Tracey Taylor

New York Times, May 2 2010

Photo: Thor Swift for the New York Times

Evan Shively was a chef at Postrio, the San Francisco restaurant owned by Wolfgang Puck, when it opened in 1989. The restaurant has since closed, and Mr. Shively now runs Arborica, a salvaged wood mill in Marshall that supplies architects and designers with reclaimed walnut, redwood and cypress with which to fashion floors, tables and doors. He lives next to the mill with his partner, the artist Madeleine Fitzpatrick. Mr. Shively visits the Occidental Arts and Ecology Center in Sonoma County regularly because, he said, its mission to preserve and restore native biodiversity mirrors his desire to be a steward of the land. (His words have been edited and condensed.)

HUMBLE BEGINNINGS The center is not an inherently exalted spot. It’s a random Californian hillside not unlike many others, a hardscrabble adobe that, year after year, has been added to and enriched, letting it manifest itself over time. Somebody chose to make it extraordinary, which is what makes it inspiring.

ORIGINS OF THE SPECIES I was a puppy prep cook — just starting out at Oliveto in Oakland — when I discovered this place. I wanted to find the source of some beautiful herbal greens that came into the restaurant.

RHYTHMS OF NATURE I think of myself as under pressure because the logs roll in, and if something is not done with them, they’re lost. But, here, the commitment to the effort is so sustained. They have a seed-saving garden that has to be grown out every five years. I look at all the plants and vegetables here and appreciate the fact that it’s a place that values diversity. When I visit, I see varieties of fava beans and garlic I’ve never seen before. And the flowers are woven in for the aesthetics.

Financial Times, February 5 2010

Lunch options for the designers and architects who work near South Park, a pocket of green space in the heart of San Francisco, recently became much more interesting, writes Tracey Taylor. For the past few months, half a dozen street-food vendors have appeared on the square once a week, opening up shop for a couple of hours. You can get spicy chicken and rice from Adobo Hobo; a smoky Andouille sausage stew from Gumbo Man; a dessert of raspberry red babycakes from Wholesome Bakery; or quindim, a traditional sticky coconut custard, made by Brazilian Bites. Urban Nectar will probably have whipped up some freshly squeezed watermelon and strawberry juice to wash it all down.

The Crème Brûlée Man(@cremebruleecart) often turns up, too, with his pushcart and his kitchen blowtorch to produce a brittle, scorched crust on his lavender or Grand Marnier flavoured creams. Like several of the city’s street-food vendors, Crème Brûlée Man has become something of a local celebrity and media darling but he won’t reveal his name, for, like many of the chefs plying their trade from trucks and carts, he is unlicensed. But his 9,736 Twitter followers know precisely where to find him on any given day.

In San Francisco, where a new culinary trend makes headlines every week, street food has proved to have legs. Other US cities embraced the concept earlier. New York has always had its hot dog and pretzel carts. In Los Angeles, the Kogi Korean BBQ truck (@kogibbq), launched by Mark Manguera, was a pioneer in late 2008 and is now, thanks to its 53,400-plus Twitter followers, nothing less than a phenomenon. Newsweek magazine named it “America’s first viral eatery”.

But now that the Bay Area has got its teeth into kerb-side treats, it is making sure food carts are here to stay. Three separate street-food festivals were launched in 2009. “Street Food” took place in San Francisco itself; “Eat Real” was held in Jack London Square, a foodie destination near the port of Oakland; and the wine country jumped on the bandwagon with the World Street Food conference in Napa Valley.

The festivals lent a sheen of legitimacy to street food but a good percentage of the cart vendors are unlicensed, which means there is an element of subterfuge to how they operate. Many of them use social media, posting information about their new sandwich fillings and current locations on Twitter and Facebook. It is a strategy that seems to have appealed to tech-savvy Bay Area residents, many of whom relish a whiff of the underground.

Street food on the West Coast can trace its roots to the ubiquitous Mexican taco truck, and a good number of the new generation of vendors has renovated decommissioned taco trucks to launch their businesses.

Kate McEachern, though, opted for a mail truck when she went down the mobile route to sell cupcakes, and her turf is principally the streets of Berkeley. She posts the whereabouts of her Cupkates truck (@cupkatestruck) every morning to her 1,502 Twitter followers as well as her seasonal flavours, be it pumpkin spice in the autumn or fleur de sel caramel in the spring.

“I had dreams of opening a quaint cupcake store but it’s really difficult to raise start-up capital,” she says. “The truck lets me test the market. One aspect I love right now is the ability to interact closely with my customers every day.”

Some traditional restaurateurs have embraced the informality and “pop-up” nature of street carts as a refreshing alternative to running a restaurant. For budding chefs they offer a way to build a customer base with low overheads. And established chef-proprietors also see the appeal. Laurent Katgely, owner of Spencer’s Restaurant in San Francisco, opened takeaway truck Spencer On The Go(@chezspencergo) in May last year.

“It started as a fun idea but it has turned out to be a great advertising tool,” says Katgely, who points to the fact that the restaurant just had its best two months for business in seven years. He says the truck has also attracted a new crowd who were not previously drawn to French food because of the expense. “It’s great that we can offer $2 escargots or $10 foie gras this way.”

The economic downturn has been a key motivator for both street cart owners hoping to make a living and for customers looking to source fresh food relatively cheaply.

John Birdsall, online food editor at SF Weekly, says some street-food vendors favour gathering at private events but there’s always the threat of being shut down by the police. “There’s been a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ attitude from local authorities so far,” he says. But when particular food trucks begin to attract large crowds, it’s difficult to remain under the radar. Birdsall says there are signs that some vendors want to become legitimate. A workshop held in December that addressed the practical issues involved in securing a licence was well attended.

In San Francisco, some of the more recent arrivals on the scene include the Sexy Soup Lady and Sam’s Chowder Mobile. There’s also the Boozely’s Pickles and Preserves cart run by waiter Brad Koester; That Guy’s Fries, launched by two recent college graduates; and Crêperie Saint Germain, that serves chestnut, banana and vanilla ice-cream pancakes. Such variety suggests that diversity is still the name of the game in this city with its long history of politically correctness.

New York Times, February 4, 2010

What’s not to like about Berkeley’s favorite deli? Why all the kvetching?

In many ways Saul’s Restaurant and Delicatessen in Berkeley — just a few doors down the street from Chez Panisse, the grande dame of the slow-food movement in the Bay Area — is the quintessential farm-to-table restaurant. It features local food, organic produce and a seasonal menu.

So why the consistent grumbling from perhaps one customer in five? Nostalgia, said Peter Levitt, the co-owner and chef who is a Chez Panisse alumnus. “We have so many culinary memories under one roof,” he said.

Which is a nice way of saying that some people prefer pastrami made the old-fashioned way — industrially — and feel that anyone who doesn’t approve of the high-fructose corn syrup in Dr. Brown’s cream soda should just suck it up and adjust.

If there’s one dining experience above others which is pregnant with expectations, it’s the Jewish deli. The pastrami sandwich had better be so large you can barely get your teeth into it. The blintzes had better taste like the ones your grandmother made.

The problem is that the deli menu many people regard as authentic, and which reached its heyday in the 1950s, is rooted in the industrial food system. Those towering pastrami sandwiches are typically created with factory-produced meat. The rye bread? Pasty and processed.

Ever since Mr. Levitt and his partner, Karen Adelman, took over Saul’s in 1995, they have tried to make the restaurant’s voluminous menu more sustainable, as they describe on the deli’s blog.

In 1998, Acme bread (founded in Berkeley) replaced the spongy white rye the deli had shipped in from New York. It is now broadly appreciated. They source their fish from Monterey Fish Company and their beef from Marin Sun Farms.

A year ago, they did away with Dr. Brown’s sodas, both because of the food miles they incurred and the high-fructose corn syrup on the label. The change proved to be the last straw for some die-hard deli fans.

“There were those who said if you don’t have Dr Brown’s, you’re not a Jewish deli,” Mr. Levitt said. “People forget that the original Jewish sodas were handmade and sold off the back of street carts.”

The house-made celery, cream and black cherry artisanal sodas, which took the place of Dr. Brown’s, now have their own loyal following.

Worried about what would happen if he went forward with more changes, Mr. Levitt called for a “referendum on the deli menu.” The event, which was set for Tuesday at the deli, will now be held at a bigger venue (the Jewish Community Center of the East Bay) to accommodate the more than 175 people who are paying $10 each to attend. It promises to explore questions like these: “What taste memories and flavors of the deli have been provided by an industrial food system? How can we look at our nostalgia and expectations critically?”

In fact, most customers appreciate the changes. Their grass-fed corned beef sandwich may be smaller or more expensive than the ones they ate back East, but it’s tastier, healthier and easier on the conscience.

But the restaurant staff also meets resistance, sometimes even hostility: One customer vowed never to return after seeing that gefilte fish was off the menu because it was out of season; another complained loudly when chilled borscht wasn’t an option in November.

Now, Mr. Levitt and Ms. Adelman say they have reached a crossroads — there is more they would like to do to the menu, yet they fear the backlash. That is what inspired Tuesday night’s event. They are bringing out the big culinary guns to put the future of their restaurant under the spotlight. Is the concept of the sustainable deli itself sustainable?

On the panel next Tuesday: Michael Pollan, a Saul’s lunchtime regular; Willow Rosenthal, the founder of City Slicker Farms; Gil Friend, the author of “The Truth about Green Business;” and Evan Kleiman, the Los Angeles chef and radio host.

Ms. Adelman says they are in effect seeking permission from their customers to continue tweaking what she describes as “an ossified menu.” Just as Jewish food has evolved over the centuries, those who run Saul’s are hoping customers will, for instance, rediscover traditional Sephardic-inspired dishes, which put vegetables, legumes and seafood at the center of the plate rather than meat.

“We want to bring our customers with us,” she said. “They’re our family, our heart.”

It’s a familiar story for David Sax, who wrote the recently published book“Save the Deli.” He has spoken at Saul’s.

“The deli customer is very opinionated, the feedback never stops — which is a blessing and a curse,” he said. “No one is more committed to a new approach to the deli than Karen and Peter. And their concept of taking deli food back to a time when food was respected is a good indicator of where delis could go from here.”

Mr. Pollan also supports the efforts at Saul’s.

“They are trying to do something very admirable, but it’s challenging,” he said. “Good meat costs considerably more than feed-lot meat, and it’s easier for a white-table establishment to absorb the costs of doing it right.”

As for Mr. Levitt, he admits he’s frustrated. “Alice Waters looked at the French menu and reinvented it,” he said. “Why can’t we do the same for the Jewish deli menu?”

California restaurants focus on suppliers

Financial Times, June 6 2009

The cocktails have been ordered, the birthday greetings extended. Now comes the complicated part – deciding what to order from the menu at Pizzaiolo, an acclaimed restaurant in Oakland, California, known for its blistered wood-fired pizzas and regional Italian specialties. The conversation among friends gathered for a celebratory dinner centres not on appetite or taste but on the intricacies of provenance.

A dish of braised goat prompts the most debate – the meat is listed as being from Bill Niman’s ranch in Bolinas, 50 miles north of Oakland. Niman’s humanely raised Niman Ranch beef was the darling of the foodie set for years. But Niman left the company and has started afresh with a small herd of grass-fed goats, as well as a young wife nicknamed Porkchop. So what about the goat? No one doubts it will have lived a good and healthy life. But has anyone tasted the squid pizza with aioli whose main ingredient was sourced just down the coast in Monterey Bay? Another diner is leaning towards the Becker Lane pork with cannellini beans, artichokes, fennel and spring onion salsa because he’s heard the pork from this organic farm is unequalled.

Such menu dissection is not uncommon among northern Californian diners. They are choosy and, invariably, knowledgeable about where their food comes from – a result of interaction with producers at farmers’ markets and the fact that restaurants routinely highlight the provenance of food on their menus. They also live in a fertile part of the world with a climate conducive to producing quality ingredients.

The focus on suppliers is not new. Its local pioneer was Alice Waters, owner and executive chef of the legendary Chez Panisse restaurant and café in Berkeley, who, along with her peers and protégés, has been interpreting farm-to-table cuisine for years, providing shout-outs on her menus to all her favoured producers.

Chez Panisse was also one of the first restaurants to proclaim unadulterated fruit a more than suitable dessert option. It has been featuring a simple offering – whether a single peach from Frog Hollow orchard in Brentwood or a bowl of Sparkling Red nectarines – on its menus for several years. Last month’s café menu listed a bowl of Pixie tangerines from Churchill-Brenneis Orchard and Medjool dates priced at $8.

In January, Todd Kliman, the food and wine editor of Washingtonian magazine, pondered on National Public Radio’s Monkey See blog: “Do we really need to know the provenance of an egg?” And more to the point: “Shopping is not cooking.”

Russell Moore, chef-owner of Camino in Oakland, agrees that there is a way of writing menus that can make them seem like shopping lists. He and his partner Allison Hopelain don’t put producers on the menu. “There isn’t a bigger supporter of farmers than me,” he says. “But ultimately it’s about customers liking the food.” Moore only serves organic or biodynamic wines and doesn’t touch refined sugar but neither of these facts is conveyed to diners. “I don’t want to come off as holier than thou,” he says.

A backlash against showcasing suppliers doesn’t seem likely. For those who live in one of the gastronomic capitals of the world, there is profound satisfaction in knowing that the lamb chop you are about to tuck into was not only raised humanely but done so on local pasture land by a farmer whose name you recognise.

There is no doubt that producers have taken on minor celebrity status. Chefs on both US coasts are discovering goat meat from sources such as Niman’s BN Ranch and Marin Sun Farms. Chef-owner Daniel Patterson at Coi in San Francisco is serving it with “sprouted beans, seeds, nuts and wheatgrass”.

Thomas Keller, owner of French Laundry in Napa and Per Se in New York, likes to highlight the fact that he uses yogurt made by Soyoung Scanlan at her Andante Dairy in Santa Rosa for his yogurt sorbet with a cream scone, sour cherry and proprietor’s blend tea foam. And Boulevard, one of San Francisco’s most venerated restaurants, is proud to proclaim that the quinoa used in its quail stuffed with duck merguez is from Rancho Gordo, a producer whose heirloom beans have become so well-known they have spawned a blog and a book.

They may not appear on his menu, but Moore at Camino is happy to name-check several producers he holds in high regard, including Annabelle at La Tercera, “whose chicory and shelling beans are superb”. Just don’t go to Camino any day soon expecting to eat chicken. If Soul Food Farm isn’t sending Moore its “spectacular” fowls, they’re off the menu. “We haven’t served chicken since November,” he says.

www.pizzaiolooakland.com
www.caminorestaurant.com
www.chezpanisse.com

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Who’s hot in California

Coffee
Ritual Roasters, along with Blue Bottle and Four Barrel, represent the new breed of San Francisco “artisanal micro-roasters”.

Chocolate
Scharffen Berger is closing down its Berkeley factory, so the mantle for best chocolates has been passed to Recchiuti in San Francisco. Also winning plaudits are edible chocolate boxes from Emeryville’s Charles Chocolates; and truffles from Oakland’s Sôcôla.

Dairy
Cream-top organic milk in distinctive glass bottles from Straus Family Creamery in Marin; French brothers David and Benoît de Korsak bring the concept of terroir to their creamy Saint Benoît organic yogurt made in Sonoma County; goat milk, yogurt, kefir and cheese from Sonoma’s Redwood Hill Farm.

Meat
Ducks from Liberty Ducks in Sonoma; lamb from Napa Valley Lamb Company and Cattail Creek Ranch; chickens from Mary’s Farm in Fresno, Hoffmans in the San Joaquin Valley and Soul Food Farm; quail from Wolfe Farm in Brentwood; goat meat from BN Ranch and Marin Sun Farms; guinea hens from Grimaud Farms in Stockton; hormone-free rabbit from Devil’s Gulch Ranch; pigs from River Dog Farm in Capay Valley.

Produce
Vegetables and herbs from Star Route Farms in Marin, Chino Ranch near San Diego and Cannard Farm and Greenstring, both in Sonoma; spring garlic from Full Belly Farm in Capay Valley; gold cipolini onions from Dirty Girl Produce in Santa Cruz; heirloom beans from Rancho Gordo in Napa; shelling beans from La Tercera in Bolinas; Frog Hollow Farm’s signature Cal Red peaches available at the Ferry Building Marketplace, San Francisco.

Cheese
Soft-ripened Mt Tam from Cowgirl Creamery in Point Reyes; goat cheese from Petaluma’s Andante Dairy; award-winning cheddar from Modesto’s Fiscalini Cheese Co; raw-milk San Andreas sheep cheese from Bellwether Farms; Original Blue from Point Reyes Farmstead Cheese Company.

Preserves
British expat June Taylor shows Californians how to make fruit butters and lemon marmalades at her workshop in Berkeley (www.junetaylorjams.com). Newer arrivals include Blue Chair Fruit, whose artisanal preserves are served at Oakland’s Brown Sugar Kitchen for breakfast; and Loulou’s Garden in San Francisco.

Financial Times, November 1, 2008

From the book “Bankside”

Tapas Brindisa
18-20 Southwark Street
Borough Market
London SE1 1TJ
Tel: 020 7357 8880
Monday to Saturday, 11am-11pm Friday and Saturday, Spanish breakfast 9am-11am
No bookings

For anyone with more than a passing interest in good food, there can be few more pleasurable experiences than taking breakfast at Tapas Brindisa in the heart of London‘s foodie destination of choice: Borough Market.

Friday or Saturday mornings is the time to catch this relatively new, but already immensely popular, Spanish eaterie at its quietest. Order a dish of grilled Leon chorizo, eggs and potatoes to have with your coffee, or nibble on a slice of Catalan Llesca (country toast) with lavender honey. The mood is mellow as the market slowly begins to hum into life around you.

Brindisa and Borough go together like a plate of their Villarejo Manchego cheese and its accompanying quince paste. The Brindisa market stall has been at Borough for more than seven years, selling everything from Spanish smoked paprika to giant paella pans. On Saturdays there is always a long, snaking queue for its fresh chorizo, rocket and optional piquillo pepper rolls, the spicy sausages cooked on a huge open grill.

Tapas Brindisa chef José Manuel Pizarro, formerly at Gaudi and The Eyre Brothers, says he appreciates having suppliers a stone’s throw from his kitchen. “I can select ingredients personally and see what is good on the day,” he says.

The restaurant is on a corner site and what it lacks in space is made up for in its warm, inviting décor. Borough-based architects Greig and Stephenson, who planned the recent, dramatic refurbishment of the entire covered market, designed the restaurant with its iroko and black walnut wood banquettes and striking combination of tomato red and creamy beige walls. The traditional ham box is integral to the design. Succulent sides of ham are visible through its plate glass window and entice customers in from Southwark Street.

Pizarro hails from Cáceres in south-west Spain, but prepares dishes from across the country using a variety of regional products. The seasonal menu is divided into cold and hot tapas. Charcuterie, cured fish and speciality cheeses dominate the former and are available throughout the day. A selection of acorn-fed Ibérico cured meats washed down with a glass of La Gitana, a dry, straw-coloured sherry from San Lucar de Barreneda, makes a perfect marriage.

Other choices include La Peral blue cheese with prunes or some cured Cantabrian anchovies from Ortiz. Alternatively, you could perch on a stool at one of the tall tables and have a glass of Rioja with a snack of salted Marcona almonds or hot pickled chillies.

Tapas Brindisa’s commitment to the quality of its cured meats is such that it employs a ‘cortador’, or professional ham carver. In Spain master carvers are integral to the Spanish way of life. Now, in a snug restaurant under south London’s railway lines, the impressive figure of José Daniel “Chuse” from Aragón demonstrates to Brindisa staff, as well as curious customers, this traditional skill, honed over the centuries.

Those who drop by for lunch or in the evenings can choose from a selection of hot tapas that includes deep-fried Monte Enebro cheese with orange blossom honey, Pardina lentil and Alejandro chorizo stew and Catalan spinach with pinenuts and raisins. Or they may opt for a simple fillet steak or potato omelet.

The wine list is small but perfectly formed. One of the restaurant’s favorite suppliers is Telmo Rodriguez, a dynamic young Basque winemaker whose family has had an estate in Rioja for years. Rodriguez has made a name for himself revitalizing ailing vineyards across Spain. His Basa 2004, Verdejo Rueda, a fresh, grassy white, is a favorite among regulars.

The restaurant’s clientèle reflects its neighborhood, being a mix of ‘suits’ holding impromptu meetings over tapas, locals and market-goers, including at the weekends visitors from abroad and families.

What sets Brindisa apart from the capital’s other tapas bars is its emphasis on provenance. Owner Monika Linton began her business importing Spanish cheeses in 1988 and has forged strong relationships with Spanish suppliers ever since. She travels the country sourcing only what she deems to be the best of the best.
This is reflected in the restaurant’s menu where suppliers’ names are always cited: from the Joselito cured meats to Ramon Peña’s Galician squid.

Thus, the beautifully packaged 70% solid chocolate made by renowned Barcelona chocolatier Enric Rovira may seem a little pricey – and it is arguably a tad too sophisticated for the children – but it makes a fine cup of dark hot chocolate to sip on a chilly morning before launching oneself into London’s foodie heaven.

From the book “Bankside”

Delfina Studio Café
50 Bermondsey Street
London SE1 3UD
Tel: 020 7357 0244
www.delfina.org.uk
Open daily for lunch, Friday dinner

The Romans beat leather on Bermondsey Street and it was not that long ago that the last tannery, specializing in exotic hides such as ostrich and boa constrictor, moved out of the area. But when entrepreneur Digby Squires bought the former chocolate factory that houses Delfina Studio Café in 1994, the neighborhood was little more than a run-down assortment of derelict warehouses and workshops. However, the vast open spaces and hive of outbuildings that once churned out sugar-plum chocolate and popping candy were the perfect home for his charity, the Delfina Studio Trust, an organization that helps young visual artists.

Today its three gallery spaces and 35 studios contribute to a thriving heritage conservation area that has attracted a vibrant mix of small, craft-based businesses, restaurants and boutiques.

Not only are the resident artists given the chance to develop their work without commercial pressure, they are also lucky enough to be able to have a permanent table reserved for them in the sleek Delfina Studio Café, which has evolved considerably since its days as an in-house canteen.

The restaurant, with its airy, open-plan space, scrubbed floor and whitewashed walls, is like a vast blank canvas. In that way it is the perfect match for head chef Maria Elia who brings to the kitchen a rich palette of experience and influences. This is someone who has worked on a luxury private yacht, sourcing produce at markets and fish on the docks of Greece, Turkey and Cuba. Headhunted to be chef of a country club in Dorset, she was asked on her first day to design a kitchen in a squash court.

In Phoenix, Arizona she learned the cooking of the deep south and how to make Tortilla soup. She revitalized the menu at a health spa near Montepulciano in Italy and is still so passionate about her craft that she spends her holidays on cookery courses in India and Thailand, or in the kitchens of restaurants in Sydney and Melbourne. Her conventional apprenticeship includes spells at London’s Coast restaurant and at Ferran Adrià’s renowned El Bulli near Barcelona, recently voted the best restaurant in the world.

The result, she insists, is not “fusion”, rather using the best ingredients in less obvious ways. This might translate as a starter of pan-fried squid with zhoug-dressed butternut squash and a main course of Miso-marinated perch with pickled cabbage and beansprout salad; or roast rabbit with artichoke skordalia, shaved fennel and crispy potatoes. “Taste, texture and presentation” is Elia’s mantra and there is clearly no rule-book. “Why does a meringue have to be in the shape of a nest? Why not a square or a triangle?” she asks.

Such adventurism is in safe hands, however, as the dishes, while always inventive, are also delicious. The menu changes every three weeks and there is always a special of the day as well as a staple dish of Australian fish. This always popular choice came about as the result of a good relationship with an Australian seafood supplier – it is also a deliberate attempt to avoid using species of fish that are suffering depleted stocks. Elia sees it as a chef’s duty to “give those fish a break” and allow restocking for future generations.

So, one might find Barramundi on the menu, or Dhufish, Albacore, Spangled Emperor, Leather Jacket or Sweet Lips. Although the names may be unfamiliar, albeit colorful, all the fish are meaty and dense and served simply chargrilled with a big wedge of lemon and some organic leaves.

The atmosphere at Delfina is relaxed and the décor soothing: touches of pale green and navy blue accent the white backdrop and there is space to breathe. All reasons the restaurant attracts a mélange of artistic types and local crafts people, as well as staff from the nearby Financial Times and City workers. Some simply drop in for coffee and to view the studio’s permanent exhibition, which is owner Digby’s Squire’s personal collection built up over many years.

And there is always the permanent table of resident artists for added color. What is certain is that the artists that have moved on from Bermondsey Street – and the list comprises a stellar collection of Turner Prize nominees including Keith Tyson, Mark Wallinger and the Wilson Twins – will be missing those lunches.

From the book “Bankside”

The Anchor & Hope
36 The Cut
London
SE1 8LP
Tel: 020 7928 9898
Monday to Saturday, lunch and dinner
No bookings

When celebrity chef and original enfant terrible of the gastro world Marco Pierre White recently handed back his Michelin stars and extolled the virtues of simple food, you knew there must be something going on. And that something appears to be, in London at least, a return to good, wholesome, unpretentious food. Even, dare one say it, a renewed appreciation of traditional English cooking – a concept that the Anchor & Hope, a down-to-earth pub near Waterloo station, embraces to the full.

From the outside, the place is unprepossessing: a no-frills corner pub, painted gun-metal grey, sited under a dreary red-brick council block. Step inside and there are no great revelations: the latest owners took just one month to redesign the interior. Much of this time was spent stripping out existing fittings to create a pared-down, open-plan space with scratched floorboards, a bar and adjoining dining room and a tiny open kitchen. The walls are Roast Beef red and the ceiling is Nicotine Yellow (actually a rather pleasing shade of cream). More shabby than chic.

If it’s just a drink you’re after, the pub has Bombardier and Eagle on tap. There’s a commendably priced wine list that is firmly rooted in the Old World with French varieties in the ascendant. Or you might choose a crisp, dry sherry to whet your appetite, served in a plain ice-frosted tumbler. Ask for a dish of croutons with rabbit rillettes or brandade to accompany your drink.

The menu is deliberately ‘deconstructed’ which means you pick whatever takes your fancy with many dishes lending themselves to being starters or main courses. That said, hearty eaters will relish the selection. Begin perhaps with potato soup and foie gras, smoked herring and lentils, whole crab and mayonnaise, or a plate of winkles. Follow this with smoked Old Pot chop and prunes, or fennel and Berkswell gratin, braised venison and red cabbage or devilled kidneys and potato cake.

The emphasis is on seasonal dishes, the kitchen champions the less commonly used meat cuts, such as mutton and duck’s heart (prepared in a risotto) and many of the raw ingredients are sourced at nearby Borough Market.

The pub has become known for its big, often slow-cooked, dishes, which are delivered to the table in steaming earthenware pots to be shared with friends. There is shoulder of lamb with gratin dauphinois (“for 5-ish” suggests the menu), duck stuffed with faggots with turnips and beans, or pheasant with red cabbage and quince. This is sociable, democratic eating at its best.

Desserts may include panna cotta and rhubarb, lemon tart or chocolate and hazelnut cake with vanilla ice cream.

Like the wine list – a subjective selection for which manager Robert Shaw makes no apologies (“we prefer the subtleties of the traditional wine countries”) – the Anchor & Hope is a very personal venture. Shaw says the owners – himself and the two chefs – wanted to create the sort of place they themselves would want to go to: “Somewhere you could meet your friends and chat over a drink and then, after a while, have supper.”

When it opened, the capital’s chattering classes, and its restaurant critics, flocked to the Anchor & Hope and were fulsome in their praise. Giles Coren in the Times described it as “properly good”. “And,” he added, “of properly good restaurants in London, we have but a handful. Barely a clutch.” In the Sunday Times, A.A. Gill wrote: “The Anchor & Hope looks like a crap pub. It’s a brilliant restaurant. It’s what we’ve been waiting for.”

Such approbation drew the crowds, and for a while the Anchor & Hope was a victim of its own success and there just weren’t enough tables to go around. The pub has settled into a more accommodating rhythm now, however, and – as long as you are comfortable with the idea of a relaxed pre-dinner drink at the bar with a few mouth-watering nibbles – a table will be forthcoming. Tripe and chips anyone?