steven.vu

Jamie’s Italian, Kingston

The place opened somewhere around March 2009. It opened to aplomb and was busy from day one. I’d assume the kitchen wasn’t really ready for it. The last 3 times I’ve been, the foods been mediocre at best; bland, over salted and over cooked. [Insert Gorden Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmare joke*]. A small selection of user comments:

“All in all one of the worst dining experiences in my life especially considering this is supposed to be “fine” dining.”

“Three of us had the pork kebabs which were awful! …They were dry and looked like something cheap you would buy from a well known frozen food retailer. If it had not been a celebration I would have walked out,”

It’s been a year now and the kitchen has settled in and is producing good food.

Jamie operates a no booking policy for tables under 6. This, as Jamie points out, “is to ensure [they're] getting as much money as possible from each table,” but is slightly annoying when you turn up for lunch, only to be told you’d have to wait 40min. Graham and I turned up at 7 on a Monday and got a table immedietely. Our waiter referred to me as a “top man,” and so I’ll do the same, but I’d have rather have been served by the pretty waitresses. Jamie’s really got an eye for talent**; they’re the prettiest waitresses in Kingston.

The staff at Jamie’s are an odd bunch. They’ve been taught to be “themselves,” laid back and friendly. It came across as pretty genuine. What I found curious were the set phrases and NLP laden mannerisms that they were taught. They’re all cleverly designed to make the place seem friendly to those wanting to spend £10 a head or those spending £40 a head.

At most places, you have to ask for tap water, here, they ask if you would “like some tap water while you’re deciding [what to eat],” and if you order a small main they presume you’re getting it as your only main. Just in case you’re on a first date and skint. The best bit was when the waiter handed me the card machine back. He said as he cleared his voice, “press green for yes and yellow for no,” jabbing at the green button nonchalantly. Green for gratuity.

I don’t actually like writing about food much. Tastes vary and things taste good, or not so good.

• Bruschetta – good
• Carbonara – great
• Risotto – good
• Fish, the one that ain’t in a bag – good
• Rib eye Steak – meh.
• Brownie – great
• Cheesecake – good

£70~, not including drinks or service.

In my opinion, I’d say this place serves the best food in Kingston, but it’s also the most expensive. Let’s hope the quality of the food stays consistently good.

How the hell do food bloggers take such nice pictures of food in the restaurant. I couldn’t bring myself to whip out my tiny compact, let alone DSLR while eating. Maybe next time I’ll pluck up the courage. Image stolen from Purple Cloud.

*Someone should have called Gorden to come down and sort out the show.
**Jamie’s really got good taste, har har.

On Japanese Hostesses | Brighton

“Jin, I don’t think it’s wise to spend £400 for a couple of hours. A couple of hours of talking to a pretty young thing. The way I see it is; if you’re looking for titillation, there are far more fulfilling ways to go about it.

I’m sure I could find someone to talk to you for less than £200 an hour. They might even let you cop a feel.”

We were heading to a Japanese hostess bar. I’ve never been to one and was curious to say the least. I just couldn’t justify it though. £400 for a few hours of innocent flirting and banter with a pretty Japanese girl.

The way I saw it was, if you were going down that debauched route, there were better ways of doing it. £60 for a quick shag, £50 for a gram of coke and you’d still be left with enough to gamble the rest on black. Surely that was more appealing?

I resigned myself to the fact that his mind was set and decided to chillax.

The night started pleasantly enough. Jin had a crazy idea of going to Brighton at 4pm on a drizzly day in March. I said sure. I jumped in his car with Chris and our adventure began. Jin parked up as we left and asked if Brighton was the best idea. It became apparent that what he meant was that he wanted to go further; Scotland? Wales? No Jin. If we’re going crazy, lets go to France and then see if we can get to Germany, otherwise, Brighton will more than suffice.

<aside> The last time we went to France, Jin totalled his car on the motorway and we were towed back to Paris. We dumped the car and got home on the Eurostar</aside>

The car silently glided forward in a way only a hybrid could and we were off. Brighton was pretty uneventful. We went for dinner at a nice seafood restaurant. The starters were great, but the main of lobster was pretty average. After dinner, we strolled by the beach and decided our night out.

Chris had a glint in his eye and Jin was beyond arguing with. We hopped in the car and took down the baby on board signs. 118 118, can I help you? Certainly. A number was found and some Korean was spoken. £65 a head plus £100 for the drinks. About £300.

“Are the girls attractive? maybe. Were the girls young? maybe.” The man on the end of the telephone dodged everything.

Once we’d made our way to the outskirts of London, we called again. The price had gone up to £400 and we were informed that closing time was at 1am. It was currently 10pm, by the time we’d get there we’d be paying £400 for 2 hours.

What is a hostess?

“…hostessing is a position unique to Japan, evolving over the past 40 years or so out of the 400-year-old geisha tradition as a concession to changing times. Just as the geisha is a mediator and entertainer more than a sexual figure…

…the hostess gets paid to drink and chat with men and ensure that they have a good time at outrageously priced entertainment clubs.”

We got there at 11pm. The place was a glitzy Korean restaurant situated in one of soho’s squares. The restaurant upstairs was owned by Koreans and the Japanese had holed themselves downstairs. Nippon-Korean relations had never been so good, all it took were a couple of bulging nut sacks.

We walked in and were lead downstairs. Asian men were singing karaoke. Next to each of them was a young Japanese thing.

“Would you like to go to a private room? It’s extra at £45,” a polite Japanese man asked. Yes. Yes we will. We were taken to a small room at the back. There was a large dinner table with 4 seats and a bench at the end. We were sat down and offered a cloth to wipe our faces and asked what drinks we would like. The man, who I now know to be called Moto, told us that the bill was £400, but the place closed at 1am. If we’d like to stay for an extra hour, we could pay an extra hundred.

FIVE HUNDRED POUNDS TO SING KAREOKE WITH A COUPLE OF GIRLS.

Jin and Moto, our host for the evening slightly bleary eyed at the after party.

How reasonable, we agreed. Two girls were ushered in. Mine would be with me in a minute. They poured our drinks. Within a couple of minutes, all awkwardness had vanished. The girls bantered and we drank. Whisky on the rocks with a splash of water. Girly, but it’s how I roll.

Chris with “Dora the explorer”.

I don’t think any of the girls were traditionally stunning. They were specifically chosen for us though. Jin got a young doting girl, Chris got the brash upbeat girl and I got a demure young thing. She was adorable.

On the way there, I was so against it. I couldn’t understand why anyone would pay such vast sums just to talk to a girl. What I understand now is, they were selling love. They looked at you with adoration, were attentive and listened to your every word. I guess you could say their guise of love worked. We all fell a little in love. The titillation came from the inevitable self flagellation. Your mind wonders; in different circumstances, could you and her work.

I went outside for a cigarette and asked her for her number.

The place just emphasized how pathetic the male condition is. If a girl is attentive, listens to you and has a modicum of grace, you can’t help but fall for her a bit. I’m the most cynical fuck wit, and even I can admit that I’ve thought about her all day. The girl couldn’t speak fucking English. I’m off.

If you’d like to find out more about the life of a hostess, Cynthia Gralla probably describes it best.

Meals from Scratch | Good design and concept.

I was over at Londonelicious and saw a post about Scratch. They’re taking a new spin on ready made meals. Ready made meals you have to cook. The idea seems new, and something that could work. I can’t remember the number of times where I’ve wanted to cook from scratch, but can’t be bothered to find a recipe and then search for small quantities of every single ingredient.

Currently they’re selling meals for one, personally I think they should sell portions of two that one can eat. Even if I was eating by myself, when I cool I like my leftovers. Why wash up for a couple of mouthfuls.

They’re currently selling at Sourced Market in Kings Cross St Pancras station, Budgens Islington, the Grocery in Shoreditch 54-56 Kingsland Road, Couture Food Hall in Woolwich Arsenal, Kennards in Bloomsbury and finally Selfridges on Oxford Street.

I can’t wait to get my hands on one and see if they’re any good. Problem is I don’t think I’ll be in central for a while.

The design seems spot on. Simple typography, Helvetica, in two spot colours printed on unbleached, uncoated recycled paper stock. Slightly done to death, but still adorable.

The guys seem young and ambitious. I wish them the best. I can’t imaging the hassle it must take to source the ingredients and get it packaged and delivered for a profitable price.

Corporate branding | Rush Hour 2 | Vietnamese food at Kingsland Rd.

Rush Hour 2

Chris Leslie Evernden aka Concept and Ayi were set to play at Rush Hour 2. A Chinese party organised by JnG promotions. He called me the day before.

I’m not a particularly busy person so said I’d come. After trying to convince a few people to come and watch and failing, I decided to go by myself.

The venue was in Bank, 24 Cornhill Rd and in a club called Abacus. Rather upmarket.

I got there and said I was on Concepts guestlist. She looked at me in awe. Was Chris this famous? She turned around and spoke to her boss; he said sorry, it’s still £10. Obviously he wasn’t that famous.

I mulled around by myself for 20 odd minutes and had a couple by myself. I bumped into Chris’s friend and got even more drunk.

Chris and Ayi got on stage at 1am. They were awful. Not because they were awful, but because the sound was awful. All you could hear was a beat, feedback every few seconds and a mess. If the sound was better, then I’m sure it wouldn’t have been that bad.

Branding.

We’re trying to create a brand. The brochure had a very corporate image so we decided to add in a mascot. I stumbled past istock.com and bought some vector monsters. We used our swatch to colour them and made some nice ID cards. Each employee now has a monster.

We’re also getting the monsters made into stamps; if you like a kid then you can stamp their work. I’ll post some pictures when they’re done.

Vietnamese food at Kingsland Rd.

There’s a road near old street that’s full of Vietnamese Restuarants. I went with mother and her friend. My mother’s friend is buying a restuarant down the road so thought she’d check out the competition.

We went to a place called Viet Grill. Owned by the people who set up Cay Tre. My mother and her friend could probably name the owners of most Vietnamese restuarants in London. It’s the way things are.

Hanoi | A brief list of the Vietnam’s a la carte menu

I’m in Hanoi at the moment. There’s a market selling all manner of goods. Mother knows a few people round here so i’ve been chatting to a few forwarding agents and sellers of various kinds. It’s only $100 to ship 1m*3. Problem is you have to collect it at port. London to Southampton probably ends up at twice that.

Last night I ended up ordering a suit. I had my fitting the same day. Now i’m just waiting in a dingy cafe for the tailor to finish up. Ended up costing $100 a suit and they look well made.

I got lonely trapsing the streets of Hanoi. When I spotted a cute girl writing in a journal at a place called Stop cafe I asked to join her. We hit it off pretty well and she took me to some bars. Turns out she’s an architect working here. I arranged to meet up tomorrow but am leaving in the morning. Boo hoo

I want to live here for a few months to get the feel of the place. It isn’t as hedonistic as Saigon, but has a cooler laid back atmosphere. The architect is living on $400 a month. I was offered a job back in Saigon. The pay was $800 – $1000 with $400 entertaining money. You then get commision of sales. I have two uncles that did it for 6 years; making $4000~. They’re nut cases. I turned it down. The job just involves getting drunk with ex pats every night and whoring.

I came out here with an open mind. If someone offered me something i’d taste it. Here’s what I ended up tasting:

**Edit

Goats balls and cock

and some other thing which I forgot.

**

Duck Fetus
Fried Turtle feet
Turtle shell stew
Turtle blood mixed with Hanoi Vodka
Turtle blood mixed and gall bladder with Hanoi Vodka
Boiled Rabbit
Fried Silk Worm lightly seasoned with salt
Fried Grasshopper lightly seasoned with salt and chilli
Lightly fried Snake Kidney
Snake stew
Snake blood mixed with Vodka
Snake blood and ground gall bladder with Vodka
Snake blood and beating heart with Vodka
Seared Breast of Goat

What I daren’t taste:
All manner of Dog
All manner of Cat

I’m a Dog person so wouldn’t mind the odd boiled Cat. Problem is mother was born the year of the Cat.

I woke up yesterday. Tired and dischevelled in a lonely part of Hai phong I stumbled out to be greated by three cats. Two boiled and de furred. One in the process of being de furred. The cutest cat, white with ginger and black specks. Almost vomitted.

Hi Sushi, Soho | 113, Triad drinking den

It doesn’t bode well when you’re eating Salmon Sashimi (slabs of raw Salmon) before downing a shot of Sake, mixing the cold rather tasteless meat with the warm sickly Sake. After 8 bottles split 3 ways at a rather trendy sushi place by the name of Hi Sushi we decided to go to a place which has become the bane of my existence.

Let’s get back to Hi Sushi actually, I think it’s situated up on Frith St. The place is tiny with a small room downstairs. There, you’ll find rather trendy blob like shaped tables an arms length in height. The floors have holes going a further two feet down so you can place your legs in. I’m sure the rather blurry pictures will explain it all. The food was pretty mediocre, losing out to Yo Sushi! but probably outdoing Gilli Gulli.

Waiting till we got chucked out and rather typsy we went to Thai Sq. Nothing great happened really, only a copious amount of drink was consumed. Just before the pride in downing your last drink has worn off another is placed in your hand. An endless supply of free drinks with no hole in your wallet to gauge how much you’ve drunk.

After closing time, someone thought it wise to finish up at another club. And so it was that a £15 cab fare and a 5 min journey ensued past Islington and to a rather drab place called Holloway, Holloway Road to be precise.

I was expecting a heaving building filled to the brim with scantily clad girls, instead we’re taken to a plain white door which you’d think led to a flat. As the bell rung and various pass codes were given the door creaked open to unveil another door. The atrocious Kareokefied version of some equally dreadful original Chinese pop song was piercing my ears. Upon entering though, there wouldn’t be much to distinguish this apart from your standard run of the mill club. They even had ridiculously expensive drinks at 6 beers for £25.

I began to hurl. The type where your whole body doesn’t stop convulsing even after your stomach is emptied. Where you can feel the walls of your stomach brushing up against one another in a longing embrace. I could see the salmon chunks swimming. Sadly my camera packed it in.