Camden was typically frenetic: hordes of the weird and wonderful spilt in from all angles. The Cuban was found nestled in Camden’s eclectic epicentre, buzzing with shoppers resting from buying vintage tracksuits, vinyl and Novocaine.
The Cuban Camden’s boisterous atmosphere seemingly overwhelmed the staff who were less than composed. After politely advising I had booked, menus were shoved in my general direction. I loitered like a lemon, looking for anything resembling a table without success; a second server limply gestured to the lift, leading to a dead second floor.
The Cuban Camden’s menu advised: “our chefs spent time learning traditional Cuban cooking techniques”. The fact tapas should be ordered often and served quickly wasn’t learnt: the food came together and after a long delay.
Regarding The Cuban Camden’s food, the anemic Calamari was the blandest pieces of squid known in existence. I doubt the complete absence of seasoning was part of the “authentic Cuban experience”. Better Olives & Feta can be sourced in Morrisons down the road -hardly the “best Cuban ingredients in London”. The Plantain was okay, but a giant banana served in three pieces didn’t excite. The Chorizo was enjoyed, but this should be the star of any tapas restaurant and was average at best. The Albondigas were well cooked and seasoned but lukewarm. The fried Sweet Potato & Plantain were tasty but just crisps with ideas above their station. Finally, the Chicken Tenders were fine, but which “neighbouring Caribbean Islands” serve schnitzels?
Under normal circumstances, The Cuban Camden is a rip-off tourist trap; however, it is regularly on Groupon providing much better value.
Olive Tree Brasserie Preston, set within the handsome Miller Arcade, is the city’s only Greek restaurant and thankfully didn’t fall prey to cliché emulsion white ruins and checked tablecloths. The Olive Tree Brasserie’s interior was in fact rather industrial, with exposed metal strip lighting, sharp corners and an attractive polished finish. The contrast between the contemporary interior and Victorian exterior created a sophisticated atmosphere which the area cries out for.
Upon arrival at Olive Tree Brasserie Preston, my party was warmly greeted, and shown to the table through a surprisingly busy dining room. Once seated I was majestically bathed in the green neon of the adjacent Subway; you may want to be savvy and select your preferred table in advance. Never one to resist a bargain, I ordered from the Olive Tree Brasserie Preston Early Diner Menu, offering three courses for just £13.50. Although very restricting, it was only to be expected from such a sharp price, and available until a reasonable 7:00 pm (6:45 pm on Friday and Saturday).
Some olives and related nibbles were promptly ordered and arrived very quickly, with the young floor staff continuing to work efficiently throughout the evening. Despite just opening, service at The Olive Tree Brasserie Preston was well organised and polite.
For starters, everyone chose the Dolmades which arrived on miniature pallets for no discernible reason. These three rolled vine leaves, stuffed with rice and minced beef, were the perfect sized starter. They were fresh, delicious but very salty. The extra lemon-dill-cream sauce was pleasingly light and perfectly balanced. Incidentally, their own brand mint-balsamic dressing had an incredible depth of flavour and was liberally applied to everything. A Sauvignon Blanc washed this down with a decent smack of Gooseberry but shrivelled my tongue with brutal tartness.
For mains, the Lavraki sounded intriguing. It was Sea Bass “Spetse Style” – a style not even Google knew about. It arrived looking like it lost a punch up en route to the table. The fish itself was perfectly cooked, with a very salty but at least flavoursome crust. The accompanying Kolokithakia (courgette fritters) were the best thing on the plate. They made for an exciting Mediterranean alternative to chips, which in my head seemed healthier. The sexy Mediterranean cousin of the British mushy peas were the stewed capers, but the last thing salty fish and saltier vegetables needed was the world’s saltiest foodstuff showing off. They were unpalatably bitter and left on the plate. The wine was swapped to Pinot Grigio; overlooking the warm glass, the humble house white had a mineral crispness and was perfectly drinkable.
Friends had the Fishcake & Seasoned Chips and wished they hadn’t. Arriving on a spare cheese board, it was impossible to cut without scattering the contents around the table. The overall flavour of the fishcake was potato rather than fish and equally lacked seasoning. Moving on, the Kota Skordata was a chicken skewer on rice, with dip and a side salad. The meat was nicely marinated, well grilled and succulent. No complaints, but it couldn’t justify its full £13.95 price tag.
Desserts from The Olive Tree Brasserie Preston’s bargain basement menu were an afterthought: generously portioned, but the Berry Compote was so sour only a few mouthfuls could be kept down. Conversely, its partner in crime – the Honey Compote – was so sickly sweet, I saved it for my diabetic brothers’ next hypo.
The ambience and staff were equally pleasant, but the Olive Tree Brasserie Preston’s food demonstrated obvious flaws. However, due to the exceptional early bird prices and positive atmosphere, I can’t hold a grudge.
Olive Tree Brasserie Preston
Review Summary
Atmosphere 7 Cost 9 Quality 3 Service 8
Olive Tree Brasserie – Menu Lacked BalanceOlive Tree Brasserie – Menu Lacked BalanceOlive Tree Brasserie – Menu Lacked BalanceOlive Tree Brasserie – Menu Lacked Balance
I wanted to love The Coach Marlow (formely The Coach and Horses). Mainly as I love Tom Kerridge aka the happiest man on the plant (close second, Kriss Akabusi). This lovely looking gastropub helpfully only takes walk-ins, acting as a spill-over sight for it’s even higher-end sister site The Hand & Flowers down the road, where there is a year long waiting list for their Michelin star Sunday roasts. I couldn’t wait a year and I’m too poor, so The Coach Marlow it was.
Only visit The Coach Marlow if you: can drop any preconceptions, foolishly appreciate tapas, are minted and not hungry. I am none of the above, thus left discontented. I love Mr Kerridge with his amicable West Country patois and proper pub-grub philosophy; disappointingly, The Coach Marlow ignores it.
Controversial opinion – tapas is pointless – a Mediterranean euphemism for expensive inefficiency. Only madmen want dishes to arrive schizophrenically. The standard excuse is: “To try bits of everything!”. Which is nonsense because portions are so small, only cold crumbs remain once shared. Order your preferences then trade bits later damn it. In any other context, new cutlery is provided and smaller courses sensibly arrive first – nobody thinks anything of it. Tapas means culinary human rights are waived in favour of a needless continental concept.
Rant over (almost). Sitting at The Coach Marlow bar provides stimulating views of the industrious open kitchen; an ideal first date rendezvous, providing distractions from potential awkward silences. The hard-working young kitchen team, went about their business in a focused manner. Unfortunately, everyone else was cramped together. At least I was lucky enough to get a table, or so I thought. Modern televisions were strategically placed, all the fixtures and fittings were handsomely fitted, and the lighting was pleasingly low.
Everything on The Coach Marlow’s menu sounded delicious. I was expecting a real treat here. The format was oddly split between ‘Meat’ and ‘No Meat’, yet meat’s in both sections: a practical joke, quirkiness or a genuine mistake, I know not. Furthermore, the descriptions didn’t hint at the wildly varying portions, making things unnecessarily fiddly. Was this a pub or some kind of puzzle…
Everything looked more than appetising, the food I mean, not the staff, I’m not that weird. Anyway, dishes were creatively arranged and housed in beautiful, earthy crockery. You felt that touch of quality. The Coach Marlow produced initially interesting dishes, which later left one puzzled and unsatisfied, rather than intrigued and impressed. The Whisky & Rye Pudding was cold rather than warm – evidently an error of judgement for any winter pudding. The Venison Chilli had the kick of a paraplegic and served grittily under-cooked. A pricey piece of Lamb carried a shameful amount of flaccid fat. The Pigs Head was a delicate croquette rather than something intimidating. This was all lamentable, as the depth of flavour across all dishes was impressive.
The Triple Cooked Chips & Béarnaise were memorable – undisputed world champion pieces of potato. However, as chips were the highlight, The Coach Marlow left me dissatisfied.
The Coach Review Summary
Atmosphere 9 Cost 2 Quality 6 Service 6
The gigantic pigs headProbably the best chips in the worldCold whisky pudding
Fantastic Feasts & Where To Find Them 