Just a Taster

Cafe 404 (Not found)

Cafe 404 (Not Found) made me feel like a punk-rocker from the 1970s. It made me feel like an 11 year old living through her emo phase and loving every second of it. And that was before I even walked through the door.

Photo courtesy of Google Maps

It had plants everywhere. Distressed walls, edgy music. It’s name – a pun on the error sign displayed when a news page can’t be found online – made my new goth persona – so oxymoronically – find itself.

So in I swaggered, feeling cooler than cool, ready to flex my proverbial muscles.

I dove straight in and ordered the carrot and rhubarb cake, a towering monstrosity of a bake, with three intense layers which looked parodic next to the delicate cake fork I was provided with.

Somehow however, on my way to the pool, about to dive, I must have tripped on the wet-floor signs warning me about pretentious facades and found myself belly-flopping ungracefully onto a bland and oily surface; far from the refreshing delights of the water.

The carrot cake sponge was unlike any sponge I’ve ever seen. A dense mess of beige and orange, it was begging for variety of texture. The rhubarb frosting meanwhile, tasted oilier than my newly greased mohawk; there was no tartness from a vegetable with such potential.

A Guinness cake proved no better; stodgy and uninterestingly sweet.

It was a crushing blow to my new ego to find both cakes without merit. I had wasted £3.50 on a piece of cake that had made me feel conned and greasy.

My lesson is learnt. I am no punk-rocker, emo or goth, nor am I particularly tempted to revisit a place that prizes atmosphere above food quality. Until I hear of better produce therefore, I shall continue to pass by this cafe until it has eventually found itself.

The Good Egg

Kingly Court, Ground Floor, Kingly St, London W1B 5PW

Carnaby Street. A sunny day. A beautiful square filled with flowers and smiling people. Already this combination is a recipe for a successful day. Follow that starter with the actual recipes used in The Good Egg, and you’ve reached a climatic moment.

The menu at TGE is simply one of my dreams. There are more cases of tahini than there are Pret-à-mangers in London, and the descriptions of sweet vs. sour are enough to make you salivate a new River Thames.

After much deliberation and harassing of the poor waitress to explain the ins and outs of each dish, I settled on the ‘Iraqi aubergine pita’ – filled with fried aubergine, ‘fudgy’ egg, zhoug, amba, tahini, dak dak and pickles. If you’re not sure what any of these words mean, be not afeared. I unapologetically gobbled them and I’m still not sure I could tell you exactly what they are. They were tasty – is there anything else really worth knowing?

Edit: These words are absolutely worth knowing so you can stockpile them at home. Amba is a delicious pickled mango sauce. Zhoug is a green chilli, coriander paste. Dak Dak is a cucumber based salad. Amba with eggs and veg is a game changer.

The eggs, though never having before seen one described as ‘fudgy’ were true to form. A lovely soft yolk without any of the snotty (sorry) whites. The indistinguishable family gathering of Middle Eastern condiments that perfumed the entirety of the pita were more than welcome, as was the umami kick from the pickles. Although I personally would have loved these flavours to be slightly more emphasised, I can appreciate that those not accustomed to Middle Eastern cuisine may have been thrown in at the deep end a bit. More fool them, says I, for not wanting to dive right in to such an aromatic pool.

The titular star vegetable was oh-so-silky and had me in raptures about how anyone could achieve such perfection with a frying pan. Eating the dish was like sitting at the head table of a wedding party, witnessing a beautiful marriage of textures and flavours occur right in front of your very eyes.

The cocktails caught my eye [see: cardamom and pistachio espresso martini], though I was eventually swayed by the ‘Tahini Shake’: tahini, banana and oat milk over ice, with date syrup and a date and sesame bite. It was delightful. The oat milk make the drink thin enough to be refreshing and not too clarty; the tahini gave a fresh bitterness to the sweetness brought by the banana and date syrup. It was the perfect portion and a beautiful balance.

The good egg was not life-changing, but it was certainly life-enhancing. My new aspiration in life is to be able to achieve such silky aubergines (I wish I was joking), and I would be kidding myself if I told you I wasn’t going to try and recreate the tahini shake at home. I will be back, to witness another marriage of flavours, and very likely stay for the riotous after-party.

Brozen Bar

43 St Nicholas St, Bristol BS1 1TP

Once the first rays of sunshine begin to appear over British soil, you can be sure of two things. One, ice-cream trucks will be in abundance. Two, day drinking is deemed to be more than acceptable. What a joy then, to have somewhere that effortlessly combines the two, doing the hard work so that you don’t have to.

Brozen bar, an innovative enterprise from brothers Joe and Ben Edgerley, originally began as an ice cream parlour but later developed into a pioneering landmark when they decided to utilise their “skill sets and knowledge [of] engineering, chemistry and cooking” and introduce alcohol to their liquid-nitrogen-smooth frozen treats.

My first cocktail was from their ‘dessert cocktail’ menu. Aptly named ‘Rum, rum and raisin’, it incorporated sherry and rum into Brozen’s signature custard base, and was topped with plump, rum soaked raisins. It had a noticeable kick, balancing out the sweetness of the creamy custard base. The spirits used within each cocktail are of very high quality, and you can tell.

Following on from this, I indulged in their most popular ice-cream: raspberry made with coconut and oat milk. Whilst the lack of a strong raspberry kick was disappointing, it was undoubtedly creamy and highlighted why their slightly unconventional method of making ice-cream from custard frozen with liquid nitrogen was so fundamental to their success.

Perhaps the most defining feature of this bar, and what arguably sets it apart from the plethora of cocktails bars in and around Bristol, is the evident desire of the proprietors to share their knowledge and expertise. You cannot help being drawn in by the enthusiasm of the bar staff and the interactive science of the ice-cream making process.

The potential to take part in various cocktail and ice cream masterclasses therefore seems only natural. For £35 you can take part in a cocktail class which includes a drink of Prosecco on arrival, and the chance to make three cocktails of your choosing. Considering most high-end cocktail joints charge the best part of £10 for each drink, without any of the education you receive here, makes this a good-value treat in my eyes.

Exciting developments are seemingly happening all the time. The range of masterclasses is soon to be expanding to include themes such as a ‘Game of Thrones’ masterclass, a ‘Wizarding Masterclass’ and even ‘forager’ based ones. Meanwhile, changes to the menu are constantly occurring as the masterminds behind the company exercise their curiosity and know-how.

The novelty of the place is exciting. There are plenty of good ice cream shops and bars around Bristol, but Brozen accomplishes both titles and promotes themselves further with their enthusiasm and schooling. It is an experience as much as a comestible adventure.

The Ivy

St. John’s Wood branch

I am a firm advocate of trying independent restaurants and cafes. Chains are often guilty of becoming amusement parks with universal expectations of mediocrity and over-priced fun. They are the dodgem ride you pay a fiver for only to find out that the ride lasts 30 seconds and would be better described as “whiplash wheels”.

A trip to The Ivy, with its theatre-land origins and consequential associations with glamour was perhaps a cheat’s way to escape this advocation; it has long held a sparkling reputation. I am however, a cynic at heart; I wanted to be impressed.

The menu of the Ivy is best described as eclectic. It has fish and chips with mushy peas and tartare sauce, yet it also has a jackfruit and peanut ‘bang bang’ salad. Somehow however, it seems ordered, and has the obvious benefit of satisfying the fancies of almost any customer. The service was congenial, and the decoration opulent yet fun. It struck an enjoyable note between relaxed and eventful.

A glass of Prosecco to begin was a pleasant start. It was clear that we had not been swindled with a cheap and coarse drink played into our hands merely for profiting purposes. A complimentary basket of bread (with wonderfully salty butter) was also a welcome addition to the table.

The true climax however came in our beautifully plated main course: pan-fried salmon with asparagus tortellini and a Champagne sauce. In the fairground of cuisines, it was the delicate carousel. Each horse individually painted with care and precision, (each the same weight and with the same cadence) to create an equilibrium and a whole, complete dish. The equine beauty in the form of asparagus tortellini with wonderful fresh egg pasta, the punchier calvary of the champagne sauce, the traditional stallion of the perfectly cooked salmon. Yes, I am running out of horse metaphors at this point.

I was apprehensive about visiting this chain. So often, such establishments carry shackles of complacency, guarded by a jailer of profit. My apprehension was fruitless however, and I found myself not being taken for a ride, but rather marvelling at the refined tradition of the system.

HUMAN FOOD nutrition bar

https://humanfood.coop

Forgive me for being presumptuous, but a food product with specific instructions as to whom it should be eaten by is markedly suspicious. Is it so far removed from normalcy that it needs confirming that it is indeed edible? Have our politics finally desensitised our brains to the English language?

Thankfully, not quite (though the jury is still out on the latter). Despite its appearance being more akin to blocks of play-doh, Human Food‘s simple name is best justified by the relative simplicity of its products; they choose to opt for natural ingredients, avoiding any artificial additions or unnecessary embellishments.

The taste is pleasantly sweet (due to the host of dried fruits) so should appeal to most consumers. With three flavours: spirulina, turmeric and goji berries, the taste can vary ever so slightly. I found myself favouring the spirulina which had more of an earthy undertone and thus distinguished it from the oft overly sweet nutrition bars on the market.

As you can see from the photo above, the bars are nutritionally dense. Their particular focus is incorporating vitamins and minerals that are often difficult to achieve in large enough quantities, especially in a plant-based diet.

I am no authority on nutrition, but it was perhaps the tour-de-force of goodness within these bars that provided me with such sustainable energy throughout the day. Despite their reasonably high (natural) sugar content I didn’t feel the same peaks and troughs as often experienced with other products of similar sugar levels.

From a cynical perspective, one must concede that it is possible to obtain these nutrients elsewhere, from more ‘normal’ meals. The economy of scale and convenience factor however is definitely in the favour of these bars.

The credentials of this bar are impressive. It’s the world’s most funded vegan food product in history, the UK’s most funded food product and it invests 50% of its profits into research and development.

A nod must also be made to the fantastic packaging of the bars. Every aspect was either recyclable or compostable, including the foil laminate wrapping of the bars themselves.

So, despite its futuristic appearance, these bars do indeed seem to be relevant to the here and now. They are made for humans, for convenience, and for the environment – a tricolon not often achieved harmoniously.

Mary Jane’s Coffee

50 Whiteladies Rd, Bristol BS8 2NH

Bristol is progressive. It’s ‘hip’, it’s forward thinking, it’s the embodiment of a screaming toddler trying to escape from the confines of its high chair. Why I was surprised when a CBD cafe opened up on Whiteladies Road therefore, I don’t know. Perhaps because I didn’t really understand what CBD was.

Cannabidiol oil is the non-psychoactive element in cannabis. In short, the only high it’s going to give you is a high of life; according to its advocates – a long lasting, healthy life. At first somewhat controversial due to its cannabis association, it’s quickly becoming popular amongst the masses.

What first strikes you is the feel of the place. It’s got all the signs of a hipster hideout, without any of the pretence. Leaf-lined walls and lightly distressed wooden tables lend a relaxed atmosphere – as does the somewhat surprising range of customers. Student city aside, family members of all ages filled the seats around me.

Whilst a cafe is founded upon food, it would be remiss of me to not mention the ethos of the place. The manifesto of the place sounded impressive, the attitude of the owner was even more so. Speaking about his decision to run the coffee machines solely on renewable energy, the owner commented “we should be doing it, and we can, so why wouldn’t we?”. His ‘no-excuses’ approach to sustainable practices was commendable. Even if it hadn’t informed me of his background in renewable energy, the conviction in his voice made me to believe that better practices were possible.

Intrigued by the effect of the CBD taste on foods I was familiar with, I began with a classic dairy latte. The quality of the coffee beans and the latte itself made the CBD’s earthy taste become quite a background feature. This theme continued across the rest of the treats I sampled, with the CBD providing simply another dimension to the taste of the original product. It was perhaps most notable in the ‘bliss balls’ [see photo left and above] where the creamy-lemony hints of the CBD could be detected most, but as a complimentary flavour to the earthiness of the food. Favourites of mine included the salted-date caramel cake, which had a silky chocolate ganache and happened to be vegan, raw and gluten free.

If you were in need of any more reasons to visit this cafe, they have a wide range of specific diet-friendly foods (including vegan and gluten-free) with clear markers of allergens and knowledgable staff. The CBD itself is unlikely to be found cheaper elsewhere, or in such an appetising format. There is free wifi, and the atmosphere is welcoming. It’s an interesting place, with good food and an impressive message. It has left the confines of a highchair rife with dated expectations, and subtly pioneered new standards for all businesses.

Machiya

5 Panton St, London SW1Y 4DL

A sweet and sticky Pan-Asian paintbrush has often been brushed over the diverse dishes hailing from the continent. Anglicised interpretations have been more detrimental than good: flavours are often emphasised to suit an oft-crude British pallette. It is so refreshing then, to visit a restaurant which basks in its own simplicity and authenticity. This is exactly what this quaint Japanese restaurant excels at.

The menu is deceptively varied, with dishes ranging from donburi bowls to tonkatsu. I went for the gyudon donburi, with thinly cut beef, pickled ginger and an onsen egg in a sake and soy sauce. The slow-cooked egg added an extra dimension to the sauce as its creaminess infused the rice; the beef was perfectly seasoned; the sauce present but not overpowering. It was in all, an incredibly satisfying dish.

My dining partner could not stop raving about his dish of egg noodles, pork belly and bamboo shoots, though it was finished too quickly to enquire exactly why!

Though I have no expertise myself to certify the Japanese authenticity of this restaurant, I have it on good authority from a top Japanese chef that this does indeed hit the proverbial mark. Machiya is a restaurant fighting against accepted mediocracy, and it is very much winning.

Pasta Ripiena

33 St Stephens Street, Bristol, BS1 1JX

This is the second time I’ve visited Pasta Ripiena, and, somewhat incredibly, the second time I’ve been wholeheartedly blown away by the standard of…well, everything.

There are limited words that will do justice to this establishment; alas, I shall try.

Having visited the restaurant for both dinner, and more latterly lunch, I can confirm the intimacy of the place remains. It feels luxurious without the pomp, refined without losing its core.

The service was faultless. The waiting staff were infinitely friendly and knowledgable. Chairs being pulled out for you meant you felt like you were dining in a restaurant of much dearer prices.

The food – well, where to begin? I have indulged in the focaccia on both occasions and can confirm that I am yet to have bread as spongy and light as the one offered there. The olive oil that accompanied it, I could have unashamedly drunk on its own.

My main course this time round, was a fresh egg pasta ravioli with ricotta, lemon, dill, olive oil and sweet tomatoes. I embarked on this dish with apprehension; my last and first meal here was so strikingly good I did not think it possible to match up on flavour. I was wrong. The balancing of flavours was perfection itself. The thought of asking for extra parmesan or salt or pepper not once crossed my mind. Every mouthful was exciting; arguably common flavour combinations were made to seem pioneering.

Although at this point more than satisfied with my meal, I could not resist fulfilling the two-course set menu option offered and treating myself to a dessert. This came in the form of an olive oil panna cotta with pistachio. This delight challenged expectations by becoming increasingly good as you continued eating it. The silkiness of the cream was sumptuous yet light, whilst the pistachio and olive oil gave it a well-rounded, earthy aspect.

I have said before, but will say again, I cannot recommend this restaurant enough. It has consistently delighted me at every turn. It is everything a restaurant should be.

My first concise review of this restaurant can be found on instagram @ginicooks.

ANNA Cake Couture

7A Boyce’s Ave, Bristol BS8 4AA

The aesthetic of this little cake shop was what first drew me in. Stunning countertops of perfectly formed, delightfully bright squares of cake – or as they’re patented: ‘cubicakes’. The bright, plant filled seating area was just as successful at creating an ambiance of peace and indulgence.

To uphold this favourable first impression would have been impressive. Unfortunately, uphold it did not.

The tray of cubicakes that I chose consisted of five different flavours: a chocolate, chilli and strawberry; a ‘rich’ chocolate; a carrot and orange; a banana and caramel; and a rose, pistachio and raspberry. There were many points to recommend the fruiter options on our tray: the rose in the most latterly mentioned flavour was very prevalent, the banana cake was moist. Indeed, the sponge of the carrot cake was faultless, with the rum soaked raisins adding a fantastic dimension. The ratio of buttercream to cake however, I believe hindered these three; the thin layer of the former meant the balance of flavours was not always right.

Continuing with the chocolate-based ones, I found my disappointment growing. The sponge in both was quite unextraordinary. If it were not for the chocolate ganache layer in the ‘rich chocolate’ cubicake I would have thought it ironically poor. Conversely, the chilli in the intuitive ‘strawberry, chilli and chocolate’ cake was overpowering. Our accompanying cups of Earl Grey tea, whilst again beautifully presented, were also lacking.

I do not intend this to be a scathing review. I went in with high expectations and sadly, they were not met. This is not to say that it is an establishment to be avoided, the cakes and the experience were nice, there was indeed merit to be found. When there are so many excellent cake shops to rival it in Bristol however, a lack of ‘wow factor’ is most particularly noticeable.