You Me House, New Malden

Compared to other SE Asian cuisines, Korean is strangely overlooked in this town, for some reason. Chinese is effortlessly well represented at the top (Hutong, Min Jiang) and the bottom (Silk Road, Chilli Cool) ends of the budget, you'll never want for a good Vietnamese meal if you're anywhere near Battersea or Hackney, and every high street in town has a Thai restaurant despite the fact none of them are much good. But while there are a couple of Korean restaurants lurking around Zone 1 (Kimchee, Asadal, Koba), they had, for presumably very understandable reasons of rent and overheads, been tame and rather overpriced, and with indifferent service borne of the kind of location that gets a healthy tourist footfall.

So it was during yet another interesting but ultimately disappointing meal at popup Jubo in Shoreditch last month that I and a friend finally vowed to pull our fingers out and make the trip to where we'd constantly been told is the home of authentic Korean cooking in London - New Malden. Actually, as we both live near Clapham Junction, the journey to New Malden station itself was fairly trivial; the problem is that unlike, say, Kingsland Road or Chinatown, the restaurants are spread out over a large, anonymous stretch of South London suburb that makes planning your destination in advance a neccessity. We'd settled on You Me House (either a bad translation or they really do want to sound like a Cbeebies TV show) after a tipoff from a New Malden regular, promising authentic food on a budget.

It started extremely well. The (You Me) house snacks consisted of some crunchy mung beans in a sticky dressing and bean sprouts in sesame oil, and both those and a boldly-spiced, gently fizzy house kimchi were devoured even before any decisions were made about which other food to order. House beer was something called 'Hite' that tasted of precisely nothing, which is probably the point.

Of the main dishes, there were two highlights. Chilli-salted chicken had that knobbly, bubbly coating that all the best Korean chicken does, and the flesh inside was nicely moist. I would have a liked a bit more chilli perhaps, and slightly more acidity in the coating, but it was still a good example of this kind of thing.

Steamed dumplings were huge, soft, doughy affairs, generously stuffed with a pork/herb mixture and full of flavour. The dough, in fact, was so good it was perfectly edible on its own, which is just as well, as after cack-handedly shredding the things apart with a spoon and chopsticks to create chunks small enough to swallow, you tended to end up with either pork, or dough, and only very rarely both.

Other dishes were, if not unsuccessful exactly, then at least slightly more everyday. Bibimbap was perfectly good but the fierce heat of the stone pot overcooked it almost before we'd had a chance to take a bite each. Thin strips of beef rib, too, stood little chance of being tender after 30 seconds on a white-hot iron griddle, but still managed to retain a faint memory of a gentle garlic marinade. Only a beef and noodle dish was a real disappointment, the house-made noodles suffering under the weight of a gloopy black sauce of no discernible flavour.

We had massively over-ordered, and had to take much of the leftovers home in plastic boxes (which they were happy to provide), and so our bill came to a not-insubstantial £56.70 for two. But at a very conservative guess I'd say even half this amount of food would have been enough, and with that in mind I'm pretty sure you could have a very nice meal (dumplings, chicken, kimchee, perhaps some rice) for no more than £15 a head. And for that reason, it's hard to criticise You Me House too much. Service was charming (it's family-run), the place was clean and bright, and with a menu this size it's not hard to imagine I could have ordered much better. So here's to next time.

7/10

Mayfields, Hackney

It's not just that a lot of new restaurants have opened in London recently, although those numbers in isolation are still staggering. What's truly impressive is that so many aren't just good, but groundbreaking, serving dishes of supreme skill, sure, but of remarkable ingenuity and with unusual ingredients treated in exciting new ways. Someone recently emailed me asking for my five favourite openings of the past 12 months and narrowing it down to just that many was one of the most difficult exercises I've had to undertake in a long time. Seriously, out of Gymkhana, The Dairy, Toast (East Dulwich), The Clove Club, Peckham Bazaar, Bone Daddies, Hutong, Casse Croute, Smokehouse, One Leicester Street, Newman Street Tavern, Bubbledogs, Duck and Waffle, Sushisamba, and now bloody Mayfields, which five would you choose? It's pretty much impossible.

Yes, Mayfields. It deserves a spot in that hall of champions above for many reasons, but let's start at the beginning. It's a bright, bijou dining space attached to a small kitchen, and if I'm going to be brutal I'd say that some tables are better than others - I certainly wouldn't want to be sat at that one right next to the door once the winter really kicks in, and some of the others are packed pretty close together. But the staff are relentlessly friendly and at least in this small, open space you never have to try hard to attract their attention, so there are benefits.

House bread, fresh sourdough, with a grassy olive oil was very good. It was probably from Bakehouse E5, though I'm happy to be corrected on this.

Seabass ceviche (fantastic fresh fish, gently marinaded) came in a cold watercress soup which had the most extraordinary colour, like dark green ink. The last time I've seen something this colour was a chervil "tea" at El Bulli, but that was disgusting - here it softly enhanced the flavours of the fish without being overwhelming or bitter. Do you hear that, Mayfields? You're better than El Bulli.

Mackerel sashimi and sesame was similarly inventive - and very successful. The toasted seeds and oily fish were actually a really good match, and for £3.50 you got plenty of it.

Duck and pumpkin was nicely seasonal, and prettily presented with some dried citrus and various root vegetables. The duck itself, presumably sous-vided to a perfect pink colour, was seasoned well and had a great texture - you could have almost cut through it with a spoon.

And then the absolute star course, in which every element, flaky white cod, smokey grilled cauli and leeks, some fantastic crispy cabbage of some sort and a marvellous rich olive sauce, combined to produce one of those dishes you will remember for a long, long time. There is some serious talent in the kitchen at Mayfields, and they're not afraid to show it off. This dish, with all its different techniques and ingredients, cost just £10.20. The total bill, with five alcoholic drinks, came to £31/head - they even only added 10% service charge, as if I couldn't have loved them more.

Not so long ago, an opening as profoundly impressive as this would have been the talk of the town. These days, I'm worried their efforts may be lost in the storm of talent that seems to be sweeping every corner of the capital. But given its size and location, perhaps ducking the very brightest glare of the spotlight might do them - and you - a favour. It may just mean you can get a table at a reasonable hour, and that they may avoid the kiss of death of the dreaded Michelin inspectors. Yes, this is yet another astonishing new restaurant for Londoners to get their teeth into. Long may this dazzling trend continue.

9/10

Cheese and Biscuits on tour: Dublin

Apologies for the spate of non-London posts - it just so happens I've had cause to travel about a bit recently, and being the hopeless restaurant spod that I am, even before I have a hotel and flights booked I have decided where I'm going to have dinner. In Paris, Septime and Chateaubriand were "must-visit" restaurants, internationally important and cutting-edge, which no self-respecting blogger could ignore. But for a weekend in Dublin arranged around a friend's wedding, I wanted something simpler, less likely to take up the short time I had there, and - let's face it - cheaper.

In the end, the decision was more or less made for me. Full disclosure time - both the hotel I stayed in (The Clarence), the Liquor Rooms and the Bison Bar are all owned by the same people (not Bono any more thank heavens), who very generously offered to put me up and generally lavish me with the kind of hospitality that everyone in Dublin seems determined to give in spades. Key to my getting involved with these guys in the first place was reading up on the Bison Bar, billed (by themselves, admittedly) as "Ireland's first authentic Texas BBQ" and receiving some pretty positive reviews. Given that there isn't really anywhere even in London yet doing authentic US BBQ (yes I know Pitt Cue are good but it's very much their take on BBQ, not I'm led to believe quite what you'd get in Austin, TX) this was going to be a reason in itself.

But first things first, and late on Friday after a typically traumatic Ryanair flight we were relieved to slip into the velvety red bosom of the Liquor Rooms, underneath the Clarence. Part Parisian boudoir, part bedouin tent, with a number of dark low-ceiling rooms containing cosy snugs and two large marble-clad bars, it's an undeniably classy place, everyone - staff and customers, present company excepted - pleasant and well-dressed. Our spot, in a little cubby-hole created by an extension of the bar, was so comfortable we could have spent the night there, and in fact very nearly did.

Fortunately, it's not all show. The drinks, firstly, were all of very high quality - a martini ice cold, a sidecar expertly balanced. There's an extensive list of house cocktails which I'm sure are all good but once we realised our barman could do the classics so well we hardly felt the need to experiment.

With such lovely surroundings and accomplished drinks, the Liquor Rooms could have just kept the bar snacks to packets of crisps and it would have still been worth spending the evening there. Plenty of otherwise decent bars in London have no kitchen to speak of, or if they do seem content to charge way over the odds for reheated spring rolls or microwaved nachos. So the Liquor Rooms' achievement on the food is all the more impressive - everything we tried wasn't just better than it needed to be for a late-night bar, but genuinely enjoyable, from a generous portion of antipasti containing some nice soft cheeses and folds of Italian hams, to a huge bowl of chicken wings crisped up with a soy dressing. Best of all were some huge chilli/garlic prawns that were cooked to juicy, springy perfection - I'm so used to plasticky, overcooked prawns I'd almost forgotten how good they could be when handled by someone who knows what they're doing. Bar food done well.

I'm acutely aware this post already sounds dangerously advertorial - I almost wish there had been something wrong with the Liquor Rooms so I can salvage some veneer of objectivity. But I'm sure my experience would have been just as positive had I been footing the bill myself, and if I'm ever in Dublin again I'll be back. Given its obvious popularity, plenty of others feel the same.

A mistake a lot of American theme restaurants make is to fill up the walls with Route 66 road signs and quirky neon beer branding and hope the result doesn't look too much like a branch of TGI Friday's (it always does). Bison Bar have, to their credit, kept much of the format of the pub that presumably used to occupy the space, including the handsome old oak bar, and added only select touches of Americana - some imposing taxidermy, and a few amusing saddle-stools. The most atmospheric touch is the all-pervading cloud of smoke emanating from the real smoking cabinets in the kitchen and wafting down the street, which gets you into the mood for a plate of ribs and brisket before you've even stepped through the front door.

Now, I've never been to Texas, so I can't comment on authenticity. Someone once told me that you never have fries with proper Southern BBQ so on this front already more Dublin than Dallas. All I can tell you is that everything, from the beautifully moist smoked chicken, to the grease-less onion rings, to the lean, rich sausage, to the aforementioned fries, was right up there with the best BBQ food I've had the pleasure to eat in my life. Whoever is in charge of the kitchen has clearly both been to a Texas BBQ joint and - crucially - has learned the best way of recreating the experience back home using similar equipment.

Everything was worth the asking price and then some, but I have to put in a special word for the brisket, which was thick and fatty with a fantastic pink crust that made you wish it lasted forever. I have tried the sad, grey slabs of leather that certain London restaurants like to call brisket but this was another species entirely, enough to convert even the most ardent BBQ sceptic. It was so good, in fact, that I wish they'd not put quite as much BBQ sauce on it in my sandwich, as I'd like more of the beef flavour to shine through, but this is a very minor niggle. Coleslaw, smoked beans, dipping sauces, everything else was devoured with pleasure.

Next to the near-faultless food offering was a decent craft beer selection (I had one flavoured with seaweed out of sheer curiosity, though perhaps fortunately I couldn't really taste it) and a short cocktail list - they do a mean whisk(e)y sour. And even the desserts weren't an afterthought - peach cobbler contained a lovely fresh biscuit and I'm still kicking myself I ran out of time the next day to return for the chocolate fudge brownie.

So yes, as freebies go, this weekend was a bit of a success. Accepting such a comprehensive set of comped meals, not to mention a two-night stay in one of the best hotels in town, sounds like the greatest of all blagger perks and of course I'm very grateful for everyone involved for sorting it out. There's nothing more satisfying than being able to report back on a happy experience to those who have gone out of their way to create one, but equally there's nothing more terrifying than the prospect of being the bearer of bad news when things go wrong, so I'm delighted this weekend worked out the way it did. Anyway, navel-gazing aside there's really only one thing you need to know - if you go to the Liquor Rooms or the Bison Bar, you will enjoy yourself.

One last thing and I'll finish, I promise. The wedding, on the Saturday (Congratulations Sarah and Gareth), took place in an idyllic old pub in a ludicrously picturesque spot ten minutes out of Dublin city centre called Strawberry Bed. A welcome of prosecco and Guinness and live Irish music led on to a short, touching ceremony in an upstairs room lit by candles. The wedding banquet, so often a distressing affair involving boiled vegetables and grey roast beef, was here a starter of crab and lobster salad with fresh baked bread, and a main of monkfish fillet wrapped in pancetta. Based on their ability to feed 60 or so people this well in one go, I'm guessing the Angler's Rest would feed an individual in the restaurant downstairs very well indeed. We ate, we laughed, we drank, we got drunk on Mini Guinness (Tia Maria and Baileys), we danced, I don't remember getting home. It doesn't really get much better than that. If this is Ireland, consider me sold.

I was a guest of the the Liquor Rooms, the Bison Bar, and
The Clarence Hotel, 6 – 8 Wellington Quay, Dublin 2, Ireland
Great Christmas packages now available!
For the best rates please see www.theclarence.ie
Bookings and enquiries: Tel + 353 1 4070800 or Email: reservations@theclarence.ie

The Liquor Rooms 9/10

The Bison Bar 9/10

Chateaubriand, Paris

There is an attractive, pared-back dining space, chalkboard menus, dark furnishings unencumbered by tablecloths, and a charming young staff that all speak very good English. The menu is modern but accessible, taking cues from all over the world, with fresh ingredients cooked to a high degree of skill and colourfully presented on a variety of interesting tableware. It cost around €80 a head and we enjoyed ourselves very much indeed.

No, you haven't accidentally re-read the Septime post. I probably could have gone for a bit more variety in my Paris restaurant picks, but I was determined to steer clear of anywhere with a Michelin star, and wasn't brave enough to risk an evening queuing for one of the excellent no-reservations Japanese or Vietnamese places I keep hearing about. So Chateaubriand it was, and I have no regrets, you'll just have to ignore the faint sense of déjà vu.

Whilst at Septime you could choose between 3 and 5 courses, at Chateaubriand (for dinner at least) you just get asked if there's anything you can't cope with and they sort out the rest. With the Pescatarian on board, and given experiences at lunch the previous day, I was half expecting another awkward moment, but there were no plates of ham to share, and no hidden bacon in any of her courses, so well done them.

Gougère ("cheesy puffs" our waiter explained, cutely pre-empting our query) were a fantastic way to start the meal, soft and warm with a gently moist filling and a lovely colour. These were, in fact, better than the ones I'd had at 3 Michelin Star Alaine Ducasse in the Dorchester. I'm never going to tire of using that phrase.

Another amuse, little metal bowls of sea bass ceviche, impressed as well, the mixture not too bitter or too sweet, and (although you can't see them from the photo) with plenty of chunky fish.

The next sharing plate, of deep-fried prawns, were fantastic. I have no idea how they've managed to deep-fry these to get a super-crunchy coating on the outside while still keeping the flesh moist and meaty, but they were, and the citrus powder of some sort they rested on did the work of a squeeze of lemon without making them soggy. Very, very clever stuff.

Beneath the spinach and slices of radish on this plate are hiding a handful of huge, juicy cockles, with a flavour - think sea spray and rock pools - that brought gasps all around the table. I don't think I've ever had better cockles.

A mini bowl of bouillabaisse was next, and packed with rich, seafood flavour. By this point we were barely past halfway, and enjoying every second of it.

The next course was interesting - squid (large chunks, perfectly cooked and seasoned), with cep mushrooms, only some were braised and some left raw. The flavour from both kinds of mushrooms was great, and added into the mix was a pile of chopped sorrel, adding an earthy/bitter dimension.

Monkfish with green chillies next, notable for great big chunks of delicately cooked monkfish paired with some pomelo (or grapefruit) cells and chunks of powerful chilli. It was remarkably spicy, in fact, considering the style of what had come before, but they deserve all credit for not wimping out on the chilli as it added an good sweet burn to counter the bitter citrus.

Last of the savoury courses was this remarkable pile of black trumpet mushrooms, under which hid some very good seared beef and a few chunks of bone marrow. You can't really go wrong with beef and mushroom, but the intense flavour of these fried trompette de la mort was really something. The Pescatarian had something that looked similar but didn't have any beef in. Probably fish. I can't remember. But there was no meat in it, that's the main thing.

So far so bloody excellent, then, which makes the dessert courses all that more difficult to explain. First was a small piece of dry shortbread topped with a caramelised egg yolk. I'm guessing they were so pleased with themselves for perfecting this sugar-encased-yolk technique that they forgot to make it edible, as the yolk was entirely untreated and jarred horribly as an element in a dessert, like the deconstructed ingredients of an unbaked spongecake. No thanks.

And the second dessert, whilst not inedible, was nonetheless fairly unimaginative - a dark chocolate mousse with mint sorbet. Fine, but the kind of thing I've had many times before - though maybe that says more about the amount of times I eat out than whether anyone else would enjoy it.

Some fresh figs served as petits fours, and with that we were done. The crying shame, of course is that up until desserts Chateaubriand was heading for a 9 or a 10 score, and only the drastic derailing over the sweet courses prevented that from happening. Everything else - the savoury food, the amuses and between-course treats, the service, the atmosphere, the sheer pleasure of being a part of this slick operation, is worth the (actually very reasonable) bill and then some. So I can still say, with only some slight hesitation, that Chateaubriand is worth your while. A largely hugely enjoyable meal, with only one or two glaring errors to watch out for. Déjà vu.

8/10