Whitstable

I've only been in Whitstable for seven years so I'm hardly the seasoned Whitstableite but do eat out quite a bit and have been asked a few times "Where should I go for food/booze/drugs/sex?". OK, maybe not the last two, although I hear the penultimate can be easy to find, allegedly. Here are a few recommendations of places to go that I will update over time.

It's not exhaustive, it's not a guide. It's just places I like going. If you're wondering where X,Y, or Z is, I probably haven't been there and I also see little point in putting negative stuff out there about places that are - in the main - essentially people's livelihoods in Whitstable.

Eating Out

The Sportsman
Oh come on, you knew this one already didn't you? It's probably why you're coming down. I discovered Whitstable through a visit to the Sportsman, so thank you to them for finding me a new home. If you're coming to Whitstable on a whim there's a 99.9% chance it's probably booked for this week or weekend. Or quite possibly the next twelve weeks. But if you're reading this well in advance of a trip, just treat yourself. Let's just say that the tasting menu (remember to mention this when you book but if you don't there's an almost as good daily shorter tasting menu) is my favourite eating out occasion in the UK.

Harbour Street Tapas
The default answer from me when I'm asked where to go if people are popping down for the day or weekend. Owner Lee Murray has the excellent Murray's Stores in the Goods Shed and also has a cracker here. Hake fillet, leeks, cockle and saffron sauce or beetroot, blood orange, ajo blanco and dill. Crab and spring onion tortilla, chicken thighs with a wicked romesco sauce, lamb chops, and superb smoked anchovies with aioli on toast and pan con tomate with sourdough from Grain and Hearth bakery in Whitstable (see below). I could go on. Get some olives as you sit down, you won't regret that move.

Samphire
Yes it's a glaring cliche but like the Sportsman I admire their use of local stuff. Once had a rabbit tagliatelle as a starter there that was so good I went back and asked if they could do a main sized portion: which they did with aplomb. Head Chef Mark O'Brien is knocking out some remarkably good dishes here - a Sunday roast recently is as good as I've had anywhere.

Wheelers Oyster Bar 
I've only sat at the bar here a couple of times and enjoyed their "tapas" plate, a perfectly cooked piece of skate with brown butter and prawn dumplings in a terrific dashi broth and during lockdown they've been knocking it out of the park with their weekly menu including lobster and prawn spaghetti and a superb paella. I particularly like their fishcakes - both salmon and crab are excellent, as it their smoked salmon and horseradish pâté. I still think you can go in there with any shaped pie dish and they'll fill it with fish pie for you to pop in the oven at home. How good is that? The link to their website is above but their Instagram feed us well-updated with their ever-changing weekly menus.

David Brown at The Old Coal Yard
David used to own the social hub that was the Deli on Harbour Street, hugely popular with locals. Since down-scaling he has a little black hut in a retail park on Belmont Road that stands out distinctively from all the caravans surrounding it. He even got reviewed by Marina O'Loughlin in the The Times over the summer of 2020. Open 9-3 Tue-Sat, with a food market every other Saturday that includes - currently - a baker/cake-maker and fresh veg. Another well thought-of Kent chef once said to me he loved David's food because it's "good food without fuss". Hear, hear. Lamb stews, paella, chorizo and bean stew, soups galore (his pea and ham is the best I've had) focaccia, scotch eggs, sausage rolls, quiches, the Deli Burger and fish finger sandwiches. 

Farm and Harper
I've had some pasta at the bar, an excellent plaice "fish dog", fish tacos and a great chickpea and tomato salad, a vibrant Asian chicken bun with peanut sauce and sausage sandwiches at breakfast. Keep an eye out for occasional evening openings - where I've had pork loin with romesco and a pearlescent slab of hake with brown shrimps and capers on the ever-changing evening menu. Phil the chef worked at the Lanesborough Hotel in the past and seems to effortlessly juggle multiple orders when I sit at the bar.

JoJo's

Further up in Tankerton is another tapas-style option that I've criminally underused since I've been in Whitstable and must rectify this. Saved from post-pandemic closure by a remarkable crowd-funding effort that means she's still alive! Last visit a few months ago revealed some magnificent mutton and feta koftas, amongst other things.

Castellum Pizza
Finally some excellent pizza in Whitstable! The owners run an Italian importing company so you can be sure that what goes on top of your pizza is going to be pretty authentic - and the bases that the toppings go on are excellent sourdough ones.

Birdies

There are two places that are open pretty much every day, aforementioned Samphire and this stalwart (open for nearly 30 years now - beat that!) of Harbour Street with its hand-written menu outside. I've had a great french onion soup and a vegetable risotto here and if I'm honest - I underuse the place. It's always busy and I really should be going back there.

Whitstable Produce Store

The friendly folks here keep my diet well-balanced with their green smoothies but I also love their salad bar out front that has all sorts and changes daily. You can also get David Brown's legendary "Saturday ham" in their sandwiches and salads and also his salt beef on occasions

Roly Smokes 
I particularly like Roly Smokes of the takeaway options at the harbour: he used to be at the Old Kent Market in Margate but moved to this Whitstable pitch about 18 months ago now. Has done some competition BBQing in his time and typically has smoked lamb, pork belly as well as tumescent German sausages from the excellent Sausage Man in Lewisham. I particularly like his chicken thighs with celeriac slaw in a bap.

To add more detail:

Rulu's: Ruth and Lucy used to frequent the Deli when Dave Brown ran it, and now they've taken it over.

Land and Sea: A lovely open-plan kitchen here for this lunch/dinner/deli. A brief visit means I really need to go back

Sooshi

Pubs/Bars

The Twelve Taps 

Becca and Libby have brought craft beer and gin to Whitstable in spades. Spratwaffler Pale Ale from the excellent Time and Tide Brewery in Deal is the house beer and it's a belter. You won't find a Peroni or a Fosters, refreshingly. There is a dangerous array of constantly-changing beers from around the country and occasionally overseas on the - yes, you've guessed it - 12 taps. They also have an equally frequently changing selection of gins. They've also hosted tap takeovers from none other than London's Kernel Brewery and more recently Buxton Brewery and Omnipollo of Sweden. Importantly, the great staff here really give a shit about their business and customers and are into what they sell - and it shows.

The Ship
I call this a "locals' pub" to visitors but that's unfair as locals' pub usually conjures up imagery of the pool balls screeching to a halt, music stopping and everyone turning round to eye you up and down as you walk in: which couldn't be further from the truth. Unfailingly friendly service, immaculately clean and three German beers are usually on tap as well as four ales on draught. All this and schnitzel-in-a-bap, fish finger sandwiches and German sausages. Good for watching the sport, if that's your thing.

The Fountain

Tucked away in the back streets is the Fountain, run by Roy Johnson, bringing the same welcome and laid back vibes that he brought to the New Inn when he was landlord there. Always good music on and always something interesting on tap and seats out the front in summer - and burgers on at the weekends.

The Neptune
All I need to say is that it's a pub on the beach and this should be enough to sell it to you. Good fires in winter. Oh, and a jukebox and live music, too. Heaving in summer, as you might imagine.

To add more detail:

The Coach and Horses

Porto Wine Bar

Other Stuff

After Hours: Are you still fookin madferrit? I'm usually tucked up in bed before midnight but the Rock Lodge stays open until 1am on Fridays and Saturdays (see also Sunday Roasts below). The Twelve Taps also offers an extra hour of craft beer and gin joy until midnight on these nights too and the New Inn offers an extra hour of supping time on Fridays/Saturdays, too. If I find out any more later pubs, I'll stick them on here too.

Fish and Chips: Well of course you want some when you're by the sea. VC Jones is where the queues form - of course they do, they cook all their stuff in beef dripping, but hat-tip to Ossie's on the High Street that I know is popular with locals - a friendly welcome here and they often give you a little portion of free chips if you're due a wait. I also like The Fishwife up at the Harbour Market.

Bread: Whitstable is blessed at two ends of the scale of bakers: the very modern ever-growing sourdough bakery at Grain and Hearth and as old-school-as-you-can-get at Hubbard's, but they both have one thing in common: they tend to sell out every day.

Ice Cream: Dolce in Tankerton about 3/4 of a mile up the road are doing some good gelato and there's a Gelateria tucked away on Sea Street next to the DFL money-pit goldfish bowl £1m properties. For an old fashioned Mr Whippy there is a delightful older couple that own a (legally-parked) ice cream van in the Harbour overlooking the seafront.

Sunday Roast: Several places I've mentioned already do a well-priced roast. Step forward Cafe and Kitchen and The Rock Lodge and Georgia at the Umbrella Centre does excellent roasts on winter Sundays. Also, Pearsons - if you can get in - do a good one, too at a slightly more premium price.

Smoky Things: The Native Smokehouse, based in Chris Coates' back garden in Sydenham Street and also the Tankerton Smokeshed are smoking their own salmon on-site. Chris also used to do bacon and has been known to smoke some cheddar, too.

Booze: A friend with much greater wine knowledge than me liked the look of some of the boozes at The Offy, and I like the ever-changing selection of craft beers they stock.

Fresh Fish: If you want fresh fish that's just been landed from a boat that night, then join the queue at around 8.45am every Saturday in the Harbour for Millennium Fisheries' catch. Plaice, huss, skate and cod often there to take home and work your wonders. Fish isn't guaranteed every week but he has a sign on his hut (a few doors down from West Whelks) normally if it isn't going to happen, a highlight once being "No fish this week due to shit fishing".

Chinese Takeaway: Based on a few visits and the fact that pretty much everyone says this place when asked "where's the best chinese takeaway in Whitstable?": China Chef in Tankerton is the go-to. In fact I've not had a better chinese take-away anywhere else. I particularly love the "thin-gauge" noodles they use for their chow mein, their crab claws bursting with minced prawn, Pei Pa Tofu with prawns and a maybe not entirely authentic bang bang chicken that is nonetheless a delight. Here's a photo of when I had a takeaway on the beach cos I'm like well edgy.

Just A Short Hop Away
If you feel like spreading your wings, my favourite places nearby, in no particular order are below and can be reached within half an hour or so by train plus foot or where necessary, car.

The Goods Shed, Canterbury: A temple to the seasons. Fruit, veg, fish, meat, cheese, booze, restaurants. Murray's Stores has all manner of imported and local items, the restaurant on the mezzanine level takes all its produce from the shed itself and cooks it immaculately - and has been doing some excellent heat-up-at-home meals during lockdown. Wild Goose on the left as you walk in has some excellent small plates. There's also a superb widely-stocked butcher with cuts from many different fields, barns and coops nearby and similarly the fishmonger's display is always brimming. Did I mention the cheese shop, the wine shop and the Italian bakery?

Bottega Caruso, Margate: Magnificent Italian home cooking including homemade pasta, the very warmest of welcomes from Simona, Harry and the gang and some of the best jarred tomatoes you'll get your hands on from their farm in Campania amongst other imported delights (I particularly like their funky pancetta). It's like you're eating in someone's home rather than a restaurant such is the warmth. If you want to know more details and in much more style, a friend wrote about it here - and Grace Dent followed suit in the Guardian recently.

Angela's, Margate: Always a warm welcome and unfussy, fabulous cooking from Rob Cooper that shows off sparklingly good fish and shellfish. If it doesn't get a Bib Gourmand at some point then Michelin obviously haven't visited. The sort of place you'd want at every seaside resort and the glowing review in a national newspaper in 2019 attests to this. It's permanently busy, but don't fret - they also have a seafood bar in Margate, Dory's, such is the success of the restaurant. It's literally round the corner from Angela's.

The Fordwich Arms, Fordwich (nr. Canterbury): Fabulous cooking in a stunning 1930s building with lovely staff that is rightly attracting interest from Londoners and restaurant reviewers. It seems to be getting better by the day. East Kent's very own Marina O'Loughlin has said she's not been as excited about an opening round these parts since the Sportsman opened in 1999. The recent Michelin star came as little surprise and although I've not been recently, judging from the food I've seen on Instagram, I can't imagine a second is far away. If they've got the pheasant dumplings in a smoky broth then crack on - one of the very best dishes I've had in Kent.

The Bridge Arms, Bridge (nr. Canterbury): Basically: see above. Opened in April 2021, the Fordwich crew give their second property the Fordwich treatment: immaculate food, great staff, hello second Michelin star at some point in the future.

The Table, Broadstairs: Joe Hill cheffed around London and more recently at Wyatt and Jones in Broadstairs and his small but perfectly formed new opened has got some dazzlingly good plates going and no doubt will be attracting the attention of food writers from all over. Glazed salmon with fried sushi rice and onion dashi, you say? Yes, that sort of thing.

A Casa Mia, Herne Bay: As good as any of the best pizzas you'll have in London, I reckon. Their margherita with all "DOP" top-end ingredients is stellar. You're always well looked-after by Gennaro, his wife and their all-Italian staff.

"Wellness" and food

I'll cut to the chase: for years, my life has been disrupted by anxiety problems. This is nothing new to friends and family and it's also something I have few qualms in talking about. It's something I've grown to accept as part of being me. One half of my family's lineage back to my grandfather has suffered at some point in some form. I console myself knowing that it's in my DNA and Natural Born Worriers tend to be good people.

Plenty of opinion has been expressed of late on Twitter about the merits or otherwise of "wellness" and food. However, so much of it seems to be centred around physical health. I wanted to put a different slant on and how I use food for 'wellness': mental wellness.

A few Saturdays ago, I woke up in a fug of anxiety and pretty much from the word go knew that this was a "bad day". A day to where not getting into a downward spiral would be a challenge. A day to get out, do something - anything - to help the day improve. I'd planned a trip to A Casa Mia, a pizza place in Herne Bay that holds the UK's only accreditation from the Naples Pizza Association. I wasn't going to let myself give in and stay at home.

The 'verace' bufalina pizza at A Casa Mia is a thing to behold. Watching the pizzaiolo press out the pizza dough, add the very straightforward toppings of uncooked tomato sauce, mozzarella and basil, sitting it in the proper wood-fired oven for all of 30 seconds, taking it out, adding the mozzarella midway through cooking so it doesn't melt into milky mush that befalls most Neapolitan attempts at pizzas, putting it back in the oven for another 30 seconds, topping it with more fresh basil and oil, and sitting eating this very simple work of art - I remember that I was supposed to be feeling anxious that day.

You see, food has this effect on me. It  soothes, it brings me into the now, not something next week or next month that was the focus of my anxiety. Food is, I suppose, therapy. Wandering round a new part of London or East Kent to visit a market. Buying some ingredients for a new dish I'd not tried making before. Sitting at the bar and watching the kitchen at it at absolute full tilt. It's all good. And - oh! cooking! Complete calm. My ultimate quiet being the slow, steady ritual of making a ragu and the steps needed to get it up to scratch. And of course, eating.

Fire away and rubbish the "wellness" aspect of food fads from the physical standpoint. But if, like me, your goal of "wellness" is making yourself feel more becalmed, more on an even keel, then whether it's a hunting down that little canteen in Croydon that allegedly does great Hainanese Chicken Rice, finding that back-street hole in the wall in Chinatown that sells fresh noodles or sous-viding a whole chicken (oh yes, this is on my list) then tuck in. You have a kindred spirit here.

David Brown Delicatessen, Whitstable

I'm always likening food to music. Byron are Radiohead: went massive but remained cool. McDonald's are STEPS: a dirty secret when drunk. Gourmet Burger Kitchen are Coldplay: an interesting proposition first up but now a bit naff and overtaken by others. You get the drift - I hope. During my moshing years of the 1990s, Supergrass were the band I wanted to be in. Quite cool and always looked like they were having fun. By that line of thinking, David Brown Delicatessen in Whitstable are Supergrass. It's the sort of place, not that I would ever open a place, that I'd want to be involved in.

I'm trying to find a little pad in Whitstable to unwind, and more often than not I've ended up in here. The formula is very simple. A delicatessen flush with antipasti, breads, pizzas and cured meats from Brindisa on the left hand side and a small cafe-bar on the right hand side that when it's going at full pelt probably caters for 15-20 people I'd guess.

On several visits I've had a robust, smoky chickpea and chorizo stew, a chicken, morels and spinach stew (see below) that had bags of flavour: both mopped up with their homemade focaccia, a very simple roasted chicken breast with a few saute potatoes and whizz-bang romesco sauce that I completely forgot to get the recipe, an earthy mushroom soup with the funk of truffle oil. I've taken a train-picnic of a simple square of their focaccia into which I stuffed probably enough salami to make a cardiologist lower his glasses slightly and give you a withering look. The one common denominator is how straightforward and well cooked EVERYTHING I've had there has been.

Whenever I've been in there, the staff and indeed the chefs that I've happened to meet in there - both current and former - that prop up the bar with a coffee or a wine all look like they enjoy themselves there as an employee and a punter. A grand sign. A merry band of people enjoying themselves. That Supergrass likeness again...

This place sits amongst some great restaurants in Whitstable: Wheelers - well everyone knows about Wheelers, Samphire and its changing, clever menu, my best meal ever down the road at the Sportsman, the spectacular fish and chips at VC Jones (all cooked in beef dripping, nod to that cardiologist again) and great, robust generous plates of food at Clare Brown at the Oxford. But there's nothing better than a regular fall-back: in London it's the Anchor and Hope and if I do, please pray for me, finally find a place in Whitstable - then this will be mine here.

A Taste of Noma at Claridges

Three months off work on gardening leave comes to an end. My last day of being a man what lunches. And why not end it all off by spending £300+ in the space of about two-and-a-half hours. Insert high-class prostitute comparison here. I'll admit here to being not particularly too bothered with "fane daning". Starchy tablecloths. The table de-crumber applied always by the most unsmiling member of the waiting staff. Just the bloody table de-crumber full-stop. The feeling you're being watched; monitored, even. Monitored for bad knife skills. But it was my last "working" day of 3 months off so why not spunk it up the wall.

Ushered into the main room at Claridges it was immediately obvious that two things were present. Firstly, a really nice buzz, flecked with excitement. Secondly, fuckloads of CASH. Lakshmi Mittal was centre stage on a table of ten people with plenty of staff and - latterly - Rene Redzepi cooing at them. Half of my table were also cooing at Mittal from a distance. Money talks?

The food arrived and first up were some "snacks". A selection of foraged plants with edible soil were very...planty? The soil was gritty and honestly, not particularly nice to eat. Then came the ants. The ants! Live ants desperately trying to escape from creme fraiche on lettuce. I'd read about these on twitter and opinion was divided, including my 2nd least favourite word, meh. It sits behind nom, in case you're even remotely interested. The ants tasted of lemongrass. There we are. I'm not even going to put a photo up. You know the score. Ants.

Then the real dishes came out. A raspberry soupy thing in a teacup was pleasant. I that all I can muster on the subject? I guess so. It was very pretty, though:

Better was the caviar and clotted cream alongside it that was served with Claridges own scones. Savoury delight. Try not to use umamj here, Richard. I Next up was an oyster poached in buttermilk for a short while. I've tried oysters twice. Both times I daren't chew. Both times I just tasted the vinegar and shallots with which I washed them down. I'm not going to bollock on about loving oysters and then only ever swallow them without chewing, so I tried chewing. Nope, I still don't like oysters and their mineralness. Not even when Rene tries to tease me into liking them.

Things then took off. The best sourdough bread - heck the best bread I've probably ever had was served with very light almost cream-like butter and a punchy goat's butter. I'd jested to my host that I didn't like goats cheese before the meal and he took it literally; a pungent rapeseed oil was brought out for me. Bless. Beef tartare, which we ate with our hands and came with a wipe of tarragon was beautiful and perfectly seasoned and gave a first glimpse into why Rene bloky is popular.

A lump - yes a lump - of celeriac was next, poached in goat's butter and served with a slick of truffle sauce and was nice for two mouthfuls. But after the 4th and all the way to the 8th it became overkill, but I'm not helped by thinking that truffle reminds of stale sweat. Still, things were end on a high. The 48-hour cooked neck of lamb served in hay and with a pea broth (that was suggested should be mixed with creme fraiche when we'd finished the excellent spring vegetables in it) was tremendous. 

Several of the table thought it was the best lamb they'd tasted. I wasn't arguing and it got me thinking about working out how to set my oven to 75c to invest in some serious slow-cooking at weekends. All weekend. I couldn't help thinking "expensive meal....cheap cut of meat", but maybe I'm just a tight-arse who wants value from his sizeable outlay. A cheery bunch of elderly gentlemen on the adjacent table were dismantling the lamb with their hands on the next table and knawing on the neck-bone. Maybe this sort of thing happens every day at high-end restaurants. Does it?

Not having a sweet-tooth, the dinner surprisingly peaked at dessert. Walnut ice-cream came topped with frozen dust-like cream and frozen berries. I'm assuming here that someone was having fun with some dry ice. It worked, oh how it worked. Nothing on the plate was too tart or too sweet, a glorious gentle dish. Apparently it comes from the menu in Denmark: no wonder they wanted to show it off.

Would I do it again? Probably. Was it mind-blowing? Nope. Were there some really memorable dishes? I reckon so. Did you not enjoy some aspects? Yep. Oddly enough, the one thing I'll take with me was the hum in the room and the cheery, chatty staff that Claridges offered up, both of which helped to dispel my disinterest of high-end eating out - at least for the afternoon.

When I walked out, a group of people were cooing over Rene Redzepi and asking him to sign all manner of things. I briskly walked over, offered him my hand and simply said "Thank you". He looked touched and held his heart. I suspect I'll be doing similar when I dare to look at my bank account. 

Scores on the doors, Miss Ford: somewhere between 6 and 7.

Ragu alla Ricardo

When I first got into cooking, I recall one of my Meteorology lecturers, the wonderfully avuncular Ross Reynolds giving me a photocopy of a recipe for a ragu - i.e. spag bol sauce, let's face it. This recipe called for all sorts of ingredients which as a fresh-faced 21 year old was going to be a challenge. I recall fucking it up completely but the seed was sown for what is about 15 years of tinkering with recipes. I've finally settled on "my version" that's been guided by various Telly Chefs and friends. It's not authentic, unique, real, seasonal, locally-sourced, passionate or other words thrown around about food, but my version. Maybe you can give it a try and see what you think. I have a horrible feeling I may have written about this before, but what the hell.

1) Chop up 1 1/2 onions, 2 sticks of celery and 2 carrots into very small bits. Fry these in olive oil with two star anise (thank you Heston) for about 45 minutes very slowly.

2) In a separate pan (fry pan usually good for this), fry off 500g of minced beef (the better quality, the better, I'd guess) and let it sit there to get a nice crust before turning over (thank you, Giorgio). Drop this into the cooking vegetables and do exactly the same with 500g of pork mince. As with all these things, a bit of fat in the meat never goes amiss. Pour pork mince into the veg and deglaze pan with red wine.

3) Turn the veg/meat mixture up to high and empty in a generously large wine glass of red wine (something gutsy) and burn all the alcohol off until it doesn't smell "tart" any more.

4) Add 3 cans of chopped tomatoes, I usually pick Cirio which I can get in my local Sainsbury's as they're supposed to be good quality (and seem to be coming down in price - as well as suddenly getting advertised on mainstream telly) as well as a good 2-3 second squirt of tomato ketchup.

5) Let it blubber away for about 3-4 hours with the lid off on a lowish heat. Stir occasionally to make it feel wanted. As it starts to lose liquid, top it up with milk. Serves maybe 6-8 people with British "too much ragu" sized portions or probably 60-80 italian understated ragu portions. Here it is blobbing away early in its 4-hour marathon:



I actually only settled on this recipe about 2 months ago and have cooked it twice now and it seems pretty nice. I used to add pancetta as well and that might reappear in time. Who knows. The star anise came in a year ago and the "topping up with milk" was the most recent addition. The ketchup was there from the start, heathen that I am.

I love you, Anchor and Hope

It seems as though the way of attracting attention to you new venture is to make it a pop-up. Do it for 2 days, 2 weeks, 2 months and leave the audience wanting more. Ephemerality rules. Blogs and restaurant reviews tend to focus on the new and cutting edge. Got there first, done that, when's the next opening.

I sometimes wonder whether it would be nice for someone in their newspaper column to spend a year revisiting the stayers, the survivors that have been here for yonks and whose reputation has passed down through word of mouth: off the top of my head Blueprint Cafe (although now lacking its guiding light), St. John and here - the Anchor and Hope.

Anyhow, about since 6 months since my last visit I was back there for the Sunday lunch. £30, no choice, the pub opened out and all tables full. And you can book. I thought my last meal at Manchurian Legends could be up there with the best this year - so could this one. 2012. Two meals, two big hits.

Arriving early we got a great table in the corner and as there were five of us, everything came served on an enormous plate for us to dig into. We kicked off with a few nibbles on bread - oxtail and tongue and beetroot and horseradish that set the palate up. First up was a large plate of watercress, tangy stichelton blue chees, pecans and pear. I am in my infancy of blue cheese love, but this all works. I've seen it on the menu before - and can see why it's still there, everything playing off each other.

The main should really have come with a fanfare. A huge, triumphant plate of porchetta sat atop fennel and roasted potatoes with a magnificent gravy swimming beneath it all. The stuffing of the porchetta was deeply, deeply savoury and the only thing I could have criticised was the cracking that failed on one quarter of my slab of pork. The pork itself retained plenty of moisture. The unanimous decision was one of "Good Lord". Take a look at it in all its grainy iPhone photo glory:



Dessert doesn't usually interest me but it was good to see tarte tatin coming out - caramelised to within an inch of its life with a deep brown colour, sweetness with the slight sour hit of the mascarpone that came with it.



We were all full. And happy. Maybe it's best that the Anchor and Hope doesn't get re-reviewed for those unaware of it because quite frankly a) it doesn't need to be as it's always full and, selfishly, b) I want to be able to get a table. A glorious 9.

Hand pulled noodles at Greenwich Market

You can spend £150 on a massive nosh-up in a Michelin-starred restaurant but it doesn't offer the unique joy of finding a hidden gem. An extremely cheap hidden gem. One of many food stalls down at Greenwich Market, this one caught my attention following the demise of a favourite hand-pulled noodle restaurant, Oodle Noodle (or is it Noodle Oodle) at the arse end of Oxford Street amongst the shit leather shops.

The actual stall itself offers chicken, pork and duck either in soup or with rice as well as dim sum that maybe I'll try next time. The soups vary from spicier offerings to more savoury broth-based ones for nonces like me.

I had the char siu soup and the noodle man quickly got to work, cutting off a section of quite wet dough, lobbing some flour around and rolling it into a tube and proceeded to work his magic. I nearly wrote "wok his magic" there but it would have been particularly twattish.



These noodles were dumped into hot water along with some pak choi, some char siu rapidly cut up and a darkish stock thrown over the top. £4.50 please. I have great pleasure in saying, in my limited noodle opinion, that the whole thing was wonderful. I am still amazed that you can get noodles from a blob of dough in about 3 minutes. They were very good - firm but definitely not mushy. The char siu portion was overly-generous, the pak choi retained a crunch and this all sat in a really intensely savoury - maybe even too savoury! - broth.



I am really struggling to think of anything better in London in terms of value of money and a satisfyingly full belly. It's just a shame they don't operate at weekends. I ate at 12.30 and by the time I'd got to the bottom of the bowl the queue was about 10 deep. Deservedly so. I'm sure if I do a saddo Nick Hornby-style "Top 5" at the end of the year that this will be in it. 9.

As an addendum, I also had some very nice chicken karaage from a nearby stall. Re-fried seemingly to order, it was crisp, hot and still really tender and moist in the middle. Two triumphs in one day.

The Gurnard's Head, nr Zennor, Cornwall

A five day tour round Cornwall taking in various sights and smells. Nathan Outlaw's grill where we paid £25 for a very nice, but small portion of sea-bass (that's two stars for you), the shits after some bad mussels (stand up, Sam's, in Fowey and take a bow), but two meals really grabbed me.

Stayed one night in the Gurnard's Head - an old pub/inn that was rough around the edges but served up as near as dammit the best meal I've had all year. Staff were friendly, atmosphere was welcoming, beds were comfortable - food was bloody brilliant. Why can't more stays away from home be like this?

Started wih a sea-bass ceviche - sweet with tomatoes and mangoes which initially I thought might end up a bit odd but was a hands-down success. Friend had a crab cannelloni starter that was packed with gusty brown meat in an equally gutsy crabby sauce. The main course thought was the killer - spring lamb done two ways with braised gem lettuce, broad beans and roasted "cocotte" potatoes (new one on me). Christ, I almost made a decent photo of it:



Very clever little cake of braised shoulder meat - dense, well-seasoned, to go alongside the lamb cutlet. I'll flag it up as my favourite meal of the year so far. You can bollock on about simple produce well cooked but this was the case. I wish I could remember what my dining companions had. I can't.

Dessert was a solid (not literally) apricot and almond tart. Dinner, bed and breakfast was about £120 per room. The breakfast was smashing, too - some of the best smoked bacon I've had and proper chunks of portabello mushroom that hadn't had the moisture whacked out of them from overcooking.

Oh for more places like this around the country. 8. Or even a 9.

The Fisherman's Arms, Plymouth

"It's where the locals eat" said the bloke who ran the Plymouth guesthouse we stayed in ahead of a wedding down in Newquay. Plymouth, in places, is simply Bracknell-on-Sea. A 1950s/1960s urban apocalypse thanks to the friendly Mr Hitler.

We traipsed through the town and were happy to find some nicer scenery down by the sea, and then wandered back with foreboding to a shit housing estate that housed the Fisherman's Arms. Thankfully the inside was wonderfully modern but inviting and where I discovered St Austell's Trelawney bitter that accompanied me at many of the pubs throughout the trip.

Friendly barmaid gave us our menus and we had a charcuterie board to share - slathered with chorizo, bread, olives and what appeared to be a rose veal carpaccio. Mains were nothing short of enormous and impeccably cooked. The portion of mussels (cooked in cider and cream) was gargantuan. Really. Another platter of mixed fish on olive oil mash in a creamy sauce was wonderfully presented - and stupidly generous.

I went boring and had fish and chips. Yeah, shoot me down. But it was good: very, very good. Seriously thin, crispy batter, obviously fresh fish and some chunky, obviously multiply-cooked chips. The waitress asked me if I was vegetarian as the mushy peas came with bacon. Inspired. Smoky, mushy peas to go against the cod. Inspired. Did I say that already? Crap picture alert, I'll probably change it in due course to the prettier main courses the other folks had:



We almost went somewhere better-looking on the outside: apples and skins and all that. Great fishy start to the holiday. 8.