What the critics say: Pizza East, The Hind’s Head…

15th January 2010, 10:56am

A round-up of the latest reviews

The Hind's Head, Berkshire
AA Gill, The Sunday Times, 10 January

"We were seated upstairs in a big, dark, wooden room, redolent of Terence Rattigan and men in cravats with string-back gloves and bad teeth who had had good wars, talking about taking the Bristol for a spin. The Hinds Head is also a hotel, so perfect for a spot of Terry Thomas post-prandial naughties. A card on the table boasts that this is where Prince Philip had his stag night. Oh, I can just picture it — what japes, what risqué badinage, what debagging and hallooing, what tart-bobbing and gentrified fun. This is the spore of an England that many of you miss with the dull ache of a lovelorn nostalgia, but which makes me want to join the KGB. I sat beside an unlit grate — the fires may be fake, but the draught that descends the chimney isn't."

"The menu is fine: Brief Encounter, brass-band food; a pair of roasts, potted shrimp, lemon sole, treacle tart, chips. There are devils on horseback; worcestershire, or perhaps it was warwickshire, whizzers that turn out to be cocktail sausages. We started with home-made scotch quail's eggs: the pork was just the uncomfortable side of undercooked at the centre. The Blonde told the waiter. When the bill came, it had, rightly, been removed, 'Because,' the manager said with a smile, 'you thought it wasn't cooked properly.' It's like being served by compensation lawyers — no, actually, I didn't feed it to the kids, because raw, warm pork isn't good for them, and the appropriate word here is 'Sorry', whether or not you mean it."

Pizza East, London
Zoe Williams, The Telegraph, 15 January

"They stress the uniqueness of their dough, and I've got to give it to them – it is puffed up, golden, crispy to exactly the right degree, striking a perfect balance between squidgy and dry. I had the one with veal meatballs, cream, parsley and lemon (£12). 'That's just my starter on toast, is it?' T said, prodding. 'No, no, it's veal. So it's like your starter, with extra cruelty.' (Although, reader, British veal actually isn't cruel these days. I am mired in my past as an animal-rights activist. Well, I say activist. Other people would say moaning teenager.) The meatballs were delicious.

"Veal is a very rewarding experience – serious but subtle, seasoned so beautifully here they should really make their own sausages. Cream, lemon, parsley – what's not to like? Well, all the cream, unfortunately… I don't know if you're familiar with The Joan Collins Beauty Book of 1981: she interviews all her beautiful friends about how they stay beautiful, and her Italian one says, 'Always tomatoes, never cream.' Well, sod beauty, I don't care about beauty, but that could be written on the gravestone (or birth certificate?) of the mighty pizza. Only tomatoes, people; cream is too much. It's delicious for a slice, thought-provoking for slice two, then too much. T had the san daniele ham, artichoke and fontina cheese (£11). Again, it was delicious for a while, but the tomato influence was much missed."

The Kitchin, Edinburgh
Jasper Gerard, The Telegraph, 15 January

"Diana begins with chargrilled razor clams (pictured above), described here in the delightful Scottish manner as 'spoots'. A more Mediterranean touch is chorizo and lemon confit, lending bite and smoky flavour to the spoots. Colourful fennel, carrots, dill, chives and parsley make this sunny and yummy."

"Just as fine is roast duck, still smouldering from the 12-bore that interrupted its day, in gravy with apricots, fresh almonds and potato barbecued on a rosemary skewer. But the highlight is Diana's boudin of (ubiquitous) pork belly with Devonshire snails, with seared lettuce and a garlicky parsley sauce. A potato plinth supports the snail like a statue on Princes Street. Atop the pork is parsley fried like Chinese seaweed and garlic crisps, echoing the sauce, with juicy girolles dotted around the base."

Mansons, London
Fay Maschler, Evening Standard, 14 January

"Fish oils: they must be embraced. They were why I ordered fillet of mackerel with green olive crust but the dish wasn't quite as good as the escabeche of red mullet with braised baby gem of the first visit and, at £7.50, £1 more expensive, which makes no logical sense."

"The chop was rosy and juicy but the chips - deep-fried vertical slices of a whole potato - came in for criticism from the recipient.

"I thought them rather good and testing again and again to make quite sure meant that I didn't finish the silky green herb risotto that came with a dark, moody braise of ox cheek. 

"Game hot pot with January King cabbage which came in its own Staub cast-iron mini-cocotte was the perfect icy weather combo."

Wheeler's of St James's, London
David Sexton, Evening Standard, 14 January

"The restaurant claims to have undergone a 'stunning makeover'. It's not apparent. The best area to eat is evidently in the bright, initial bar area where there are some appealing booths but, though they were empty, we were steered into the slightly sinister room at the back, with such peculiarly dim lighting that you feel as though you've landed in a David Lynch scenario that's bound to end badly."

"The menu is British, short, understated and eye-wateringly expensive. Six Colchester natives are £19.50, langoustine cocktail £16.50, grilled Dover sole £30, the starter Chablis £42 a bottle, the most basic Meursault £69. Add 12.5 per cent service and you have a bill that would cover a weekend away."

"Fish and chips (£14.50) was decent enough, a big piece of haddock crisply fried in batter, with floury mushy peas and a stack of triple-fried chips served upright in a separate pot. All a bit upmarket Little Chef. We didn't fancy 'English puddings' - sticky toffee, roly-poly, bread and butter, and the rest."

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