London Restaurant Guide | London Restaurant Blog and Reviews | Londonelicious

The Best Salad Dressing Ever: Pizza Express

Call me crazy. But I love Pizza Express Salad Dressing. When I first moved to London, I lived over by Tower Bridge, and there was a Pizza Express around the corner and down the street from my flat. During the first year or two I lived in London, I flew back and forth to the US five or six times a year. (Enough to keep me covered in United Miles three years' later. These trips also had a lasting affect on my immune system: after 1.5 years of being sicker than I've ever been in my entire life, I've determined that it's now impossile for me to become ill. I have an immune system of steel. Of kryptonite. I will never be ill again. I swear.)

With all these pond-hopping-flights, I would land at Heathrow at 6 a.m., be home by 8 a.m., and nap until 11 or so. Then I'd have a salad at Pizza Express--with extra dressing--before heading into the office. (International travel makes me crave vegetables like nobody's business.)

As much as food-focused people like me give Pizza Express crap about being a chain and all the assorted insults that come along with, well, being a chain, you gotta give the folks credit. They are one of the few dependable places in London to go to for a decent, dependable DINNER SALAD And some GInormously delicious salad dressing.

Pizza: Mulberry Street

84 Westbourne Grove
W2 5RT
Tel: 020 7313 6789

Date of Last Visit: 1 July 2007

The Victims: Rutton, Zarmina

The Damage: £13 per person with Diet Cokes.

The Background: I think I saw someone famous last night. I met Bryan and Stacey and their friend Jason at Green & Red for some tasty Mexican snacks, and then we dropped into Loungelover for some £11 cocktails. (Hear me repeating...I'm worth it. I'm worth it.) And there in the bar, not five feet from me, was someone who looked an awful lot like Colleen McLoughlin. (That's Wayne Rooney's girlfriend, in case you didn't know. Hey, I only know because I read Grazia.)

Well, this has absolutely nothing to do with my lunch with Rutton and Zarmina on Sunday, but I thought it was exciting.

Anyhow, I wanted to try out Mulberry Street. Or Bloody French. Both have so-so reviews. Hmmmm. I tell R & Z this and we almost go someplace else, but then we walk by Mulberry Street, and it looks okay.

The Food: We order a regular pizza--1/2 with eggplant "parmigiana" and the other half with pepperoni and jalapenos. The eggplant side is bland and disappointing. The pepperoni side is nice. But the pizza is not cooked enough in the middle. I am disappointed.

Our server assures us that the ceasar salad is big enough for three. Well, it's not. And it kinda sucks. No, it definitely sucks. It's so limp and lackluster. Whoever made it has never had a proper ceasar in their life. There are tomatoes and olives in it. Weird.

The Atmosphere: The upstairs looks really cute. But the downstairs is boring. There's nothing on the walls. And it's too dark. At one point, Rutton announces that he can't see his food because of the shadow from the pizza pan.

The Verdict: Hmmm. They gotta work on the crispness of the pizza in the middle. And they definitely need to  come up with a different ceasar salad. And bring up the lights a notch in the basement, please.

Tapas: Pinchitos

32 Featherstone Street
EC1Y 8QX
Tel: 020 7490 0121

Date of Last Visit: Thursday, June 28th, 2007

The Victims: Howard, Ben, Mark

The Damage: 20ish each?

The Background: As of Thursday June 28th at 7:30 p.m., I've known Mark for about four hours in total. But we're Facebook friends , so I've been keeping tabs on him. I know he likes swimming, and that he has a new toaster. I know he saw a bad movie last Friday. Likewise, Mark knows that it might be time for me to move; that sometimes, I log in to Facebook while I'm waiting for the bus; and that I've grown tired of my music collection. (Don't tell my mother. Please. You'd have to see my music collection to truly understand my attention deficit disorder.)

Well, Mark suggests the pub quiz at the Wenlock Arms with fellow London food bloggers Howard and Ben, and I suggest dinner beforehand at the new tapas place at Featherstone Street, just south of Old Street tube. It's a deal.

The Entrance: It's loud. They could use some sound-proofing devices. It's loud and not super-crowded. So that means that it can only get worse. I am afraid. And I am right to be so. Because before we know it, some drunkards sit down at the table next to us and are boisterious in that just-just-just-crossing-the-line way.

The Service: Is really nice and informative. She gives us her recommendations straight off the bat. We, being us, order all of them. And she is mostly right on the ball.

The Food: The standout dish for me was really the anchovies served on potato chips. Who would have thunk it? All that salt...it was perfect! The spicy pork was not so spicy and I was disappointed. The padron peppers were nice...I love them. (And I learned that Mark does not!)

What else did we have? Some manchego. Some iberico ham. Some smoked beef. Some tomatoes and goat cheese (which I declined...too many tomatoes). Two tortillas--which, to be honest, were awful. And you know that I am so not very picky. They seemed undercooked. Some meatballs--I had one, and it was nice. But just nice.

The Verdict: I think I'd only go on a Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday. The Thursday crowd was a bit too much for me. Oh, and I'd stick with the server's recommendations and I'd keep my expectations very low. (I am not drawing any conclusions, but our server did not specifically suggest the tortillas...which are such a staple and so easy to do well--even I have been known to cook a tortilla on occasion--that I am left wondering...)

Oh, and p.s., as of Thursday at 1 a.m.-ish, I've known Mark for about 9.5 hours. In the real world, that is. Not the Facebook world.

Organic Gastro: The Duke of Cambridge

30 St Peter's Street
N1 8JT
Tel: 020 7359 3066

Date of Last Visit: Wednesday, June 27, 2007

The Victim: Fellow London food blogger Ben

The Damage: £22 each?

The Background: I am on Day 2 of the conference, and I am so hoping it will be better than Day 1. It's an online marketing conference, which had sounded SO great when I read about it online. But when they put up a slide in one session that explains what a Web site is (or maybe it was a search engine)...well, I get a little peeved. And then one person reads their entire presentation off a piece of paper, verbatim. That sucked. And a couple of speakers didn't show up or got "stuck in traffic." The most oft-heard phrase? "This next slide..." (ARGGGH.) And the rest all spoke very vaguely, in a theoretical manner that DROVE ME CRAZY. I wanted some specific examples, not sweeping generalizations. And I gradually came to understand A. How Much I Already Know and B. My Presentation Skills are FANTASTIC.

Funnily, towards the end of Day 1, I run into Ben of Food & Drink. We make tentative plans for lunch the next day and I suggest the Duke of Cambridge up the road and east a bit. It's a plan.

The Surroudings: Are very gastro-pub-y. There are many chairs, and few of them match. It's a very wide and open space and I like it.

The Service: Even though it's an "order at the bar" kind of place, there are folks meandering around the pub and they are very helpful and friendly. Paying the bill took a while, but I'll forgive them for that.

The Food: I get the fish pie. And it's good. But it's got like three very large potatoes in it. I could have used something else in there--some veggies of some sort--all within the pie. The wilted greens served on the side are not super-edible. Maybe they are not wilted enough? Ben got the curry-ish chicken, and I say "ish" because it was like 1/4 of a chicken, not little chicken chunks. He seemed to like it. I will let him add details if he should so desire.

The Verdict: I liked the atmosphere. Thought the food was so-so. But I'd go back if the opportunity were to present itself.

Good Beer: St. Peter's Organic Best Bitter

I like beer.

There, I've said it.

I was, if I haven't told you a million times before, an exchange student at the University of Innsbruck, Austria for a year in college. We had a beer vending machine in our dorm--something you'd never see in America--and we were a short hop from Munich, a city I lived in in 2003 for five months. (An der Ecke von Gabelsbergerstr und Augustenstr, gegenueber von McDonalds) in case you're interested.) I've been to Oktoberfest twice. (1993 and then again in 2000.) I'll go again this year if anyone is up for the field trip. In short, I've spent many a happy and relaxing and low-pressure Saturday (and Sunday, and well, the occasional weekday) in a German/Austrian beer garden.

I like trying new beers. Beers I've never heard of before. But truth be told, I'm a little behind on my knowledge of English beers. I'm determined to do something about this. And I'm starting with St. Peter's. I'm excited to start here because The Jerusalem Tavern isn't all that far from where I live, and at The Jerusalem, it's all St. Pete's all the time.

I tried St. Peter's Organic Best Bitter the other Saturday with Ben & Gerry at The Charles Lamb. It was bitter. But I liked it. And now I can't wait to drop by The Jerusalem Tavern and try some more.

Chinese: Wong Kei

41-43 Wardour Street
W1D 6PY
Tel: 020 7437 8408

Date of Last Visit: Thursday, June 21, 2007

The Victims: Ben, Gerry, Matt

The Damage: £20 each with drinks

The Background: My Chinese friend Echo has told me on a number of occasions that Wong Kei is THE place to go in Chinatown for Chinese food. Matt has organized a night out for Gerry and Ben and myself--a variety show at the Cafe Royal in Picadilly--and so we drop into Wong Kei for dinner beforehand.

The Loos: I started my Wong Kei experience in the ladies' room, and it was really gross in a very disgusting way. The stench hit me the moment I walked through the door. The 5-second rule could not be applied here. A little power-washing would go a very very long, long way. Like long in a dig-a-tunnel-to-China-way. Yuk...I am grossed out just thinking about it. The things I do in London for my blog readers, I swear.

The Food: We started with some duck pancakes, which were really nice, as they usually always are. And a platter of mixed vegetarian items for Gerry. I don't get the whole crispy spinach thing. It's hard to eat, and it's not very good! It's like eating paper, no?

Now while we were enjoying our starters, the woman at the table next to me got a great looking dish. Our server explained that it was eel, and being a huge fan of unagi, I decided to give it a shot. I got the unagi and pork dish with white rice. The pork was really great, but the eel wasn't my favorite. So I ended up having a few pieces of pork for dinner, along with some white rice. Not the most filling meal.

The Drinks: Tsing Taos all around, plus a bottle of HOT SAKE. If I had a band, I would call it HOT SAKE. Forgive me if I've told you this before.

The Service: Echo has warned me that the service isn't very good, but I thought it was okay. Sure, it took us a bit to get the check at the end, but that was alright. I was expecting rudeness, gruffness and maybe a little name-calling, and we didn't get any of that. Part of me was slightly disappointed.

The Verdict: If I go back, I will go with Echo and make her order for me. Given the number of people streaming in the doors, Wong Kei has something going for it. I just have to find out what it is. It certainly is not the toilet facilities. 

La Petite Auberge

283 Upper St
N1 2TZ, UK
Tel: 020 7359 1046

Date of Last Visit: Tuesday, June 26, 2007

The Victim: Me

The Damage: £15

The Background: I am at a conference in Islington, and I end up with a two hour break over lunch. I think about going to the gym, going home, going blogging, going shopping. Shoe shopping, maybe. But instead I decide to do lunch alone--which is technically blogging, although I'll be eating first and blogging when I get around to it.

I've always wanted to go to La Petite Auberge. It just looks so cute and French and well, cute and French. It's a bit farther up the road than I expected, but that's okay.

The Service: So they give me many menus. There is a specials menu and a regular menu and a wine list. And I think to myself, "Where is the special lunch menu? Surely, as a French restaurant, they have two courses for £x and three courses for £y?" There is no prixe fixe to be seen and I find this puzzling. I thought all French restaurants did this. But apparently not. So I decide to spend £14 on some civet de lapin. I do love a nice bunny stew. About five minutes after I place my order, I notice a little sign with the prixe fixe menu hanging up above. I signal over the waiter and ask if there is indeed a prixe fixe menu? And can I have my rabbit as part of that?

He does, for a moment, look ashamed and apologetic. He says they can cancel my order and I can place a new one, because unfortunately, the civet of rabbit is not available as a prixe fixe.

Now this, my dears, is a shame. I think what they should do is let ANY main on the menu be avialable as a prixe fixe for a small supplement. So for example, I can have my rabbit for £14 if I want, and I can pay just £5 extra (or something) if I want a starter or dessert as well.

I stick with the rabbit. And I wait for the delicious French bread basket. And I wait. And I wait.

And none arrives. The table across from me gets some rolls. But there are no baguette slices to be seen.

A shame. Maybe they are not French. Maybe they are lazy. Maybe the big French bread goblin has gobbled up all the baguettes.

The Food: The bunny? It tastes like chicken. (And I don't mean this in a bad way.)

The Verdict: Cute, atmospheric. Tasty. I'd actually go back. But go with low expectations. 

Turkish: Ishtar

10 - 12 Crawford Street
W1U 6AZ
Tel: 020 7224 2446

Date of Last Visit: Wednesday, June 20, 2007

The Victim: ConAnn and a super-cute, super-sleepy and super-well-behaved Aidan.

The Damage: £15 each.

The Background: A couple of weeks ago, K&A described me as a "food for the people" kind of gal. This made me smile and I've since adopted the moniker when acquaintences and friends challenge me to a game of, "Yes, but have you been to <insert very expensive and possibly overhyped London restaurant locale here>?"

I don't think great food has to be expensive. And I think every restaurant should be able to provide friendly and efficient service--being nice is EASY unless you're a total idiot. Tap water should be provided without asking. Service should be optional. And if the loos are dirty, well then...what does the kichen look like? (Why why why do we accept toilets that are not as clean as the ones in our own home? Or maybe there's something going on in England that I don't know about.)

So when I met up with ConAnn for dinner near her place the other day, I told her that I just wanted to go a casual London restaurant with nice food and friendly service that wasn't going to break the bank. Ishtar it was, and I couldn't have been happier.

The Service: The service is so nice and friendly. They let ConAnn pick the table because she is a little worried that Aidan will get restless. They bring us tap water. (We did have to ask, but it is provided, no problem.) They give us suggestions on which main to have. (I am definitely leaning towards the mousakka, and our server confirms that I have indeed made a good choice.) There is Turkish wine on the menu. (I like the local stuff.) They come back and check on us in a non-annoying way throughout the meal. In short, they do everything right.

The Food: We get an assortment of appetizers to start. Hummous and pita and cucumber salad and yogurt. We both opt for the moussaka, which turns out to be meatless--I hadn't realized that when I ordered--but it is really really good. Mouth-watering good. It had a great cheesy topping that was nicely broiled and crispy in all the right places. I seriously consider asking for the recipe, but well, we all know that would be useless given my talents, as well as the tendency of my smoke alarm to go off at just the slightest, eensiest, teeniest little WHIFF of fire.

The only thing that would have made the experience better would have been some free Turkish Delight or Baklava at the end of the meal. But that's me, loving a freebee.

The Verdict: If I lived around Marylebone, I'd go here all the time.

Modern (Insert Adjective Here):Magdalen

152 Tooley Street
London, SE1 2TU
Tel: 020 7403 1342

Date of Last Visit: Saturday, June 16, 2007

The Victims: Too many to mention.

The Damage: £82 each. With wine pairings.

The Background: Howard has organized lunch for us at Magdalen on Tooley Street. The restaurant no longer opens for Saturday lunch, but they've opened special just for us. I, for one, feel special. As I should. Because I am.

The Starter: Is artichoke soup, served with a lovely crostini with goat cheese. (I think.) The soup is perfect and creamy and smooth and simple.

The Salad: That is IT in the picture. It is full of duck and foie gras. It is one of my most wonderful things I've ever eaten. It is jam-packed with stuff.

The Main: Is a whole poached baby salmon, served family style. Baby salmon apparently goes by Sea Trout when it's just a baby. Who knew. (I think there's more to it than this...something about fins and spines. But that's enough for now.)

The Dessert:  A concoction of jelly with  a meringue top. Nice, but not my thing.

The Cheese: Pears and blue cheese. I don't normally like pears. (They bring back bad memories of my time in northern Germany with distant relatives when I felt obligated to finish my dessert of home-tinned pears...uggghhh...I am ill just thinking about it.) But these Magdalen pears, they are okay. Washing them down with port probably helps.

The Loos: Super clean!

The Verdict: I love it. And I'll take my parents here. And my co-workers. And my friends. Any myself.

London Gastropub: The Horseshoe

28 Heath St
NW3 6TE
Tel: 020 7431 7206

Date of Last Visit: Friday, June 15th

The Victim: Sarah and a very well-behaved Arielle

The Damage: £16.50 for two, with wine!

The Background: The first time I ever went to Hampstead, I got a little lost, and everyone I stopped for directions was American. I thought this quite funny, although three years ago, I probably would never have phrased a sentence that way. (It would be more like, "Oh. My. God. It was like SOO TOTALLY funny!)

It's hard to believe it's been two and a half years, two flats, two passports, and one work permit renewal since I've been up in Hampstead, so I am excited to return for lunch with Sarah. (And as I write this a few days later on a lovely Sunday morning with Otis Redding playing on my iTunes, I am actually trying to rally myself to head up to my friend Mark's place in Hampstead for a barbecue. No Hampstead visits in ages, and then two visits in three days!)

Well, Sarah and Arielle and I wander down Heath Street to check out the local Hampstead gastropub, The Horseshoe, and I instantly fall in love.

The Love: For £7, we get a lovely ceasar salad, a seat at the window overlooking a lovely little courtyard, and a lovely glass of white wine. Our service is perfect and the company is just what I needed.

The End: It's very clean and neat and tidy and relaxing on a late Friday afternoon. I feel well-rested. I'll be back.