Order Like a Pro, Persian Style
I don’t know much. But after 10 years working in my family’s Persian restaurant and 27 years being half Persian, I know a good meal order at an Iranian restaurant.
When people think of Persian food, they often think of plates piled high with kebabs, served with steaming saffron rice. And yes, this is accurate and necessary. But there are also unsung heroes that I think are too often overlooked. We’ve got the starters, an array of dips that have it all: smokiness, sweetness, creaminess. The beautiful freshly baked bread in all its variations. The khoreshts that are so unique in flavour, from herb-heavy favourites to sweet and sour stars. There’s so much to enjoy. And as a side note, in most restaurants (it varies depending on recipe) there are plenty of options for veggies and vegans too.
This is a list based on the menu at Hafez Restaurant, but it includes dishes that I assume the majority of traditional Persian restaurants will serve. It is by no means exhaustive, but I think it’s a solid introduction to the wonderful world of Persian food. They’re in order of importance, so take notes, head to your nearest restaurant and dig in. Noosh-e Jan.
My only request: any Iranians reading this, please do not shout at me. If you disagree, send me a kindly worded email and we can discuss.
STARTERS
My favourite part (am I allowed to say that?). These are best shared, scooped up and piled onto warm, torn pieces of freshly baked bread.
Kashk-e bademjan
Surprisingly for such a distinctly flavoured dish, I’ve never met anyone who dislikes this starter. Kashk means yogurt whey, whilst bademjan means aubergine and the dish is a combo of the two. Aubergines are browned, peeled, cooked and then mashed with spices, garlic and saffron, topped with kashk and served.
Mirza ghasemi
Mirza ghasemi is rich, smoky, tomatoey and creamy all at once. It’s another aubergine dish, but it’s so unique from kashk-e bademjan that it deserves a place on the table alongside it. The aubergines are charred over an open flame, creating the signature smoky flavour, then the flesh is mashed with onions, garlic, and tomatoes.
Salad olivieh
This is essentially a hybrid Persian/Russian potato salad and it is so, so good. It offers a welcome flavour change from the deep richness of the aubergine dishes – it’s got potatoes and chicken, complete with creaminess of the mayo plus crunch and tang from gherkins.
Mast-o khiar/mousir (v)
Yogurt with chopped cucumber (khiar) or shallots (mousir). Top tip: save some to accompany your kebab.
Bread
And plenty of it. Different restaurants will serve variations on Persian bread. There’s lavash, a lightweight, thin bread that’s baked in a tanoor, a clay oven. There’s sangak, Iran’s national bread, which is often baked in a dome oven with a surface covered in pebbles. Barbari, a long oval-shaped bread with a delicate, airy texture complete with a crust. Taftoon, a popular thinner bread. And so many more.
MEAT
Mixed Grill
I’m a strong believer in ordering a mixed grill to share when you’re first trying the cuisine. On your third or fourth visit, once you’re well equipped with what’s on offer, you’ll probably want to get your own plate but for the first couple of times I think it’s more fun this way – you’ll get to try a bit of everything. It usually consists of kubideh, chicken, lamb chops, so it’s a good variety. Just don’t get territorial over the last bit of kebab.
Kubideh
This is what a lot of people think of when they think of Persian food. Kubideh is ground lamb with minced onion, formed onto skewers. It sounds simple, but the meat, onion and spices are a harmony of flavours, all combined in one wonderfully juicy kebab. The quality can vastly vary across restaurants; some are bulked up, using breadcrumbs or bicarb of soda for an extra impressive look (and maximum profit), but this obviously compromises on flavour and quality. If you go to a good restaurant, you’ll be in safe hands as this is often the bread and butter of Persian restaurants – it should be juicy and flavour-packed. NEVER dry. If you’ve ever heard someone say ‘Chelo kebab’, kubideh is often what they’re referring to – it means rice (chelo) with kebab (obviously).
Jujeh
Jujeh kebab is grilled chicken, and it’s a staple on every menu. Marinades vary but often it’s saffron, lime, spice, yoghurt. It’s subtle but delicious, relying on the tenderness of the chicken and not requiring any overpowering flavour.
Chenjeh
Only get this if you’re confident about the quality of meat that’s on offer. Good chenjeh is melt-in-the-mouth tender, the perfect amount of bite, fatty enough for flavour but not overwhelmingly so. It’s also known as ‘king’s cut’, so if you want to literally eat like a king, this is your dish.
Soltani
This is the perfect duo: one skewer of kubideh, one skewer of barg. Barg is a tender, thin kebab that consists of butterflied meat, tenderised with the edge of a knife, then marinated. There’s something about the pairing of the upscale, delicate barg and hearty kubideh that you just can’t beat.
KHORESHT (STEW)
Khoresht is the Persian word for a stew. Packed with flavour, slow cooked, often available vegan/veggie or with meat, you can enjoy them as the main event or as an element on the table to have alongside your kebabs.
Traditional: Ghormeh Sabzi
If you’ve ever talked food with a Persian, chances are they’ve mentioned ghormeh sabzi. It’s often referred to as the national dish, and everyone thinks their mum makes it best. The flavour is intense – defined by fenugreek, with dried limes for sourness, (an obscene amount of) sautéed fresh herbs, kidney beans and lamb, though it can also be veggie. I’ve found it’s like marmite for non-Persians. People are either immediately obsessed or completely baffled by it. Either way, it’s only right you order it and decide for yourself.
Favourite: Fesenjan
Fesenjan is the restaurant’s sweetheart. I’ve never met someone who doesn’t like it. Ground toasted walnuts are the base, with pomegranate molasses, plenty of spices and meat, all slow-cooked and simmered together for a sweet, sour, rich flavour.
TIPS
Rice with a side of salad shirazi. If the restaurant offers half and half, take it.
Butter - mix it into the rice. I can’t explain how much it levels your meal up. That creamy, salty richness is unrivalled.
Egg yolk – If you’re feeling adventurous, order a raw egg yolk and mix that in as soon as the rice is served, whilst it’s hot. This is what all the old school diners do and it adds a beautiful richness.
Tahdig - The part of the rice from the bottom of the pan, golden and crunchy. This is the bit that everyone wants.
Spoon - it shocked me to learn a lot of people don’t eat rice with a spoon. Please do if it’s not the norm for you.
WHAT NOT TO ORDER
Chips
Look, I don’t judge (well clearly I do, but anyway). You can get chips everywhere, and chances are they’re not going to be fantastic at a Persian restaurant. So ideally skip them. Minus 10000 points if you order chips and have them with ketchup… sorry, I don’t make the rules.
Hummus
Hummus is incredible. I could eat it every day. But it’s not Persian, and when there are SO many starters to choose from, it seems like a waste of table space.
Baba ghanoush
Again, I’m a big fan. But Persians know how to do an aubergine dip – kashk-e bademjan and mirza ghasemi are seriously something special, and they’re not readily available outside of Iranian restaurants. Baba ghanoush is.
Food Sentimentality
A bowl of pickled vegetables almost made me cry the other day.
I was eating at my family restaurant Hafez with my friends, when we were brought over a bowl of torshi – mixed pickled vegetables. “I thought you might like this”, explained Mo (our waiter, but basically a family member. I’ve known him as long as I can remember). “It was the last batch your dad made”. My dad passed away last year. They had kept a portion sealed and stored away, which meant that for the last time, I was able to try something that he had prepared. This is an extreme example, but one that illustrates how food bridges a gap over time. It has the power to link people to places, not just in a literal sense like with the torshi. When you eat something, you’re enjoying the recipes and techniques from centuries of cooks, adapted and refined, travelling through lessons to end up on your plate. The history of a place can be discovered through the food. It also transports you back to times in your own life – fish and chips on the beach as a child, cheap hot dogs after swimming at the leisure centre, sugar coating your fingers after (rare) Woolworths pic n mix.
Our family had restaurants in Tehran and my dad grew up in these kitchens, learning ancient techniques from some of the best chefs in Iran. He used to tell me stories of the hectic lunch service, with an obscene amount of customers descending upon the restaurant within those hours. This was a military operation with diners brandishing a cut-throat, eat-and-go attitude. With so many other places to dine in the area, speed, quality and efficiency set their restaurant apart. When my dad came to London in the 80s and his journey with Hafez began, he applied all these secrets to the tiny kitchen in London, from the butchery to the marinades, the cooking style to the menu.
Opened in 1983 by Nusrat and Jessie Tadjiky, Hafez was one of the first Persian restaurants in London. Our recipes remain relatively unchanged, and our staff does too. Our baker has been with us almost as long as we’ve been open, so if you came to Hafez 20 years ago and visit again tomorrow, chances are you’d be eating bread made by the same person. My aunties, uncles and cousins are front of house and I was too for over 10 years.
Food, and more specifically that restaurant, was my dad’s life. He spent most of his time working so some of my earliest memories are visiting him there, feeling immense pride when he came out from the kitchen in his chef whites to see me. I started working there as soon as I could. Each day I had work, I’d go in early with him and watch him prepare the food himself as he talked me through the process. Which part of the lamb is chenjeh, otherwise known as ‘King’s Cut’. The secret to succulent kubideh, which is minced in-house and made by hand. Where to cut to ensure the perfect lamb chops. He taught other chefs over the years, many who went on to open their own Persian restaurants in London. But many stayed, perhaps for the love of the restaurant and the feeling of home it brings.
Years of working there has shown me I’m not the only person who feels sentimental about the restaurant. There are customers that have been coming to Hafez for as long as it has been open – generations of people who have walked through those doors, who have grown up eating the food that my family have lovingly prepared, day in and day out, for all this time. I’ve had conversations with adults who have childhood memories at the restaurant, back in the days when the bread oven was at the front by the window, so the smell of freshly baked bread greeted you as you walked through the door. A customer told me that him and his family once lived round the corner, but now live all over the world and no longer have a home in London so for them, Hafez is that home. A place to go when a celebration is in order, and when comfort is needed, too. Somewhere that has stood the test of time and has remained relatively unchanged in all the right ways.
For me, the restaurant has taken on a whole new meaning. It may sound cliche, but my dad really is in the soul of that place. His expertise is in the food, his standards are upheld in the kitchen, and his hospitality and warmth can be found front of house. It’s in the capable hands of my family, who have been running it alongside him for the past decade. But now, whenever I eat there, I feel like he’s made me a meal again.
Pequod’s Pizza: As Good as They Say?
Pizza: a topic of much tension in the States.
I tried a deep dish in London once. It was horrifying. The cheese was so thick (and I assume bad quality), it started going cold and solid when it was halfway down my throat, slightly choking me with every bite. It was borderline traumatic, but I still dreamed of experiencing a proper one. I reasoned that if the classic Chicago Town frozen delights of my childhood were anything to go off, deep-dish pizzas were definitely for me. I still stand by the fact that those pizzas are elite, by the way, and I’d back them in a fight against any other frozen offering. Whether that’s the nostalgia talking, who knows.
Anyway, back to Chicago. Pequod’s was in the Bear. Pequod’s was in almost every ‘Top Deep Dish Pizza’ lineup I found online. Pequod’s was round the corner from my cousin’s apartment. It seemed that a visit to Pequod’s was written in the stars.
Unlike the other city institutions I’ve visited (Katz’s, Russ & Daughters), it didn’t necessarily have the ‘presence’ you’d expect from a pizza place with its reputation. Dimly lit, high booths, neon signs filling the walls, hockey jerseys hung up with pride; it’s a sports bar at first glance. But the unmistakable smell of freshly cooked pizza greeted us as we walked through the door and I knew we were in the right place.
I discovered that technically, Pequod’s isn’t Chicago-style deep dish. It’s a pan-style pizza that features a fluffier dough, plus it’s topped with cheese rather than sauce.
Upon ordering, they warn the pizza takes 45 mins to arrive, which sounds like a lifetime when you’re hungry (it was quicker… I think they just try to manage your expectations). We got half pepperoni and half with other toppings (olives, onions). When it arrived at the table, fresh out the oven and still in the pan, it was as huge as I expected. They recommend two slices per person, which I would agree with depending how hungry you are, but these aren’t your usual pizza slices. They are huge slabs of bread and cheese, taking up the whole plate, demanding your attention and all the space your stomach has to offer. The server cut the pizza up for us, treating the table to a view of the signature cheese pull — the stuff of viral video dreams. And that first bite. Wow. A sturdy base holds its own when you lift it, an impressive feat considering the weight of the toppings, but I’d still recommend you take on the challenge with a knife and fork. That thin, crispy crust gives way to a layer of soft, spongy pizza dough on top; a pillow of bread, covered with a perfectly rich tomato sauce that had none of the off-putting acidity that some bring. There was the perfect amount of mozzarella, too: don’t let the cheese pull fool you into thinking it’s overdone with the stuff. The ratio was heavy, but it’s perfect and every bite holds the ideal balance of bread, cheese, tomato and topping. And that caramelised crust. It might look burnt, but somehow there’s no bitterness. It’s just pure, heavenly crunch and texture. Side note: after trying both sides, the other toppings aren’t necessary, in my opinion. I’d just get classic pepperoni next time.
I’d like finish on a controversial note and say something that’s likely blasphemous. Chicago Town pizzas did a good job. It’s not the freshly cooked, well-thought out dream that Pequod’s was, but it had (has?) all the addictive elements and was definitely a gateway drug into the world of the deep dish.
So if you’re in the area, do yourself a favour and give Pequod’s a try.
Barcelona: Tapas, Tapas and a Bit of Brunch
Gourmet Sensi
This is the sort of restaurant that brings a feeling that’s unique to a holiday meal: a mix of pure delight at every bite, combined with sadness that you won’t be able to eat it again until you’re back in the country. This was by far the standout meal for me. We kicked things off with creamy burrata with rich, tomatoey aubergine, and plenty of crispy bread to mop it up. This was delicious on its own, but then came the heavy hitters. First up, octopus. Incredibly tender, served with a rich mole sauce and mashed parsnip. Next, beef tenderloin (and it lived up to the name - SO TENDER!!!) topped with fresh chimichurri sauce and polenta… I always said I didn’t like polenta, but this one made me a convert. Last but not least I asked the waiter to pick a dish and surprise me and WOW. Fresh truffle ravioli, al dente, swimming in somehow simultaneously light but rich parmesan cream. If you’re in Barcelona do yourself a favour and do not miss this place. Do me a favour and send pics so I can live vicariously through you.
L’Alcoba Azul - Tapes
This place was cosy, aka small and dimly lit… the sort of restaurant that you go for lunch and leave with no concept of time, sleepily blinking in the sunlight like you’re a creature post-hibernation. This adds to the experience, so it’s a win win: the atmosphere is great and you’ll need to mislay your concept of time for the meal as the service is a littttttle slow, but grab a drink and sit back. It’s worth the wait for this very good tapas: fresh squid with beetroot, tangy roasted red peppers stuffed with goat’s cheese, accordion potatoes LOADED with sauce; one garlic, one tomato.
Milk Bar & Bistro
Now this little bowl might not look like much, but don’t be fooled by humble appearances. Sometimes simple is best, which was the case for this chorizo hash that let the quality of ingredients shine. Spinach, onion, potatoes, and of course, beautiful, moreish, rich, chorizo. And an egg.
Ramblero de la Boqueria
The Mercado de la Boqueria is a must-visit for everyone. Even if you don’t LOVE food (u ok?) you still gotta eat, and you should do it here at least once, for the culture. It’s the sort of place that bombards your senses until you’re paralysed by choice and grab the nearest seat, but try not to get overwhelmed and take your time strolling through the stalls. I can’t promise you’ll find this place but if you do stumble across it, go here. If you manage to grab a seat at the bar, you’ll enjoy some incredibly fresh seafood. The baby squid was so tender, the batter was light and not oily at all. I get the feeling that anything you order would be just as good.
JonCake
So I googled the best cheesecake and this place came up. I went on my first day and the queue was down the street. Whilst I love food, I do not love the concept of queuing for something because I am very impatient and very stubborn, so I’ve so far avoided doing so. But alas, the cheesecake was calling my name, so I went back the next day EARLIER than opening, and… there was still a queue. But I swallowed my pride and waited and it was so worth it. Both the brie and classic were equally as delicious in their own way but if you were going to order just one (don’t, get both) I’d go for the brie. It literally melts in your mouth, with a beaut biscuit base and burnt top. Heavenly.
Myra
A tiny little cafe tucked down an alley by the beach. This crepe was INCREDIBLE - buckwheat pancake with truffled egg, mozzarella, mascarpone, mushrooms and smoked ham.
March Restaurant Roundup
What a beautiful month of food. New favourites and trusty old spots were visited. A lot of noodles were consumed. Here’s my roundup.
Koya Ko | Hackney
I’ve been told to go to Koya in Soho many times by many people, all of whom I trust, so when I saw there was a collaboration between them and the Tamil Price at their Hackney location (that I didn’t actually know existed, whoops) I had to try it.
The restaurant itself is tiny, with bar seating and a handful of tables. You order at the counter and grab a buzzer, then collect the food when it’s ready. It’s a fuss-free ‘eat-and-go’ experience, ideal for a weeknight when you want some really good food. We got the deal that consists of a main, drink and side. For the sides we ordered a salad that was simple but a great contrast with the richness of the rest of the meal, complete with a tangy sesame dressing that let the freshness shine. We also got karaage, which wasn’t as crunchy as I would’ve liked, but the chicken was beautifully tender so it wasn’t all bad.
Onto the main: chicken moilee udon. What a meeting of cuisines. The creamy coconut curry broth was packed with South Indian spice and was a great consistency, providing a fragrant bath for those signature Koya noodles. Can I say al dente in regards to udon? It’s an accurate description and the bite of those noodles was perfection in combination with the crispy potato strings. Complete with coriander and a kick of chilli oil and it was the sort of dish that leaves a bowl spotless.
Phat Phuc Noodle Bar | Chelsea
I’ve spent more time that I’d like in Chelsea. Browsing overpriced shops, visiting the Saatchi, working from cafes and people watching to pass the time became the standard for me on many weekdays. Because of this, I can say with confidence that there is a severe lack of affordable, good-quality food on offer in the area. Yet nestled amongst the multi-million pound houses, off King’s Road and down some steps in a plastic-covered courtyard lies Phat Phuc: the hero that Chelsea needs. It’s the last place you’d expect to find in the area, with the tiny outdoor kitchen and pots of broth bubbling away. The menu is simple and the food is consistently fantastic. I find myself pulled there whenever I’m in the area – it’s a compulsion at this point, but for good reason. £10 chicken laksa, hot and fresh, in under 15 minutes every. single. time. It’s simple, it’s fantastic, and I love that place with all my heart, partly because I have fond memories there but also because it has never let me down.
Dom’s Subs | Hackney
We were on our way to Hackney City Farm on a wholesome Sunday (irrelevant but it was the best Sunday ever, FYI. So good that we wrote a list to determine the formula for a great Sunday) and we were in need of sustenance, stat. As we passed Dom’s, all we saw was a good looking sandwich menu. Perfect. Little did we know, it had recently been TikToked and queues outside were a common sight, but we were lucky enough to come across it on a quieter day. The menu’s offerings are good enough to throw anyone into an indecisive frenzy with SO many options. Good because there’s something for everyone. Bad because I couldn’t decide. I liked that the veggie choices didn’t seem like an afterthought, something all too common that really bugs me (even though I eat meat).
I opted for the special, which was a beast of a sandwich. One thing to note was the bread. It was perfectly soft, successfully containing all the ingredients with a satisfying bite to it, and crucially no toughness to the crust. With a sandwich like this, the last thing I wanted was to have to tackle a chewy crust, too. The special was packed with herby meatballs, salad, a rich tomato sauce, cheese and garlic… so, so much garlic. Maybe a little too much, which is a LOT coming from me. It lingered even after a few airwaves gum, so it’s not for the faint hearted. But overall, a very good sandwich.
Hafez | Notting Hill
The best restaurant in the whole of London. Not because I eat for free and there’s a framed picture of me and my dad in there, promise. I change my order up every time because the menu is so consistent that I can never decide, but this time I was ordering for two. We had boneless saffron chicken, chenjeh (known as King’s cut) which is the tenderest lamb you’ll taste, and beautiful bread to soak everything up. I also got a side of veg kebab, which is essentially fresh veg charcoal grilled. I won’t go on too much because I’m probably going to be writing a whole thing on Hafez soon. But you should really go.
That Wing Place | Holloway Road
I went past this place on the bus, googled it and immediately added it to my must-visit list. A chicken shop with 300+ five star reviews? Unheard of. I had to know more.
We got an array of wings and all of them were pretty great. The wings were tender across the board and the different styles were wonderful in each of their own ways. Garlic and ginger were the highlight for me. Beautifully crisp on the outside, a perfect balance of flavour in the batter.
Kiln | Soho
The photos of my food may be tragic, but that’s because I was too excited to try those dishes – the smell of the sizzling meat was irresistable and the dim lighting was no environment for elaborate photography. After 100s of recommendations, I can confirm that Kiln is as good as everyone says. It’s a Soho hotspot and getting a table isn’t the easiest, but this was a weekend that I was on a noodle rampage so I decided to brave the crowds.
The menu is surprisingly affordable, with dishes ranging from £3ish for the skewers to around £6ish for those iconic noodles. Yes, I know, I was shocked too. You could do a speedy eat-and-go for cheaper than you can get a McDonald’s these days. And you don’t get a show with McDonalds, unless you’re lucky enough to do a late night visit and catch a punch up in the parking lot. At Kiln, grab yourself a bar seat and watch the magic happen as the chefs work at lightning speed, juggling the various dishes and skewers on the grill, plating up the food with rapid precision and throwing it out to punters at the bar. I got the steak which had a tangy, ridiculously moreish citrussy flavour. And those crab claypot noodles. They’re a favourite for a reason, and though they’re not easy to eat they’re worth putting in the work.
Overall: Those glass noodles 😮💨 That bar seat in front of the grill 🥵
Helma | Haggerston
This place is quickly becoming my fave cafe. Seasonal menu that changes frequently, fresh produce, a lot made in-house (you can even see their pickling jars on the shelves), speedy and incredibly delicious. It never misses. This time I had a crispy chickpea pancake, black bean hummus with earthy roasted beetroot, brought up a notch with salty halloumi and crunchy slaw. You can tell a lot of love went into putting this menu together and they really know what they’re doing. Flavour? Check. Texture? Check. Freshness? Check. I love ya, Helma.
New York: Pastrami, Pizza and Creams’ Cousin
New York. What a place. The time I had wasn’t long enough to cram in all the places on my list, but then again I don’t think a lifetime would suffice. I’ve mentioned the amazing, I’ve mentioned the alright, I’ve left out the bad. However very happy to provide that list on request.
Katz’s Deli
This sandwich is famous for good reason. I have never tasted anything like it. The meat may look intimidating, but it’s not like those sandwiches that are overstuffed, with tough bread that you practically need a chainsaw to get through the crust. There’s nothing more humbling than tearing at sourdough bread with your teeth and failing miserably, sandwich contents spilling down your front as you realise how far removed you are from your primitive ancestors. This was something else. The pastrami is crusted with spice, and it’s so tender that it literally just collapses and melts in your mouth with every bite. The bread is so soft that it’s a help, not a hindrance in the sandwich experience. Complete with a slathering of that beaut mustard (plus the extra bottle on the table so you can add it to your heart’s content) and a side of pickles – the sour ones were my favourite – and it’s a truly unique New York experience. I didn’t experience the rumoured stressful queues and that’s because I was dedicated to the cause. I planned my day around this sandwich. Small dinner the night before, up early, pastrami on rye for breakfast at 9am. This is ‘Merica, land of the free, I can have a stack of pastrami and pickles for breakfast if I want.
Los Tacos No.1
I’m not going to try and claim there’s no good Mexican food in London. I haven’t been to enough places and I know there are some gems, namely Sonora Taquería which I’m yet to visit but am assured is fantastic. However, the most readily available Mexican food we have consists of microwaved quesadillas with scalding hot cheese, 2 for 1 cocktails and dia de Los muertos decor. That’s why I make a point to seek out Mexican food when I’m in America, and though NYC isn’t necessarily the most likely place, Tacos No. 1 is apparently on par with cuisine across the country.
The set up is simple enough - you order at the till, hand one of the line chefs your ticket, choose between corn and flour tortilla and watch them make it in lightning speed. The open window frames the kitchen and viewing the bustle behind was mesmerising. It’s chaotic yet organised, a harmony I find is unique to the kitchen. The adobada (marinaded pork) stands vertically roasting slowly at the back in a similar style to kebab, with a pineapple crowning the mound so the roasted juices run down and coat all the grooves of the meat. Slices are hastily cut off as areas get caramelised and charred, filling the tacos as orders flood in. I got a trio of tacos, one of each; pork, chicken and beef with all the toppings in corn tortillas and carried them to the standing tables — you’re here for the food, not to socialise, and I respect that about the place. Beef was the standout for me, as well-cooked beef often is. Melt-in-the-mouth, well seasoned, wonderful. The chicken and the pork were equally as good; the chicken was so tender and the pork had a satisfying crisp to the edges from the cooking process, adding a nice crunch, a contrast to the juicy fattiness of the meat. All the other ingredients combined resulted in the perfect bite; guac brought creaminess, the salsa a nice freshness with a deep kick of chilli, onion a crunch and plenty of lime for that well-needed zest and acidity to cut through. This place was truly special and any of my future trips to New York won’t be complete without a visit
Russ & Daughters
Can you go to NYC without getting a bagel? The answer should be no. R&D’s is another establishment that’s become an NY must-visit, getting a mention in most articles about food in the city. The inside was a slick and stylish, with bright interior, neon signs and gourmet offerings. It wasn’t a dissimilar vibe to a deli you’d find in East London, but this place meant business: I’ve never seen such huge cuts of salmon and the cream cheese offerings were sensational; we’re talking horseradish-dill, caviar, goat, vegan, scallion and that’s not even a complete list. You go in, take a ticket and wait for your number to be called. I went when it was quieter, but I can imagine on a busy day this experience would be a hectic one, so know what you’re ordering before you’re called up. Once you go, they take your order and make the bagel in front of you. My guy was lovely and had time to chat, asking me about the bagel scene in London and telling me I needed to try this one RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM when he found out it was my first one in New York. I went for a classic: everything bagel with lox. I watched as he slathered it with cream cheese from the vats in the display window, piled it high with what looked to be the best smoked salmon I’d ever seen and finished it off with onions, capers and tomato. Biting into that bagel truly was a wonderful experience. Think of the best one you’ve tried and times that by 10.
Figure Eight
Figure Eight is described as a Chinese-American restaurant. It’s a bar that oozes style and I was lucky enough to get a walk-in spot at the bar.
I should have got the seafood tower, as that’s what they’re known for. But alas, I was on my own and didn’t fancy tackling it solo. So instead, I do what I always do when overwhelmed by a very good menu and asked the guy working there what he reccomended. I ended up going for the bubble waffle with jalapeño butter, a delicious novelty that’s a sophisticated twist on the ones I’ve had in Chinatown wrapped around ice cream. The star of the show, however, was the skate. I’d never had skate breadcrumbed and deep fried and it quickly became a favourite. The crunchy, spicy breadcrumb encased tender flakiness beyond belief, served with a scone-type thing (probably not the technical name) that featured buttery layers of pastry, with a side of creamy buttermilk and gherkins, it was a mini sandwich type situation which I quickly got stuck into.
The Four Horseman
I love small plates: I’m horribly indecisive and it takes away the pressure of ordering badly.
Over in Williamsburg, which also happened to be my favourite place I went, this restaurant was down a side road and would be easy to walk past if it wasn’t for the line of people down the street at opening. I didn’t book and I almost ended up regretting it but luckily I grabbed the last available bar seat. The restaurant itself employs the laid-back Scandi vibe with simple and sleek furnishings, wine lining shelves on the wall alongside the fun art and open kitchen. The menu was hard for me to decipher and I had to ask the very helpful barman Sam for his recommendations, which he gave expertly. I ended up ordering the asparagus, chunky and sliced, bathed in a creamy white sauce and covered in sesame. I tried sweetbreads, a deceptive name that I soon discovered to be a guise for pancreas, but those skewers were so tender and served with a soy-cured egg yolk that had me googling ‘how to cure egg yolk at home’. Then, the skate. This featured the same satisfying crunch and tender flaky fish as Figure Eight, but arguably a less crispy batter which I actually preferred. And finally, the sticky toffee pudding. I couldn’t not order this, especially when I was told that many Brits have said it’s the best they’ve had. It was very very good; a caramelised crust, soft spongy middle and a generous helping of freshly whipped cream. I’m usually an ice cream kinda gal, but the light, airy cream was exactly what this version called for. Each dish was unique and a joy to eat and the atmosphere of the place was something else. The team were lovely and sitting at the bar was a social experience in itself. I ended up meeting some fantastic people that night and I got the feeling that wasn’t a unique occurrence. A lot of the customers knew the team by name and conversation flowed between strangers with ease, discussing life and food and what we’d ordered. I actually went back for lunch and had possibly the best pasta I’ve had: al dente jumbo macaroni, pieces of juicy shrimp, Calabrian chilli butter and incredibly crunchy breadcrumbs that didn’t lose their bite despite the sauciness of the dish. The ever-changing seasonal menu means that it’s a new experience with every visit and I’ll definitely be back.
Levain Cookies
Social media can often take a place and run with it. Often, videos equate food looking good with tasting good and it’s hard to determine whether something is just aesthetic or delicious, too. I can confirm that Levain cookies are both, and are indeed worth the hype. They are huge, a dome the size of my palm. I opted for the classic, a chocolate and walnut cookie. It had all the elements of the perfect bake, but times it by 100. A golden, chewy, thick crust. Fluffy yet gooey interior. Molten chocolate chips. Crunchy walnuts. It was truly a heavenly experience and it’s a must visit for everyone in my opinion.
Ray’s Candy Store
90-something year old Ray Alvarez is a city legend. In the 1950s he left the Iranian navy and he’s been in New York ever since, setting up shop in 1974 and selling sweet treats of all variety from this unassuming corner shop. I like to think of it as an accurate representation of the American Dream.
The round-the-clock nature of the shop meant he was famed for sleeping there, jumping up whenever a customer entered. I was delighted to find that he wasn’t there on my 11pm visit, meaning he must have finally gone some semblance of a work-life balance. The shop itself feels like a fever dream, with fluorescent lights and paper signs covering the walls promising all the delights you could dream of. I LOVED it.
What’s on offer, you ask? Everything. They’ve got fries, sweets and hotdogs, egg creams and ice creams, and famous fried oreos. Obviously I had to go for the oreos; I tried a battered mars bar once about 10 years ago and I still think of it fondly. The only portion option was huge so I offered the majority to some girls in the queue behind me. I was glad I did: when it was handed to me I found 12 fried mounds of pure sugar and fat, covered in what I can only describe as a mountain of icing sugar. Seriously, it was the stuff of nine year old Nadiya’s dreams, and handing over the promised number to my new-found mates felt like I was doing an illicit deal in the back streets of New York. They were pretty delicious, but incredibly sickly (obviously) and I ended up giving some to passing strangers, too. But Ray’s was an experience in itself, unique to the city and therefore an essential visit. Egg cream next time for me.
Eileen’s Special Cheesecake
This place is an unassuming spot that’s been there since 1975, offering up some wonderful cheesecake choices. When a place has ‘special’ in the title they mean business: whether that’s the business of scamming or the business of good food is anyone’s guess. Luckily, Eileen’s was the latter. The multitude of options fill the display case at the till. You can go for classic, but there are so many choices; Strawberry, salted caramel, blueberry, chocolate… the list goes on.
This cheesecake was perfect. Tartness balanced with creaminess, the filling was almost a whipped cream-like consistency it was so light, but still firm enough to hold up. And that crust. The graham cracker crust was hefty enough to hold the filling but thin enough to not detract from the creaminess, providing the perfect level of crunch.
Custard Egg Tart
Whilst at dinner, I met a food writer who informed me of the custard tart heaven that is Chinatown. Apparently there are some of the best, with one Reddit user having done a tour of all the most reputable offerings and putting them against each other. I only had the pleasure of eating one, a red bean concoction, but if I had another day in New York I’d definitely try a few more. You can see the guide here if you’re interested.
and the average…
Magnolia Bakery
I had to try it, didn’t I? That famous banana pudding. It was decent, with soft sponge and banana pieces, loaded with fluffy whipped cream. But I’m a big fan of textures and that’s something that this lacked. No crunch or bite, just a lot of (delicious) mush. Not necessarily something to write home about, but I’d probably get it again if I was passing by.
Milk
It kind of felt like the souped-up American cousin of Creams, with offerings of the nicknamed ‘crack pie’ and towering bakes that look intimidating to eat. Brightly lit and multi-coloured, I feel that Milk is riding on the afterglow of the glory days when it was social media’s sweetheart. I had the birthday cake which was fine, borderline bad. The dense sponge was dry and the flecks of colour relt redundant. With the multitude of bakeries and incredible sweet stuff in NYC, it’s not somewhere I’d recommend or go back to.
Artichoke Basile’s
Greenwich village was a place I frequently found myself in the evening. Packed with jazz clubs, music venues and comedy shows, it seemed this was the hot-spot for those that seek out a more down-to-earth experience away from the glitz of the upper east side. Artichoke Basile’s is nestled amongst said clubs and is known for its namesake, the artichoke pizza.
Folding a slice seems to be a metric for good pizza in New York, but this beast was unfoldable. The crust is pretty thick in comparison to other slices in the city and it’s also laden with a buttery, creamy sauce, with a LOT of cheese and subsequently grease. I’m not afraid of a little grease when it comes to pizza but this was a bit much. It’s the sort of thing that I’m glad I tried, just so I can be involved in the novelty and debate, but wouldn’t necessarily go back.