Quick bites in Soho with a high tech tablet twist.
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Truthfully we haven't really been back to Honest that much because it wasn't really our thing, so when we heard that they were bashing out a Yank-inspired special at the normally-houred central London branch we thought we'd mosey on down to their beef corral and give it a shot.
With the Fatt crew firmly ensconced in the Sun and 13 Cantons (a name we get wrong practically every time we try to tell it to anyone), a Fuller’s pub just off Beak Street, why not see if they could pull off a P&B-style feat of betterment?
It’s one of the most consistently tasty, lovingly-prepared ten pound plates of food you can buy in central London
But the fiddling is worth it. The patty is intriguing.
We’ve been wanting to go here for ages. Like, since forever.
I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve bowled past Spuntino and had a look in, only to see the standard half an hour queue of eager diners-to-be standing behind, and wistfully peering over the shoulders of those who are being fed. It must be in the dozens. It always looks loud, dark and obviously, a bit of a tight squeeze.
Ambling past at 3.15pm on a breezy Tuesday afternoon, I peer in and see it empty. I subdue my Christmas morning face and sit down immediately. Clearly a different vibe during the day; it was bright, with chuggy folk rock bouncing round the room.
It’s immediately perfect; I’m up at the bar, diner-style filter coffee in hand, happy before I’ve eaten anything.
Once a secret menu item, but not now clearly, I ordered the burger with cheese. Everyone around me chose the oft-lauded sliders. If I’d had a bigger appetite, I’d have done the same.
Served similarly to the Joe Allen burger, it’s sauceless with red onion slices and pickle spears on the side. The construction, a chunky round patty that needs skewering to keep in place, makes it a troublesome bugger to add the desired ingredients to and condiment up.
But the fiddling is worth it. The patty is intriguing. With a really deep meatiness, it might actually be a hamburger: I swear I got a hint of chorizo spiciness in the mix of flavours, and on closer inspection there’s some kind of dark red meaty stripe through the middle. This could be wildly incorrect though.
The impeccably melted cheese is slathered all over, its gummy, elastic greatness, giving just the right amount of cheesy-goo-chew. And the bun wraps it all in a substantial, squishy, chew. It was great.
There is loads of great looking stuff on the menu that I want to try, so more late lunches here will be on the cards. I’m just hoping that late lunches don’t become a thing with everyone, because I think quiet, thoughtful Spuntino time is brilliant.
- Rob.
Sandwiches rule.
Bang all kinds of shit between two slabs of cooked dough and then eat it. Simple.
Everyone’s got a favourite but, in this guy’s humble opinion, the greatest sandwich of all time is the Monte Cristo - usually a ham and Swiss cheese sandwich dipped in egg and grilled like French Toast, sprinkled with sugar, drizzled with maple syrup and served with a side of blueberry jam.
Yeah, sounds ridic doesn’t it? Done right, I fucking love this sandwich.
Regretfully, I’ve only found one place that sells a Monte Cristo in London town, the Diner, and it was piss poor.
Foxcroft & Ginger’s effort, to all intents and purposes, is a low-key, anglicised bastard child of the Monte Cristo, but it’s close enough. It’s all rather petite, polite and user friendly, much like the establishment producing it.
A Monte Cristo lite, if you will. And it’s rather pleasant.
While it had soaked in the sweet, slightly nutmeggy egg mixture, the bread was still light and fluffy, the way good French Toast should be. The melty cheese mixture over the ham was mild and a touch nutty, and the honey and mustard drizzled over the top, whilst tear-jerkingly sparse, added a spicy sweetness to it all. And it was cheap as! No blueberry dip, but then again, it’s not a Monte Cristo, is it?
If you’re up for a coffee and fancy a bit of a snack as well, you won’t go far wrong with a visit to F&G. Just don’t confuse them with the deceptively similar Fernandez & Wells. No Monte Cristo there.
- Rob.
