A Prologue

When I started writing this blog, it was as a bit of fun to mix my obsession with travelling and food into words that friends and a few other people could read. 2½ years later somehow it is still going. No idea how really.

As my job as a travel agent, gifts or complimentary stays at hotels or flights are part and parcel of the job. How else do you think I have travelled so much. It’s a way of them leaving you with a nice feeling, so you can sell their product better.

This also happens with critics of all forms, whether they are music, film or food critics. Little gifts go a long way. I scratch your back you scratch mine.

I have been noticing many many people who write blogs that are receiving complimentary meals from restaurants, or are guests of wine merchants etc. Some decide to tell us that, whilst some do not. But once you start reading a blog, it kinda becomes obvious that it was a freebie, as the writings flatter a place so much, that you would believe they had gone to heaven and back.

I never envisaged I would be offered anything, especially as I have a limited fan base. I’m sure that my mum and her friends do not really even really read half the stuff I write. So when, within a week 3 turn up at once. Just like the number 65 bus, I was gob smacked.

The first was to an informal breakfast at Roast for a kind of launch of the London Restaurant Festival. Unfortunately we were at Polpo the night before and I never made it up that morning in time to go. Damn as Roast do some fine sausage sarnies.

The second was to goto Camino. This I jumped at with open arms, as we’d been to the King’s Cross arm of this burgeoning empire and always had a good time.

The third was to a Jazz Evening at the Pizza Express Jazz Club in Soho. Unfortunately again, we were both quite hung over from Camino that there was no way we could have made it. I was a complete waste of space at work that day. Nothing new there then.

I am used to being given free lunches at hotels, which normally involve a tour of the hotel and its facilities before settling down to a hosted (i.e. someone from the marketing department eats with you), or unhosted (you eat alone) meal in their restaurant. The unhosted ones are the oddest, especially when you are in an empty restaurant.

I really cannot tell you how many I have had over the years. I’ve lost count. In fact after a while they kinda get dull and repetitive, and all you crave is for some badly cooked street food. Well I was like that in India. Took me about 3 weeks before I could escape from a hotel restaurant to a normal restaurant with dirty floors and stroppy waiters.

Now I am not the type of person to write good things just because it is free. Since returning from that trip through the sub-continent and beyond and giving my presentations at work. My boss hasn’t spoken to me since I said Burma was the least favourite country I visited in those 10 weeks.

Now to anyone else this would not be a problem, but as she was born in Burma and has major attachments to the country. I kinda fucked up. But hey, I cannot lie.

Now you are probably wondering why I am going into so much about this. Well it’s because we had a great time at Camino Puerto. Such a good time that even without it being comp’d, I would have happily paid the bill myself. It was that good.

But the real reason is that I am getting fed up of people pretending that a free meal isn’t a free meal. Just tell us it was free and write what you think. If it was shit, then it was shit. If it was ok then say so. Don’t bollox us with over hype, just so in case you never get invited to another free meal. Tell it as it is, and we will respect you even more.

Now the next blog will be me over hyping Camino Puerto to the point of it being nauseating. Enjoy.

Foto Friday # 20

This old market building in Montevideo, now turned into a meat lovers paradise, where small asadores serve up some of the best parrillas in Latin America.

Our 10th Anniversary @ Polpo

I’m not that good with dates, so I have to be reminded of birthdays, anniversaries and the like. Luckily Lina is pretty good with those things and dually reminds me a week before that her birthday is coming up.

She gave me two weeks notice that it was our 10^th anniversary coming up. She kept mentioning it more or less everyday so I wouldn’t forget. Good tactic that.

So where to go, to celebrate this grand occasion. Theo Randall maybe. The River Café was another possibility. Locando Locatelli, her favourite Italian in London. As this was a special occasion I even pitched in with Koffman’s and Bar Boulud, but as we are off to Paris at the end of this month, it seemed to leave those places for another time.

In keeping with the Italian theme she was keen on. I had eaten at Booca Di Lupo, and had had a good meal there, but wanted to try somewhere new. Polpo is still creating waves and I had read many a good blog on the place. So why not. It was sorted.

Polpo do not accept bookings for the evening, and I thought if we arrived around 7.30ish we would get a table quite easily. After all it was a cold wet windy Wednesday evening. Oh how wrong I was. The place was heaving to the point of bursting.

It took me 10 minutes to push myself through the crowd to get to the maître d’ (of sorts) and gave my name and was advised of up to an hour and a half wait. Jesus.  Damn I’d never waited for a table for so long before. But as we had no other plans for tonight, and ahh we were inside, it was warm, and the wine list looked good. So we managed to find a precious space with enough room for us, 2 glasses and a bottle of wine. We spent the next hour or so chatting that actually when it came for us to be

offered a seat at the bar, we never noticed that it was nearing 9pm.

During this time we constantly heard people bitch about how long it was taking for them to get a table. Damn I wanted to tell them that no one is forcing them to hang around and wait to be seated. You can leave.

This is what I hate about London, no one has any patience any more.

After we were seated, it became apparent that I really need an eye test and new glasses. Looking at a brown menu in low light was a bit of a job. Sign of old age it seems.

The menu, which I think changes quite a bit, looked pretty good from what I could make out. We decided to order more or less everything in one hit, as we were pretty hungry. This actually turned out to be a good idea, but we still ordered a couple more things before they arrived.

The food I have to say was hit and miss. Some dishes were yum yum, and some were so so.

The arancini was pretty so so. The risotto balls were very under seasoned and had no real flavour at all. Nice texture though.

The chopped chicken liver crostini was unreal. Such great flavour and texture. For something so unassuming it packed the biggest punch of the night, but I am a sucka for offal in all its many forms.

The ham hock & parsley terrine, which had a lovely addition of a mustard eggy mayo was really delicious. A tad too salty but I am a forgiving soul in my old age. Plus I love terrines. So I will forgive them for making my favourite dish.

Before they arrived we ordered some more, as I was feeling quite hungry, the linguine vongole. The liquor had a lovely salty, clamy taste that I was spooning it in my mouth with relish.

The roast pumpkin, prosciutto and ricotta salata and the beetroot, rocket and walnut pesto were the last to arrive and were quickly dug into.  These last two were ok but nothing special. They needed a bit more work on them to make them the finished article.

As you can see, we never really orderd that much, but we were very content with what we had eaten. We finished the night off sharing a tiramisu pot and couple of espressos.

We both had a great night, even with the wait, which actually never bothered us that much, even though it was nearly 90 minutes. And there was me bitching about the wait someone had for a burger the other day. But 3 hours was a tad too much.

I’d like to go back to Polpo, but catch them at lunchtime when we can be assured of a table. 

Sunday Roast @ The Spaniards Inn

It’s been around a decade since I haven’t worked regularly on a Sunday. Travel agents and chefs alike always work weekends, well it’s our busiest time. Although strangely enough, with my new job weekends are our quietest period, and on Sundays we are closed. Phew.

So with this new strange regime in order, we are making the most of our Sundays in London. No more lazing around the house all day like we used to on a precious Sunday off together.

During my many moments at work where I really have nothing to do, I can be seen trawling the internet for stuff happening in London over the weekend. I have found some right weird things. Some have been interesting, and a lot really dull.

I found a website, which gave ideas and maps for some unknown strolls in our capital. There was only one around us, this was going from Stoke Newington to Hampstead Heath. As we live near the middle we started it from there. Seeing all those kids on a Sunday morning is too much for me sometimes.

Thankfully we had good weather up to a point. The nicest part of the walk was a stroll from Crouch Hill train station along a wooded path to Hampstead. It reminded me of being back in the countryside. Ahhh heaven. But then both Crouch End and Hampstead both have a kind of countryside feel to it, to which Crouch Enders are extremely proud of to the point of being overly annoying about it.

We shared this path with Sunday morning joggers who I find quite maddening at the best of times. It seems to be a fashionable thing in Islington at the moment. Jogging. Damn I am so untrendy. Never a follower of fashion, but I am on the verge of joining a gym just so I can tone up this belly somewhat. It’s now getting a bit out of control.

The walk took us about 90 minutes from door to door. The other door is the Spaniards Inn on Spaniards Road, funny that. It calls itself a country pub in the city, and kind of pulls it off, especially as it is adjacent to the Heath. The pub dates back to around 1585 and the Spanish Ambassador to King James lived here. It also had Dick Turpin hanging around watching those rich folk go past in their carriages before he robbed them.

Lina had been here before for Diana and Marcin’s post wedding drinks. Sadly I missed them as was somewhere in Burma at the time, but the reviews were fab and had to check it out.

The inside is definitely of a country feel, nice carpet and lots of wood everywhere. They have a good selection of proper beers that would make CAMRA proud. The clientele is very N6. It oozes wealth and snobbery. They are also very dog friendly as in the carpark is a dog cleaning service, so quite a few people were popping up with their messy dogs, dropping them off at the poodle parlour, having a bit of lunch and then picking up a model dog. Bonus. Damn good business if you ask me.

Inside was jammin’ and no space to spin a cat, so we sat outside in their lovely (award winning) garden. As it was a Sunday. It had to be a roast. The portions are pretty big. The ½ chicken looks enough for 2. But we settled on the roast beef and lamb, which we kind of shared. Kind of.

Unfortunately the food let the place down a lot. The beef was pretty tasteless and under seasoned, and cut way to thickly for a Sunday roast. The coarsely shredded lamb was much better and had a good lamby flavour. The potatoes and veggies were adequate but nothing special. The sautéed leeks were squeaky, and I hate that in veg. The carrot purée was ok. The tatties were not roasted up. Very disappointing.

All in all it was an average Sunday roast in a great pub. Shame really, as had a good feeling about this place. Maybe, just a bad day. Who knows, as it’s unlikely I’ll ever go there again to eat.

As we left the heavens opened up and we just managed to catch the bus into a rather wet and miserable looking Golders Green. This place I do want to return to, as have heard there are some good Japanese restaurants here. We’ll see.

Foto Friday # 19

2 delicious char siu buns from Lin Heung in Hong Kong. They may not do the greatest dim sum in the world, but it has the best character and atmosphere.

Leong's Legend Continues

Something for many years has kept me away from China Town. Only recently with the discovery of the C & R Café (mainly because my favourite Malay restaurant closed), and Rasa Sayang, and very recently The Baozi Inn, have I ventured anywhere near to China Town.

The first two do Malay or Straits Food. So not very Chinese there. The latter comes from a well groomed stable of restaurants. But that was as close to China Town as ever I got. The hoard of restaurants down Gerrard Street were off my list for many a year.

I have too many memories of eating bad food masquerading as Chinese cuisine. Those same old dishes that you always end up ordering cos that was all there was on the menus. Sweet and sour something fried, over steamed veggies with a hoisin sauce dolloped over it.

But something has been changing, not only in me, but in China Town also. The standard of food has shot up. Plus the menus have been a changing. Now you see more proper Chinese food on them there menus. More hot pots, more braised trotters, more food that I have eaten in China. Maybe this is because of Bar Shu, which has upped the game immensely.

Another reason has been because of the fantastic Fuchsia Dunlop who has made Sichuan cuisine more accessible to the masses. I am a big fan of hers and have tried (some times succeeded, sometimes not) to recreate some classic Sichuan dishes.

Maybe I was willing to give China Town another chance. Maybe after spending 10 weeks of more or less eating nothing but Indian food literally three times a day, has made me want to eat different foods. Plus sitting opposite to a girl at work, who says nothing without mentioning how great China and Chinese food is, maybe has had something to do with it.

So these little things had been working at me for some time, even before a disappointing night at the recent Malaysian Night Market in Trafalgar Square. See I am still upset by that. Before I knew it we were queuing outside Leong’s Legends Continue on Lisle Street in China Town.

I actually tried to visit the original Leong’s Legend on Macclesfield Street a few weeks ago, but it was having some refurb done, so we ended up at Rasa Sayang next door, again!! But hey they do a quality Straits Chicken Curry that I love. I’m a creature of habits so what can I do.

So this blistering cold night we ended up standing outside Leong’s Legends continue freezing my arse off and dieing to get inside and warm up. My stomach was a groaning just watching the young girl steam their selection of dim sum in the section by the front of the restaurant. Damn she looked mighty warm in there. Thankfully the wait wasn’t that long, and we were ushered inside to the first floor. Why do all Chinese restaurants have such small cold stairways?

The place was jammin’. Maybe everyone else form the night market had ended up here also. We were taken in by the good vibe. The décor is a little tacky, but I kinda like the way they have recreated the place to look like you that we are in the 11^th Century “Water Margin” era. As if any of us white folk know what that would be like.

The menu is slightly influenced by Bar Shu and its off shoots, but there are some classics on there as well. Plus some Taiwanese food. I unfortunately know nothing of the food from Taiwan. But thanks to Mr Noodles for enlightening me on his blog. I am trying to learn.

Even before we entered, I was already set on the pork belly. Like most restaurants if they can’t cook pork well, they ain’t shit.

Lina was in the mood for some classic northern Chinese comida. Plus after seeing the table next door munching on some aromatic duck, she was sold. Hey she’s from Latin America and they do do stereotyping pretty well down there.

We also ordered as an amuse bouche, to get us in the mood for the feast to come. The classic cold Sichuan starter of cold beef and tripe slices (fu qi fei pian) with a kick in the arse chilli sauce. Wow that sauce packed a punch. Brilliant. My mouth was a tingling all over. Excellent. Any place that serves offal is always a winner with me, and I will always order it. The beef was tender and was pulled apart easily with our chopsticks. The tripe was awesome. Damn I love offal.

We ordered a couple of beers. I tried to do it with the Chinese hand signals for the numbers, but ballsed that up. I think the waitress thought I was retarded. I put it down to my Learning of them in Beijing. As I do with the naff way I pronounce anything in Chinese. I say it’s my Beijing accent.

The beers arrived and I love the way in keeping in with the décor, they serve them in little clay bowls. Very funky.

The aromatic duck arrived, and it was shredded, as you would expect it to be. Not at the table, but this is England, and not Beijing. The cucumber batons were crunchy and uniform, as were the spring onions. The sauce was mighty fine. The duck had a nice crispy skin and had a very subtle in flavour. But don’t forget my mouth was still kinda numb from the Schihuan chilli sauce. So I am amazed I could taste anything. The only thing I can criticise, and maybe I shouldn’t. The pancakes seemed a little too papery for me. Possibly I have gotten used to roti’s, and that anything not the same is not right. I don’t know but they were a little odd. But once everything was inside and rolled, they were ok. It’s a me thing I guess.

My pork belly came in large chunks in a subtly flavoured red sauce. This was good. The pork fat was soft and tender, just how I like it. The meat I could have and did tear apart with my chopsticks. It wasn’t as strong flavoured, as I would have liked. But I am a snob so what can I do.

What we ordered was more than enough for us. But I was seeing people who had gone overboard on what they had ordered. The two people on the table next to us had ordered enough food for 4. “Eyes Bigger Than Stomachs” as my dad used to say to me.

They came out with some classic lines all night. My favourite was the man saying to the woman. “I know the other place was cheaper, but it was a buffet my dear.”

I nearly fell off my chair larfing.

All in all it was a pretty good night, and has awoken a sleeping dragon within me. China Town is back on my list of places to go. Although I am going to be very selective in where I eat there. 

A Malaysian Pasam Malam

 For me the best foodie places in the world especially for street food are Thailand, Singapore and Malaysia. Penang however ranks as the number one street food destination in the world. There is something about the hawker stands that just makes eating out so good. They take pride in their work. For them this is their little restaurant, it’s not about earning a quick buck or scamming their customers, like some street food stalls I have seen in other countries, including my own.

So I was dead excited to hear there was going to be a Malaysia Pasam Malam or night market in Trafalgar Square on Friday night. Memories came flooding back of all those hawker stalls in Penang selling top quality food to eager and happy people.

When Friday came, I even left the new girls birthday drinks at the pub early so I could go. Rude I know. But hey, I have priorities.

So when we arrived to Trafalgar Square, I was amazed, but not surprised by the quantity of people who had turned up before me. All I could see was a sea of people. Damn we were late. Very.

The stalls, which from what I could make out, were mainly from restaurants serving up their signature dishes. Not like a proper pasam malar, but it’s a start

The stalls were all ringed around the outside of the square, and the left hand side had at least 50 deep of people queuing. We were very late. Very.

We wandered over to the other side, where the queues were less, but only slightly. Thoughts were running through my mind of beef randang, roti canai and nasi lemak. These were wetting my appetite for a good night of feasting.

Unfortunately something went wrong. Of all the queues we joined by the time we got to the front we were confronted by “No Food”. They had run out. How cold this have happened. Damn how late were we. Oh so very late. 

It was a bit of a shambles really. I guess they had not thought that Londoners would flock there in droves on a Friday night for good Malaysian food.

For starters to do an event like this on only one day was a bit of a stupid idea. This should have been a weekend event showcasing the wonders of Malaysian food. Instead we were left with a mad scramble once everyone left work to get something to eat.

I was very disappointed but still kinda happy that it was a success in a way. If a little chaotic. So with everyone else we decided to goto China Town for some nosh.

As we were leaving we saw a girl popping some chicken drumsticks into warm oil to fry. I would have loved to have eaten that. I don’t want to think how they would have tasted.

A disappointing night, but it did have its upside. We discovered Leong’s Legends Continue…… More on that soon….. 

Foto Friday # 18

A quality Burmese Beer.

Garufa and Still Turning Down Baby Sitting Duties

The good thing about being away for 10 weeks, well apart form being away for 10 weeks, was getting to meet up with lots of people upon my return.

One of the first we met up with was Lina’s cousin, his soon-to-be-wife and their little or now not so little baby Emma. She had grown. Last time I saw her she was a tiny two month old insect. Now she is a large seven month old eating machine.

Her parents have taken on some new ideas to heart. They basically feed her what ever they are eating. And I mean anything.

I was joking when I suggested Garufa, saying that it was about time that she started on her first steak. Little did I realise that she was an old hand at this. I was disappointed that she hasn’t mastered the knife and fork yet, but she certainly showed her love of a lovely medium rare piece of steak.

After 10 weeks of eating really nothing but curries in one form or another. Ranging from those lovely south Indian fiery curries in Oman to the watery ones in Bhutan, I have been in craving everything but spiced food.

I’d been thinking a lot about Argentina as a friend was telling us spring had nearly arrived there and he was getting ready to wear his sandals everyday. To say Lina was slightly upset was an understatement. She is still clinging to summer like a crazed person.

But it got me thinking, and I got to craving milansesa. A dish that Gonzi had got me addicted to way back when in Buenos Aires. It was probably this that got me eating katsu curry in the Tokyo Diner the night before.

Obviously the katsu wasn’t enough for me and I wanted that milanesa in Garufa. I needed that milanesa.

We’d tried to eat at Garufa earlier this year, but it was a Friday or Saturday night and they were busy, and we hadn’t made a reservation. So we ate elsewhere. For some reason after that we never got round to going back, plus me being away on hotel inspections for 10 weeks. Well now we had an excuse.

The menu at Garufa is pretty standard Argentinean restaurant in London. They have their cuts of meats, bife ancho, bife de chorizo, lomo and cuadril. All these come with a side of salad or chips.

They also have their mixed parilla, which comes with an assortment of meats, sausages, black pudding and a portion of provolone cheese. A must for any parilla. Normally the provolone cheese is for the veggie that always turns up to an asado in someone’s house.

Ordering was pretty simple 3 bife de chorizo all medium rare, 2 side orders of chips, and my milanesa, which came with chips. Plus a pre order of provolone cheese, moron asado (grilled red peppers) and a couple of what turned out to be very dainty empanadas.

It’s took me a week or so to calm down over the empanadas. They were titchy, and I have to say not that good. The meat one lacked real flavour, plus it was fried. The locro (sweetcorn) one was just so so. The corn needed the creaminess of a Tucuman empanada. Plus as I said they were really small, and at £5 for two. Not very happy. I have to say Lina could and should make them for the restaurant. Hers are so much better. This was the low point of the meal.

The provolone cheese was really nice. It had been grilled over the coals and came in a dish to be shared, as all good food should be. Equally good were the peppers. Nicely charred and drowning in olive oil. Fantastic for the bread to soak it all up.

But the star of the show was the mains. My milanesa was a flattened rump that had been breaded and nicely fried was the size of my plate. The chips were knock down gorgeous. I wish some chippies would do chips this good. Lovely and crispy.

The steaks all 300 grams, were just awesome. Unfortunately I only got to eat a little, as my wife was enjoying hers too much to share. Even with me offering her vast quantities of Milanese. She wouldn’t budge. But I did get a small taste, and it was juicy and the taste of the charcoal came through in bounds.

Since I haven’t eaten a steak since god knows when, this was top of the shop by a long way. Prob the best since we left Argentina. Even better than the disappointing one we had in New York.  Actually that doesn’t count as we had it at Newark airport.

All in all it was a really good meal, and since we only live 5 minutes away up the hill I think Garufa is going to be on our list as our local. Especially as the have choripan for £5. Life is good huh?

The other star of the show was definitely Emma. Our 7 month old eating machine. The only thing she never ate was my milanesa, as she wasn’t willing to swap her steak with me. I’ve never witnessed a baby eat so much food, and none of it was puréed. I always pitied my nephews having to at that junk they were given as kids. These new fangled ideas on how to bring up babies seem to be pretty good.

We also seem to be pretty good at still managing to turn down baby sitting duties. I’m not so sure how many times we can claim that she is too small for us to look after. Emma will one day be forced upon us for the night. Until then we enjoying our baby free life. 

Tokyo Diner made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.

Maybe it is a throw back from eating more or less nothing but Indian food for the last 10 weeks that I have been eating everything but…. Maybe I am fed up of those perfectly blended spices cooked in all manor of ways that have been tantalising my taste buds at every meal. Or maybe I really know deep down that the Indian food in London is very poor and no match for a simple restaurant in a small village in India.

I had been thinking what foods I had not eaten and somehow as always when I do this a katsu curry always turns up. I love this simple dish. I mean it is pure genius. Breaded meat, deep fried and served with rice and a curry sauce. But this curry sauce could never be mistaken for an Indian sauce. This is comforting and thick. Real school dinner type sauce.

I’d passed the Tokyo Diner on how many occasions and never actually thought about setting foot inside. But as the Prince Charles Cinema was showing the Godfather on a Friday night, I had to eat there. So cinema first, katsu curry after.

I love the Prince Charles Cinema. Those weird and wacky film events they do. I also love the fact that it allows major alcohol companies to sponsor film events there. Brilliant.

The Godfather is one of my favourite films of all time. It and the first sequel are always in my top 5. But let’s not speak about the 3^rd instalment. Best not to really.

Russian Standard Vodka are doing a series of promotional events around the UK this year. That week was at the PCC. The films they are showing are real classics, well except for one crappy British fluffy comedy. Yes you know who you are.

As we entered the cinema for this FREE event. (I thought we had to pay for the tickets). We were given some vouchers for FREE vodka cocktails. It just keeps getting better.

Once upon a time, in a land far far away I had a liking for vodka. This came about by me living in Israel for a year and a half many moons ago. Cheap Russian vodka was cheaper than a cup of coffee. We drank a lot.

The vodka girls hired by the company also gave us little goodie bags. I was only interested in the small bottles of their vodka. Some nice double vodkas and coke were had later.

Watching the Godfather on a cinema screen was unreal. There were so many little things I’d never seen before. Amazing. The killing of Sonny was seen in a new way that I felt every bullet enter him. But being slightly drunk made it a different experience also. There was a really good atmosphere from my fellow oh so nearly drunk cinema goers.

When we left I never realised it was so late, and the Tokyo Diner was closed. Damn. This was not good. Tomorrow would be a different story. Tokyo Diner then cinema.

So the following evening before we watched The Girl with Dragon Tattoo, which in Spanish is translated as “The Men Who Do Not Love Women”. I mean who chooses these titles in other languages. Talk about lost in translation.

We headed into the Tokyo Diner. My need for a Katsu Curry was getting to me now. I was instantly taken by the place. It is simple and had a nice vibe. It is however more chilled than Misato which also does a nice katsu curry.

I like that they give you a good cup of green tea when you are seated, and it is refilled whenever you want.

After looking at the menu, a change of plan was called for. No chicken katsu curry, I opted instead for the pork Tonkatsu curry. Controversial I know. Lina had the chicken katsu bento box. It was catching. Now this is strangely enough exactly what we had in Misato, and they could not have been so different.

This has been the first katsu curry I have had that has been like what I ate in several train stations in Japan. Boy I had missed that taste. Slightly naff, but oh soooo good and very school dinnerish food.

The portions are large and filling. The rice is cooked excellently. The breaded pork cutlet was perfect. Crunchy on the outside and juicy on the inside. But the curry sauce was awesome. It took me back to those cheap eateries you find around railway stations in Japan. Pure heaven.

The Bento box was beautiful presented, and a perfect portion for a pre cinema dinner. The salmon was quite nice, but lacked any real salmon flavour. The brown sauce for the breaded chicken was really good. It was a perfect match for the chicken. There were some aubergines that had been cooked slowly and were delightful to eat.

I was contently stuffed by the time we had finished. I was happy now to relax in the cinema knowing I had found a real gem in China Town. A hard thing to do these days.

Also the films couldn’t have been so different either. I’m hoping to see more of these film seasons at the PCC, especially those ones sponsored by vodka companies.