Mamuska! - A Polish Milk Bar

What seemed like much longer than a month and a half later, it was time to reunite for another girls dinner. A had suggested Mamuska, a new place that opened in the Elephant and Castle shopping centre. In amongst bargain shoe stores and dirty escalators, its location is not one you'd expect for a Time Out recommended restaurant. At night, it seemed all the more odd seeing as all of the surrounding shops were shut up, and beige floors were beginning to be cleaned. The shopping centre aesthetic fit very well with the Eastern bloc vibe of Mamuska - it is modeled on a Polish Milk Bar, open from 6am(!) to 12.30am.

All that seems to have been done to the 'unit' the restaurant occupies is a new floor, slick of paint on the brick walls, and a bunch of chairs and tables of various sizes. Artwork of debatable quality by (Polish?) artists adorn the walls, lending the look of a sort of community collective. With the menu half in Polish and half in English, and the feeling of being in a minority as an English speaker, it struck us as very authentic - but then one of their slogans is: 'Because you can't fly to Krakow every day'. They're clearly very into their zany slogans, as the friendly owner repeated this phrase when A told him her and I had both in fact been to Krakow, when we were ordering. The menu continually talks to you: 'See, you're reading Polish already!' or 'OK..it's not easy to translate..' With a perfectly concise list of dishes, it was easy to make choices. The categories are soups, dumplings, and classic Polish plates, and because they don't offer table service, the prices are seriously low (just like in Poland).

As before, A became worried at the prospect of more than one dish, and decided that a full plate of Pierogi with cabbage and smoked bacon would do her fine. B and I shared in order to try more, with some minced pork Pierogi and a big plate of 'Placki ziemniaczane' - potato pancakes with goulash. I think A's dumplings were more successful (lucky for her), with a more meaty texture and strong smokiness. Ours were unexpectedly less meaty in texture - I have tried for 5 minutes but I can't describe what it reminded me of. Soft Velcro? We chose to have them with sour cream, which was nice.

The potato pancakes I liked, and the stew was sweet and mushroomy. It was the kind of meal to have on a cold night, but we did find it equally enjoyable on this summer's evening. The pancakes were quite glutinous and gooey, that might not be to everyone's texture tastes but which certainly fit my weird ones. We were too full to try desserts but I would have liked to try the Polish cheesecake. Instead the gradually emptying out unit provided ample space for us to emulate Sex and the City style discussions about life (albeit in this Soviet landscape) fuelled by a couple of bottles of wine. The topics were grey, the shopping centre was grey, the food was grey (it's not just my camera). I loved it. Anyone?

Mamuska!

Unit 233, 1st Floor

Elephant & Castle Shopping Centre

www.mamuska.net

Encountering the Udon Noodle

C does not much like Japanese food. I think this aversion has something to do with a bout of food poisoning after sushi, but he maintains also that it is simply boring. I don't agree with this, but I can understand that in comparison to French or Italian food, say, the flavours are less intense; their perceived blandness perhaps off-putting. For me, there is a lot to be said for the texture. With food in general, actually, I get jiggly at the prospect of encountering an unusually bouncy, fluffy, or jelly like food substance and with Japanese food this does happen often.

Our trip to the recently opened Koya in Soho would be an interesting one, then, since their main focus is the Udon noodle. Pan-fried in a medley of spices as in Wagamama's bastardized noodle dishes, C would eat platefuls, but the idea of a plate of plain worm-like noodles scared him. At Koya you have various options as to how to eat your noodles: hot in hot broth, cold in hot broth, cold with pouring sauce or cold with dipping sauce. C decided on a hot/hot with smoked mackerel, despite apparently not liking soup noodles. 'Why did you order soup noodles?' I wondered, but the main reason, I realised is to do with not wanting to wait for the hot soup to cool down enough to slurp. 'Order rice instead', I suggested. 'No, I'm worried it will make me sleepy.' I suppose this was going to be a good test. If these could overcome this ridiculous fussiness, they must be alright. I, as the happier eater, braved the cold noodles with a cold sesame dipping sauce, with a side of seaweed. C ordered a bowl of rice with duck as well, just to be safe.

The cold noodles arrived piled upon a bamboo plate, ready to be dipped into the bowl of sauce. This was not as easy as it sounds, as the noodles are quite sticky, and also very long. Not as skilled with chopsticks as I'd like, I didn't manage to elegantly manoeuvre them from plate to bowl to mouth. I found ground spice mix in a pot on the table, and experimented with mixing spoonfuls of this into the (comfortingly) unseasoned noodles. As a refreshing summer's lunch, I found the meal hugely satisfying and would definitely return to sample more variations of the Japanese staple.

And C? I was pleased to be persuaded that the meal had in fact been genuinely enjoyed - both the soup noodles (in a deliciously fishy broth) and the duck rice (stickily sweet and morish) - and to have an indication of further forays into Japanese food textures in the future. Koya is only open for lunch, which is nice as I'd imagine at night time the little canteen-like space doesn't look nearly as lovely. The wood and earthy-coloured tiled floor seemed to fit with the simplicity of the food, and the general atmosphere. If only they'd served my favourite weirdly textured Japanese desserts, I would have been really happy. But I suppose too much chewiness in a meal might ruin ones appetite.

The Real Thing (!)

Tickets for the theatre at the Old Vic on Monday night meant a beautiful breezy evening out in Waterloo. We arrived early in order to test our luck at getting a quick bite at the Anchor & Hope down the road. On arrival, it was of course packed, but my mother spotted a man quietly enjoying his dinner alone at a table in the corner. The fact that, after asking nicely, we were kindly offered to sit opposite is one of the great things about the pub's eating experience - which our fellow diner, as a local himself expressed later on. We were to see Tom Stoppard's 'The Real Thing', so it was appropriate that we were able to enjoy the equivalent as far as pre-theatre pub snacks go.

After a quick glance at the menu chalkboard and ordering at the bar (they acknowledged our need to be fed and out in half an hour gracefully, despite this not being exactly the norm at this establishment), we were able to relax at our table, which was situated by the open door so we could cool off after a sweaty tube journey. 'Rhubarb and Prosecco Fizz' was our drink of choice, and was gorgeously refreshing in the weather. It was not too sweet, and had a hint of aniseed.They informed us it had been created from the same rhubarb compote they use for puddings, which struck me as a great idea.

We shared a plate of soft asparagus, served with a tumbler of golden, liquid butter. I ordered pickled herring, suitably vinegary with a dollop of sour cream, a lemon wedge and pickled veg so each mouthful could be tailored to the desired texture and flavour. Mum had a deliciously meaty slab of terrine, speckled with spots of her favourite colour green. This filled us up just in time to leave for the theatre, after chatting to our neighbour about how lovely it must be to live nearby.

'The Real Thing', incidentally is an excellent play which I'd never seen before, and this production definitely convinced me - not that it needed to - of Stoppard's brilliance as a writer. It's one of those plays with lines that really stay with you - it's serious while being incredibly funny. I'd encourage anyone to see it; get tickets as an excuse to dine at the Anchor & Hope before or after.

Primrose Hill Summer Street Party

The first really hot Sunday of the year, and the whole of Primrose Hill was ready to embrace summer with its very successful annual fair. The lovely Gillian from Judith Michael and Daughter had been busy organizing for months, and this time stalls of local businesses were accompanied by those from all over London. This was particularly exciting in the food department.

After a few minutes browsing the nick-knacks and vintage dresses, we lingered at one food stall after another, smells taking us from Brittany to the far East. After much deliberation (there really was too much choice) we picked up some sticky, yellow paella, a mixed box of glorious Moroccan salads and a Bahn Mi Vietnamese Baguette, from Bahn Mi 11 who had come over from their outpost in Broadway Market for the day. Placed on sun-dappled grass, this was a perfect pic-nic which sent me into a warm snooze for the afternoon.

Terre a Terre, Brighton

Wednesday's g2 featured Brighton on its front cover - the main feature inside being about what a great city it is, calling it 'our own San Francisco'. By bizarre coincidence, I started reading this as I was on the train on the way there. Having not have been for years, it was exciting to note Terre a Terre, the restaurant I would be eating lunch at, as one of their highly recommended places. Apparently it is regularly voted the top vegetarian restaurant in the UK.

I was intrigued to try it, since so often my experience of specifically 'vegetarian' restaurants seem to be deliberately wholesome, which often correlates with just quite boring. I realise this is extremely discriminatory. While a lot of excellent restaurants do offer great vegetarian options, if I was a non meat-eater I would probably be peeved at the limited choice of genuinely exciting meals. Vegetables do by no means always have to accompany meat, but there don't seem to be enough restaurants that would encourage non-vegetarians to eat an entirely meat-free meal and be very happy about it. Terre à Terre is such a place. Everything from the names of the dishes, to the presentation and of course the taste, is playful.

It took us a while to decide, with each menu entry having on average three lines of description. After being tempted by the (Pooh bear inspired?) 'Idli Pom', we both went for the 'Pulborough's Asparagus Army' to start (pictured above). The espresso cup bearing frothiness was fun to dip crispy asparagus spears into, revealing a few mouthfuls of pea green thyme flavoured soup. The salad on the side of samphire and mint inspired me to make something similar - I have always found samphire a little too salty, but cut with sour lemon and the freshness of mint, it was delicious.

For the main, I liked the sound of the 'Sussex Soufflé and Ploughman's Picklewitch', as a chance to try some strong local cheddar, but instead ordered 'Smoked Sakuri Soba', as I'm quite into cold noodles of late. The noodles were mixed with raw vegetable spaghetti and all sorts of shoots and leaves, with chunks of smokey tofu and more than one delicious sauce - a smudge of thick satay, and drizzles of sesame cream which was nice with beads of pomegranate. N's 'Sodden Socca' was perhaps less unusual, although not so in the presentation. She was shocked to see they had squirted French's mustard all over the plate, which turned out to be a sweet surprise in the form of an orange and saffron dressing. I liked the exotic plant form they had made from stalks on the caper berry. Towers of food in descending size surrounded by shrubbery looked like architectural features.

The dessert section of the menu certainly won the prize for the most original names: one was simply called 'Bum'. We could only manage ond between us, and chose the 'Gorgeous Gugel' - a warm chocolate pudding that oozed from the middle, served with a fantastic white granita and a mound of blackcurrants. Strands of mint topped the pud, and although it seems like too many different flavours, they all complemented eachother well.

It was fun to see vegetarian ingredients experimented with in the way of high-end regular restaurants, to the extent that you wouldn't be missing the meat from the menu, and without an inkling of wholesomeness (the picture above is evidence for that). My next stop is to find a mid-range vegetarian restaurant that makes me as excited as somewhere like The Dogs in Edinburgh, where I think food feels special even though it's not breaking the bank. For now, however, thank you to N for such a treat.

Terre à Terre

71 East Street, Brighton

www.terreaterre.co.uk

Scottish Breakfasts, continued.

Lemony kippers at Spoon Cafe Bistro, Edinburgh

I mentioned Spoon in the Scottish category of the 'Best breakfasts' feature I wrote for the List. Although it's not strictly a restaurant offering 'Scottish food', but there are a couple of things on their breakfast menu that you wouldn't find everywhere. First on the list of things for Sunday Brunch: 'Scotch Woodcock'. Before eating here, I had never heard of the dish and have realised it is one of those things, like Welsh rarebit, which implies something other than it is. With not a bird in sight, it is rather a spruced up scrambled eggs on toast. It is an old fashioned dish - apparently mentioned in Mrs Beeton's Book of Household Management - which was apparently not particularly breakfast fodder at all, but eaten, particularly by gentlemen, at the end of a meal. Well, we tried it at breakfast as ordered by J and it was delicious. The eggs are deliberately so softly cooked that they ooze into the toast beneath and render it truly mushy. It is like children's food, but flavoured with capers and anchovies for some sophistication.

The kippers pictured above were perfectly cooked (luckily - three of our group ordered it), with the sweet addition of cherry tomatoes rather than large ones, or a tomato sauce. I like the idea of having some oily fish to start your day off with a perk to the brain. I'm ashamed to say I opted for the steak sandwich, which is definitely not unusually Scottish at all. I had been craving a steak and it felt worth indulging myself on a break from exam revision. I have to say it was slightly overdone to my cave-woman taste, but the meat was still good and their chips were excellent. The space at Spoon which I forgot to mention is also a good reason to go and try their food. R said it felt like a gallery cafe, and this is true in that it is on the first floor, and it feels at the back of something. I was surprised how empty it was at sunday Brunchtime, when they offer such lovely meals and a peaceful place to watch over Nicolson street and spread out the papers. Though I'm perfectly happy with the way it is - in the meantime, onwards and outwards in pursuit of more breakfasts.

Good morning macaroon

Every Saturday, there is a young French man who parks his van at the end of my road and sells cheeses imported from his home country. I was amazed when I first came across him and his wares, and over the moon to be able to buy the kinds of local cheeses I love so much whenever in France. Creamy Morbier, tangy Cantal or a cute little Rocamadour. Frustratingly, he is not permitted to sell at the Edinburgh Farmers' Market because he is not a local producer, so he divides the weekend between two sides of town parked in residential areas where the population might be keen on fine cheeses.

Recently, he has started a new hobby in the hope he might be allowed into the market: making macaroons. The other week he sampled one on me and it was great: really fruity, and with the perfect crunch outside/gooey in consistency. Here's a picture from his latest batch of chocolate and passion fruit flavour. I like them because they're smaller than the posh macaroons from La Duree or similar patisseries - bite sized so as to accompany a cup of tea without being overbearing.