Ordinarily, a glitzy bar-cum-restaurant-cum-nightclub like McQueen in Shoreditch isn't the kind of place you'd find me having dinner. Aimed squarely at the kind of high-spending, hard-living City geezers 'n' gals who like their spirits premium, house happy and ropes velvet, it's somewhere I've always given a wide berth, even though I used to work just round the corner.
But then a few weeks ago at a networking event (yes, people do still go to those, or at least I do; they're like LinkedIn, but with wine) I met McQueen's very charming Marketing & PR Manager who, doing what good Marketing & PR Managers do when they scent someone who writes about restaurants, invited me in to try theirs. My kind of place or not, it would have been churlish to refuse, especially when it transpired that we had a mutual friend who would make the perfect dinner date.
Not realising that the restaurant has its own entrance on Tabernacle Street, we entered through the bar which, on a Thursday night, was - as I believe the kids say these days - going off. The decor, which carries through to the restaurant, is a bit blingy but perfectly inoffensive - parquet floors, Chesterfield sofas, slate walls, gilt-framed black-and-white pictures of the venue's inspiration, the eternally-cool Steve McQueen - and succeeds in making the space feel razzy without tipping over into tacky. The louche, sexily-lit room would, my pal Nic and I agreed, be ideal for a date, perhaps with someone who wasn't publicly your partner.
The menu (as well as the a la carte there are good value express lunch and early evening set menus) is unthreatening stuff - salads, bistro classics and a few grills - at not-too-terrible prices; starters are around the £8 mark and mains, except for steaks, all under £20. We kicked off with a couple of well-made cocktails and some courgette fritters, pleasingly thick wedges in a crunchy, salty crumb.
Nic's starter, a salad of carpaccio-thin slices of pretty candy beetroot with red apple and pepper cress in a lemon and herb dressing, was lovely to look at and fresh and clean on the palate, if a little bland. Mine, three plump, sweet scallops topped with crumblingly-crisp streaky bacon and served on a cauliflower puree given a kick with white pepper, was much livelier.
Poor Nic didn't do too well with her main course, a very ordinary veggie burger which - horrors - wasn't cooked all the way through and was served on an only-partially-defrosted bun. The dual shame of this was that, having chosen to serve such a humdrum vegetarian option in the first place, the kitchen couldn't at least do it well. They redeemed themselves with my monkfish, a good firm fillet served on soft, silky buttered leeks with smoky griddled razor clams, although it was rather heavy-handedly salted.
Desserts, fortunately, were spot on. Ginger pannacotta with honeyed madeleines was a very happy marriage of tastes and textures, while a classic hot chocolate fondant was as good an example as I've encountered anywhere. Coffee, too often an over-priced afterthought, was of a high standard, as was service which was nicely paced and unpressured with none of the forced formality or up-selling that I might have expected of such a 'see-and-be-seen' location.
All-in-all, bar that very poor veggie burger, McQueen was better than I thought it would be. My perhaps prejudiced expectation of venues like this is that they'll be more style than substance, the food and beverage offering secondary to loud music and a late licence in attracting customers; not so here. Not only did I enjoy McQueen despite it not being somewhere I'd usually go; I'd go so far as to say that I'd happily go back.
McQueen, 51-56 Tabernacle Street, London EC2A 4AA Tel: 020 7036 9229 www.mcqueen-shoreditch.co.uk
Posted by +Hugh Wright
You have to admire - or envy - Edwin Chan. After a long and incredibly successful career in advertising, culminating in his founding his own global agency, Chan handed over the day-to-day running of the business to his partners and decided to pursue his passions of French food and wine. This saw him open an eponymous brasserie and wine bar in Lyon in 2007 and in October of this year, one in London.
The choice of Shoreditch as a location is an interesting one; although not quite as painfully trendy as in its Nathan Barley hey-day, the still-hip axis of Great Eastern Street and Curtain Road wouldn't seem ideally suited to somewhere priding itself on its traditionalism, as Edwin's does. But not everyone in EC2 wants to eat Peruvian-Japanese fusion atop a skyscraper, or vertically-roasted chicken under a giant Damien Hirst vitrine, so actually Chan could well be on to something.
Chef Jeremy Huguet's menu is a simple affair; nothing on it will be unfamiliar to even the most conservative diner. A three-course prix-fixe is offered at both lunch and dinner for an eminently reasonable £20, although with prices of only £6-£9 for starters, all mains around £15 and desserts no more than £6, three courses won't come to much more than that a la carte.
My fashion buyer pal James started with a plate of charcuterie (the rabbit terrine he'd initially wanted being unavailable) which was fine, as you'd expect a plate of Bayonne ham and salami to be. My escalope of foie gras with figs and raspberry coulis was excellent, seared to a crust on the outside and trembling within.
For our main course we both chose onglet, or hanger steak, presented sliced and with rather too many sauté potatoes. It tasted lovely but in both effort and presentation fell firmly into the 'I could (and do) make this at home' camp, which I think is taking simplicity just a step too far. A plate of cheeses, including a delightfully pongy Coulommiers and a sweet, nutty Tomme, rounded things off perfectly.
Chan personally curates and imports the wine list, which changes frequently. None of it is cheap, starting at £20 a bottle, but can be relied on to be good (and good value); our Haute Cote de Beaune was light but warming. Service, from an all-French staff, was entirely faultless.
Any restaurant, anywhere, serving good if unexceptional food at fair prices complemented by a strong and interesting wine list should do well; one with someone as passionate as Edwin Chan behind it, moreso. But Edwin's will, I think, struggle to achieve true popularity unless more is done to make it somewhere you really want to eat, rather than just being somewhere there's no really good reason not to eat.
The room, for example, is basic almost to the point of harshness, with aggressive fluorescent lighting; a restaurant - unless famed for its ascetic aesthetic, such as St. John - with no candles, no ornamentation, borders on the unwelcoming. From outside, too, Edwin's lacks warmth, retaining the unappealing doors and canopy of the backstreet trattoria it previously was. It's one thing to be a labour of love, quite another to actually feel like it to the customer.
Edwin, from a conversation I had with him after our dinner, appears confident that the restaurant and wine bar he's put his name to will do just fine without such finessing. I might not share his confidence, but I hope nonetheless that that proves to be the case.
Edwin's French Wine Bar & Restaurant, 18 Phipp Street, London EC2A 4NU Tel: 020 7739 4443 www.edwinsfrenchwinebar.co.uk
I was invited to review Edwin's
Posted by
+Hugh Wright
I first experienced Vietnamese food at the age of about 17. My cousin-by-marriage Paulette Do Van had recently published 'Vietnamese Cooking' and invited the family for a feast made up of some of the delicious dishes in her terrific book. At the time - the early 1990s, for anyone uncharitable enough to be wondering just when I would have been 17 - it all seemed ever so new and exciting; growing up in a little Dorset farming village, a Chinese takeaway passed for exotic (hell, Spag Bol had felt fairly epochal) so the fragrant, colourful cuisine of the Indochine was a true novelty. Paulette's stuffed chicken wings were amazing and remain to this day a favourite (if fiddly) thing to make at home.
Seventeen years on and Vietnamese food is understandably and deservedly much more widely available, nowhere more so than along Kingsland Road in the East End. Seemingly every business that isn't an über-trendy bar or edgy boutique is a Vietnamese restaurant, all confusingly similarly named; within doors of each other stand Song Que, Que Viet, Viet Hoa, Mien Tay and Tay Do. It's no wonder that, as a work colleague local told me, arranging to meet at one or other of them requires giving minutely specific details and directions. Locals also know that the many restaurants on the strip fall into one of two categories, summed up perfectly by my dinner date Matt Bramford who asked over drinks beforehand whether we were going to "one of the cheap ones or one of the posh ones".
Viet Grill is, it turns out, one of the 'posh ones', essentially meaning that some thought and money has gone into decor and staff training in contrast to the plastic seats, strip lighting and perfunctory service at some of the 'cheap ones'. The investment has paid off, because this is a lovely, lovely place. Entering under the bright yellow neon sign that makes Viet Grill stand out from its more conservatively façaded neighbours, we were greeted by the smell of incense, a lively buzz ("Hanoisy" one might say) and a very smiley greeter who showed us to our table without a murmur about our being fifteen minutes late. The room was a bit overwhelming at first; the walls are papered in a very bold leaf print which made the space feel as loud visually as aurally, but we quickly became used to both.
For the uninitiated, Vietnam's cuisine draws on the traditions of the many countries which either border, have colonized or have traded with it over the centuries. To quote Paulette Do Van, "From China the Vietnamese adopted their love of noodles, the way of cooking, the healthy stir-fry methods...Laos, Cambodia and Thailand have influenced the Vietnamese in their use of herbs...The Indians and Portuguese brought spices, [and] the French, who colonized Vietnam, forced the Vietnamese to be inventive." This is all in evidence on the extensive menu at Viet Grill, from which we struggled to choose just a few dishes; those we eventually did order were all, without exception, excellent.
First up were both spring and summer rolls (autumn and winter rolls it would seem do not exist, at least not here). The former were the familiar crisp-shelled offering, made exemplary by the filling of whole, fat king prawns; the latter, a pair of beautiful translucent parcels wrapped in sticky rice paper and bursting with fragrant mint, chopped vermicelli and more juicy prawns. Neither needed accompaniment, the flavours speaking for themselves, but the nuoc cham - Vietnam's pungent, fish-based riposte to China's soy - and chilli sauce provided made for great dipping.
Next came a lotus stem salad, a super-fresh, technicolour assembly which as well as the clean-tasting crunchy stems consisted of shredded pork, shrimps, Vietnamese basil, peanuts and lime zest. What the dressing was I'm not sure but it was incredible; slightly sharp, slightly sweet, I'd guess maybe a little galangal in the mix somewhere, its brightness made me gasp for joy with the first mouthful. Alongside it we scoffed a plate of 'piggy aubergine', grilled green Thai aubergine topped with minced 'pork sprinkle' and poached spring onions. All I can say of this delightfully slippy, oily, umami-rich dish is that it made me seriously reconsider my dislike of aubergine; if it's always this good then bring on the eggplant please.
Finally and fortuitously we chose what would appear to be something of a signature dish for Viet Grill. Described on the menu simply as 'Slices of monkfish', a gas burner was brought to the table and chunks of monkfish, marinated in saffron and galangal, were pan fried with great handfuls of dill before being served on top of cold rice noodles with fennel, peanuts, chillis and tangy shrimp sauce to taste. It was one of those brilliant dishes where every mouthful was as good as but subtly different from the last, and at just £13 for two it was extremely good value for money.
Wine lovers and oenophobes alike will delight in the interesting, France-heavy wine list with its brilliantly entertaining and informative descriptions; one wine is described as being "As stylish and distinctive as a Christian Louboutin stiletto", another as having "more fruit than convention demands". Wallet watchers might find the arrangement of the list broadly by grape type rather than price disorienting; look around though and there's plenty to be had for under and around £20 a bottle, including our rich, buttery Calbuco 2009 Chilean Sauvignon Blanc at £21.50 which, as promised, was perfect with our monkfish and indeed pretty much everything.
From the greeter, to our (lovely, knowledgeable, patient) waiter and the manager who insisted on personally showing off his monkfish-frying prowess, service was impeccable and we never felt rushed, even though we took ages to decide what to order - too busy gossiping about mutual Twitter pals - and lingered over every delicious dish - too busy gossiping about the launch of the brilliant new book from Amelia's Magazine, of which Matt is fashion editor. The bill, for five dishes of superb food, our bottle of wine and 12.5% service came to £64 which felt entirely reasonable. At one of the 'cheap ones' we'd have no doubt paid only half as much, but had only half the fun. I know which I'd rather have.
As a civil rights activist and equality campaigner of many years' standing (under her married name of North) I'm not sure what Cousin Paulette would make of the apparent inequality at play on the Kingsland Road with the potential threat posed to the established, cheap 'n' cheerful joints by classier, chicer venues like Viet Grill. But one thing's for sure; I doubt she'd be able to find anything to fault with the food.
Viet Grill, 58 Kingsland Road, London E2 8DP Tel: 020 7739 6686 http://www.vietnamesekitchen.co.uk/vietgrill
Located in the lobby of the ultra-hip Hoxton Hotel on Great Eastern Street, Hoxton Grill is an all-day affair opening at dawn's crack for brekkie and closing only when the last hotel resident or asymmetrically-coiffed visitor has disappeared into the night. It's visually appealing with ample red leather banquettes (echoing its first-cousin-once-removed, Dean Street Townhouse), dark wood furniture and the bare brick walls considered de rigeur for this part of town. The breakfast menu reflects the style of the lunch and dinner offerings, namely familiar Brit and European staples done stylishly and well at premium but still good-value prices.
On the first of two recent visits, both with my sister (who, incidentally, makes a Full English of such stupendous quality that any restaurant would be proud to serve it) I tried the eggs Benedict royale, which were excellent - good eggs and muffins, lovely sharp Hollandaise and ample butter-soft slices of delicious salmon. On visit two, needing something salty and substantial to counter an unexpectedly severe hangover, I wolfed down a plateful of superb corned beef hash, using the superfluous but very welcome toast it came with to make a sandwich of the accompanying fried egg. Sis on both occasions ordered and enjoyed creamy scrambled eggs on toast with bacon, declaring it all good except, first time around, for the unnecessary sprinkling of chives (which she likes about as much as Reeves & Mortimer's mate Les).
Service is efficient, fast and nicely formal, respecting the likelihood that valuable business might be being conducted over the granola and fruit platters. It's a nice contrast to the forced over-mateyness which blights so many of the area's eating spots. The price reflects the quality, location and attention to detail - tea is served in smart individual silver pots with strainers, juices are freshly squeezed from primo fruits - but is far from expensive; on both occasions our bill came to about £12 each including food, tea, juice and 12.5% service.
My time with my sister is limited and therefore precious; our breakfast get-togethers came about as a way of making sure we see each other on her increasingly less frequent days working in London. It follows that where we spend that time has to be somewhere a little special, that adds a sense of occasion to the otherwise fairly mundane practice of breaking our fast. After several trials and errors, I do believe we've found it.
Hoxton Grill, 81 Great Eastern Street, London EC2A 3HU Tel: 020 7739 9111 http://www.hoxtongrill.com/ 
