Mishkin’s sounds like it could be something akin to a Promised Land: big, brash sandwiches; punchy cocktails; and enough buzz to satisfy even the surliest New Yorker. Mention the word kosher and you’ll be laughed out the door – it actually offers sexed-up comfort food for the unknowing goyim. But this goy knows. Mishkin’s falls well short. Continue reading
In late 2009, mid economic crisis, Russell Norman bravely opened his first bacaro (a Venetian wine bar to you or me) just off Carnaby Street. Three years later and Norman has four more successful restaurants to his name. He’s done well. Very well. And why wouldn’t he have? The concept is instantly likeable: fairly-priced food to share, served in a hip venue. Throw in enough booze and everyone will love it. And indeed they do; it’s very difficult to find a bad word against Polpo anywhere. Until now. Not much feeling up to the scrum that is undoubtedly their evening ‘no reservations’ policy, I set on a Monday afternoon to see what all the fuss was about. Everything that goes through the door seems to have been ‘distressed’: the walls, the menus, the waiters’ jeans. Me too.