So…….back in time a few weeks we hit the last stop on our trip, New York. It’s been a couple of years since I was last there, and to paraphrase DOOM, it still is a hell of a finer town. Knowing we only had a few days of our adventure left, we rolled up our sleeves and ate our way right to the core. I’m probably going to do some longer posts on a couple of other discoveries, and I didn’t make it to The Dutch which I REALLY wanted to check out, but here are a few highlights.

Where to start…hmmmm. The first time I went to NY, probably back in ‘97, my mate Matt took me to The Oyster Bar at Grand Central Station. I vividly remember sitting in the back room saloon surrounded by brash New Yoikers shouting at each other and guzzling plates of oysters whilst I sat slurping a New England Clam Chowder in a happy jet-lagged daze. The wife and I decided to pay it a visit this time, and I’m happy to say nothing’s really changed. It’s certainly a tourist attraction, but it is still rammed with every shape and size of New Yorker having lunch, doing deals and chewing the fat (oysters). We sucked down a couple of zinc-ey Long Island Bluepoints, a bowl of that creamy, soothing chowder and a very tasty crab-cake sarnie all, washed down with a couple of glasses of super chilled Sauvignon Blanc. As far as classic New York lunches go, it’s hard to beat, and good to see an institution like this still chugging away.

For the past few visits, no trip to NY would be complete for us without a visit to Egg. I’ve said it all before here, and as pretentious as it sounds, it’s still one of my favourite places to get breakfast in the world. The Eggs Rothko are a winner, the place is mimal in a cosy kind of way, the staff are hot, and it’s consistently good. Nuff said.

That being said, we did find another brunch place that gave Egg a bit of a run for it’s money. Five Leaves in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. I have to admit, the joint is styled to within an inch of it’s life, and it’s more hipster than a skinny dude with tattoos, a mustache and fisherman’s beanie perched precariously on the crown of his head. But you forget all that once you start munching. Between the three of us we had the home made beans and bacon, sage scrambled eggs, and the ricotta pancakes (see above), all of which were serious customers. The beans were sweet, smokey and spicy with a poached egg perched on top. The scrambled egg was seriously moist and soft, with a hint of sage, topped with strong cheddar and served in a tender white bap. And then the pancakes. F**k me. Light and fluffy, yet satisfyingly substantial. Slightly creamy from the ricotta, and served with a dollop of this amazing honeycomb butter. Crazy in all the right kinds of ways. They also serve Brooklyn’s own Stumptown Coffee, which is frikin’ delicious.

Whilst we’re talking about Stumptown and sweet thangs, we also popped in to the Momofuku Milk Bar in Williamsburgh. The sister of David Chang’s noodle empire, they also serve Stumptown coffee and a range of baked goods devised by Christina Tosi, who’s currently doing the rounds with the Milk Bar book. The reason I wanted to check it out was their Crack Pie, which I’d heard a lot of good things about it, including that it’s appropriately named. It is a bit hard to describe, but if you imagine a treacle tart and a cheesecake having a very dirty love child, you’re kind of close. The flapjack-esque base is insanely buttery, and the sticky, custard filling packs a super sweet vanilla punch. It’s dangerous stuff. So much so that it’s trademarked and comes in individually packaged doses. If you’ve got the willpower, you can make your own from the recipe here.

But despite all the above, I think my favourite food experience of this trip to NY was the evening we spent in Chinatown. Again it had been a while since we’d been there, but our ever reliable host, Matt, had a couple of places that he really wanted us to check out. The first was the Shanghai Cafe, which is famous for it’s Xiao Long Bao, or soup dumplings to you and me. I’ve got to say they were the best I’ve ever had, and judging by the team of guys at the front of the restaurant constantly filling and crimping them by hand, I’m not the only one to think so. They arrived at the table in a steamer basket wobbling like weebles, and although it’s generally a good idea to let them cool a bit so you don’t burn your mouth off, I couldn’t resist. The wrapper was giving yet chewy in all the right ways, the intensely savoury broth that burst out, delicious, and the porky filling spiked with spring onion a fitting end to the experience. I could have sat right there eaten a few baskets of them, but Matt had other ideas.

We left the Shanghai Cafe and marched about 10 minutes across town to a little Blade Runner-esque  joint under the Manhattan Bridge call Xi’an Famous Foods. Despite it’s size, over the past few years this tiny place has begun to live up to it’s name. They serve Western style Chinese food, which blends traditional Chinese flavours with those of the Middle East, and are famous for their hand pulled noodles. So that’s what we had. I went for their spicy cumin lamb noodles which were rolled, stretched, pulled and boiled before my very eyes and then combined with the lamb which was fried with cumin, some vegetables, chilli oil and lots of other good things. They packed our dishes up in containers, and we again took off on foot, but this time to a little park almost under the Williamsburgh bridge. Here we found a picnic table, and ate our noodles under the stars. And what noodles. They had great bite and chew to them, and the lamb had this awesome smoky cumin meets gamey flavour. The veg was crunchy and the sauce slighty sweet and spicy. All in all a truly memorable evening.

So that was it for our road trip. Gutted that it’s over because it was fucking awesome from start to finish. As I mentioned above, I’ve got a few other New York treats to share with you like Fette Sau and Four & Twenty Blackbirds, which I’ll get round to writing about soon.

So until then, stay hungry my friends.

So last weekend we got balls deep in our new neighborhood, and had a proper explore. We headed east on 24th street into the slightly less gentrified realms of The Mission, and basically got very excited. SO. MANY. GOOD. PLACES. TO. EAT down there. We only scratched the surface, so there will be more coming from this ‘hood for sure, but we definitely wet our whistles.

After checking out all the crazy murals plastered over the buildings down there (the missus was rather taken by the ones featuring the buff winged Navajos), we got grazing.

First up, we hit up ‘Mexi-Catessen’ La Palma. The are undoubtedly better places to get Mexican grub in San Francisco, but we liked the buzz of this deli / eatery so we decided to grab a bite. Me, a carnitas (pork) Super burrito, and the missus chicken tacos. Neither were outstanding, but definitely filled a hole, and we’ll definitely be back. They do good looking rotisserie style chickens, and tasty looking Papusas stuffed with all sorts of tasty things.

After a burrito the size of a baby’s arm, I was feeling sleepy. Coffee was needed, and fast. Thus far I’ve failed to find a suitable heir to my daily cup at Kaffiene in London. I’ve been to most of the places that people have recommended, Blue Bottle, Ritual, Contraband, and if I’m honest (sorry!) none have really hit the mark. I’ve been surprised that the flat white / shorter coffees haven’t really made much of an appearance here seeing as SF seems to be totally on point with most food trends. Anyway, the closest thing I’ve had so far was the double shot small latte from Dynamo. It hit the spot. And as they are also known for their donuts, it would have been rude not to sample their wares, so we also choked down a lemon and pistachio. Very good it was too.

After more wandering, more murals, and eyeing up more places to check out at a later date (the list is LONG), we needed another snack. So we popped in to Taqueria Vallarta. Again, probably not the best Taqueria in town, but it’s appealing in a spit and sawdust kind of way, and the smell of chorizo wafting over from the taco stand was hard to ignore. So we bought a couple, and at $1.75 a piece, you can’t really argue. Spicy, piquant, tasty as hell.

Our last stop was Mission Pie. We only went in for a look, but the rhubarb and strawberry pie was winking at us, so we had to give it a try. And it was good. In our experience so far, the American’s like it sweet, but this pie had just the right balance of tart and sweet. The crust was pretty perfect. Not too thick, and firm / soft in all the right places. And it came with a nice dollop of whipped cream. Seriously good.

A few hours well spent, and not too damaging on the wallet either. There will undoubtedly be more posts from 24th soon. Hasta luego.

Photo: Dan Harrison

Having packed and said goodbye to our flat, I’ve been feeling a little bit melancholy about leaving London, and I started to think about what I’m going to miss. Particularly food wise.

Here are my Top 10 food based ‘missing you already, London’ things in no particular order:

1. Polpo, and it’s sisters in all their forms.
2. My kitchen. Hope we can find an apartment in SF with a decent range.
3. My morning cup of coffee from Kaffiene.
4. Mangal 1 for its meat, fire and eccentricity.
5. Pizza and pasta from Maletti. Still so good after all these years.
6. The St John Bread & Wine bacon sandwich. In fact, everything St John.
7. My local Italian restaurant in Battersea, Antipasto & Pasta. Family run, solid, good atmosphere.
8. Lahore’s lamb chops. Wonder if there’s any good Pakistani food in San Fran?
9. Raymond Blanc on the telly.
10. The Anchor & Hope / 32 Great Queen Street.

I think I’ve probably cheated a bit by doubling up, but its my blog so I’ll do what the f**k I like.

Things I’m not going to miss? Public transport. Living hell.

I realised the other day that I hadn’t done a ‘Local Hero’ for AGES, and by chance I happened to pass The Market Coffee House the very same day. Serendipity in the truest sense.

When I was thinking about the whole ‘Local Hero’ side to this blog, The Market Coffee House was exactly the kind of place that I had in mind. Special, but unpretentious, and quietly plugging away at doing what they do best without all the bluster, PR and twitter noise that’s become so common.

I first started going to The Market Coffee House when I worked around the corner in Spitalfields what now seems like ages ago. Before the days of the Aussie and Kiwi coffee shops, the MCH was my go to place for a decent cup of coffee. Back then, it was the only café I can remember that had proper Baristas who took great care and attention over each and every cup. They also sold their coffees in the smaller cups that have now become more familiar. Quality over quantity before it was fashionable.

Another reason it’s one of my favourite places in London, is it’s atmosphere. Although it’s only been open as a coffee shop since 2001, it has such a warm, worn-in quality, that it feels like it could have been servicing the local area since Victorian times. The wood paneling, bare floorboards and original features make it really cosy, and as far from a modern coffee chain as you can get.

The food is good too. Until a year or so ago it was known more for simple, but always tasty stuff like bagels, sandwiches, crab salads, soups, and awesome cakes, but they have recently expanded the premises, including a ‘proper kitchen’, which means their offering is now much broader. When I heard that they were making the MCH bigger, I was a bit worried about the outcome, but I needn’t have been. The extension has been done with such sympathy and faithfulness to the original premises that it feels like it’s always been there, and the more substantial food likewise. It was the only choice for my wife and I to feed our post wedding hangovers.

As you might have guessed, I’m a big fan, so if you’re in the area, I strongly suggest you pop in for a coffee and a slice of something sweet at the very least.

Just got back from a not long enough weekend in Paris.

My good lady was out there all last week working for ‘the man’ on the auto show, so I Eurostar-ed it over on Friday night to pay her a visit.

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I’m Francophile, and love Paris in particular. Obviously the food is a big part of this for me, but it’s not always the big meals you have that make you realise how much you love a place’s culture. Sometimes it’s the simple things, like the breakfast we had on Saturday morning. We went to a cafe across the road from our hotel and just had coffee and a croissant. But, saying ‘just’ would be doing it a disservice. The croissant was amazing. Fresh as a daisy, light fluffy, and tasted amazing. It really didn’t need any jam or butter. Miles apart from the hard and heavy buggers we get over here.

I also love the fact that the French café is a cornerstone of society. Sure the places around the main attractions are stuffed to bursting with tourists hemorrhaging cash, but there are cafés on pretty much every street which are the equivalent of caffeinated drop in centres for the local community. Locals stop in for a coffee and a chat on their way into work, or drop by for a quick lunch or an aperitif and a smoke on their way home. It’s really great to see places that aren’t chains thriving.

Other highlights include an amazing slab of Fois De Veau at Boucherie Roulière in St. Germain, a winning Croque Madame at Le Sancerre in Monmartre, and stumbling across the amazing Saturday morning food market on avenue Président Wilson.

The latter in particular made a really big impression on us. It didn’t feel like the kind of over priced farmers market that services the well heeled Guardian reading media types of Stoke Newington, Borough or Wimbledon I may be being harsh here), but a place where ‘real’ people do their food shopping. Unlike London, where there’s increasingly a Tesco Metro or Sainsbury’s Local on every street, Paris doesn’t really have that many supermarkets, so markets like these are still an important part of life. And the display of food on show was mind blowing. Piles of fresh Langoustines, amazing looking bread, and tables overflowing with Autumnal crops of ceps and girolles. There was a clear sense of pride in both produce and presentation.  It had us fantasising about what we’d cook if we lived around the corner, which I kind of wish I did.

Maybe one day…

Photo: MrLerone

Highs

1.Polpo – my new favourite restaurant. Very good Italian style tapas eating.

2.Sydney Breakfasts – just the bomb. I wish i could start every day Sydney style.

3.Whole Foods Market – the big one on Ken High Street is like heaven on earth.

4.Good Coffee – being shown what real coffee should taste like by Campos and Kaffeine.

5.Stuffed Courgette Flowers – still really chuffed about making these bad boys in France.

6.Engagement Dinner at Brasserie Balzar – the perfect Parisian place to pop the question.

7.Ramond Blanc’s Kitchen Secrets – for my money, the best cookery show of the past year

8.The Santa Barbara Shellfish Company – one of the standout meals from our California road trip.

9.Good Mexican Food – from Benitos Hat to La Super Rica the Mexicans have been killing it. Me gusta.

10.Birthday Dinner at Scott’s – very special, and Michael Barrymore was in the house. What more do you want?

Lows

1.Tierra Brindisa – my once favourite Soho restaurant has gone down hill. Sort it out lads!

2.Cattle class – feeling like rushed, harassed cattle by the service at The Wolseley.

3.The Delicious Miss Dahl – no idea how this got commissioned. A truly terrible, patronising, fake show.

4.Just Falafs going out of business  – really miss a decent falafel fix at lunch time. Please come back.

5.Borough Market Prices – its become a rip-off. Stuff there gets more expensive every time I go.

6.A.A Gill – Sunday Times food columnist. Self absorbed, pompous, objectionable, baboon shooting twat.

7.Sourdough skills – still not managed to make a good sourdough loaf yet. But I won’t stop till I succeed.

8.Byfords – supposedly one of the best restaurant in Holt. The deli cafe is good, but the restaurant is truly terrible.

9.Uncle Bens – this TV ad makes me want to murder people. Make it stop.

10. The Hairy Bikers – sorry fellas, but you continue to annoy the f**k out of me. How the hell did you get on TV!?!?

Been crazy busy since we got back from Oz, so have got a bit behind on the writing stuff. But back to the land down under for a quick coffee related post.

As mentioned previously, there’s been a bit of an Australian coffee shop invasion in London over the past year or so. Places like  Lantana, Flat White, Milk Bar and Kaffeine have their own style and atmosphere, but all have one thing in common. Great coffee. As I understand it, ‘coffee culture’ hit Australia and New Zealand about the same sort of time as it did in the UK in the early 90s, but interestingly instead of succumbing to the big brands pumping out the brown liquid passing itself off as coffee sold the length and breadth of our high streets, our Antipodean cousins adopted a more artisan based approach. In fact, such is their devotion and knowledge of good coffee that even the mighty tentacles of Starbucks have failed to gain a foothold in Australia. As my friend Mutber put it, “…you can’t sell a bad product to an educated audience.”

Melbourne is probably better known for starting this Australian coffee revolution, but Campos in Newtown has been leading the charge in Sydney since 2002. Like Harry’s in the previous post, it’s a pretty unassuming looking place on a side street off the busy Kings Street, but once you’re inside you know you’re in a temple to coffee. When we visited, it was packed with people queuing diligently for their daily dose. There were around 5 baristas behind the bar, and interestingly that’s exactly what Campos feels like. A bar. There’s a real buzz about the place. It’s loud, full of people catching up with friends, standing, sitting, hanging out, chatting with the staff, reading the papers, and so on.

We ordered flat whites, which is apparently a bit of a cliche these days. I’m sure the real connoisseurs only drink espressos, and I’m sure they also let you know all about it too. Anyway, each to their own. When our coffees arrived, not only did they look beautiful with the trademark flat white foam ‘art’ but they tasted amazing too. Really rich and creamy, but also smooth. It sounds odd, but you know you’re actually drinking a cup of coffee. I guess my pallet has become too accustomed to coffee flavoured hot milk. You also get much less in a cup than you do at most places in the UK. Probably a good thing as a Campo’s coffee packs a pretty heavy caffeinated punch.

Sufficiently impressed, we wanted to take a bit of Campos home with us so went back later that day to get some ground coffee to smuggle back. We opted for the Obama Blend, which like the man himself is a mix of African and American, and promises a cup with, “Great depth of character”. We’ve not sampled it yet, but it ounds like the kind of change all coffee lovers can believe in.

Photo: Neets & Dre

Hand To Mouth is off to Australia for a couple of weeks to meet and greet the future outlaws and extended family.

As well as (hopefully) lapping up a bit of much needed sunshine, I’ll be getting my teeth into Sydney’s cafe culture, fresh seafood, and if I get my way, a few meat pies from Harry’s Cafe de Wheels.

Have a cracking Easter.

The long and short of it is that Starbucks is going to pick a few select outlets and un-brand them in order to create coffee shops with a more old fashioned and local feel. If this test is successful, they will then roll it out to other sites. Some people have described this move as a demonstration of a business being mindful of what their consumers want, but in my mind is proves what a cynical and aggressive brand Starbucks has become, and to be frank it pisses me off.

How Starbucks started as a business is a million miles away from where they are now. Originally a one off shop in Seattle’s Pike Place Market that sold artisan coffees and equipment, it didn’t become the phenomenon that it is today until it was sold to an entrepreneur called Howard Schultz in 1987. Famously in the 90s, Starbucks opened a new store every working weekday, and this pace was maintained well into the noughties.

As a result, for many Starbucks has become the ugly face of globalisation, and the site of protesters camped outside whenever they roll out yet another identical, anodyne store, a familiar one. This, along with the proliferation of all the other high street coffee chains all vying for our business, seems to have kick started a healthy trend for more traditional, independent coffee shops.

Unlike their chain gang counterparts, these shops place the emphasis on quality and ambiance over quantity and branding. A couple of great examples of the sort of place I’m talking about are The Scandinavian Kitchen and the recently opened Kaffiene that are down the road from where I work. These cafes are different, have a personality all of their own, and are a nice place to spend time. You don’t feel like you’re having a ‘vision’ thrust down your throat when you’re in there, and shock horror, they also serve up a decent cup of coffee. Not a hazelnut syrup or ’squirty’ cream canister in site.

Not surprisingly, disillusioned people have begun to migrate from the chains to seek refuge and good coffee in these independent shops. After all, if you’ve got half a brain and some taste buds why wouldn’t you? This has obviously been noted by the business bods and money grubbing analysts over at Starbucks, and they now want to get a slice of the ’slow coffee’ action. Their plan? To open ’stealth stores’ that imitate the increasingly popular indie coffee shops that have been set up as an antidote and alternative to their own brand.

With the buying power, financial backing and clout of a company like Starbucks, these fucks (I’m sorry, but in my opinion they are) will be able to open a raft of these imitation indies much faster than any start up business, either by turning existing stores or buying up prime real estate. They will no doubt clumsily flood the market with their interpretation, and in the process fool thousands of consumers into believeing that they’re having an experience that they’re not.

So how long before the idea of an indie coffee shop becomes as ubiquitous as your friendly neigbourhood Starbucks and the real indies are forced out of the marketplace? Who knows. And you never know, maybe consumers will smell the fat corporate rat and vote with their feet. I certainly hope so.

Rant over.

Luckily, my day job allows me to escape the office from time to time to get some head space and thinking time. There are a number of places I like to go for a bit of peace and quiet, and the Nordic Bakery is right up there with my favourites.

As the name suggests, it’s a Scandinavian style cafe, specialising in bread. The food and bread are good; simple Nordic fare including rye bread open sandwiches and cured fish, but the killer for me are the amazing cinnamon buns and the coffee.

I don’t think the buns are as fluffy as they used to be, but they still taste amazing. The cinnamon is almost intoxicating, the dough satisfyingly heavy and so sticky it’s almost a challenge to eat. Add to this a rocket fuel strength latte, you’ve got yourself a perfect afternoon break.

It’s also a really peaceful place, which is a bit of a rarity in Soho, so f you’re going to check it out, put the phone on silent and shhhhhh.