My blog

Tag: Food Critique

  • Meraki: A Delightful Dining Experience

    Gift of the Gab, Meraki Review, Ronel Lehmann

     

    Planning to visit a restaurant is a bit like being on a conveyor belt. Firstly, you phone to make a reservation. Bubula, known for its middle eastern feasts doesn’t have a phone number for bookings. So, you then resort to sending an email, which results in an out of office reply and then you decide to take your chance for a walk-in table. It seems that everyone else did the same, and the next table was not going to be free for 90 minutes.

    We were patient but not as patient as the welcome and decided to continue up Great Titchfield Street to that famous trattoria, Sergio’s. Despite a warmer welcome than Bubula, they too were fully booked. And so, we stumbled into Meraki. Meraki is a name that indicates a gift of gab – the ability to persuade others effortlessly.

    The good news was that they had a table. The unwelcome news was that we had to endure being told that we had only ninety minutes to enjoy dinner. Then there was passport control. Our name and telephone number were requested so presumably they could capture all our details and market their restaurant to us in future. Or perhaps it was in case there was a fire in the kitchen, and they needed to be sure that we were accounted for during an exit.

     

    Seated at a table for two, the menus arrived. I dispensed with these, saying that the menu needed explaining to us: fortunately the waiter turned out to be more than proficient and courteous. I was still smarting from being cross-examined by reception. Tap water was provided, my guest had a cranberry juice, and I ordered an ice cold Keo, from Cyprus. I always like a light straw-coloured lager and this was no exception.

    The last time we booked a Greek restaurant in Camden, I booked Alexander The Great. It was during the meal I looked out the window to my left and saw the fluorescent sign. We had sat down in Andromeda which was directly opposite and found ourselves in the middle of the meal before noticing. I then had to telephone Alexander The Great from a Greek restaurant opposite to apologise that we were not going to make it. You will appreciate I did not want to look out of the window of Meraki in case border control was searching for me.

    It was time to order. I never like to dwell too much over the menus and don’t like drinking on an empty stomach. Quick choices were made including Aubergine Melitzanosalata, smoked aubergine. parsley, florina pepper; a bread basket containing pita, ladopita, focaccia, sourdough, olive; Mykonian Salad, tomato, ‘kritamo’, cucumber, olive, feta; Taramasalata, white cod roe emulsion, smoked herring caviar, bottarga; Tzatziki, Greek yogurt, garlic, mint, courgette; Hummus, Crispy chickpea, toasted buckwheat seed; before we drew breath. I myself don’t particularly like Taramasalata, however, this tasted unlike any that I have tried before.

    The waiter returned and after topping up our drinks, invited us to try the chicken and lamb kebabs. Two small skewers arrived for each, the chicken was so tender, beautifully marinated with basil and yoghurt. The lamb was served with florina pepper, hummus, parsley. We could have gone on with another round but saved some space for pudding.

    We shared a plate of Saragli, rolled baklava, caramelised nuts and vanilla ice cream.

    On the way out, I remarked to my guest whether we could remember the names of the twelve Greek Gods. They are of course, Zeus, Poseidon, Hera, Hestia, Demeter, Hades, Apollo, Artemis, Hermes, Athena, Hephaestus, Aphrodite and Ares.

    Meraki is right up there.

     

    Ronel Lehmann is Chief Executive of Finito Education

  • Socca Bistro: Ronel Lehmann Reviews an Energetic Dining Experience

    Sock it to them: Ronel Lehmann Reviews Socca Bistro

     

    Our dinner was booked at Mark’s Club, but my host informed me that the establishment was closed for a private event. I am not a member of any club. Instead, he had selected Socca Bistro in Mayfair which had recently opened. As I entered the lobby from the street, I struggled to hand over my coat and umbrella amid the onslaught of other guests arriving at the same time. The cupboard which intended to house personal effects was totally unfit for purpose and inadequate for the number of diners. It is best not to arrive there with a coat or briefcase and the freezing temperatures outside dictated queuing in an open doorway.

     

    The main brasserie was a hive of activity, and I was led to the rear of the restaurant into a private area and a corner table. My host warmly greeted me. He was already drinking tap water and I followed suit. Breads were served, two kinds of focaccia and a type of sourdough. No olive oil or butter was provided. For a while we both ate our bread and drank water.

     

    I noticed that there was a speaker immediately above our heads. Regular readers will know that I hate having to battle trying to have a decent conversation when music is blaring. I did ask the waiter to reduce the sound levels. He kindly obliged and for a short while we could hear each other.

    However, it was too good to be true and the volume increased again, so much so, I had to request another waiter to do something about it. I apologised to my host for making a fuss, until I was told by a member of management that the music is the result of seeking to create ambience in the restaurant. I thought to myself, I was enjoying the atmosphere without needing the insane music. We elected not to move table away from the by now very loudspeaker.

     

    This was supposed to be an early supper. I looked at the menu. Nothing caught my fancy. In fact, everything was fancy. There was a bold notice stating ‘Please always inform your server of any allergies or intolerances before placing your order. Not all ingredients are listed on the menu, and we cannot guarantee the total absence of allergens’. I wondered whether they might show similar tolerance for noise.

     

    My eye finally rested on Provençal Beef Cheeks and Sand carrots.  I asked if it was served with mashed potato. As it wasn’t, I asked for a side of Dauphinoise Potatoes to help soak up the gravy of the beef, however there was a lot of added cream with the gratin. There was only one single solitary carrot resting on the top of the cheek or two cheeks.

     

    My host ordered Steak with Galician Fillet Steak with Maitre D’Hotel Butter and additional sauce which did eventually arrive after further reminder. He too ordered the Dauphinoise Potatoes. It was comfort food after a cold windswept and rainy day.

     

    Two glasses of the house red wine, topped up for a third time from the 2017 Chianti Colli Senesi, Riserva, Bichi Borghesi, Tuscany, Italy which perfectly accompanied to our main courses.

     

    We didn’t order a starter nor a dessert. I did look at the puddings. Once again, they seemed rather fanciful. This didn’t feel like an establishment to linger in, although the staff were clearly extremely attentive and keen that we partake in a digestive before leaving.

     

    The rigmarole of finding my coat and umbrella in the cupboard was endured by me alone as my host decided to take air in the street and then walk me to my car. As I drove home, I thought: “Wouldn’t it be easier to be a member of a club?” At least I could hear myself think about it.