Mike + Ollie at The Deptford Project

I first sampled Mike + Ollie's food at Brockley Market. A flatbread stuffed with mackerel was devoured within minutes, and the textures and flavours impressed me so much that afterwards I immediately booked into one of their dinners. Ours was hosted at The Deptford Project, a cafe in a train carriage, and we turned up on the night to find a long trestle table set out for our dinner.

A guitarist strummed away in the corner, creating a nice atmosphere though I was glad not to have been sat next to him as conversation with my friend would have been somewhat shouted. As we sipped on pear and elderflower cocktails, wooden planks were set between us and massive beetroot and quinces decorated the table. A square of bread topped with teeth-shatteringly crisp pork belly and a smear of quince whetted our appetites, while another square of bread was adorned with a smear of labneh (strained yoghurt) and a sweet, intensely earthy roasted beetroot on top.

Planks removed, they were re-presented to us a short while later. A dish I recognised from my flatbread wrap, the smoky mackerel and pickled rhubarb, again on top of a slice of bread, was a hit. Huge briny capers added a savoury edge. Pickled rhubarb is my new favourite thing.

Bone marrow with roasted garlic and a shallot, parsley and caper salad was served with bread fried in beef dripping. Michael cried 'this is the last of the bread, I promise!' but that home made stuff was so good I didn't mind. I slathered the wobbly marrow on and topped it with the refreshing salad, garlic cloves staining my breath. My jeans grew tight. That burgery lunch at Meat Liquor was catching up with me.

We had a break and a cute apple stuffed with sorbet followed. The iced essence of apple gave me a second wind, and rather than fearful of the next dish and my straining waistband, I looked forward to it. A plate of vibrant greens was garnished with ruby pink slices of pigeon and dressed with a rosehip molasses. Mike+Ollie are really keen on foraging locally, and the rosehips were picked nearby. The greens were a mix of both herbs and salad leaves, making each mouthful different and complimenting the pigeon well.

Dessert came in the form of another stuffed fruit, this time Seville marmalade ice cream into an orange. The ice cream was studded with marmalade chunks and the creaminess tasted faintly of coconut. Accompanying this, we were given a glass of sloe gin - a bit rough, we were warned, as it hadn't reached full maturity yet. Sipping it made us wince.

We were fed hugely well for £25 a head. Though it wasn't the most refined meal I've had, I loved it for it's inventiveness; cooked well and lots of lovely pickled bits, crunchy nuts and flavours I'm not used to. The wooden planks were a nuisance to lift to and from the tables, but gosh they were pretty. You can find Mike+Ollie in Brockley and Deptford markets, but I strongly recommend you go for one of their dinners too.

Tickets and booking information HERE.

Quo Vadis, Soho

Jeremy Lee's new position as head chef at the newly refurbished Quo Vadis has been all the talk recently. Previously at Blueprint Cafe, he moved just after Christmas. Reports came in with rapt admiration of his simple, pared down cooking in plusher surroundings.

I received an invitation to dinner there with Wine Chap and others to celebrate the new chef appointment, an offer you'd be mad to refuse. I've only been to Quo Vadis in casual circumstances - a drink in the bar, or a plate of oysters before moving on - so I don't really have any point of comparison. They make a mean martini though, and snacks of salsify baked and sprinkled with a strong, sharp cheese (£3.50) reinforced my thoughts that salsify is a vehicle, not much of a flavour in its own right but a great texture nonetheless for delivering delicious cheese into my face.

Most talked about on the new menu is the smoked eel and horseradish sandwich (£6.50). Plump juicy rounds of dense meat is served in between toasted slices of bread, spread liberally with creamy horseradish.

Vibrantly pink pickled onions had just the right sharpness to counteract the delicately smoked, richly flavoured flesh. The horseradish packed such a nose-clearing punch that I got a momentary mustard head - you know, when your sinuses burn and sting and you're rendered speechless. It's quite addictive, that. Anyway, it was an absolutely smashing sandwich. I was only sad that I had to share it.

Bloater paste (£4) was rather too strongly flavoured for me, but I absolutely loved the smooth anchovy paste, more like a mayonnaise and served with a sweet brioche bun for dunking.

Salted mallard (£6) salad was really gamey. I'm not usually a fan of game and my nose wrinkled, but when paired with the peppery watercress and the prune compote it was far mellower with the sweetness of the fruit balancing out the strong flavour.

The pescetarian on the table got a dish that made us all laugh at its sparsity. What we originally thought was celery turned out to be sea kale (£8.50), cooked to just tender and bathed in a gloriously lemon-yellow butter sauce. It may not look like much but the delicate flavours were perfectly balanced, the sauce decadent.

The main event arrived to gasps around the table. A roasted shoulder of kid was large and resplendent. Meat was pulled off the bones and dished onto plates along with creamy tender white beans in a green herby sauce. The meat was tender and not dissimilar in flavour to lamb. Courgettes were roasted with whole onions, their moisture releasing and creating its' own juice. These were no fancy plates, but decent, hearty stuff of which Lee is well known for. He came out to our table to greet us and others in the room, oozing enthusiasm and charm that was already evident from his twitter stream.

A cheese course arrived but I was too stuffed to attack it with much fervour, and just a nibble of Stichelton on an oatcake did me. Desserts were numerous and plenty, ranging from rhubarb compote to a fudgy chocolate cake. Pick of the bunch was this fruity number. I'm afraid that even the day after I've forgotten what it is. Rather than a reflection on the dish, I suspect the cocktails must've caught up with me.

We hauled ourselves back up to the bar and smashed back a few more martinis. I called it a night after we'd sang a rousing number of Hey Jude while one of our party tinkled it on the resident piano; it was home time.

I left Quo Vadis feeling like I'd had a big hug. The food was a mixture of eye popping (that eel sandwich) and comforting (those herby beans). We did a fair bit of gawping too, at not only Ralph Fiennes dining there but also Fergus Henderson. At prices that are completely reasonable, not something I'd previously associate Quo Vadis with, I will be back there soon.

Quo Vadis

26 - 29 Dean Street

London W1D 3LL

Tel: 020 7437 9585

More photos from the night are HERE. I dined as a guest of Quo Vadis and Wine Chap.

Black Pudding & Apple Sossidge Rolls

I'm not sure why but I associate sossidge rolls most with Christmas. Perhaps it's the decadence of wrapping pork in buttery, fluffy pastry? Or that I mainly make them for parties, most of which occur around Christmas time. I usually try and put a twist on them; mixing the sausagemeat with raw chorizo works well, as did these beauties; black pudding and apple. The black pudding gives it a deeper porky flavour, with the chunks of the Bramley apple bringing out the flavour more and adding some sweetness. I've found that fruit works the best; chunks of soft apricot and apple with some hot smoked paprika also went down a storm.

Black Pudding & Apple Sossidge Rolls

Makes shitloads

500gr sausagemeat
2 slices of black pudding
1 small Bramley apple
1 small onion
1 sheet of ready rolled puff pastry, or make your own rough puff
1 egg

Preheat the oven to 200 degrees C. Dice the apple and the onion. Mix with the sausagemeat. Chop the black pudding up finely and then add to the sausagemeat, mixing well again. Slice the sheet of pastry lengthways into three. Add the sausagemeat in a roll down the middle of each sheet and pinch the pastry closed around it.

Slice into bite sized pieces. You can freeze this on a sheet now and bag it later, or brush with egg and bake on a greased tray for 20 - 25 minutes, until golden brown.

Restaurants in Residence - The Young Turks & The Clove Club

Buttermilk fried chicken, raw peas in their pod

Restaurants in Residence are currently showcasing 4 different places from London's underground pop-up scene; I've always been a fan of The Young Turks (I went to their stint at the Loft Project; pics here) and, coupled with The Clove Club, I secured myself a seat at their dinner held in a disused building in Canary Wharf, to be torn down after this event. After a drink on the terrace when the sun was just setting over Canary Wharf, we were led to our seats in a curiously office-like space.

Cucumber with Indian spices

Fresh peas in the pod were the sweetest things, staining my nails green as I scrabbled the pods open. Buttermilk fried chicken nestled with acorns were fried deftly and were juicy within. Refreshing batons of cucumber gave rich, earthy Indian flavours.

Tomato salad with goat's milk

I've long bemoaned the lack of flavour the tomatoes in England have, but these were a different story. Sweet and juicy, the goat's milk brought out their natural sugars even more.

Raw Mackerel with Cucumber

Fleshy, raw slices of mackerel were smooth as silk and freshened by shavings of cucumber, and splodges of mustard. A well-balanced dish, it was a sight to behold and I was almost loathe to destroy it with my fork. But I did.

Angus rib, grilled onions

Angus rib tasted smoky and rich, while being as tender as butter. Land cress added spicy grassy notes and it got completely demolished within seconds, by all around the table.

I've never tried loganberries; they're a bit like raspberries, I'd say. The tartness was offset by a moussy ewes milk yoghurt. Unfortunately I completely missed the petit fours as I managed to get spectacularly drunk (I blame jetlag. And the wine.) but from the blurry, darkened photo it looked like some sort of ice cream mini burger.

The Young Turks with The Clove Club are only running until the 7th July, so for god's sake, GO. At £45 a ticket (food only) it isn't cheap, but the quality is stunning and you get some really good wine recommendations from their lovely servers.

Book HERE or call 07812 377427.

Riverford - 'Every Day & Sunday'

I was invited to the book launch of Every Day & Sunday from Riverford, created by Guy Watson and Jane Baxter. Following the success of their first Riverford cookbook in 2008, they were bombarded with requests for another, featuring more simple, day-to-day seasonal cooking, with a little something special for Sundays.

Hosted at the very lovely Blueprint Cafe, recipes from the book were used to feed us and cooked by Jeremy Lee. Everything was gorgeous, even a dish of plain spinach, but most especially this burrata salad. Flavours of fresh parsley mingled with creamy decadence, with a slight hint of orange. I can't wait till Amazon deliver my copy, because it was worth the purchase just for this.

You can buy a copy here. The rest of the photos, including some awesome desserts, are HERE.

Breakfast at St John Hotel

After what felt like eating a million noodle or rice dishes in South East Asia, what better contrast than to go breakfasting at the newly opened St John Hotel?

I've been following their progress for a while. From when the scaffolding first went up outside Manzi's on Leicester Square, every day twice a day I've been peering at that facade, willing it to hurry the hell up and open. Don't get me wrong; I'm not some sort of weird restaurant stalker, it's my route to and from work. Honest.

Sadly, our early December booking was cancelled as the hotel was late to open. Similarly our January reservation. And then hooray! Finally, our day had come.

The room is very white and very simply decorated. We walked in at 8:15am, the only patrons, and it remained that way for a good half hour.

The breakfast buns had to be ordered. Served with a gorgeous yellow raspberry jam, we halved each a butter, a cinnamon and a currant bun. They were warm, flaky and incredibly decadent.

I spent a long time uhm-ing and ah-ing over boiled egg and anchovy soldiers, or Arbroath smokie with potato and egg. The latter won out. The smoked fish was worked into smooth and creamy mash, topped with buttery sauce and a perfectly poached egg. It all looked very beige until the egg was burst; rich, intensely orange yolk spilled forth. It was a matter of very few minutes before it was all hoovered up.

We sat back, replete. The menu isn't huge, what with 5 or so main items but what they do have is resolutely British, very in keeping with the St John style. At £25 a head with coffee, juice and (worthwhile) service, it's a luxury breakfast but well worth the money.

I didn't eat again until at least 2pm.

St John Hotel

1 Leicester St
London
WC2H 7BL

Tel: 020 3301 8069

Rescue Mission

I'm not always a competent cook. Over the years I've smashed 3 Pyrex dishes by removing them from the oven and then running them under a cold tap. I am completely unable to make foccacia without producing sheets of cardboard. I can't cook rice without the aid of a rice cooker.

To add to this list, I have been known to get drunk on gin when I have friends round on a sunny afternoon. I forgot about it and hideously overcooked a beautiful 2.6kg sirloin of beef. Even still with the merest hint of pink on the inside, it was moist and tender but my cheeks burned with shame (and the alcoholic flush) when I sliced into it.

Served with summertime accompaniments of steamed carrots, broad bean salad and new potatoes crushed with Greek yoghurt and horseradish, there was no denying it; I'd ballsed it right up. I thought of the leftovers and shuddered at the image of drying slices of meat heaped pitifully atop piles of salad leaves, perked up only by a smear of mustard and a quartered pickled onion. No no, it wouldn't do.

Having spied the leftover crushed new potatoes and a few carrots languishing as well, there was only one thing for it; chopped into chunks, the meat would make a cottage pie. Not really the weather for it, but after feasting in Hong Kong I was rather taken by the idea of some warming British comfort food. A damn fine pie it made too; crispy peaks of the crushed potato, spiked with horseradish spiciness yielded to rich, unctuous gravy, sweetened with carrot and studded with tender chunks of beef. This was the only way to atone for my sins.

Cottage Pie

Serves 3

300gr leftover roast beef, chopped into chunks
A few (leftover) carrots, diced
A large onion, diced
2 cloves of garlic, minced
Beef stock, to cover
2 sprigs of thyme
1 tbsp cornflour, mixed with 1 tbsp water

Cold mashed potato - I used new potatoes and crushed them with horseradish, Greek yoghurt and 2 sliced spring onions

Fry the onion and garlic slowly until soft and translucent. Add the carrots and fry for another 5 minutes. Preheat the oven to 200 degrees. Throw in the sprigs of thyme, the chunks of beef and cover with the beef stock. Simmer slowly for 40 minutes. Thicken with the cornflour and then pour into a dish. Top with the potato, make slight peaks with a fork and bake for 30 minutes, or until the top is lightly browned and the dish is bubbling, making an unholy mess of your oven.

Remove, leave to stand for 10 minutes and serve.

Drakes on the Pond, Surrey

Despite being asked sternly "you won't cancel this time, will you?" when I made my reservation, I had high hopes for Drakes on the Pond, located in the hilariously-named Abinger Hammer. My dad's birthday lunch, rescheduled due to illness, took place here on Good Friday.

The car park was littered with expensive cars, but when we entered the restaurant we were greeted by a quiet hush. A sunny room, there were only two other tables occupied by aging couples. Shuffling around uncomfortably for a minute or two, we were greeted by the lone waitress and shown to our table before she disappeared completely. After a wait, she eventually emerged to offer us drinks. Dressed casually, she gave the impression that she owned or was a parner of the place. I had to ask her to take our coats. At this point I was afraid to even cough, the restaurant was so quiet and it made for an awkward dining experience, devoid of any ambience aside from what we created ourselves.

We were only offered a set menu, each course with three options. My starter was chicken liver parfait; a huge block of silky smooth liver accompanied by heady truffle-scented brioche and a plum chutney to lighten things up a bit. It was a mammoth portion, and as delicious as it was, there was not enough chutney or bread. Or perhaps there was too much parfait. It was left half finished.

My main, a fillet of cod on creamed potatoes and leeks with a scallop roe sauce was well cooked. The potatoes and leeks had obviously been made with swathes of butter while the sauce was only vaguely reminiscient of its description. It was a very rich dish, and it could have done with an acidic element to balance it out. Across the table, lamb fillet was disappointingly over-cooked.

We decided against dessert and had coffees instead. Petit fours were "cocoa-dusted lumps of butter" and rather unpalatable.

To add to the lacking ambience and general comfort of the room, service was pretty shocking. Don't, for example, leave our bottle of wine on a shelf by the side when there's perfectly enough room on the table and then leave our glasses empty - I am not a fan of empty glasses. No water was offered, and the waitress seemed to be more interested in sitting down and having a natter with one of the other couples, obviously friends of hers, than doing her job properly. I am in complete bafflement as to why they still have a Michelin star. The food may have been worth the £20 for two courses, but based on this experience, don't bother.

Drakes on the Pond

Dorking Road
Abinger Hammer,
Dorking RH5 6SA

Tel: 01306 731 174

The Ship, Wandsworth

The Ship is one of those pubs that cater to most tastes. A huge outdoor area with a smoking barbeque ensures lazy summer days by the river can be well accomodated and they even have draught Pimms and lemonade. Inside, the bustling bar area is flooded with natural light housing many tables, all around a huge enclosed burning furnace. Out the back, a more sedate restaurant, where we had our lunch.

We kicked off with a little amuse of foie, rolled in some sort of crushed nut. It was velvet-smooth, and the little disc of apple was intensely flavoured and tooth-sticking.

My starter of smoked duck breast, tempura of confit thigh (hiding behind that massive beetroot triangle), spiced aubergine caviar and cherry jelly was visually stunning. The beetroot crisp was cut into a fearsome shard and the tempura duck leg was beautifully battered and grease-free. Aubergine caviar looked innocent enough but it packed a pleasant punch that I wasn't expecting. However, I thought the cherry jelly to be superfluous, perhaps an element too far as it didn't add much to the dish.

All this, however, was blown straight out of the water by a companion's artichoke ravioli; silky al dente pasta, adorned with seared scallops in a mussel broth, we all looked upon his plate enviously. He was forced to share it with us.

The 'surf and turf' consisted of braised pigs cheek and tiger prawns accompanied by carrot and ginger puree. While the puree was a mere colour splash, the pigs cheek was fork-tender and interspersed with wibbly swathes of fat. Pork and shellfish is a classic combination, one that worked well here with the big juicy prawns. When I came towards the end of my dish though, the pigs cheek has a slightly unpleasant granular texture beneath it - a bit like haggis, and almost too intensely porky - and it was pushed aside. A slight blip on an otherwise delicious main.

Sides of fries were well fried and wedges were declared by the table to be excellent. We also tried a dish from their barbeque menu, pork ribs in a coca cola sauce. These fell apart to hungry hands and were stickily good. I'm going for them next time.

Too stuffed to contemplate dessert for there was much moreish, home-made focaccia, we headed out to the sun-speckled garden for a few more glasses of wine with our excellent host, manager Oisin. Before really realising, we'd spent a good four hours there and had vowed to come back in summer months. You'll find us there propping up the bar, smelling faintly of smoky meat, more likely than not faces smeared with a little barbeque sauce.

The Ship

41 Jew's Row,
Wandsworth,
London SW181TB

Tel: 020 8870 9667



We dined as guests of The Ship.

Hereford Road

After an good few hours drinking some lovely gin, sustenance was needed. I had spotted Hereford Road on the walk from Notting Hill Gate station, and at a late(ish) hour, we decided to go here for dinner.

When we walked in I was quite taken aback. Rather than the gastropub look and atmosphere I was expecting, there were red upholstered booths, sparse furniture and simple table settings. The A4 printed menu with the date on it, indicating it changes every day. Not very surprising, considering the chef is ex-St John.

As soon as I saw the word 'pickles' on the menu, I knew I had to have it. Unfortunately, the salf beef dish was a bit miserable. Dry, cold and over salty, there was none of the juiciness and mouth-coating fat that I had expected. I've had better in a Brick Lane beigel. I looked enviously at my friend's generous black pudding, topped with a gloriously runny fried egg.

I had a lot of trouble choosing what to have for my main. I was torn between roasted lamb with celeriac and anchovies and a brill dish. The waiter could offer no help and told me he couldn't choose for me. In the end, the lamb and anchovies won out. The lamb was served beautifully pink, the fat enrobing it crispy and delicious. The celeriac had a hint on anchovy about it, but halfway through the dish I found it was overwhelmingly salty. Something acidic to balance it out would have helped enormously. Again, my companion chose better. I had a serious case of food envy.

We were too full for dessert and opted to finish off our wine. The staff started cleaning the place down, putting chairs on the table - I understand that people want to get home after work, but it made me feel a bit uncomfortable. Otherwise, service was good.

For £37.50 a head for two courses each and a shared bottle of wine, I found it to be a bit on the dear side. It's all very well saying you made the wrong menu choices, but I don't think a good restaurant should have any duff dishes. All a bit 'meh' if you ask me.

For the other side of the table, read Chris' post here.

Hereford Road

3 Hereford Road
Westbourne Grove
London, W2 4AB

Tel: 020 7727 1144

Parsley & Anchovy Dumplings

The light and healthy eating could only last so long. Wind blowing around this corner of South East London turned my nose and ears red; snow wreaked havoc for the overland trains, rendering my journey to and from work to be an hour and a half each way to travel just over 5 miles. Sheet ice covered the pavements and I slid my way around. I kept crossing my fingers for a snow day, but alas, off to work I trudged. Hearty feeding was needed to lift the spirits and to warm you from inside out.

The first time I had dumplings with stew I was mildly repulsed. Having grown up with the notion that all dumplings were of the Chinese kind, I listened on in horror while my dad told me what suet was. I soon warmed to the idea of it as the doughy, puffy dumplings soaked up the meaty gravy in stodgy happiness.

I decided to add a twist to these dumplings. Usually when I make a beef stew I dissolve a couple of anchovies in the oil before adding anything else. This gives the stew an deeper, richer flavour with none of the fishiness. Instead, the anchovies went into the dumplings with parsley for some grassy freshness. It worked beautifully, just as I'd hoped - the anchovies had melted into the dumplings well. The tops were slightly crisp and they yielded softly under the fork. The shin of beef in red wine stew was complete.

Parsley & Anchovy Dumplings

Makes 6 - enough for 2

110gr self raising flour
50gr suet
4 anchovy fillets
A large handful of finely chopped parsley
1/2 tbsp mustard powder
Water
Pepper

Sift the flour into a large bowl with the mustard powder. Chop the anchovy fillets finely and add to the flour with the parsley and suet. Add black pepper to taste (the anchovies are salty enough to eschew salt) and a dribble of water. Work the water into the ingredients well, before adding a little more until the dough comes together and isn't too sticky. Roll into balls and place atop your finished stew, baking at 200 degrees uncovered for 20 minutes.

Kedgeree

One thing I look forward to most at the weekend is breakfast, or rather, brunch options. A nice lie-in and a potter around the kitchen is a luxury most of us can't afford on weekdays, not when you like to sleep as much as I do. Some people might express distaste at eating anything remotely spicy or heavily spiced so early, but I rather like it - it wakes you up a bit.

Kedgeree is something I've been meaning to make for a while; I'd never pass up an excuse to eat rice for breakfast. It is said to have been derived from the Indian dish, Kitchuri, dating back from the days of the Raj. Back then, breakfasts were far grander affairs - no sad little bowls of muesli, nor cardboard-like pieces of toast munched solitarily at your desk. Instead, fish caught that morning was often used since it was so hot in India, it would turn bad by evening. Ingredients like egg were added to cater to British tastes.

The subtle spicing coats each grain, with a delicate, smoky flavour of the fish in the background. Traditionally the dish is made with hard boiled eggs to garnish, but I prefer a soft-boiled. Cutting into the egg, the yolk seeps nicely into the rice, enriching the grains already glossy with butter. A scattering of parsley freshens it up some.


Kedgeree

Serves 2

180gr basmati rice
1 large undyed smoked haddock fillet
1/2 tsp turmeric
1 level tsp ground coriander
1/2 tsp ground cumin
A pinch of chilli powder
1 small onion, diced
50gr butter
300ml milk
1 bay leaf
A handful of chopped flat-leaf parsley
Half a lemon
2 eggs
Salt & pepper


In a saucepan or large frying pan with a lid, place the fish and bay leaf and add the milk, which should cover it. Bring to the boil and then immediately take off the heat, leaving the fish in the milk. In a non-stick frying pan, add half the butter. Once it's foaming, add the onion and fry slowly until translucent and soft. Add the spices, stir well and then add the rice with plenty of black pepper. Lift the fish & bay leaf out of the milk. Reserve half the milk, diluting it with enough water to cook the rice, and add to the pan. At this point I transfer it all the the rice cooker, but if you don't have one, just carry on cooking your rice in the pan as you normally do. Flake the fish and set to one side.

While the rice is cooking, place the eggs in a small saucepan of cold water and bring to the boil. As soon as the water boils, take the eggs out and plunge in cold water. Add the flaked fish and the remaining butter to the rice, stirring carefully. Add the parsley and peel the eggs, which should be soft-boiled, and place on top. Season, and garnish with a quarter wedge of lemon.

Dine With Dos Hermanos - Bentley's

This post has been a while in the making. After the latest Dine With Dos Hermanos which took place well over a month ago, my poor laptop died a little death. One day it was working fine, the next - nothing. A few wails on Twitter spelled doom. Someone told me sometimes it was cheaper to buy a new laptop then to get this fixed. My heart almost stopped.

However my super-geek mate Adam managed to fix it. I fretted and worried as he removed the hard drive (with a screwdriver! Actually took the thing out!) and I asked lots of inane questions while he completely reinstalled my operating system, whatever that means. He gave up an entire Saturday afternoon to poke around my technology. It's taken me a while to find the photos - the lesson here is: Always. Back. Everything. Up.

Anyway. When Simon Majumdar first announced the event, to be held at Bentley's, the places were snapped up immediately. I was slow off the mark, having responded a whole hour after it was announced and was put on the waiting list. Talk of what the menu involved was torture; then, 3 days before the actual event, someone pulled out and I got a place. Hurrah!

On arrival, we were handed little half pints of Porterhouse oyster stout. Iced dishes of native and rock oysters were dived upon, making a great little snack while we mingled over our drinks. Having had a look around, the dining room at Bentley's was markedly different to the other two Dine With Dos Hermanos' I've attended - there were several large tables, and looked rather more formal. The table settings were beautifully autumnal and festive.

Little canapés of foie gras with apple chutney balanced rich and with a little sweetness. Trays heaving with chilli-fried prawns and mayo were passed around before we sat down. More huge platters came forth, laden with a variety of smoked fish; smoked eel was dense, meaty and gorgeous. Smoked salmon, mackerel, tuna, and even little dishes of dill-scented salmon tartare were accompanied by excellent soda bread and blinis. This could have been dinner itself.

A large, white pot complete with lid was then brought to the table. Our table of 9 looked at each other in anticipation, before I could bear it no longer and whipped the lid off. Beef cheeks glistened in a dark gravy. Mashed potato and roasted root vegetables accompanied it.

But that's not all - no, no, no. A fish pie was set before us, the golden crusty top giving off little puffs of inviting steam. I looked down at my all-but-eaten beef cheeks and winced a bit. I would have to just stuff some down. The fish within was perfectly cooked; flakes of salmon and haddock, nuggets of prawn and scallop in a rich, creamy sauce.

By this point I was fit to burst. I felt a bit sick.

A huge tray of sticky toffee pudding was laid before us, like a gauntlet. Not just that - a pot of clotted cream and a jug of toffee sauce. Oh my god.

Well, I'm glad I battled through as this was perhaps my favourite course. This is unusual for me, as I'm more the savoury sort. Rich, fudgy, sticky, lightened (ha!) by the clotted cream, I only wish I had more.

As we patted our bellies, Richard Corrigan and his head chef, Brendan came out to say hello to raptuous applause from all of us for a job brilliantly done.

Goody bags were stuffed to the brim and almost too heavy to lug home. In particular I can't get enough of the chili infused Nudo Extra Virgin Olive Oil. All in all, a great night out; well organised, a loud, convival atmosphere and fantastic food.

Bentley's Oyster Bar & Grill

11-15 Swallow Street
London
W1B 4DG

Tel: +44 (0)20 7734 4756

To hear about other events, join this Facebook group. Full Flickr set can be seen here.