to come: The bill. I slipped Su Pollard my tastelondon discount card like some kind of low-rent secret agent and the bill came back at a cheapo cheapo £21 each including booze. Not half bad eh?

That's all for now. Vicki and Sam have got the next two months sewed up and the Fat Duck is being touted for November for those with expensive palates.

Dans le Noir, Clerkenwell

2009-07-29T12:47:00.008Z

OK, I have to admit I didn't have high expectations of Dans le Noir. Pretty much every review I've read (or heard directly from people who've been) has been bad bad bad. So I've been trying to avoid going for a while but couldn't hold back the combined force of Sam, James and Linz any longer. We were:

Becca
James
Linz
Pete
Sam
Vicki
Will

We arrived about 20 minutes early because we had heard that they have a bar outside of the 'dark room' where we could have a drink. It turns out that this bar has, as James described it, the look and feel of an All Bar One; as long as that All Bar One had precisely one table. Luckily we bagged it and enjoyed a very poor whisky sour and a £7 glass of white wine for Becca. Will went for a beer instead of his usual tipple these days which is single malt. He takes it apparently. So not a great start and certainly not doing anything to convince me that my pre-held prejudices about this place were incorrect.

The only other furnishings of note in the bar area was a wall of varying sized lockers where we had to leave our bags, phones, watches and anything else that could potentially produce light or trip people up. And after several confusing attempts to order drinks from the french waiter (Becca asked: who's worse off - the French or the blind?" we were told it was time to go to the table.

Our waiter for the evening was a nice fellow called Gau. Like all the other waiters he's blind. He led us in a line (with hands on shoulders) up a narrow corridor and then into the dark room. And the room lived up to its name (a name which I've just made up for this blog). It was PITCH black. YOu couldn't see anything, not even your own hand in front of your face. Of course this gave James ample opportunity to start prodding people randomly and tugging at my ear. At one point Vicki asked him if he had his cock out but he maintained a denial on this issue.

We'd ordered our menus in advance (you get to choose meat, veg, fish or surprise but don't know exactly what you're going to get). So all Gau had to do was ask us which menu we'd ordered and he handed us the plates by feeling where we were. On the drink front we ordered a bottle of white and a bottle of red but once Gau had told us which was which, we were on our own and it was up to us to remember where each one was. I'd like to say we came up with a clever system but we didn't really.

It was actually rather exciting and fun. All our London cynicsm faded away into giggles at how weird it was to be in such darkness with your eyes open. Sam jabbed Will in the face trying to see how far away from her he was and at one point I drank Linz's white wine by mistake. Also Sam decided to tell Gau about the concept of Meal Club at which point James suggested that he read the blog. Doh!

But the crux was always going to be the food quality. It's not cheap (£38 for 3 courses + £22 for a bottle of wine) so the food needed to be bang on to avoid it being anything more than an overpriced gimmick. Will didn't think that it lived up to expectations (that's the veggo menu for you) but everyone else was pleasantly surprised I think. From my point of view, the food was great. Maybe it's because my expectations were so low in the first place. As I said you don't know what you're going to get exactly so it's a bit of a lottery - but I cleaned my plate on each course (or at least I think I did).

By the time we got round to deserts (chocolate brownie with pear and ice cream), we were the last table in the room for the first seating (which we confirmed by shouting out "is anyone else in here?"). Gau then led us back out into the bar area where we were shown what we actually did eat. A lot of the guesses were wrong and i was particularly poor which goes to show how much the brain can be confused by taste alone.

Meal Club Stats (as of June 2009)

2009-07-06T13:25:00.000Z

Number of Meal Clubs = 34 (37 if you count the 3-man ones)
Average number of Meal Clubs attended = 17
Most attendees = 11 (Rootmaster, January 2008)
Number of expensive ones = 6
Number of Indian restaurants = 3
Number of Chinese restaurants = 2
Number of Hungarian restaurants = 1
Highest bill = £726.08 (The Capital, April 2008)
Number of December Meal Clubs = 0 (sorry Ger)
The one Pete missed = Mango Tree, March 2007
The number of times the word "shambles" has been mentioned = 15

Skylon, Royal Festival Hall

2009-07-01T12:48:00.000Z

This month we went to Skylon which sits atop the Royal Festival Hall. Our resident South Bank guru Becca could get us a 20% discount so it was a no brainer – especially on a gorgeous sunny London evening as it was. After a couple of last minute bailouts we were:

Becca
Linz
Pete
Vicki

We met on the 5th floor bar of the RFH which, to my surprise (and mild disappointment), is not a special staff-only affair. Apparently any old hobbledy-hoy can totter up there whenever they want. Shocking. However I don’t think many Londoners know this fact because there were barely any people there and we had no trouble grabbing a little table. Looking over the edge of the balcony however, presented a different story: the bar and seating areas of the RFH terrace and restaurants below were crawling with people (aka suckers). Check it out:

Incredibly, Linz arrived half an hour early. I know you’re supposed to be sceptical about stuff you read on t’interwebs but it’s true, cross my heart! When we arrived we were given the once over by the strangely attired staff (grey tunics like the commanders on the Death Star) and led to our table in what can only be described as a funeral march. For some reason the woman led us to the table really, really slowly. How very odd. The room is a pretty decadent space with very high ceilings and a huge window across one wall looking out onto the river. When we arrived though, the view was blocked by the blinds which were down to prevent the room overheating. Apparently on the Southbank Centre daily complaints list the temperature at Sklyon crops up all the time. We were assured however that they’d be opened later in the evening (and when they were people whooped and clapped!).

We sat down and were immediately asked if we’d like some champagne to start our meal. One of those places eh? Heavy on the upsell. We declined. In fact, I’d say the staff were one of the key negatives of Skylon. Miserable bastards the lot of them. Not a single smile in the bunch. I did get the continual impression that they were looking down on us which is not good. The rest of the diners were all pretty upmarket I have to admit. Lots of jackets and grey hair. The kind of place someone like Jenny Agutter would visit.

Anyway, onto the food. The bread situation was a tad better than BBB but still not perfect as the butter was a little firm. But they did salt one pat of butter and kept refreshing the bread when we ran out so plus points there. They started by bringing us some amuse bouches to start things off (mushroom and cheese balls, salmon thingies and a tomato thingy – sorry, I don’t know how to describe them!).

The menu here is short. You have a choice between seven starters and seven mains. We didn’t go for deserts but from memory there were about 7 of those too. The food though was universally excellent. For starters I had a qual with rhubarb which was great. Becca and Vicki had a mushroom with some stuff in it; also nice. Linz meanwhile ordered crab for the first time ever. I was beginning to suspect that this was an imposter and that she’d been replaced by an evil early-arriving-seafood-eating automaton. But then she spat a bit out into her napkin and I relaxed.

For mains, Becca has a wild sea bass with some prawn tortellini and baby gem sauce. Yes folks – that’s lettuce sauce. Linz and Vicki has a rabbit ballotine with a herb risotto. I went for the halibut with squid and chorizo. All dishes did the job although when I got home Laura said she would have found them weird without any side dishes.

Later in the evening Becca was regaling us with stories of her computer programming skills and how back in Lincoln they used any excuse to have a street party (Princess Diana’s 21st birthday anyone?). I was laughing so hard at such a poor reason for a street party that I almost missed the fact that Jenny Agutter was sitting a few tables down from us.

The bill was a little steep even with the discount at about £40-45 each for 2 courses and a small amount of wine. Good food though, and a good venue. But for the future, maybe somewhere to go back to once you can get work to pay for it.

Beach Blanket Babylon, Shoreditch

2009-05-31T11:32:00.006Z

I actually made some notes this time so this blog entry should be a tad more detailed than the last one. And no brain spasms this time either which is always a bonus. Becca suggested the venue for this month. We were:

Becca
Laura
Linz
Pete
Vicki

If the essence of Shoreditch put inside a home-made bomb, and said bomb exploded inside a Bethnal Green Road venue, Beach Blanket Babylon would be ther result. Upon entry, we were greeted by a very camp fella in a PVC white jacket (collar up naturally) with a tall, bleach-blono hairdo. He helped us through to our table at the back of a large room, decorated with a bunch of "random shit". Like I said, Shoreditch all over. There's a square bar in the lower area flanked by plenty of well-dressed trendies making me feel inadequate for rocking up in jeans, t-shirt and converse trainers. Although that was just my own perception to be fair. I didn't get the slightest impression that the people there (staff or punters) were as up their own arse as they appeared to be at first.

After a brief discussion about celebrity spots (Mark Owen from Becca,, Andi Peters (x2) from Laura and someone who looked a bit like Josh Hartnett from Vicki), we got down to business. Immediately they were on minus points thanks to the ever-difficult "bread and butter" provision. Seriously, how difficult can it be? They gave us a tray of bread but we had to ask for butter and when it came it wasn't particularly soft. So for the benefit of all you restauranteurs reading this (yeah right), this is how to do it:

Place enough bread for everyone on the table as soon as they're seated accompanied by plenty of softened, salted butter.

The wine we ordered was an excellent pinot grigio but the waiter commited the upsell faux pas of quickly pouring it all out before our starters had even arrived and then asking if we wanted more. Tut tut.

OK, that's the negatives out of the way. The rest of it all was all pretty positive. The service was, in general, fine. No complaints apart from the upsell nonsense. The venue, as mentioned, was somethign special in terms of decor. And the food was all very good. For starters we had scallops, crayfish tails, prosciutto with cannelloni beans and a spinach & goat's cheese strudel. All got the thumbs up. The mains were on par too with Becca trying to steal both my steak and Linz's sea bass before finally settling for her monkfish. Actually, one more negative was that my steak was far from being rare as I ordered it. It was medium at best. But I'm not going to mark them down for that because it's my own fault fro breaking my personal rule which is to never order steak in a restaurant unless it's a restaurant that specialises in red meat like Gaucho.

Deserts topped things off with a three butterscotch cheesecakes and a couple of warm brownies. Nothing spectaculr but pretty good.

Now for the best bit. We went here on a 50% off Toptable deal which meant we only paid £23 each. Total bargain. I may not eat anywhere again unless it's on a 50% off Toptable deal because it's such a nice surprise when you've forgotten about it.

Next month, we were thinking about Dans Le Noir but unless it's on a certain day then Laura and I may well be in Croatia. Potentially I'm going to miss only my second Meal Club. I'm sure James will insist I update the attendence record if I don't turn up.

ps. Linz stinks.

Salaam Namaste, Bloomsbury

2009-05-10T16:50:00.004Z

Continuing a theme for this year, Meal Club this month was something of a hasty last-minute affair. Less than a week before the scheduled date a few suggestions were thrown out and the date was changed to the Friday (which surprisingly found quite a few of us social butterflies free). We were:

Becca
Laura
Mamps
Pete
Sam
Vicki
Will

A few of us met beforehand at a local pub staffed entirely by incompetents dressed like prostitutes. I was forced by Becca to down my pint lest Manpreet, who was waiting for us in the restaurant, should get angry at us. I took my pint with me and drank it on the way, student-style to be greeted by a secret text from Mamps saying that the indian waiters had been hassling her since she arrived.

Salaam Namaste is a self-proclaimed "new sensation in Indian dining". Check out their website which does well to slap a picture of a pissed-up Boris Johnson on the front page. Superficially it looks like a pretty standard Indian restaurant with perhaps a little more thought than usual put into the decor. The menu, to be fair is something special. The choice was huge and full of stuff that sounded great. Not your usual bhuna/korma/madras/vindaloo dishes either. Techically they do serve that but it barely registers with you when compared against the speciality regional dishes on offer.

Sam arrived a little late but that's forgiveable since she's managed to have a baby in between successive Meal Clubs but still attend them both. Good darts!

Ironically, one of the few things I can remember from the night (no note taking again from me!) was having a brain spasm where my memory went haywire. Maybe I've been watching too much Lost but I'm adamant there was some kind of time dilation thing going on. Seriously this is one of the weirdest things to happen to me and even as I write this I'm getting confused as to what I thought had happened vs what everyone else said had happened. I think this is correct:

After we'd finished the main course (mine being a meat dish served on a rectangular plate), I made some kind of comment about it which led everyone else to accuse me of being a mentaller because only the starters have been served. The problem is I was 100% certain that we'd had two courses by this point. The fact that the main courses then arrived meant I was clearly wrong but something weird was definitely going on in my brain.

I should point out that by this point I'd had two pints of beer (one near work, one near the restaurant) and while I'd been forced to drink both of them much more quickly than I normally would, I don't think this could have been the cause. Maybe I'd been abducted by aliens or something.

Anyway, back to the restaurant. I had ginger lamb chops which were great and that's pretty much all I can remember about the food. Sorry guys. Poor blogging I know. I'll take notes next time, promise!!

Also I have a vague memory of Mamps initiating more "what would you do for £1m" conversations.

by the way, until further notice, Meal Clubs are definitely on the last Thursday of every month.

Patterson's, Mayfair

2009-03-31T18:58:00.004Z

Hello. This month's MealClub was quite hastily organised (by Vicki this time). We never really got into gear with the suggestions so went for something Linz had suggested a few weeks back. Patterson's is just off Regent Street and does the classic "modern european" bit of everything. We were:

James
Linz
Pete
Sam
Vicki

The restaurant is on one floor and nicely laid out with well spaced tables, white tablecloths, weird little mossy plants on the tables and paraffin candles. We entered (me, James and Vicki at first) and sat at our table for 4 to find ourselves bizarrely surrounded by several tables filled with some of London's fine oriental community. I had to remind James not to make any Krusty the Clown gags. When Sam phoned to say she could come after all we asked for a table for 5 and they accomodated us without any fuss with a table at the back. Brownie points were earned, although the table was next to another table with a bloody child on it. WTF? Luckily they'd gone by the time Linz turned up otherwise there might have been bloodshed.

Their brownie points were lost by taking ages to spot us and take our order, but when they did it was the manager who attended to us and was very good at trying to convince Sam that the lamb could be cooked well enough for a pregnant lady and still be tasty. She didn't buy it.

I should mention that we were here on a TopTable deal. 40% off if you have 3 courses (which we were always going to do, so it was something of a bargain!). It works out at £45 reduced to £27.

The menu is the kind of thing that looks dedigned to be deliberately pretentious. 9 out of 10 listed dishes had something unidentifiable on it....mache salad this, idiazabal cream that. Well, I guess Meal Club is all about trying new things and being adventurous so sod it. We dived in. (dove in?). Sam, help me out here.

For starters we had a duo of salmon and wild mushroom canneloni (both very good) and for mains we went for a mix of dover sole, sirloin beef and I had a "canon of lamb on braised auergine with a turnop filled with snails, pancetta and shallots, wild mushroom puree, split parsely jus and red pepper coulis". Complicated eh?

Deserts were also great. Special mention goes to the "chocolate sphere" which was a work of art (although according to James, the taste didn't live up to the presentation - which was about a million miles away from the presentation of the chocolate desert at Little Bay last month). Check it out:

So I can't remember anything else because I didn't make any notes but I can't really think of any major negatives about this place. Might be a bit pricey without the special offer of course but definitely a success.

Little Bay, Farringdon

2009-02-28T17:28:00.006Z

Hello all! Throughout the month of February, the Farringdon branch of Little Bay shot to fame (in Metro and the London Lite) by allowing people to pay whatever they wanted for food and service. Piggy banks emptied, we ventured in. We were:

James
Laura
Linz
Pete
Sam
Vicki

The restaurant's in a bit of a transport black spot and so some of us struggled to get there. I had to walk from London Bridge, Vicki was stuck waiting 20 minutes for a bus and ended up getting the tube while Sam got a cab as she didn't fancy walking from Islington due to her big, pregnant clown feet.

Because of the highly unusual nature of the deal, we had to think carefully about our approach to the evening. Firstly, Laura had the great idea of checking the menus at the other branches to see in advance what the prices were. We'd been a couple of times before and it's actually a very cheap place for somewhere that's traditionally done pretty good food. Personally, I had a rough figure in my head for food and service and decided to work up or down from there based on actual experience.

The first three points of note were all negative. Laura reported that there was wee on the unisex toilet seats (minus 1 point), the waiter had a chronic case of Bill Oddie (minus 1 point in normal circumstances, minus 2 points every time he leaned over the table unleashing some weapons grade funk). And finally there was no butter with the bread on the table until we asked for some. Poor darts to start with but they were getting increasingly busy so you have to cut them some slack.

We ordered starters which came quickly. Sam and I had garlic mushrooms which were deemed to be "pretty good but nothing special". Vicki and James had the some kind of goat's cheese souffle which, again, was passable. Finally Linz had the soup which I shall describe in 3 words:

Worst. Soup. Ever.

Linz had eaten quite a lot of it and then I thought I heard her say something like "this is the worst soup I've ever had in a restaurant". An astonishing statement I'm sure you'll agree so I made her repeat it to make sure I hadn't misheard. She said it again. "This is possibly the worst soup I've ever had in a restaurant". Now Linz in no stranger to fine dining so this could have been an exaggeration but when we passed the bowl down for others to take a spoonful, it was confirmed that this thin, watery, fairy-liquid-tasting, unseasoned mess was indeed the worst soup in the history of the world.

Oh dear. Not a great start for Little Bay. We suspected that they may have taken their eye off the ball since the start of the month when all the journalists were in. We also felt that they had confused good service with very fast service. The speed or ordering and delivering plates was phenomenal but I don't think that's necessarily a good thing. It's actually a bit disconcerting and allows images of microwaves to sneak into your head.

The mains were decent enough but again, nothing great. All dishes which involved potatoes suffered from them being a little bit undercooked. Although I do have to say that my steak was cooked properly rare instead of "English-restaurant-rare" which was a plus. Deserts arrived soon after without spoons (which were then brought over and dumped on the table in a bunch instead of being handed out. Shocking).

Do I sound like a service snob? Who cares? Bad service is bad service and this was bad service. Linz's main course wasn't even placed between her knife and fork. It was just absent-mindedly put on the side of the table for James and Linz to decide between them who it belonged to. These are basic things which if you can't get right you're struggling.

What's weird is that I've been before and had very positive experiences. So why do this experiment to get people through the door if you're not going to do it right? It just means I'm now less likely to go there again when it's full price, which I might have done otherwise.

Deserts were shocking. Ok that's an over-reaction. Mine and Linz's deserts were shocking. A massive blob of chocolate angel delight substance slapped onto a plate. Linz kept repeating "I can't believe they haven't put it in a pot or something" in a confused near whimper. The pistachio creme brulees were pretty good and James and Sam lucked out with cheese and profiteroles respectively.

Sigh.

So, what did we pay? We all worked out what we wanted to pay for each course and then averaged it out. We thought service only deserved 5%. As per the rules, the wine and drinks were full price but we were happy to pay this as the house white was rather tasty. It ended up at £11 each for food + service plus another fiver for drinks.

If you're interested, this is how much each person decided to pay for each course.

Inamo, Wardour Street

2009-02-01T12:26:00.007Z

Hello all. The first Meal Club of 2009 was somewhere that had been on the "potentials" list for a while now so we thought we'd give it a go. Inamo is, to be frank, a gimmick restaurant. The Japanese food it serves is nothing too out of the ordinary, but what sets it apart is the ordering system. In my opinion, any restaurant whose USP is centred around anything apart from the food is destinated for inevitable failure. But more on that later. We were:

Becca
James
Laura
Mamps
Vicki
Pete

When making the booking we were informed that there's be a £5 per person fee for cancellations within 24 hours (bad) and that we could only have the table for 2 hours (worse). They clearly haven't read about this campaign...but then again, since I spotted it I haven't heard about it since. When we arrived (Laura and I took up the mantle of Linz's absence by being late), they told us generously we could have the table for 2 and a half hours. Whoop-dee-do!

So the ordering system.... They do have waiting staff but their jobs are minimal. They show you to your table and bring you your food, but otherwise that's it. Everything is centred around your table which has a projecter above beaming down images. Each table has its own little mouse pad which you use to order your food and drink, change the table "wallpaper", access "chef-cam", keep an ongoing eye on your bill total and get beaten at battleships if you're Pete playing Laura.

It's certainly a fun way to entertain yourself during the meal. Because if you try to entertain yourself using the company of your friends you may struggle. The tables are way too far apart such that on our table of 6, we struggled to talk to the people at the other end. The atmosphere generally was quite weak - harsh lighting, not much "buzz". The restaurant itself looked like it wasn't designed for this purpose and that they'd shoved in tables wherever they could.

I've been a bit critical so far so it's worth mentioning that the food itself was very tasty. For starters we had seafood gyoza, prawns, beef in green oil, tofu, ribs and other stuff like edamame (which we decided tastes nice because of the salt and not the beans). All of them were pretty good to great. Can't complain about anything apart from portion size which was small.

Manpreet entertained the group in her usual fashion by asking us what we would do for cold, hard cash. In this instance it was about indecent proposals. According to James' notes on the night, Laura wouldn't sleep with her brother for anything but Becca would sleep with Will's dad for £7.23. We also talked about Derren Brown and doing impressions of Star Wars characters with your penis.

Mains were also good (lamb chops, veggie red curry, black cod, pork with chocolate sauce...) as were the deserts (particularly my weird black sticky rice with mango and citrus sorbet, although not so much Laura and Becca's weird green macaroon thingy)...but the problem was value for money. As great as it all was, I couldn't reconcile it with a bill well in excess of £200. No way muchacho. Not good enough. I suspect we were still paying for the overhead(s) projecters. Plus they charged 10% service sir! For what exactly? They do nothing that the good people at Nandos don't:

I'd go back if work was paying but not otherwise.

ps. Peggy doesn't eat bogies.

End of year report

2008-12-22T10:51:00.002Z

Google docs doesn't seem to like graphs but this gives you all the attendence numbers anyway. A ranking is at the bottom.

(note, three restaurants in 2007 have been excluded for having too few attendees on the night)

Go here

View from Paris

2008-12-13T12:49:00.002Z

Have recently been on a short trip to Paris with Laura and feel the dining there was worthy of the second in an infrequent series of views from abroad.

Leaving aside from the brasseries and cafes, I'm going to concentrate on our evening meals.

Thursday night - Le Bosquet
A smart little restaurant near our hotel in the 7th Arrondissement. It was quiet when we arrived but filled up a little more later (including an odd table near us full of americans and indians). We both had an awesome duck filet with dauphinoise potatoes. One of the best bits of duck I've had - it was cooked perfectly with just the right level of crispy bits. We even ate the salad. For desert Laura had a chocolate fondant and I had some ice-cream (including pistachio which actually tasted like pistachio).

Friday night - Le Relais de Venise
A London branch has opened in recent months and there's one in Barcelona too. The concept is simple. Forget about this "menu" bollocks. The only questions they ask are, "What would you like to drink?" and "How do you want your steak cooked?". You can't book but it's clearly a popular place we had to queue outside in the freezing cold for 20 minutes before getting in. Inside it's small, close, busy, loud, bustling, brilliant. The waitresses (didn't see any waiters) are all dressed in black uniform with the matriarch and table-giver was definitely Edith Piaf. They bring you a plate of bread, a green salad with walnuts and then two plates of steak and fries covered with their special sauce. Absolute quality. Even the house wine was good. I'll definitely be checking out the London one soon so I can act snobby by saying "The Parisian original is far better you know".

Saturday night - the amusingly named Vagenende
We spotted this place during the day while wandering around St. Germain. Inside it looks like the kind of place you'd see in a 1940s French film. Dark wood panelling, mirrors and dimmed soft lighting. We were squeezed in quickly even though it was very busy. It took a while to get our drinks but I never got the impression that we'd been forgotten. We ordered soft drinks and wine but they didn't bring the wine out until our main courses were ready and soft drinks finished. I had a big old portion of beef bourguignon and fresh pasts (interesting) while Lau had chicken breast with mashed potatoes. Both great.

Question...

2008-11-27T21:07:00.001Z

If you were one of a few survivors to some kind of global catastrophe, what would you do first and who would you try to seek out? hmm?

Koba, Rathbone Street

2008-11-27T20:43:00.003Z

Vaginismus. That was the theme of the night. Look it up like we had to.

The evening began, as is now traditional, with pre-dinner drinks in the delightful Bricklayer's Arms noff Rathbone Place but we were soon off to the restaurant. Koba is a Korean BBQ restaurant - one of these places with a burner in the centre of the table on which the food is cooked in front of you. We were:

James
Laura
Linz
Pete
Vicki

We chose this restaurant on a vote. It was between Koba and Inamo and Manpreet weighed in with the deciding vote. And then had to bail because Nasty Nick was demanding a rewrite. Or something.

For starters we went for a mix and match exercise with plenty of sharing afoot. Korean oancakes, beef, king prawns and chicken. So nothing spectacularly interesting but it was all perfectly pleasant. Linz turned up about half way through and was left with a couple of chicken balls. Despite a grand boast that she "can use chopsticks" she promptly spilled a ball all over the table. If I was an internet teen punk I would, at this point, say something like "Most Epic Fail Evar".

By the way, when we asked the waiter what "Korean Style" was his helpful reply was "with vegetables". If that's true then Andy, Will and Becca eat Korean style pretty much every night.

Onto the main course. Again, it was a good thing we opted to order a mix of stuff and then share because while the courses all came out together, they were, of course, raw. The waiter proceeded to cook each dish, one at a time, on the BBQ thingamybob in the centre of our table. So if you're going, don't order unles you plan to share. Especially if you order the pork belly like Vicki did - severely fatty. Like the fattiest bacon this side of America. Apart from pork belly we had a few beef dishes (some better than others) and a wicked chicken dish to finish the meal off. Again, it's nowt special but value for money is decent and we were entertained by a group of stereotypical far east businessmen laughing it up on the table behind us. The evening was finished in style as for the first time ever James' birthday scam worked. Although it doesn't really count because it was virtually Linz's birthday. Happy birthday Linz! As a gift I will drop my breach of copyright lawsuit against Lunchclub. The restaurant brought out a little cake for Linz (tea flavoured!!) and gave her a gift of a "multitool" which could act as a letter opener, hair pin or bookmark. It had a good weight to it I noted.

Meal Club Change

2008-11-08T13:46:00.001Z

The next Meal Club will be on Tuesday Nov 25th.

Then there'll probably some kind of Xmas get together before MC returns for its 4th year in 2009 and will switch to Thursday nights.

The Lane, Brick Lane

2008-10-30T13:38:00.001Z

How do?

This month we went to The Lane which is a relatively new Caribbean restaurant at the bottom (scummy) end of Brick Lane. We were:

Becca
James
Linz
Pete
Sam
Will

We began in the adjacent attached bar (which, in turn, is attached to a hotel). I believe the general opinion was that it had less atmosphere than a funeral. Not to worry though, this wasn’t the main event. The restaurant itself was well laid out but virtually empty. It’s a space large enough to have two rooms, plus alcoves and a baby grand piano (unattended) in the corner. We were 1 of 2 tables when we arrived. By the time we left I think there were maybe 3 or 4 tables occupied so the atmosphere was only better than the bar beforehand thanks to our sparkling conversation and wit.

The deal was £21 for 2 courses of £38 for 3 courses. I’m still not sure whether that’s a good deal or not. Actually the more I think about it, the more expensive that seems. It was nice food though. We began with freebie amuse bouches – a cup of kidney bean soup which was quite lovely.

A new party arrived at the next table – they had a couple of kids with them and Sam, of all people, was the first to note this as a black mark against the restaurant (no racism intended). Nothing that they can do about it of course but still – kids in restaurants are rubbish.

After being diverted by my failure to properly tell the Jamaica/My Wife gag, the food came and was generally good stuff. Very ornate dishes (think Delboy’s drinks). Our mains included sea bass, jerk chicken and (naturally) curried goat.

I’m going to be honest now. The notes I wrote on the night have faded into a blur against the blue envelope I was writing them on – so I can’t really read them. And can’t remember stuff either (that’s why I write notes). So in bullet point form, here’s some other stuff:

No one's seen the Victoria Line Funky Tramp Woman for a while
Eggheads is indeed a quiz show where punters take on quiz champions
Some Indian guy knocked on the restaurant window and waved at me. No idea who he was.
Becca once travelled for several hours on business only to be told the man she was due to see had had a heart attack and was in hospital. She was pissed off with him.

Table Turning

2008-09-27T16:53:00.001Z

I agree with this

The Clerkenwell, in Clerkenwell (naturally)

2008-09-25T15:48:00.000Z

Hello. This month we took advantage of another 50% discount offer. While such an offer turned Pho from cheap into supercheap, here it turned expensive into acceptable. In other words, if you can get the offer then go for it; if not then think twice. Anyway, we were:

James
Linz
Pete
Sam
Vicki

The evening started in farciacl circumstances as our Harry Hill lookey-likey maitre'd sat us at the wrong table and then had to shift us. But this guy was no slouch. He turned out to be something of a sly horse by expertly and instantly telling us about the type of cheese that was in the tart. Well done sir!

We had 3 courses and there were a couple of amuse bouches thrown in for fun - the first of which was a leek and potato shot. Basically warm soup in a shot glass with some bacon shavings on the top. It was actually very nice but my and Sam's enjoyment of it was tempered by insisting the waiter had said "liquid potato" instead of "leek and potato". We were wrong allowing James to smugly lord it over us for a good 30 seconds.

The service was polite and surprisingly quick. The starters came not long after we'd ordered (my rare tuna nicoise was so excellent that fish-dodger James tried a bit and didn't convulse as he normally might have done). Can't remember what everyone else had. Sorry. In my defense, James was writing notes this time. Poor note taking Hallam. Poor note taking. He was clearly too busy fooling us all into somehow agreeing that if we won the £100m Euromillions jackpot we'd buy him a massive house in Islington.

The main courses were also good. James and I shared a cote de boeuf (posh term for "massive steak"). I think someone else might have had some kind of fish. And Sam may have had the pork belly (or at least had asked earlier on which part of the pig Pork Belly comes from). Deserts were an incredibly rish chocolate fondant and some other stuff that, once again, I can't remember. All good though.

Some other stuff from the evening:

- From October onwards, MealClub moves to the last TUESDAY of the month until Sam finishes her course. Technically the rules are sacred and must not be changed but as a founder member and "top 3" attendee, anyone who disagrees can get jacked.

- Interesting story from Linz alert!....20% of her office does not like massages

- Is it acceptable to purchase and wear a new outfit in preparation for being proposed to?

- James told another stinker of a story. That's 2 this year Hallam. Poor darts.

- Which is the only weekday that is an anagram of another single word? And what is that word?

That's it then. We ended up paying between £22 and £34 depending on how much booze we had but even at that top end, that's a bargain. Until the next time, food fans!

Pho, Great Titchfield Street

2008-08-28T17:49:00.002Z

Hello meal fans! This month's Meal Club was always planned to be a dirt cheap one - partially because the Fat Duck next month is going to wipe us out, but also because we haven't done a "cheap and cheerful" in a while. We opted for Pho, a vietnamese restaurant which has a couple of branches in London. We were:

Becca
Laura
Linz
Pete
Vicki
Will

Sam and James incidentally are on holiday (which, by tradition, is Will and Becca's cue to rock up).

We had a booth/alcove downstairs (which was empty when we arrived but quickly became as noisy and busy as the upstairs). The wooden benches were the kind of unforgiving furniture that tend to give you piles but no matter - we quickly ordered a set of drinks from the very efficient waiter. I say waiter but we suspected he had some kind of stake in the business as he wasn't dressed in waiter uniform and was unusually good. The drinks sparked off a conversation between Will and Becca in which the word "juicer" was used approximately 30 times. Luckily we were rescued by Linz who regaled us with her Tales of India. These included:

- A dead body
- A little girl pissing her pants in the street
- A guy with his brains smashed out all over the road
- A guy brushing his teeth in shit and sewage from the Ganges
- A dead baby with an arm missing

Basically Linz's summary is that everything there was basically shit. Fucking racist.

Anyway, I'd forgotten that we'd booked this place via the ever-reliable TopTable and it had a 50% off food offer attached to it, which meant we could push the boat out a bit. However, the place is already great value for money (most expensive main course = £8.95) that the deal made everything dirt cheap anyway. Becca and Linz had a massive crepe for starters while Vicki went for spring rolls. I discouraged Laura from getting the same as me (pork and lemongrass meatballs) so we could share and swap different dishes. Unfortunately I forgot this deal and wolfed down mine while Laura was stuck with a disappointing set of chicken rolls. Oops. Sorry!

The main courses are all part of the "theme" of pho - a vietnamese dish of noodles, broth and meat. I think we all went for this apart from Linz but they were all great really. Will may disagree as he wasn't expecting it to be in the form of a soup. Read the menu Head! The dishes came with a platter of herbs, limes, chopped red chilli and beansprouts for you to garnish your pho however you want to. Vicki asked what the big brown things were on the platter. They were spoons.

So all a bit Wagamama I guess but we all agreed it was better. More mushrooms in the veggie one apparently. Plus bigger bowls and tastier stock (which takes 12 hours to make no less!).

We didn't bother with the limited dessert selection and went straight to the fun bit: The bill! Tenner each for 2 courses and drinks can't be bad. In fact, it may be a Meal Club record. Get in!

Next month is a double header. A cheapish one on the normal date and The Fat Duck a few days earlier.

Petrus voted London's best

2008-08-27T17:47:00.000Z

Article here and the MC review here

10 out of 10 for the Fat Duck

2008-08-15T14:58:00.001Z

Bring on September!

Shocking News!

2008-08-01T10:04:00.003Z

Neither Linz nor Vicki have ever visited YouTube. So presumably neither of them have ever seen this:

The Landau, Langham Hotel

2008-08-01T09:23:00.002Z

After the weekend at Bectival it was something of a rush to book this month's MealClub...as it turned out, we went for the first offer we saw on TopTable. £28 for 3 courses (set menu) and a glass of champagne at The Landau. We were:

James
Linz
Pete
Vicki
Ger (not really)

Vicki, James and I met in the bar beforehand where James regaled us with a tale of a woman he'd shared a lift with who had hairy boobs but was wearing a low cut top. Good bar snacks. Regularly topped up spicy nuts and some dried salted bean thingys (although precisely 2.5 nuts were deemed to be "bad nuts"). Good attentive service which was to become a theme for the night.

We moved into the restaurant where Linz joined us. The space is excellent. Lots of sweeping curves, high ceilings, good level of lighting, not too many tables and little alcove tables. The aircon was a bit high but we soon forgot about that.

They opened up by immediately pouring our free glass of champage. It wasn't the cheap stuff either. I think it's actually quite good that they know immediately who the TopTable cheaops are because it avoids the embarrassment of having to say "you do know we're on the deal don't you?". They obviously had our number right from the start. We ordered tapwater and Linz refused the champagne before being informed that it was free. Nice.

Speaking of Linz, it seems she's been standing idly and accepting an outrageous infringement of copyright. Her colleagues have launched "LunchClub" which takes place on the last Thursday of evey month. Expect to hear from my solicitor soon.

Back to the food and drink. They waited until we'd finished the champagne before pouring our chosen wine (true to form we went for the cheapest red on the menu. £28. Quality wasn't great). The bread and butter was offered. Good butter presentation with separate malson sea salt to add if you wanted. Sam would have loved that shit.

The food was great. In terms quality of food vs TopTable value for money this was right up there with Villandry. But the environment and faultless service actually pushes it ahead I reckon. This place was up there. Three of us had an asparagus, duck parcel and poached egg starter. Execellent stuff. Linz went for a lightly curried cauliflower soup to get her in the mood for her impending trip to India. She claimed she "won" the starters but she blatantly didn't.

The plates were whipped away with great efficiency and the mains arrived in good time. Again, Vicki, James and I went for the same dish. A lamb thingy. I embarrassed myself by asking for it rare only to be told that it was a ragu. The waiter then jokingly asked James if he wanted his rare too. James fell for it, the loser! (In actual fact it came as casserole-sized chunks of nicely cooked lamb over a potato base with vegetables and sauce....that's not what I know as 'ragu'). Linz went for an atlantic cod dish. All of it was good stuff (although the sauce for the lamb was a little salty). Deserts was good too. Very rich but not too filling. Petits fours finished the evening off.

So that's it. A really good place to go on the TopTable deal. It would be very expensive without that (my cocktail beforehand was £16.50).

In August we're aiming for £30 a head. And in September there will be not one but TWO MealClubs. Last Wednesday of the month as normal will be a cheap £20 a head place - but a few days before that a few of us are venturing away from London to the famous Fat Duck. Onwards!

Meal Club Extra! - Hush, Lancashire Court

2008-07-01T20:51:00.002Z

Laura received an email from TopTable offering her 1400 points for 1 booking. That's a free meal right there! We chose Hush. So a quick review:

Outside table on a sunny evening. Good.
50% off food deal. Very good.
Service. Atrocious.
Main course. Decent.
Deserts. Good.

Morgan M, Highbury/Holloway

2008-06-27T20:20:00.000Z

Morgan M is an upmarket French restaurant in a downmarket area. It's to be found at the very northern end of Liverpool Road so well away from Angel and Highbury until you're nearly half way up Holloway Road (ie. in the midst of pound shops and kebab outlets). We were:

Linz
Sam
Pete
Vicki

I arrived first at about 7pm even though the table had been booked for 7.30. They graciuosly allowed me to be seated early, as well they should because apart from one couple in the corner the place was stone cold empty. Vicki arrived about 10 minutes later and we found ourselves whispering our conversation about Heroes Season 2 lest the surly French waiters tut at our C2DE conversation topic.

The restaurant is run by chef patron Morgan Meunier (hence the name you see?). He is reported to be one the best French chefs around. You may not have heard of him because he doesn't do much TV. I hadn't heard about him either but he did come over to the tables at the end of the evening to ask what we thought and what, in particular, we'd enjoyed.

Enough about him, onto the restaurant....: their first error was a failure to provide any bread, even though we'd been sitting there for about 40 minutes. It's not as if they thought we were scumbag wasters - we'd already ordered some of their pricey wine! There were other basic errors throughout the night (notably the early wine grab and the early plate removal) but the food, to be fair, was mostly very good.

£36 for 3 courses is not half bad for a restaurant of this quality. Plus a couple of amuse bouches added into the mix actually made a pretty good value for money evening (leaving out the wine of course).

We started with a beetroot and roquefort dish served in "nice bowls", followed by our starters. Vicki was initially planning on going for a un-PC dowble header by choosing fois gras followed by veal. She eventually bottled it and we both went for the snail ravioli while Linz went for the tuna. Both good. Sam's broad bean starter wasn't so great and she left most of it (a fact she gleefully revealed to Morgan himself later in the evening). For mains we had pigeon, veal and sea bass and there were no complaints there but it certainly wasn't as good as something you'd get in somewhere truly extravagent.

A second amuse bouche (can't remember - sorry!) was followed by deserts. My rhubarb tarte was excellent and Vicki's chocolate fondant was very rich. Sam wanted the cheese but that needed a £7.50 supplement on the 3-course deal. True to form Sam was onto them asking why it was so much. They didn't have a good answer and were (perhaps deliberately) stingy with her accompanying bread and coulis.

Ho hum. That's all for now. We wandered back to our respective tube stations (having missed the last Victoria Line train - thanks a lot TfL!) debating the merits of Morgan M. Was it worth it? £36 is a good deal no doubt. Service was poor though and location is a hassle so unless you're already in the area I wouldn't be rushing back.

Sitaaray, Covent Garden

2008-05-31T09:55:00.002Z

Hello there!

This month’s Meal Club restaurant has been on the list for a while and was an early choice for the big birthday bash in early March. Thankfully Sitaaray’s TopTable offer seems to be a permanent fixture so we obviously went for it. We were:

James
Laura (guest!)
Linz
Pete
Sam
Vicki

We met beforehand and the burlesque themed Cellar Door bar in Aldwych which is still relatively new. Very decadent and plush with a happy-hour cocktail menu to boot. Decent quality too. Laura’s vodka, lime and lemonade avoided the typical bar error of overloading it with cheapo lime cordial. James, meanwhile, was busying himself sipping his usual whiskey sour while absent-mindedly flicking peanuts into Vicki’s open handbag. His night took a turn for the worse when he regaled me and Laura with a story of such poor quality I swear I could literally smell a bit of poo. This may have been the remnants of the bar’s former life as a toilet, but given that he was telling us the story as part of a wider “I told this story before and no one liked it” anecdote, we felt justified in shouting him down. Poor work James. Must do better next time.

Anyway, on to the restaurant. Usually the phrase “Indian restaurant in Covent Garden” conjures imagery of bog standard slop with greasy poppadums etc… Not this place. It’s a cracking little place with plenty of character. It has an overall Bollywood theme with film excerpts (the songs obviously) being played on numerous flatscreens while photos of Bollywood stars look on from the walls. Our little booth area was blessed with the finest array of moustaches this side of Bangalore. Sam fancied quite a few of them worryingly. One of them was “built like a shit brickhouse”.

I’ve been asked to mention the nice table design. It was nice. There.

The deal was £15 for unlimited kebabs and curries. They brought about 5 or 6 courses in all (mostly kebabs, one broccoli dish – WTF??). Chicken, lamb and fish (for the ‘pescatarians’) were all very good. I didn’t think they were that spicy but then I am extremely hard. The dahl tasted like oxtail soup. There’s not really much else to say about the food other than it was good quality and superb value for money when you think about it. After the curry we were asked if we wanted any more dishes but we were stuffed.

We had a quick chat about France and which games we were going to bring. Sam will “Fucking slap a chow” if people don’t play games and take it seriously. I’ve played scrabble with her before. I know from experience that the girl likes the games and the girl likes to win dammit! I reckon I could take her down on trivial pursuit though. We also voted Laura into Meal Club! (this despite James' protestations that it would be funnier if we all abstained on the vote).

And that’s about it. Really good place, strong recommendation. It worked about about £25 each including wine.

The Capital, Knightsbridge

2008-05-01T11:56:00.000Z

What-ho! Time for an expensive blow out - the first in quite a while in fact. The Capital is a hotel restaurant behind Harrods in fancy Knightsbridge. We were:

James
Linz
Pete
Sam
Vicki

To be honest I can't remember a great deal about the evening which in entirely due to a few pre-dinner drinks combined with the sommelier wines served alongside each course of the taster menu. Luckily James kept some comprehensive and legible notes from the evening to act as prompts.

I arrived about half an hour before we were due to eat and met Sam at the bar (which I was only allowed into after I'd told them the name the dinner reservation was booked under). Sam was enjoying a glass of champage (£12) and some bar nibbles (olives, boozy cherries, some nuts and stuff). I ordered a bloody mary (£11) which was very good but not necessarily £11 worth. I guess you're paying for the service and environment too. The others soon joined, got some drinks to whack the bill up past the fifty quid mark before we'd even started eating. This was a sign of things to come as I believe The Capital has now taken the all time record for expensive food. More on that later.

So down to business. As usual with these places, we went for the taster menu. (We're not knowledgeable enough to be able to choose a la carte). Including everything from amuse bouches to petits fours there were 10 courses in all. James, Linz and Vicki were true to form in avoiding fishy stuff but these places have no problem in coming up with excellent substitution dishes. I'm not going to go into the details of each one but highlights were the john dory with calamari, lamb, rhubarb crumble, lychee jelly with white chocolate, fois gras (which I don't normally like but it worked well with a pineappale and passion fruit foamy type thing).

Quality wise it was very good of course but I wouldn't say it was any better or more exciting that the meals we'd had at nobu or petrus. Three of us had the matching wines (which were really good) and the bill came to a wallet-busting, faint-inducing £726.08. It's enough to make those of us of an Indian persuasion hang our heads in shame for being so extravagant. Oh well, fuck it.

I'm reading through the notes James has made but I can't really remember what they're all about so maybe it'll be better to leave it to your own imaginations:

- Pete generally can't be bothered
- "Show me your clap" and "Smell my ice cubes"
- Pete is a twat for not bringing his diary to the table
- Lunch plans that blatantly never happen
- Is Sam deaf?
- Sport in France
- Pete stitched up en voiture
- Vicki enjoys the "pumped up" men she does yoga with
- Pete + Sauna + Stinky Cheese = Trouble
- Is James gay?
- Vicki snogged a fit bloke who ate stinky cheese
- Inappropriate massages (labia touching)
- Are expensive sunglasses every permissable? (Sam no; Vicki & Linz yes)
- Maximum acceptable price for a lemoade sparkle (paying £2.50 makes you a mug)
- Smell venn diagrams

Next month is the postponed Sitaaray while the Fat Duck is also being lined up for a visit later this year.

Bincho, Oxo Tower

2008-03-30T14:29:00.001Z

This month's meal club snuck up on us somewhat. We got to a few days before and hadn't really thought about where to go. The experience of 50% off at Villandry last month prompted some half-hearted browsing on toptable but nothing really stood out as being in the spirit of adventure. Luckily Linz came up trumps with the suggestion of Bincho - a Japanese BBQ tapas type place. We were:

James
Linz
Mamps
Pete
Vicki

Housed on the second floor of the Oxo Tower, the views of the river and St.Paul's are obviously great but the key attraction (for James at least) was that Bincho sounds a bit like" Benchod". Surprisingly, the restaurant was very empty. It's a pretty large place with seating for probably about 100 people but we were1 of maybe 4 tables in the whole place. The staff spent a lot of time twiddling their thumbs and were very willing to string out a conversation with us about the menu. When the waitress was explaining the menu to us (2 skewers per order, "order 6") we all started off paying attention but slowly realised that it was getting more and more baffling by the second. Gradually and one by one, we abandoned the lesson leaving Vicki to look attentive (although she readily admitted not having a clue what the waitress was talking about either).

To start we had edamame and some friend chicken in breadcrumbs - both of which were mucho tasty although they did come with some bizarro cabbage type thing on the side. Conversation turned to the impending visit to Warwick and how I was very unbothered by it all. I'm glad to say that I was right. It was a shambles of Bistro1 proportions. Additionally a conversation about weddings quickly turned to whether or not it's acceptable to have a "no kids" rule and then this, in turn, degenerated into a rant about whether or not it's acceptable to beat your kids. We're getting very Daily Mail in our old age.

Choosing our main course was something of a trial. James' now familiar "birthday scam" failed to pay dividends again so were stumped for 4 skewers each plus some rice (which was layered with chicken and mushrooms- it was great but a refilled bowl they brought out later was way too salty - even for James who'd been eating the rock salt out of its pot earlier). We eventually shared and swapped a lot of the skewers but between us we had chicken, lamb, eel, tuna, quail egg & bacon, aubergine,sea bream, tiger prawn and others. It's all cooked on this special coal called bincho (some of which I pilfered on the way out for no reason whatsoever) which gives it an excellent smoky flavour. It was all really nice and pretty reasonably priced too (£25-30 including wine) - even Linz who's been hit hard by the credit crunch (big fat blackberry with a crack down the middle of it plus the drinking of tap water!!). We also had a conversation about how Manpreet once ended up nearly being one of Grissom's investigations on CSi.

That's pretty much it. A decent place, worth going to if you haven't been before but probably not one to necessarily put on your favourites list. Next month is an expensive one and then in May we're going to to the postponed sitaary.

Villandry, Great Portland Street

2008-03-01T18:14:00.005Z

Just as Sam and James had predicted and hoped for, February's MealClub almost didn't happen. Originally we had a booked a table at a new scandanavian restaurant near Angel called "Upper Glas". With a 50% off TopTable offer in the mixer, we were clearly onto a winner - until the restaurant phoned me up the Friday before to say that "problems with the bank" had forced them to close down. Such is the limited lifespan of restaurants in London.

With the suspicion that James was working some sort of voodoo scam on us, we pressed ahead with a hastily arranged alternative, unwilling to be defeated by the black arts. Villandry came to the rescue. We were:

Becca
Dom
Mamps
Pete
Vicki
Will

Take that Sam and James!! And in case you think this entire blog entry is an elaborate bluff, then take this too:

(Note Dom's reticence/politeness/wussiness)

Villandry is a deli store-bar-restaurant specialising in all things european and all things quality. It's a bit out of the way but there's a cracking pub nearby called the Crown and Sceptre which Vicki and I met in beforehand. Everyone else met in the Villandry bar at about 7.45 which was buzzing. The restaurant itself is housed at the back of the foodstore so you have to walk through it to get there. On the way out it was discussed how easy it would be to pilfer something like a posh easter egg or a 90p bag of hand-fried potato chips. Obviously being the upstanding pillars of the community we are, this was only mentioned and not acted upon.

The food was good. Not spectacular I wouldn't say but still very good. The artichokes Mamps, Becca and Will had for starters were massive and got Becca talking about "how much cheaper it is in France to buy these things". We're so middle class!

Or at least we are when we're not discussing TV Burp, some guy called Dominic Dosanjh, Mamps' sister getting hitched in vegas and tramps called "The bear woman".

Will and Dom Update: This month, Will had got over his previous disinterest in Dom's conversation topics. In fact they were so deep in discussion that when Manpreet asked Dom what was in a little silver bowl in front of him, he turned and gruffly said "Paste!" before turning back to Will.

Anyway, back to the food. A couple of coups and crudites completed the starters and we were onto the mains. I had steak tartare for the first time which pretty much amounts to raw beef plus a raw egg on top. My initial excitement about being asked whether I'd like it prepared "spicy" (which is always a good question to ask I find) was dampened when it arrived at the table sans egg. Nevertheless it was pretty good. Not weird at all. Dom had muscles, Will had macarone cheese, Becca and Mamps had some excellent fish while Vicki probably "won" this round with some wicked looking lamb filets. We had deserts too. And because the TopTable deal here was 50% off, we were pleasantly surprised to find that we'd saved £80 off the bill and it only ended up being £23 each including drinks. Bargain!

That's it. Can't be arsed writing more. TV Burp is about to start.

ps. Manpreet is on Wikipedia! Next stop: IMDB!

Britain's legendary customer service levels in action

2008-02-25T14:21:00.003Z

Click here for swearingess

The First Amendment

2008-02-08T09:23:00.001Z

Rule 5.1 - Restaurants for the month cannot be vetoed if you didn't attend the previous month.

RootMaster, Brick Lane

2008-01-30T13:56:00.000Z

After a considerable absence we are Back Back Back!!

January saw MealClub enter its third year. From humble beginnings we've grown into something that's slightly less humble and you can't say fairer than that.

Not only was this the first one of the year but the last Wednesday of the month just happening to fall on Sam's birthday. Ever the trooper she insisted we go ahead (mainly to maximise the amount of presents she'd get I suspect). James suggested the venue - RootMaster. More of that later.

We began in Loungelover, beloved of trendies and people who don't mind spending a ludicrous amount on cocktails. At this stage we were:

Becca
James
Sam
Pete
Vicki

I can't remember the names of all the drinks we had but they were mostly great. Becca's first drink was a mint julep which I associate with southern gentlemen in white linen suits, mopping their brows as they lazily while away the evenig hours on their porchway accompanied by the soothing sound of crickets. Becca doesn't really fall into that category so, true enough, she didn't really like it. Too much bourbon. The camp waiter was helpful and understanding in suggesting alternatives - although he wasn't so helpful when James and I were giving him none-too-subtle hints that Sam needs to choose a BIRTHDAY drink. Looking back, maybe he was cleverer than we gave him credit for. Touché , camp waiter. Touché.

The only other thing to say about the cocktails was that I somehow mnaged to get the girliest looking drinks on each occasion. Nice.

Question: How many people currently have some form of MRSA or CDif?

So onto the restaurant. MealClub, as I'm sure you know, is all about trying new things and RootMaster is certainly that. As the name might indicate, it's actually an old Routemaster bus parked up in a square behind Brick Lane. The lower deck is taken up by the kitchen and the upper by the tables, so really you can only get about 15-20 people in per night. Already sitting at our table were:

Dom
Linz
Manpreet
Will

The other 'gimmick' about this place it's entirely vegan. And I do mean entirely. In fact when I snuck downstairs to ask the staff to bring out a birthday cake we'd bought at desert time they flatly refused.

Pete: We've got a birthday girl upstairs so when desert comes around can you...
Hippy: No
Pete: Um....yeah it's her birthday...
Hippy: Sorry. Is it vegan?
Pete: I don't know....how do I know?
Hippy: Well it's in an M&S carrier bag so almost certainly no
Pete: Um....ok (sheepishly makes way back upstairs)

This odd insistence of the rules made James and I later debate whether they would allow a new mother to breastfeed.

A couple of other bits of weirdness before we get onto the food:

1. No toilet. This was obviously going to be the case had we thought about it in advance but it still came as something of a surprise....if you need to go, you have to run across the square to the Big Chill bar on the other side. I thought it was illegal to have a restaurant and not have a toilet....

2. No tap water. They're not hooked up to the mains so bottled water only. Again I thought this was illegal. Plus how do they do the washing up? Do they just throw the plates in the bin and buy new ones every time. Not very green fo a hippy establishment.

Anyway, it wasn't long before we were joined by:

Andy
Ger

Full house baby! Full house!! (even though Andy mentioned that he needed to sneak off later to go to Trannyshack).

The food was (begrudgingly and against all my better judgement) pretty good. I wasn't overly enthused by my £12 plate of broccoli (pronounced 'brockley') but everyone seemed to love their grub. From Manpreet's vegan cola to the big fat flourescant green olives, stuffed mushrooms, vegetable tempura and other veggo stuff, it was enough for Sam to boldly claim that as MealClub's go, this place was "up there"...Again, birthday presents might have played a role here.

Lots of conversation topics so rather than be clever and weave them into the body of this narrative, I'll be lazy and list them bullet point style:

- Will and Becca struggling to choose from so many menu options
- Pete not liking the hippy woman but Becca saying if they were in thr 6th form, they would be friends with each other
- Manpreet refusing to weave planted words into the Eastenders scripts
- A reprise of the "Sam getting punched in the face in the theatre" story
- Will would rather read the London Lite than talk to Dom
- Will getting all worked up about candles after "Princess Ferguson's bathroom burned down"
- Pete being quietly grilled
- The waiter doing an impression of Sam with a shrill call of "Teryaki Stir Fry!!"
- The continued failure of Camera Club to get off the ground

So that's it really. We had a bit of a chat with the male-hippy at the end of the night. Apparently it cost them £18k to buy the bus, £8k to turn it into a restaurant, £1k a month in rent plus a forthcoming £9k to reinstall an extraction system. So fair play, they've done well. Plus anything that makes good use of a Routemaster bus gets my vote. Thumbs up.

Next month some people are skiing and Sam has laid down the challenge that "it won't happen"....but it bloody will you know. It bloody bloody will!

Wahaca, Chandos Place

2007-11-19T17:48:00.000Z

Surprise! Bec and I had lunch today at a new place near the NPG and it was good enough to warrant a mid-month Meal Club blog entry. All unofficial of course. Shhh. Don't tell.

Wahaca is in the southern part of Covent Garden near the corner of Maiden Lane and Bedford Street and right next door to the most upmarket Nando's in the world. It's pretty new and billed as Mexican Market Eating. Sounds terrible doesn't it? Anywhere with a 'concept' is bound to be guff. But this place ticks all the boxes....

Good Food?....Check.
Good Service?....Check.
Good Price?....Check.

Given it was a lunch thing we weren't there for the long haul but managed to fit in drinks, a couple of food dishes and a desert in the space of about an hour. This was, in no small part, down to the staff who backed up their friendliness with speed. The fella who greeted us and took us to a table also seemed to be the manager as he was keen to make sure no one was having any problems of any kind. He even co-ordinated a big "happy birthday" singalong in our half of the restaurant for some poor and embarassed sucker.

Foodwise we could have gone for a big old set menu of various dishes but Bec is a veggo and I'm a carnivore so that didn't really make sense. You can either go for a selection of tapas-style "street food" dishes or a normal main course. We went for the former. Becca had a summer vegetable taco and an aubergine/goat's cheese quesadilla. I went for a chicken taquito and a mackeral tostado. All four of them were great - especially when complimented by a couple of mild salsas and a spicier habanero table sauce. After that we shard a churros which was much better than the churros I had at the more upmarket Gaucho Grill a month or so ago.

And we couldn't complain about the price either. £24 for both of us is a bargain for what we had. Woop! Good food, polite staff and reasonable prices in central London! Doesn't happen often!!

Galvin, Baker Street

2007-11-04T17:28:00.000Z

Galvin on Baker Street is an offshoot of the famous 'Windows' Galvin at the top of the Park Lane Hilton. They do a very reasonably prices set dinner menu (3 courses for £17.50) but it only applies during the hours of 6-7pm. Needless to say with the hardnosed businessmen and women we are, this was never going to be a feasible option. We were:

Becca
James
Linz
Sam
Pete
Vicki

The restaurant is pretty upmarket. As you walk in through the front door, the diners are hidden from view by a curtain but once past it you're confronted by a bustling room full of closely packed tables. Normally this is something to criticise but it did feel like part of this place's bistro-type charm.

As it turns out, our table wasn't quite ready and although we had to wait for it in the bar, it wasn't anything like the St. John's debacle. The bar downstairs was pretty swish. Small and initimate but well decorated and housed by waiters well trained enough to bring Linz's glass of water over on a tray of its own.

Once at our table, we began to rattle off the pluses and minuses of the experience. On the negative side we had to carry our own wine from the bar to the table (or is that me getting onto a particularly high horse having experienced the good stuff every 4 months?), the butter for the bread came late, the table was quite small for 6 of us and the service wasn't exactly swift (although the waiters were French so I guess we should have expected that).

However, pound for pound the positives outweighed the negatives at Galvin. The bread, while initially unbuttered, was warm. The wine was really good quality, the toilets were nice and the food was, without exception, great (except, maybe, the risotto, which both Sam and Becca claimed to be inferior to their own home-made versions).

For starters we had (among other things) snails dorwned in butter garlic and parsley, an imaginatively designed roquefort salad and a soup which was poured at the table. All very good. And then mains....um....can't remember. Risotto obviously. Venison maybe. Something veggie for Becca. Damn. This is what you get for writing the blog several days after the fact. But like I said, we're hardwaorking businesspeople here. I'm a busy man.

Food was all good though. Wine too. Although the man on the adjoining table might not have thought so as he sent his bottle of white crashing onto the floor and all over half of Linz's coat. Everyone was in smart casual clothes. James and I were perhaps the only men in there without a jacket. Thank God I'd had a client meeting that day or else I'd have been in jeans and trainers.

Anyway, can't really remember that much more. I'm sure the conversations we were having were up to our usual witty standard. Much of it centred around the upcoming wedding of Sam and James and how Sam is going to completely stuff her face on honeymoon after the usual pre-wedding-bride-starvation exercise. Given two of the ever-present meal clubbers will be on honeymoon we'll have to see if we can rustle up the pre-requisite 4 people for next month's outing.

I should make a final mention about the price which, thinking about the environment and food, was very reasonable at about £35 each. A bargain by London standards really.

Snazz Sichuan, Euston

2007-09-29T11:58:00.001Z

We hadn't done a Chinese since the early days of Meal Club so as this place had come from the same source that had told me how great Archipelago was it seemed like it would be a good bit of variation for us. Snazz Sichuan (worst website in the world by the way) is in Somerstown - something of a no-mans land north of the Euston Road, but pleasant enough. We were:

Sam
Pete
Vicki

We met in The Rocket beforehand - a horrendous student pub on the main road - where Sam regaled us with tales of her first day back as a student. The upshot is that she's one of the few who is there to actually work (which makes a change from last minute all-nighters at Warwick). Also that her lecturer for a certain module is an idiot who has no experience of life outside academia. We're giving Sam 2 weeks before a vein in her forehead bursts and she kicks off, giving a beatdown to the whole room.

Anyway, onto the restaurant. A good sign upon entry was that there were lots of chinamen and chinawomen eating there. The staff were pleasant enough although their grasp of English was very limited at best. It was a struggle to order anything and it required something of a committee to get Sam her single glass of white wine. Vicki and I were content with the chinese tea which was a lifesaver cos it was freezing outside and they'd stuck us right next to the door (which was continually opening and closing thanks to the Chinese's notorious habit of chainsmoking). The tea was good.

Foodwise this restaurant's USP is its insanely hot dishes. Three red neon chillis welcome you above the restaurant's door because it's only fair that they should provide some form of warning. Each dish on the menu is labelled on a scale from zero to four chillis so we went for a mix. 5 dishes (4 hot, 1 cold) plus rice and hot & sour soup. The beef and cold chicken came first. Now I'm pretty good chillis and that. I've grown up on it and can take more tongue-punishment than most. But these bad boys had a serious kick. Sam was the first to blow her nose and Vicki claimed that my brow was sweating (although I deny it was...). But once your lips and tongue became numb after a few mouthfuls it became more bearable. The beef was pretty damn tasty, the chicken less so but still ok.

The rest of the dishes followed - a kung pao chicken which was ok, a dish of proper-size king prawns which were good and a pork dish which was, by concensus, "a bowl of ming". There was this weird flavour that was present in most of the dishes which we couldn't pin down but it wasn't pleasant. It was quite bitter, a bit like cloves but not. Sam doesn't dislike much food (chewy meat being the only other thing she could think of) but this flavour was added to her list. Whatever it was the pork dish was awash with it and received no more than a bite from each of us. The hot and sour soup (which was ordered on my insistence given that this is what I always order at a chinese restaurant) was one of the poorer ones I'd ever had. Vicki claimed it tastes like a farmyard. Having said that, it did get better as you got nearer the bottom of the bowl for some odd reason. This claim, however, wasn't enough to convince Sam or Vicki who didn't touch it.

In between conversations about why the only TV/Movie aliens Sam likes are the ones in Men in Black, Vicki said she was heading home for some toast.

So all in all, not one of the best, but Meal Club is all about experimentation and trying new things. "Audere est facere" and all that.

Steve don't eat it

2007-09-29T11:56:00.000Z

This guy may be my new hero..

click here

London is world's most costly city for dining out

2007-09-12T06:46:00.001Z

link here

Petrus News

2007-09-01T14:47:00.000Z

Petrus has been voted the best restaurant in London:

click here

Archipelago, Whitfield Street

2007-08-29T14:17:00.000Z

This month we harked back to the original principles of Meal Club, namely to try new things and new places. And given that London is somewhere you can eat any type of food you can imagine (especially if you head down to the dodgy halal places on Turnpike Lane), we plumped for Archipelago near Warren Street. We were:

James
Pete
Sam

Pre dinner drinks were in a small Fitzrovia pub (which James shockingly failed to find despite my first class directions). On the way there Sam and I were discussing how much she loves board games (articulate in particular) so we were delighted to find a battered old scrabble box in the corner. We cracked it open and within 20 minutes Sam had thrashed me with her cunning use of triple word scores. Also because at one point all 7 of my letters were vowels. Plus I'm a numbers man, not letters. For the record the final score was 224 vs 170.

OK Sam, I've mentioned it. Happy now?

So onto the restaurant. And what a cracking little place this is. You need to give them a password to access your table (ours was 'blue lagoon'). The freindly staff explained that it's to avoid confusion when people have the same name and is for 'a bit of fun'. Complete bollocks of course but it summed up the vibe nicely: They do things differently there...

The USP is the menu which specialises in unusual foreign fare. The kind of place where you're likely to be eating that dish for the first time in your life (so naturally we sampled each others' food). For starters Sam had crocodile wrapped in vine leaves (which was awesome - totally succulent, not tough like we imagined it would be). James had a baklava, rocket and walnut salad with a honey sauce...and as salds go this one was one that even I would eat again. I went for the peacock which sealed the hattrick of quality starters.

Main course were, if anything, better. Between us we had the wildebeest, zebra and kangaroo (Sam sticking with the Australian theme in her ordering). All three of them were fantastic. Seriously, I can't overstate how good the food was. Sam was bold enough to place this place second behind Petrus in the Meal Club rankings (although was forced to reconsider when I reminded her of Nobu) - but she was right - it's definitely up there.

A special mention to the love bug salad - a salad with what appeared to be kebab-shop chilli sauce in it plus a selection of deep fried locusts and crickets. All three of us had previous experience of this in Beijing so were unphased. Taste like bacon crisps.

A quick word on the unusual decor. It's a small and pretty dark place with a gravel pit in place at the doorway as you walk in. Odd. There was plenty of guff plastered all over the walls - random paintings, african shrunken heads, australian cork hats, weird sculptures etc... and downstairs there's a little additional room with a bar but only able to fit about 4 people in comfortably. And everything on the table was interesting too. All our glasses were different. The menus were rolled into scrolls and placed in a jewellery box for you to discover. The cocktail menu was fixed into a wooden box with two little doors for you to open to see it, and the desert menus were in books. Actual books. All different from each other so you could have a bit of a read if the conversation got boring.

Although the conversation was, of course, riveting. James pondered when you'd go back to in the past if you had a time machine. His preference would be the end of the 19th century where we could affect a hat and a cane with which to thrash ragamuffins and ne'er-do-wells. And Sam entertained us by merging Care Bears and He-Man to present us with "Care Bear Power". Can't remember why we were talking about that.

And that's that.

Pied-à-terre, Charlotte Street

2007-07-26T20:03:00.000Z

Fuck me, what a shambles. For much of the day I had been showing people in the office the menu for tonight's Meal Club dinner at Tom Aikens in South Kensington. Looks great we all thought. So come 7.55 I'm milling about the Fulham Road waiting for the others who had texted to say they'd be a bit late. Thing is....we weren't going to Tom Aikens. We were going to Pied-à-terre. In fucking Charlotte Street. A round trip of precisely 8.2 miles for no reason.
After that disaster, we kicked off at about 9pm following a comedy entrance to the restaurant by Sam (being asked what restaurant she was in and answering "Lane") and me (being mocked by the doorman for being "the one who went to the wrong restaurant"). We were:

James
Linz
Sam
Pete

As it was an expensive month we went for the taster menu which was suprisingly seafood heavy. Not good news for James and Linz who are hardcore fish-dodgers. But as with all good restaurants, substitutions were on hand (although they did have to check with the chef first which wouldn't have happened if the now legendary maitre'd at Petrus was in charge).

The menu was, of course, excellent. £80 for the food with an extra £52 for the accompanying wines (for Pete, Sam and James). So not cheap by any means - but for 9 courses of top notch grub and 9 glasses of good quality wine you're not gonna get away with not paying a decent amount of money. The first course proper was Pepper Seared Tuna, Caper and Green Bean Salad, Parsley Oil and Soft Poached Quail Eggs. James and Linz thought they could take tune but were shocked and appalled at how "how fishy it was". Sam and I thought it was fine. Hardcore.

And we then proceeded to get through a series a excellent food (albeit in classicly small portions) - foie gras, lamb, trout, scallops, asparagus, cheese, petit fours (all superb) and others that I can't remember due to the increasingly excessive wine drinking that was going on (finishing with a very unusual tasting sherry). In fact, at one point, James had no fewer than 5 glasses of wine backed up in front of him - much of which was passed onto Linz for slops. He must have been pretty drunk as his response to the perfectly simple question of "red or white sir?" was "um.......[silence].......what were the options again?"

Conversation ranged from Harry Potter (James and Linz had read it, Sam was waiting to read it, Pete didn't give a shit) and James' inexplicable obsession with the bizarro idea that "Pete loves fat birds".

We made it out at about midnight (I think) with Sam saying thank you not just to the staff but some random punter who happened to be standing outside the restaurant too. The standards were high and they were met - clearly they know what they're doing and the food was great. A total bill of £605.13 (which is a Meal Club record).