SW4 – Rotli Crew @ The King & Co – Clapham

It’s not something I normally shout about, but as well as this wee blog, I also write a monthly food and drink column for the Clapham and Wandsworth Magazine.  In November’s edition which is out shortly (and is distributed to discerning households and businesses in Wandsworth, Battersea, Clapham, Balham, Tooting, Southfields and Putney), I wrote about some notable pop ups in the area. One of them was Rotli Crew, and while I didn’t have the word count to review the Indian street food specialists within the mag, I was more than willing to pen a few additional characters and sample some of the morsels on offer for this little blog. Rotli Crew’s residency is running at the independently run The King & Co pub on Clapham Park Road until Sunday 29th November

The menu is made up of small plates (or starters, if you prefer), large plates, sides and puddings -although I would say that the portions are extremely generous and there little discrepancy in serving size between them. Small plates on the menu include jeera-fried chicken wings, tomato and onion kachumber, green chilli raita; pani puri filled with kala chana, tamarind ketchup and green chutney, and aubergine, paneer and seasonal greens bhajia – the latter two were what I chose.

The pani puri (pictured below) were crunchy and of course sweetly tangy thanks to the tamarind ketchup. The dish is one of texture but I wouldn’t say particularly strong on other flavours – other than the tamarind which is obviously the main shebang here. I’d like to shove a whole one in my mouth a be greeted with a wealth of textures and flavour combinations.

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The aubergine, paneer and seasonal green bhajia below looked a lot more attractive than my dimly lit photos. The external crunch of the bhajia gives way to soft and varied texture of the ingredients within – all of which are visible and perfectly formed. The bhajia are fresh, hot and should be served more often in pubs with a pint of IPA.

rotli-crew-king-and-co-9

The masala cod cheeks in IPA batter, red lentil dhal, lime pickle raita (part of the largerwere really beautifully cooked – the cod cheeks were delicate and sweet and while it was my favourite choice from my order, the dish would have been improved without the dhal which didn’t really add anything other than a soggy bottom.

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For a side I chose potato achaar – with mango pickle dressing. The potatoes were soft with a delicate crunch on their corners but the mango pickle made them seem salty.

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Paratha is one of my favourite Indian breads. When I visited India back on my Gap Yah (actually it was more of a one-month sejour), I had it for breakfast every day. Rotli Crew’s took me back there – soft, buttery with delicious layers which tear and unfold and your pull it apart. More, more more!

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Rotli Crew are doing an excellent job in their temporary home, serving up manageable morsels of Indian street food to hungry pub punters. It’s a perfect stop for a pint and a bite to eat, a stone’s throw from the busy never-to-get-a-seat other Clapham alternatives.

The King & Co
100 Clapham Park Road,
SW4 7BZ

Rotli Crew
www.franceandnoonan.com/streetfood

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SW4 – Clapham – The Pepper Tree Brunch

A few images from my brunch at the Pepper Tree (who have just had a lovely refurbishment) and are now serving brunch as well as their dinner menu.

Cracking Bloody Mary – enough lemongrass to get you high! 😉

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A venti-sized bowl of congee!

The Pepper Tree
19 Clapham Common South Side
London
SW4 7 AB
020 7622 1758

SW4 – Clapham Old Town – Zumbura

NB: Pictures to follow. I have recently moved house (still in the SW postcode!) and have no internet so uploading images has been a tad tricky! When I find a suitable connection they will be uploaded!

 

Despite being there since November 2013, Zumbura in Clapham Old Town had escaped me. I don’t often head down to the Old Town and from a casual passer-by perspective you might not notice it yourself as it’s a little out of place in Clapham (in a good way). The interior is minimalist café-cool; greys, blues and brick with splashes of yellow.

“But we don’t care about the interior Heather! Tell us about the food!”

The reason why I am waxing lyrical about the café, trendy-feel to Zumbura is because the dishes rather reflect that too. Small plates to me have become synonymous with an overpriced expensive dinner (I’m looking at you House of Ho) and I was slightly worried Zumbura was heading down the same path. What Zumbura has over its Soho, small-plated counterparts is that its street-food style dishes should, in their traditional form I’m told, be served on the smaller side – in shareable, social portions. If you think you’re not getting your money’s worth – you’re wrong. It’s a delightful way to eat Indian food. It makes for a welcome change from the heavy north Indian curries I have reviewed on one and two occasions.

I won’t start by saying “to start with”, because that’s not really how it works with small plates is it? Our pakora was light and crispy and it was served with a tamarind, and mint dip / relish. Brilliant…next!

My dinner date for the night was The Mauritian, as he is to be known, and as his ma is a bit of a dab hand at cooking Mauritian-style bitter gourd, we decided to pit Zumbura and The Mauritian’s mum head to head (you can tell how this is going to end). Funnily enough bitter gourd (kerela) is, well, bitter (or is WELL bitter). Honestly if you don’t like strong flavours then really don’t go for this. The only thing I can really compare it against is when you accidently and rather unfortunately bite into the skin of a chestnut at Christmas. To be honest the kerela wasn’t that bad – there was some joy in the pre-acerbic flavour which coated the inside of your mouth (the texture of the gourd is really rather lovely). While you may think we’re brave (or worse, stupid) for trying something which is by namesake bitter, then well we do have a defence. You can (and most do) soak bitter gourd in salt water to remove some of the more unappealing traits of the vegetable – but Zumbura, in perhaps a test to their customers, does not! (NOTE: Please don’t interpret this as a scathing review – just not the one for me /us)!

Ghuggni is the sort of sound I make when I have my annual bout of flu but THIS dish was the bees knees of the chick pea world. Lavish amounts of black chick peas braised in onion and mango powder – is what ghuggni is. Go to Zumbura. Try this dish, it’s like crack. Thick, nutty, wholesome and well-seasoned are exactly the words I’d use to describe it. And there you go – those are the words I have indeed used to describe it.

So glad I managed to get a crack simile in there.

The pollock with mustard seeds and fenugreek (machli ka salan) was really beautifully cooked, but the accompanying curry sauce didn’t really stand out – if you’re looking at it from a fish curry perspective, which I was. I wanted it to be richer, fishier and to feel like in some way my fish and sauce had at some point been cooked together.

The Mauritian ordered lamb chops (sikkiwe chops: twice marinated in herbs) – which are his favourites. Although I don’t eat lamb he said that while tasty, they were dry. His murghi ka salan (chicken curry) WAS rich and it WAS addictive (although not as addictive as the crack-like chick peas). Yes Zumbura!

I don’t want to end a review badly, because Zumbura is a really nice venue, with fresh, delicately spiced ‘thoughtful’ food (I mean they’ve taken care to think about the ingredient combinations). But the paratha really was horrible. In my experience paratha is light, layered – you pull it apart and the layers flake away from one another. Zumbura’s paratha was thick, leathery, and semi translucent (like it had been sat in oil – or worse, microwaved). Paratha is one of my favourite Indian breads and I wanted it to mould round my hand like a ladle and scoop those divine black chick peas up. It was not to be.

While we experienced the dinner service at Zumbura, they do open for lunch and have light bites which I think would sit pretty darned well with a lunch-time cocktail (I hear they are pretty slick). I don’t normally give scores on the doors, but Zumbura secured at favourable 7.5/10. I would go there again, and I have recommended it to a friend since. So there you go.

Zumbura
36a Old Town,
Clapham,
London
SW4 0LB

SW4 – Clapham Common – The Dairy

I’m not a romantic type, but I am a pedant when it comes to choosing a venue which is appropriate for the atmosphere, company and of course food. The Welshman and I had a free evening on Tuesday, and as it was just the two of us at the beginning of the week, we though it an appropriate occasion to try The Dairy in Clapham; subdued quality dining which would be relatively informal.

It’s a small, narrow restaurant which squeezes itself between two units (which I forget the name of) as the pathway from the Clapham Common Tube station gradually bends into Old Town. In a sense it is enigmatic from the front; upon walking in, it suddenly strikes you that it is much, much bigger (or should I say longer) than you might expect. The high benches at the front exude ‘wine bar’, sharing snacks and shifting uncomfortably on stools. At the back, you find the restaurant, with the traditional table and chair set-up. The tables are small, and with the sharing platters that the menu proffers, alongside the dim candlelight – it is a slightly cramped, elbows-at-dawn intimate affair.

The low lighting is the stuff of food blogger nightmares. Sadly, and as a result of this lack of ambient brilliance, my photography efforts were somewhat hindered. I have credited the photographer where I have borrowed an image.

Each dish on the menu is starter sized. Between us we chose seven dishes (including two deserts) and we were offered, on the house, bread and smoked bone marrow butter (heavenly), and a complimentary appetizer to go with our aperitifs.

The menu is sectioned into: snacks; garden; sea; land; sweet.

Snacks

The truffled brie de meux on toast with acacia honey was obscenely decadent (not that I am complaining). A beautiful combination of sweet, salty and textured crunch. (£8.5)

The padron peppers, cod head, smoked cod roe (£6) was one of my favourite dishes. This is the perfect aperitif if you enjoy strong flavours; the kick of the chilli, the soft creamy roe with the added surprise of the delicate head meat. Sublime. A perfect sharing dish.

Photo by Wrap Your Lips Around This

Garden

To be fair, I wasn’t overly enamored with the selection on here; nothing really appealed. In the end we chose the rooftop carrots, goats cheese, oat granola, buttermilk (£7.5) – it was more to fill us up and reach the seven-plate quota we were recommended. In truth, it wasn’t necessary. However, the sharp textures of the pickled vegetables, the heartening crunch of the immaculately cooked carrots (which had that slightly leathery, caramelised structure to their skins) and the crunch of the walnuts, made it a very welcome dish indeed. And, frankly, one of the most beautiful which left the pass.

Sea

If you try one dish, please try the mackerel. Nigel’s mackerel – as it was described – with Swiss chard and bonito butter (£9) was a delight. The fish was seared and still pink on the inside. It melted like butter.

Photo by Wrap Your Lips Around This

Land

The presentation of the 32 day aged Irish onglet, butternut squash, black cabbage (£9.5) was divine. And, even though I would consider myself a butternut squash skeptic, this was a delight on the tongue. The onglet was a bit disappointing – slightly tough and lacking in flavour. The steak The Welshman enjoyed at L’Eto was better.

Photo by Wrap Your Lips Around This

Sweet

For the sake of a comprehensive review of the menu, we shared two puddings. While I normally have no sweet tooth at all, the clementine with brown butter ice cream and rice (£6.5) was a phenomenon. Butter ice cream will change your life. As The Welshman said: “Well, I wasn’t going to live that long anyway.”

The other sweet dish – a deconstructed Eton mess – was boring and unimaginative. It paled into insignificance against the butter ice cream and the other fantastic dishes we’d enjoyed.

What defines a good restaurant? The Dairy is certainly good one – and at just under £40 a head including drinks, it’s incredible value for money for the quality dishes served up. I was initially contacted by Match.com who asked me to recommend a place where a couple on a date might enjoy an evening out. I do think The Dairy could be that sort of place – it’s somewhere to impress, but is understated and unpretentious. It’s not raucous and you can freely enjoy conversation while there is still a foundation atmosphere which would put a new-ish couple at ease.

It’s definitely somewhere, if you live in the area, you must try…but if I’m honest, I think it’s a ‘once only’ place for me. I’d much rather go to somewhere like Abbeville Kitchen or Bistro Union where they have ‘robust’ dishes with more complex flavour combinations – and – just that little bit more space to bend your elbows.

SW4 – Clapham Common – Clapham Tandoori

I’m going to save you my usual preamble and jump straight in with this blogpost. On tonight’s food blogger menu is Clapham Tandoori which is opposite Clapham Common tube station.

To start…Baingan E Bahar on the menu was described as baked aubergine steaks stuffed with paneer. The image does allude to something similar, although it looks slightly different; more like an aubergine sandwiched between two chunky of paneer – not really stuffed. The aubergine was as one would expect and the paneer really was quite bland. There wasn’t any sauces or condiments save for the garnish and swirl of mixed sauce which had a bit of a skin on it – as if it has been sat under the heater, waiting for everything to be plated.

Baingan E Bahar at Clapham Tandoori The SW Food Blog

The Welshman and I ordered something more unusual I spotted on the menu as I do like to try out new things. This dish was significantly more rewarding in flavour – Patty Bola Chingri…

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The gram flour pancake, which surrounded the prawns in the mild tomato-based curry, was tasty enough and crispy on the outside. Gram flour, as I’m sure you are familiar, is made from chick peas and therefore has a similar flavour to popadoms which are made of the same thing. This pancake was crispy on the outside but a little tough as I bit through. The additional peppercorns embedded in the flour mix did give it a little more lift.  The prawn mix was well flavoured but could have done with a few more prawns. What is with these wet iceberg lettuce garnishes though? Please cut it out (or be more inventive – does anyone ever eat them?)!

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Photographing curry at Indian and making it look delicious, is never an easy task regardless of whether you have an iPhone or a DSLR. I apologise in advance.

Onto the mains, first up was the The Golda Chingri Morrisha – grilled king sized prawns, cooked with green peppers, onions and fresh green chillies in a hot sauce. Allegedly it was awarded the Best Seafood Curry of 2006. That’s not that strange, but closely followed after that statement was this – House of Commons –  in brackets. Whether or not this curry has been honoured in statute, remains to be seen. The sauce was a little cloyie (suspiciously shiny and a little gloopy) but had a decent kick which pleased my taste buds. There were more giant king prawns than you could throw a stick at, although they’d been grilled a little too  much beforehand and were slightly chewy and overcooked.

Golda Chingri Morrisha The SW Food Blog

Th Welshman ordered Chicken Xakuti; a South Indian-style curry which was prepared with freshly ground coconut – again bestowed with a House of Commons award and looked something like this…

Chicken Xakuti The SW London Food Blog

As I’ve mentioned before, The Welshman is a man of few adjectives and still he described the chicken as a stringy and dry. The sauce was fresher tasting than mine but was too coarse as a result of the nobbules of coconut. The sauce didn’t do too much to bring out the individual spices and they were lost as a result.

Chicken Xakuti The SW Food Blog 2

The Peshwari naan was pleasing enough, although why they drowned it in sweet syrup is beyond me. My saag paratha had been waiting under the heater for way too long – DRY!

The service was good and despite this not being the most favourable review, Clapham Tandoori wasn’t a terrible meal. They’ve been in the same location for about 70-odd years and the business is still run within the founding family – they’re a stalwart compared to the vast majority of Clapham Common restaurateurs. It does appear they are trying to give that ‘finer dining’ experience to that of your average curry house. The execution was haphazard in places and although there were some pleasing flavours in both mine and The Welshman’s dishes, there were the tiny details which had been neglected. It would be the place to go if you had a lot of hungry friends and were searching for a substantial Indian / Bangladeshi meal in Clapham, but if you’re after finesse and beautiful flavourings and accompaniments, it’s probably not for you.

Clapham Tandoori on Urbanspoon

I was invited by Clapham Tandoori for this review. 

SW12 Clapham – Old School Thai curry pastes

So you’ll probably have guessed by now, either from this blog or my Twitter account, that I am middle class enough to have taken a Gap Year. I am not however, sufficiently upper class to have taken a Gap Yah. I’ll leave that for my pashmina-ed pals across the river in South Ken. But yes, yes…I’ve been to Thailand. I’ve bought a Chang vest from that chap on the Kao San Road. I got a PADI qualification in Ko Tao. I’ve drunk Thai whiskey out of small buckets with iridescent straws. Those days however, are over. I am wise enough now to know there is another way; if you stay in the comfort of your own home, then the buckets are much larger.

I didn’t have a spiritual awakening in Thailand; I was too busy eating for that to happen. Travelling to the Isaan region in the north east, completed the trip with respect to Thai cuisine. When Mekong catfish is barbecued, served with steaming sticky rice in a reed basket, with a side of som tam (a spicy salad comprised of unripe papaya) it is like eating what you’d dream of serving up to Daniel Craig if he were to attend your imaginary dinner party. Me and ‘Dan’ are pretty close* so I don’t have to imagine – I’m sure he told me once that he liked a good Laarb Gai.

Thai curry, be it green or red, is the most overdone thing in the book, right after pad Thai. I rarely make it because the sheer volume of ingredients make it a ridiculously expensive – cost per head – dish. Also I can guarantee you’ll always find, some weeks later, a lemon grass stick at the back of the fridge which is beyond redemption.

I was approached by a company called Old School Thai (presumably they had not heard about my lewd exploits in Pattaya – I jest, I jest!) who asked me to try a couple of their Thai curry pastes. They’re based around south west London, and, as as you know I’m always in the business of supporting good, local producers. Founder Brett Cowie claims his pastes will take you “on a trip back in time to Thailand when my grandma was still making curries herself”. That’s marketing speak if ever I heard it (in the day job I hear it a lot). But let’s get down to brass tacks; what we all want to know is, are they any good?

Well yes, they’re not bad. I like the idea of having something which is incredibly fresh at hand which negates those ‘bugger it’ moments when you realise you missed out ONE ingredient on your Tesco shop (you’d sworn you’d bought everything). I put together a prawn curry with the red curry paste. All the ingredients I added were some sugar snap peas, cherry tomatoes, fish sauce, kaffir lime leaves, prawns, coconut milk, chilli, Thai basil and palm sugar. Still seems like a substantial amount of ingredients – but then there’s about double that in the paste itself.

Old School Thai Red Curry Paste

Old School Thai Red Curry Paste

Some additional ingredients

What I missed from the sauce was the rich intenseness of flavour. The packets tell you to add more paste to increase the heat; I didn’t find this. Adding more paste made the sauce darker with more floaty bits of lemon grass and galangal (etc.). It was a nice,well-rounded taste – aromatic – but I sought more of the spikes in flavour that Thai food is so famous for; the peaks of the salty, sour, and sweet. I don’t wish to convey that the sauce was un-flavoursome – it just didn’t pack a punch. My taste buds need a royally good arse kicking and the backbone of the curry paste wasn’t going to be that bully – regardless of my extra additions of lime, chilli, fish sauce and palm sugar. Milder palates would disagree, I’m sure.

Old School Thai Red Curry Paste with king prawns and sugar snap peas

The recipe card ideas which come alongside are useful are informative. I especially liked the inclusion of Tod Mun Pla infused with the Gaeng Ghet paste – fishcakes in any shape or form are consumed in abundance at mine and the Welshman’s house. This is something that I know I’ll try with Old School Thai’s pastes in future (they’ve got a reasonably long shelf life).

What we’ve got then is the raw materials for a busy person to make a decent, Thai-inspired meal. I know other food bloggers read other food blogs, and maybe Old School Thai wouldn’t be the one for them: GOD DAMN IT –  they’ll make the sauce themselves, rogue or no rogue lemon grass stalk! Even if it is just to take Instagram snaps for every stage of the recipe.

Old School Thai curry pastes can be bought online on their website or at selected stockists priced around £3.90.

I was generously given the pastes by Old School Thai.

*we’re not sadly.

SW12 – Clapham South

This post doesn’t have a title as such. A postcode, yes, and an indicative address in south London but more than that? No. This is neither a restaurant review, an account of a colourful farmers’ market, nor a spotlight on an up and coming south London producer. So why just Clapham South?

Well, I’ve only gone and moved, haven’t I? Come March I will have lived in London three years, and in those three years I’ve hopped and skipped through five flats. You know the drill; every time we Londoners move we inevitably say “well I’m not doing that for at least another two years”.

Well that’s bullshit.

Something happens, good or bad, and we’ve got to up sticks and find another lone (cheap) corner of the Big Smoke. I had come to love Brixton a great deal since moving there in January – the sights, the sounds, the hobos and the hipsters. Times have however changed.

For one reason I find myself in a wonderful one-bedroom flat in Clapham South. The wonderful thing is that I get to live with who I want to live with, which those of you who have had the blessed experience of sharing with inordinate strangers will appreciate.

Now I have my own kitchen, my own pots and pans, a whole fridge – not just a shelf – and – look – space for this beaut!

Pretty awesome birthday present, huh?

Having your own kitchen definitely gives you back your cooking mojo.

“You know what, I think I’ll just whiz up some muffins seeing as though housemate x hasn’t gone and stole my blueberries.”

(She had a blueberry – verging on the side of fetish – addiction.)

Blueberry muffins

Or: “Bugger it. There’s feck all on telly. I think what this flat is missing is homemade bread.”

One would think I lived in a farmhouse or something…

There you go. Non-Instagramed too.

So that’s all there is to it. A new flat, a new location, a new kitchen. More cooking. Someone get me a pinny.

Better change my Twitter bio too; A Brixton dweller’s blog. Nodanymore!

If you’ve got any recommended haunts in the SW12 region, lettuce know. I’m already a fan of Balham Bowls Club; good beer.

Aye.

SW4 – Clapham – Venn Street Market

I am fortunate enough to work as a freelancer – legitimately – this is not code for unemployed. Technically I can wake when I like, wrap up the working day when I like, and take arbitrary random days off without aeons of notice.  I also used to work from home; in my pyjamas, mostly. Officy people are curious about the world of freelancing.

Officy person: “Do you work set hours?”

Me: “I try to keep as closely to a working week as possible, it’s easier that way.”

Officy person: “But what motivates you to work?”

Me: “Money, mainly.”

You see, if I don’t get up and work, then I certainly don’t get paid. And any time I take off – those arbitrary random days I mentioned earlier – is not paid either. Like any form of employment, there are pros and cons. I always like to look on freelancing positively though.

However, times are a changing. For the last two months I have been invited to work in an office which belongs to one of the companies for whom I freelance. Conveniently, the office is about a mile from my house, so even the commute walk into work isn’t bad. I’ve lost at least half of you now, haven’t I?

A short stroll from my desk is Clapham High Street, which even when I lived in Battersea, was a misnomer to me. I think the only thing I have ever successfully done on the High Street was to have a haircut under £25 (successes are relative). The bars are dire, the restaurants (save for Fish Club) leave much to be desired. There are barely any decent shops either.

Now that I work in the vicinity I have forced myself to try to seek out the diamonds from the (my own self-perceived) rough. Clapham High Street must have some interesting foibles which a food fan like me could entertain?

The most obvious (and middle class) of intrigues is of course, Venn Street Market. I’ve not blogged about it properly before, so where better to start? Just off the Clapham Common end of the High Street, this petite marche consists of a handful of stalls. Cheese, cake (Brixton’s Ms Cupcake too), some live action – a hog roast, burger flipping and rotisserie chicken – are the stands which stand out, if you will.

Chocolate chip

Une Normande a Londres

Une Normande a Londres

Unless one is buying mild cheddar for a child, there’s no excuse for going supermarket for cheese. You buy cheese at the supermarket? How could you? Get off my blog! You must try before you buy (it also appeals to one’s inner freebie seeker) and there’s no finer place than a market to do it. I’m no expert on cheese, but I knows what I likes. Plus, the person behind the wheel of cheese knows their shit. Ask them, try different things, chances are you’ll end up buying something which you can barely pronounce but you’ll thank me for it when you’re in the la la land of a cheese coma. The Borough Cheese Company were really helpful when I bought some of their Tomme de Savoie; initially creamy and sweet finished off with an earthy mushroom kick. How their stall supports the huge wheels of Comte I’ll never know. I also got a pretty awesome pecorino from Italian cheese specialists Gastronomica.

The Honest Carrot is another producer which intrigues me. Think vegan, vegetarian, and gluten free burgers and morsels; chickpeas, beetroot, and carrots creatively and attractively made into falafel and patties. I haven’t yet ventured to trying any, so if anyone has ever bought from The Honest Carrot then let me know what you think.

Although they weren’t at Venn Street Market when I was getting inspiration for this post yesterday, the Arancini Brothers frequently make an appearance. Fried risotto balls in a wrap. Need I say more?

The Honest Carrot

It’s a carrot, only more honest.

I don’t need to add my voice to the hype about Bahn mi 11, and I won’t because I’ve not tried them, but they had sold out of baguettes which pissed me off (I was hungry, OK?). I want one!

*Sad child’s face*

So Venn Street Market is the first contender to add its voice to the ‘save Clapham High Street from Room 101’ campaign. But who’s next? All suggestions will be seriously considered, unless you try to convince me about trying the Shalamar kebab house which plays Backstreet Boys videos on a loop.

I’ve already tried it.

Venn Street Market is open 10am-4pm every Saturday.

www.vennstreetmarket.co.uk

SW4 Clapham – Nardulli’s Ice Cream – local producer

It was snowing only a few weeks ago…what the hell has happened? I find myself without coat, in a skirt with a thin long-sleeved top, eating ice cream on Clapham Common. I’ve certainly picked the right day for it,  and by the taste of it, I’ve definitely picked the right ice cream.

Nardulli’s Ice Cream parlour sits conveniently opposite the common – going towards Clapham Old Town. On Sunday it was as busy as a summer’s day, albeit the beginning of March – I had to queue!

Nardulli Ice Cream

As you’d expect from an Italian gelateria they’ve got the whole shebang of flavours. I would say that the ones they offer are more classical than some of the weird and wonderful that I’ve tried on my imaginary vacations on the Italian riviera (I went to an ice cream parlour in Sardinia once – does that count?), but the shop is petite and we are in Clapham, lest we forget.

There’s still a comprehensive selection as you can see from the photo.

Among the flavours were coffee, cherry, pistachio, rum and raisin, chocolate, coconut, hazelnut, and several sorbets were available to cleanse the palate. I opted for cardamom flavour – not one I’ve tried before – and hazelnut. Two small scoops set me back a little over £2. Considering one cannot get a Mr Whippy 99 these days for, well, under a £1, I’d say you are in safe hands with Nardulli.

The first few licks of hazelnut were delightful; but like Bruce Bogtrotterafter a whole chocolate cake, one tends to feel a bit sickly. The cardamom was like chai. Delicately spiced and milky, it was a new and welcome taste experience.

Ice cream! Ice cream! We all scream for Nardulli's...

Nardulli's cherry ice cream

With summer on its way (18 degrees I hear on Thursday) Nardulli’s is going to be my frozen cream destination of choice.

 

Nardulli on Urbanspoon