Beagle: a place you'll want to stay

Perhaps it was the fact it was a bank holiday weekend, perhaps it was the glorious evening sun streaming through the windows making the food glisten, or maybe, just maybe, Beagle was as good as I remember.  Set in three railway arches - one bar, one restaurant, the other kitchen -Beagle is the new home of James Ferguson, formerly of La Rochelle.  It is a great little bolt hole from the hustle and bustle of Shoreditch and, despite the fact that trains rumble their way towards Liverpool Street only meters above you, surprisingly serene.

The food is very much on trend, but it does not feel trendy. It doesn't feel like its trying too hard. Yes they sell smoked cod's roe (a favourite of the St John's empire). But not in a "what you haven't tried smoked cod's roe, seriously?" kind of a way.  It's far friendlier that that. There is English asparagus with fried egg and a salad of courgettes, tomatoes and feta (I am sure this was more interesting than it sounds), but we opted for the cuttlefish with aioli and the grilled lamb's tongue (a new one on me) with beets. The tongue was soft, the beets sweet. The cuttlefish was perfectly cooked, just enough bite.

The lamb's tongue and beetroot

Cuttlefish and aioli

With the sun beating down, the forerib for two or the mutton with pearl barley would have been too much - I  went instead for the pork belly. Salty crackling, melting meat with sweet onions and rich lentils - this is the kind of food that works well in July and January. The onglet steak (by the frequency with which this cut is now served in London you could almost be led to believe that there is no other!) was cooked rare and seasoned well. The duck fat chips were the only disappointment - not crisp enough for me, although the Fashionista thought they were tops.

With no space left for dessert, we sauntered off.  Yes I went on a sunny summer evening, yes we'd enjoyed a beer in the sun before, but I have this sneaky suspicion that I will be just as comfortable in Beagle come winter - snuggled up in the archway watching the snow whirl outside. This is a restaurant for keeps. This is my kind of place.

Upstairs at the Ten Bells: Simply Brilliant

Made up of James Low, Isaac Mchale and Ben Greeno, the Young Turks were formed way back in 2010.  These three, along with the Clove Club (a private dining club based in Dalston), have been nomads for some time now, wandering around the Capital, popping up in strange places (atop a ten story car park in Peckham!) to cook delectable treats.  And so, when they set up in the space above the Ten Bells pub (of Jack the Ripper fame) between November last year and April this year, it looked like it was going to be the usual fleeting visit.  But at last they seem to have found their home, no longer are they twisting, this time they seem to have found somewhere in which they are happy to stick: a permanent place,  Upstairs at the Ten Bells.

There is no longer a tasting menu, but the addition of a "snack" option at the start and cheese at the end made it into a five course banquet when we went.

The snacks are intriguing, challenging, delicious.  Homemade chipsticks (so retro!) with smoked cods roe, buttermilk chicken with pine salt, served in pine needles - the best chicken nuggets you've ever had, but the pine was unpronounced - and single segments of white onion with a dollop of aubergine and walnuts on top.  We shared the three between five, loved them all.

Homemade chipsticks with smoked cod's roe

Buttermilk chicken with pine salt

White onion, aubergine and walnuts

Next I had the poached egg, fonduta (an Italian fondue made with fontina cheese, milk egg and truffles) and gherkin. The fonduta was rich and creamy, working well with the yolk of the egg, could have done with a bit more crunch though, despite the addition of almost raw cauliflower.  Other starters included tomato salad (three types) with shiso and iced goats milk.  The sweetness of the tomato worked well with the chilly goats' milk, the shiso provided the punch.  The smoked mackerel, pickled melon and green olives was intriguing, the Fashionista loved it - pickled melon was a new one on me.  However, my favourite dish was the courgette soup with razor clams and Indian spice.  The soup, which came chilled, was poured around a tower of fried razor clam:, crispy, hot, smooth, cold, excellent.

Poached egg, fonduta and gherkin

Chilled Courgette Soup with Razor Clams and Indian Spice



Mackerel with picked melon and green olives



Tomato Salad with Iced Goat's Milk

For main I had a saddle of lamb with spinach puree which was spiked with small dots of in-your-face anchovy puree! On top was balanced a light potato rosti, with more air than potato.  Masterful cooking, one of my favourites of the year, sadly no pic.  Also very good was the smoked pork belly with radishes and oat groats (a favourite ingredient of the Turks).  Less impressive was the plaice, mushrooms, elderflower and wild fennel.  Excellently cooked, but I felt it lacked substance and paled alongside the other options. There was severe food jealousy from that end of the table.

Pork Belly with Raddish

Plaice with mushrooms, elderflower and wild fennel

One dessert was strawberry tart with white chocolate and elderflower ice cream.  Accomplished?  Certainly. But blown away by the alternative of blueberry mousse, tarragon sponge and milk crisps.  Light mousse (made with creme fraiche rather than cream), aniseedy sponge that would probably have taken off if you hadnt already eaten it and the most incredible biscuity milk things (I am sad to say I have no idea how these were made).  Perfect is a strong word.  I am reticent to use it.  This was perfect.



Blueberry mousse, tarragon sponge and milk crisps

We finished with a good selection of French cheese (from Androuet in Spittalfields - owned by Alex, an affable Frenchman who trained under the great Mr Androuet in Paris and who now trades under his name in London) and some incredible wine recommended by our chirpy waiter.  Sadly by that point we had had rather too much and the name escapes me.  Needless to say it tasted like a very dry scrumpy, but was definitely red wine: a good match for cheese.
Get yourself a reservation at Upstairs at the Ten Bells before the queue snakes around the block.  The atmosphere is welcoming, unstuffy, the food of the highest order and cheap at half the price.  Five courses with three and a half bottles of wine and a cocktail for around fifty quid each.  You will struggle to eat better in London.

St John Hotel Bar and Restaurant: as good as the original?

I love everything about the original St John's.  The idea of using all the parts of an animal to create wonderfully tasty dishes really chimes with me in these days of fiscal and environmental uncertainty.  With that in mind, the restaurant at the St John Hotel has a lot to live up to.

Tucked in behind Leicester Square on Leicester Street, Fergus Henderson has opened a small boutique hotel with bar on the first floor and restaurant at ground level.  The restaurant is a reasonably small room with open kitchen to the rear and, like St John's at Smithfields, is painted all white - a nice but utilitarian design.

The daily menu leans less heavily on all things offal and has a real focus on fish (which LJC and I both decided to ignore almost completely save for the roe in my starter).

While the potted goose with pickled prunes looked good, I settled on deviled pigs' skin (crackling to you and I) and smoked haddock roe with a sprinkle of paprika.  The skin and the roe worked surprisingly well together - a fantastic dish.  Even better however was LJC's starter of tender pig's cheek, snails, lardon soaked croutons and sorrel juice.  Every mouthful of this dish was an absolute joy!

For main course we decided to share the beef and kidney pie along with some potatoes and brussel tops.  The pie was gigantic and could easily have fed three or even four, needless to say by the end there was nothing left! Deliciously tender slow cooked brisket in a thick gravy was topped with a suet crust (crispy on the outside, just slightly soggy (and I mean that in a good way) with all the wonderful juices from the meat on the inside). 

The brussel tops were also particularly nice - cooked in butter with just enough crunch left.

St John Hotel has a lot to live up to but if keeps on producing food of this calibre, maybe one day it will be renowned in its own right rather than simply as the follow up to St John's.  An excellent meal.

P.S. A special mention should go to the wonderful restaurant manager who managed to sneak us a table despite our lack of reservation - thanks!