There must be something wrong with me. I read all these restaurant reviews online and no one ever seems to have the experiences I do. Where the service is off, or where staff members say weird things to me or spray noxious cleaning fluids in my direction. (!!!) What is it??? Do I talk to the staff to the much? Do I eat at the bar too much? Or are the rest of you just too kind? (Which I am guilty of as well, as you’ll see.) I don’t understand it really.

I like the original Smoking Goat on Denmark Street quite a lot so was excited to hear about the new one on the corner of Shoreditch High Street and Redchurch Street.

You know, where the titty (tittie?) bar used to be.

It’s almost unrecognizable now. (Not that I had been before!) I kinda knew going it that lunch for one was going to be tough here (SHARING PLATES) but I was up for the challenge. I had skipped breakfast specifically so I could order either the drunken noodles or the massaman goat. My friendly server warned that the drunken noodles would be almost too large, but the goat was possibly manageable.

“And I can take the rest home,” I said. “Yes, you can. But not the rice.”

Jesus Christ, I thought to myself. If there a London rice conspiracy going on? No one in London wants me to have rice. My server then went on to explain that the chances of getting food poisoning from reheated rice were EXTREMELY HIGH. I researched this with the NHS and she is extremely correct.

How many times, Krista?? How many times have I reheated the rice? I cannot believe I have made it this far in life, given how much reheated rice I’ve eaten. Never again!

I ordered the goat anyhow and tucked it — tender, flavorful, peanuty. If anything, it could have been more peanuty because there’s never enough peanut in my world. (SO American!) Also, do you know what’s underappreciated? A massaman POTATO. So delicious. Everything was right with everything and I was supremely content and happy UNTIL…

One of the servers got out the spray bottle of cleaning fluid and decided to aggressively spray down the counter in front of me while I was eating. For the love of God. I was about half-way done at this point and as misty sprtizes of cleaning spray settled all around, I considered my Massaman Ammonia Goat Curry and debated what to do.

Do I say something? Do I say something? Do I keep eating the goat? How much cleaning fluid was there anyhow? Would I die? (I mean, if reheated rice can kill me, so can cleaning products in my food.) Surely, they must know that they shouldn’t spray down the counters with cleaning fluid in front of people eating?? (Look at all these other people complaining about this on the internet here and here and here.)

Although sometimes I fight for myself, sometimes, my friends, I’m just so tired. I ate a bit more (!), finished my drink and got my bill.

Oh, and I forgot to mention the Aesop thing. So while I was sitting there debating my Massaman Ammonia Goat, one staff member walked up to another staff member and handed them a bottle of Aesop hand soap. The receiver of the soap shook the bottle up and down and accepted it with a smile. I thought…”Aesop! Classy! But that’s weird. Resurrection is hard to shake.” (I spent an hour in the Aesop in Soho earlier this summer with my friend Laura . We tried everything, and much money was spent.)

Before I left Smoking Goat, I went to the loo. There was a bottle of Aesop that was maybe 1/8 full of supremely watered down Resurrection.

The Verdict: Get the goat! It’s really good. But don’t eat at the bar! Also, maybe bring your own hand wash.

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I had a rare Saturday off the other day and made my way to Gul & Sepoy for lunch at the bar. I’ve been to Gunpowder before (very very tight seating) and wandered into Madame D’s one evening when they first opened and weren’t serving food. I like the vibe of these sister properties, although it’s fair to say they’re all a bit different — Gul & Sepoy has this whole “managed neglect” vibe going on upstairs which is quite nicely nicely done.

Gul & Sepoy was empty when I entered so I grabbed a seat front and center at the bar and started chatting to my very nice server. I ordered the clams sukka masala — which were very very good. I’m (very) used to eating bowls of fresh clams in lemon and garlic and chili, so the rich seasonings here were a nice surprise.  I enjoyed this and found it to be a very generous portion.

I also ordered the yam and paneer kofta chaat which had this sweet thing going on that wasn’t really for me.  (Some people might like it. But just a little too sugary for my taste.)

You know what would have been great with all this? Rice! Or Naan. But nooooooo. Unless I wanted to spend £16 quid (!) on the Royal Guchi Polou, no rice for Krista. (I notice the website now says this rice is £14.) I think my server could tell I was desperate for carbs and thus suggested that perhaps the chef could do a half portion of the rice for me but the chef DENIED this request. “The owners want the restaurant to be cozy and the food here is cooked in the French method” was my server’s explanation. Well you know what. Bread makes me cozy. Also, sometimes I want to be cozy and I wear Uggs and I hate myself just a little bit but f*ck all the Uggs haters out there because I love my Uggs, especially on the weekends. If you don’t want to be Brick Lane, WE GET IT. Offer a good beverage program and hang the world’s most bijou mirror in your ladies loo — you can still serve bread or (reasonably priced) rice and not be Brick Lane.

The Verdict: Worth a visit. It’s a unique offering and I like the vibe — and the clams.  I would like it all a bit better with some garlic naan though.

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The cool kids call Mexico City “The DF.” I guess it’s like when I was a kid growing up on Long Island…there was no Manhattan or New York City. It was just “the city.”

I like Mexico City. The DF. The Distrito Federal. Some people are scared of Mexico City. They think they will get kidnapped if they go there. “IF ONLY,” I tell them, “your life was that exciting.” They look at me funny. There is real fear here. More than one person has told me that they would never go to Mexico City “Your loss, fools,” I say. (And more tacos for me! Yey!)

People also think that Mexico City is really far away. It’s not far. At least, from Chicago, it’s not far. 3.5 hours? Maybe four! I would ask people in America how far they thought it was and the mode was eight hours. Eight! (Tip: Fly in late at night or early in the morning to beat the traffic. It’s like getting stuck on the Belt Parkway in rush hour — if you’ve been there — only worse!)

I like eating tacos in Mexico City. And Chicago. I like corn tortillas and grilled tortillas at that. I like friendly, homey service too. That’s something Mexico is very good at. Chicago Mexican places too. I read an article once where they interviewed people in the tourist industry worldwide and they said their favorite tourists were from Mexico because they are so nice and so friendly. Now we are making sweeping generalizations about countries, but I see it. I get it. I agree.

So I went to the DF/Mexico off Brick Lane today and I ordered some pork tacos and some “cowgirl’s beans.” You place your order up front at DF/Mexico and give them your table number and they bring it to you.

A server appears, a plate of tacos in her hand. “Did you order the pork tacos without habanero?”

“Uh, no. Just the pork tacos.”

“Okay, that’s good because we can’t do pork tacos without habanero.”

Why do I have this feeling that if I had said “Yes,” she still would have given me the plate???

The tacos are pretty and BURSTING with meat — someone is not paying attention to margin. But they are steamed flour tortillas, from what I can tell. And did I mention the wet meat? Very wet, wet meat. Watery wet. There’s something to be said for licking your fingers…but this was just watery laziness. Also wet? The beans. And missing the advertised sour cream. And chorizo. Wet tacos, wet beans. No thank you, I’m leaving. I left one taco and all the beans behind. If you’ve been reading this blog long enough, you know this very rarely happens.

The Verdict: Go to the real DF instead. It’s much better. Much.

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Date of Last Visit: Thursday, July 29

The Victim: Niculie

The Damage: £20 each

The Background: I was never much one for long leisurely lunches at work. Too much to do! But in the days leading up to my departure from London, I had an opportunity here and there to say goodbye to friends and coworkers, and my move seemed to provide just the right amount of a justification for–if not a long lunch–a leisurely lunch.

So it was that Niculie and I found ourselves at Cafe a Vin, the bistro end of Galvin La Chapelle. Now truth be told, I actually thought I had booked La Chapelle via the Galvin Web site, but I must not have been paying attention because when I actually checked the e-mail confirmation, Cafe a Vin it was. This was fine as the set menu at the Cafe is a very reasonable and attractive £14.95.

The Food: I started with a generous serving of gazpacho, which while prettily presented, smacked of too many carrots for me and needed a very generous sprinkling of salt. I could have used more croutons too.

This was followed by a nice roast chicken on a bed of risotto. A simple dish and nicely executed, but as Niculie said afterwards, "It was just chicken and rice." I really have to stop ordering chicken in restaurants, as it's too easy for me to dismiss it afterwards. This was a very honest plate though and did what it said on the tin. I just wasn't overly enthralled by it.

The Setting: Yet again, I forget to take outdoor shots. We enjoyed our table a fresco and watching all the busy office workers swarm into and out of Spitalfields and its environs.

The Verdict: Not worth a particularly special trip. But a good value (wines available by the carafe) and nice setting just the same.

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Shopping makes one hungry.

We stopped into Japanika before the sale, just to check it out. It was overflowing with sushi rolls. It was a contender for a luncheon destination.

45 minutes later, our shopping complete, Japanika was decimated. Completely. All that was left were some Japanika rolls…salmon as far as I could tell. But for £3.90, this was an excellent value.

Japanika is 95% takeaway. It's decently priced and, well, decent. Don't ask them to make you something you saw earlier on the shelves though. Cuz they won't.

I'm moblogging from my couch at the moment. Maybe I'll come back and expand on this post later. Maybe.

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Date of Last Visit: Wednesday, March 24th, 2010

The Victim: Chris

The Damage: Unknown. Chris paid.

The Background: The more things change, the more things stay the same. I've known Chris for 13 years. I know he likes cookies. So when we walk into The Albion, I am so not surprised that he is momentarily paralyzed by the display of chocolate-chip-cookies-as-big-as-your-head. It was funny. But I guess you'd have to know Chris. Or, well, you had to be there.

We're at The Albion for breakfast and I've really been looking forward to it. The Albion is one of those places that has always been on my list, but somehow keeps getting pushed down. And down. But here we are. And I like it. I like subway tile. A lot.

The Food: Poached eggs on toast for Chris. And this looks nice. The toast is hearty. And the eggs look perfect. I'm not THAT intrigued because I can normally only eat one egg, not two. There's just something about eggs that sort of turns me off sometimes.

Then there's my smoked salmon and scrambled eggs. (Predictable, aren't I?) I thought this was an extremely large portion. What is that? Three eggs? And there was so much smoked salmon, I started to get sick. I left half of this behind. Not because I didn't like it, but because it was just TOO MUCH. And "only" £9.75 at that.

The Service: Fine. Took FOREVER to get the check though. Always a problem when you're hanging out with Americans.

The Atmosphere: I dig the shop up front with all the British products.

The Verdict: Good.

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Date of Last Visit: Friday,  January 29th

The Victims: Feathers, Jen, Niculie

The Damage: £10ish each

The Background: On Fridays, if I do go out for lunch, I refuse to go out for a 1 p.m. booking. Because here's what happens. EVERYONE goes out for Friday lunch. At 1 p.m. They sit down, they chat. Maybe they order some drinks. And then they all put their orders in between 1:10 p.m. and 1:15 p.m. which means that the kitchen gets slammed and you don't see your food until at least 1:45 p.m.

If it's a Friday booking, I'll only do 12:45 p.m. Beat the crowd by 15 minutes, you know?

So it was that we found ourselves at Pizza East on the last Friday in January. Promptly at 12:45 p.m. And you know, I didn't expect to like the inside as much as I did. This is a pretty cool space. Check out the front deli area. A little retro modern…

Pizza East is also pretty massive. Caterer Search says that on a busy night, they can do 600 covers. The restaurant seats 200. I don't mind massive, as long as you have a good product. And I think Pizza East is off to a pretty good start in that respect.

 
Based on some recommendations from the friendly folks on Twitter, I went for the spicy sausage and sprouting broccoli pizza. Liked it. Big time. Except for maybe the too puffy crust. I left a lot of the crust behind. Carbs are evil anyhow. The sausage was spicy, as advertised. But I've never been quite sure what "sprouting" broccoli means so I can't comment there.

The Verdict: I really liked the space at Pizza East. (Sucker for subway tile, sorry.) My one pizza was pretty good too. I'd go back here. Even just to check out the deli and drink some of the "wine on tap" business.

The post Pizza East, Shoreditch first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Hawksmoor
157 Commercial Street
E1 6BJ

Date of Last Visit: Monday, December 14th, 2009

The Victims: Stacey, Feathers, Jen

The Damage: About £18 each. We each had a burger. And we split some creamed spinach. Some people had Cokes. I stuck with water.

The Background: In many ways, this is a lazy post. See, I haven't done anything with my blog since December 22nd. That's a whole 12 days without bloging. You know that doesn't happen here very often. But I needed a break over the holidays, and on this, my last day of vacation, I don't really feel like blogging up a storm.

This is also quite a lazy post because if you really want to know about the Hawksmoor burger, you can just read Dan's post. Really, there's not much more for me to say… 

Except…
1. Stacey has left us. She and Canadia Boy now reside in Washington D.C. This makes me sad because besides for being fabulous company, Stace and CB fed me many a weekend. I will miss their guacamole.
2. The Hawksmoor burger was Stacey's last London meal request. And it is a very fine burger; I can see why she requested it. Might have been better with American cheese though. Sorry, I do have a fondness for that orange stuff.
3. The Hawksmoor burger costs £15. Ouch.
4. They forgot to bring our creamed spinach. (I always get nervous when waitstaff don't write anything down. More than 50% of the time, I am right to be nervous.)
5. I am sad I never did the burger during that period when Hawksmoor was offering special deals to bloggers. Why have I waited this long?

The Verdict: If you are not American, you should go to Hawksmoor and have the burger. If you are American, you should give the burger a shot, but you might find that you have had burgers of equal or greater quality in the U.S. There's nothing wrong with that. Personally, I think it's the cheese. Give me my Kraft singles!

The post The Hawksmoor Burger first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

 

Date of Last Visit: Friday, November 13th, 2009

The Victims: Feathers, Jen, Niculie

The Damage: £25 each

The Background: I don't often get out of the office for lunch. But somehow, the other Friday, the stars aligned and I managed to convince a few of my colleagues to escape their inboxes and their Blackberries for a while. I wanted to try out The Luxe. Mainly because I'd read about the chairs. Somewhere. I can't remember where. And I'm a sucker for chairs. (Screw the food. Just show me the chairs! Hey, maybe I should start a new blog. A restaurant chair blog. Or I could do somewhat akin to the lovely but seemingly short-lived Silver Spoon blog, which ended each restaurant review with a photo of the cutlery. Clever.)

The Entrance: But I digress, as always. We enter The Luxe. And we give our name and are shown our table. (While we're waiting to check in, we're behind the party of 10 who showed up at The Luxe at 1 p.m. on a FRIDAY without a booking. Really people, what were you thinking???)

I like the look of The Luxe. We spend some time massaging the wallpaper, flocked with birds that appear to have been sewn onto the paper. I spend some time massaging the chairs. And then it's down to business.

 
The Starters: Jerusalem artichoke soup for me. Feathers and Jen love it. I think it's just okay. It's too creamy. It's dull. It looks nice though. I'm struck, once again, by the thought…maybe if I just didn't eat out so much, I'd really like this.

 
The Main: For me, it's the risotto, and I really have to stop doing this to myself. It's mushroom risotto and firstly, you know I don't like mushrooms. And secondly, you know I think risotto is monotonous. So I kinda don't enjoy this. (Surprise.) Although I would say that the risotto is pretty perfectly prepared. It's still just that right amount creamy. Ah, and there are some generous shavings of parmesean sprinkled all over. I liked those.

The Service: Started out strong, but then our mains took ages and ages to arrive–I had to ask, "Um, when?" (Initially, we were in synch with the table next to us…they ordered right before us, and we got our starters immediately after them. But then they got our mains and were nearly finished before we got ours. They were four. We were four.) And then when we asked for the bill, the first time, it said £120. That was incorrect. The second time, it said £110. That was incorrect too. And the third time, it said £100. Bingo. But come on…Feathers practically had to write out the bill FOR our server. Not good.

The Verdict: Go for the chairs. And the wallpaper. Not the food. Or the service.

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Boho Mexica
151-153 Commercial Street
E1 6BJ

Date of Last Visit: Tuesday, September 15th 2009

The Victim: Molly

The Damage: £20 each

The Background: Molly is my friend Sangeeta’s friend. Molly moved to London months and months ago, and we’ve played e-mail about meeting up until finally, the stars aligned, and Boho Mexica it was.

The Entrance: The music is LOUD. And there’s no one in Boho Mexica. It’s early though. 6:30ish on a Tuesday. I’ve made a booking and despite the restaurant’s emptiness, they attempt to sit me next to the only other occupied table. Uh, I don’t think so. I convince them to let me take another table. It works.

The Drinks: I order a margarita while I wait. It’s good. But served in a tall glass, which strikes me as odd. There’s also not a lot of salt. I like a lot of salt.

The Food: Once Molly arrives, we order some chips and guac, an assortment of tacos, the empanadas, and the Bistec a la Mexica. Boho Mexica serves food in pretty small portions, so although everything is very attractively priced, you need to order a few dishes to really fill up.

I have no complaints about the food. It’s all pretty competant and delicious. The empanadas are perhaps a bit too doughy, but the tacos are pretty perfect and I dig the steak.

It’s the service that I can’t deal with. They’re freakin’ CRAZY.

The Service: I swear to God, we had to repeat our order three or four times to make sure our server got it. And we’re not complicated people. And this wasn’t a complicated order. And I still swear that we didn’t actually get what we ordered. (I’m not sure we ordered the steak.)

Ah, and then the chips and guac. We had one order. It was good. Suddenly, a second order appeared at our table. I told the server, “That looks great, but we didn’t order that.” He shrugged and said, “Well, you can keep it.” He left the dish on our table and walked off. Molly and I kept chatting.

And then I looked down, just as another server was sneaking the “complimentary” chips and guac off the table to give it to the table next to us. I can keep it, my ass.

Ah, and the constant parade of dishes, as servers dropped by our table…”Here are your Enchiladas!” Um, we didn’t order those. “Oh! Sorry!” “Here is your sea bass! Enjoy!” Um, we didn’t order that either. “Oh! So sorry.” Honestly, the service was so bad, it was funny. It became a game…what will they deliver next that we haven’t ordered??

The Verdict: You know I like Mexican food. So I’m going to give this another shot. And I’m going to videotape it because if the service is as ridiculous the second time around, I have a YouTube hit on my hands!!!

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Date of Last Visit: Tuesday, June 23rd, 2009

The Victims: Bevin, Jimmy, Linda

The Damage: About £50 each

The Background: It's a Tuesday night and it's gorgeous out so we try to get over to The Boundary Rooftop. There's a 45 minute wait to get up to the top. So then we consider eating at The Albion, but I can't get excited about the menu. So I suggest Les Trois Garçons, a place I've wanted to try out for quite some time now, for the decor alone.

And maybe there's the rub. If you want to go to a restaurant mainly for the decor, maybe you'd be better off at the Rainforest Cafe.

The Entrance: It's really bright out, which is an odd look for Les Trois Garçons. It's the type of place that I think would do best at dusk or on a dark night in December. With candlelight. There are a lot of things, sparkly things, hanging from the ceiling. In the bright light of day–and particularly a day that's close to the longest day of the year–entering Les Trois Garçons feels like stumbling into a funhouse with the lights on. Not so fun.

The clientele is also pretty dressed up. We're a little, shall we say, casual. This doesn't seem to bother the restaurant at all, but I felt like I made the wrong restaurant choice on the wrong night. This is confirmed when we're handed the menu…£42.50 for TWO COURSES. Ouch.

The Food: Foie gras for me to start and it's smooth and buttery. I'm still smarting over the £21.25 price tag on it, but in for a penny, in for a pound, huh? (Probably more like a 1/3 – 2/3 split on the price, I know.) The only let down here are the toasts. Although they look gorgeous from a distance, they're sandy and crumbly. And although maybe that's meant to be a good foil to the foie gras, I just end up making a mess. (And yes, another night where I've left my real camera at home. Sorry.)

Jimmy and I both opt for the lamb as our main and it is pretty good. I like the soft cushions of gnocchi. The lamb could have been a little bit pinker, but overall, it's respectable. My only problem (besides for the price) is the size of the dish. I am not one to leave food behind, but I had to hand Jimmy my plate half way through as there was no way I could eat more than four slices of the lamb. Odd that I'm complaining about the price and then giving half my food away, I know.

The Loo: There's only one. And it was a bit of a mess when I visited.

The Service: They pulled the bottled water trick. We asked for still water. They brought us TWO bottles, and poured very generous servings. I didn't check the bill, but what do you think? £8 worth of water?

The Verdict: Not for me. The only way I'd go back is on a TopTable discount. Just too OTT (and a bit dated, at that) and too pricey.

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