Gold Mine - Bayswater

Gold Mine

102 Queensway,
Bayswater,
London,
W2 3RR

Having heard so much about the Four Seasons, and how its head chef moved to the Gold Mine, we decided to trek down to Bayswater and try their much lauded Cantonese roast duck.



Straight through the door sharply at noon (we'd actually loitered outside for a few minutes waiting for them to open). The copious menu displayed outside didn't promise any more than the usual Chinese affair.



What Gold Mine is really famous for is the roast duck. Differing from Peking Duck and 'crispy duck' (the former is savoured for its lacquered skin, wrapped in steamed paper-thin bread with an assortment of fillings, while the latter is a purely UK invention), Cantonese style roast duck is served chopped on the bone, with a deliciously fatty and crisp skin with a mildly sweet taste reminiscent of a unctuously savoury salt caramel taste.



As soon as we were seated, a pot of steaming jasmin tea was presented with two cups. Such a change from flagging down waitresses like taxis during rush hour, this pleasantry on a cold winter's day was very welcome. The tea appeared on the bill at £1 per head, very reasonable, but I wonder what happens to those customers who do not want tea?



Not to be disappointed, the Gold Mine version is given high marks for taste. Slightly disappointingly: although we had arrived early, the duck was luke warm rather than hot. The ducks are hung after cooking to air-dry the skin for a crispier texture, but we'd hoped that they would be reheated in the ovens to a higher temperature.



Despite the reheating problems, the duck was mostly crisp, with a nice toothsome chew on the dark meat. The pieces closest to the bone were tender and sweet, with an earthy richness that I love about duck. The sauce drizzled on top was a sweet soy, similar to that served with cheung fen but stronger. The duck was suitably fatty, not having been fully rendered in the roasting process, but the fat wasn't so rich as to be sickening, and with plain rice would have made a delicious counterpoint to the sweet and savoury sauce. Unfortunately, being little piggies on the run, we chowed down copious amounts of the protein without a starch component.



Rather gluttonously we also ordered a serving of the roast pork. Generally Cantonese restaurants serve pork in two styles - char siu and crispy roast pork - and as we were going for the crispy roast bonanza, a platter of roast pork seemed a brilliant idea. Cantonese roast pork has the crispiest crackling I have ever tasted.

The skin is achieved by multiple stabbings with a jaccard (think a hand stamp with a few dozen nails/needles attached to the bottom), which creates upwards of hundreds of micro perforations for the hot fat to escape, and which crisps the skin. Generally the skin is rubbed with lye water or baking soda before roasting (the caustic effect breaks down the skin's structure slightly), making for a perfectly uniform and crisp crackling.



Not as noteworthy as the duck, but certainly a delicious plate of porcine goodness. The plate was rather haphazardly heaped, and many of the crispy edges ended up soaked in the savoury sauce, losing most of the crack and pop of the perfectly crispy skin. The fat was nicely rendered, with the marbled layers beneath the skin moist but not overwhelming.



The damage: £17.70 for a platter of very good roast pork and half of an excellent roast duck with two servings of tea. With rice, this could easily stretch to a meal for 3-4 people. Note that they serve either duck with rice, or pork with rice for £5, and I am told that it is a very generous portion.

Cafe Opium - Yum Cha

Cafe Opium
67-69 George Street
Oxford
OX1 2BQ
01865 248680



A cold Monday saw us craving that which used to be frequent, but in which we hadn't indulged for far too long: yum cha.


The sign from the now-defunct Opium Den.

Back to Cafe Opium for lunch on Monday, and we were surprised by the peace and tranquility. Only three tables of two were occupied.





The restaurant is actually quite capacious, and well presented. It's a shame that business is so slow at this time of year.



The requisite cups of Jasmin tea came in big mugs, which is highly unusual for Chinese restaurants. This meant that the water cooled more slowly, making it difficult to drink. It also lacked the finesse of small gulps of hot tea, and somehow detracts from the delicacy of eating dim sum. Surprisingly, with refills, they brought out hot water in traditional tea pots. Go figure.



Lovely, lovely chilli oil dipping sauce. Filled with shallots, dried shrimp, and spicy goodness.



Starting with the usual suspects: the har gau (虾饺 - miniature prawn dumplings wrapped in wheat starch wrappers) were incredibly fresh. In fact, the 15-20 minute wait on the kitchen, which had me worried about making it back to work on time, must have been spent assembling the dishes from scratch, instead of the usual pre-frozen or long-refrigerated stock. These were definitely not left over from the weekend, as the prawns had a delicate sweetness and bounce to the bite, and the wrappers were suitably thin but chewy, and flavoured from the juices of the filling.



The handiwork was not as delicate as some places can be, but I've found that Opium Den can be inconsistent. Perhaps in pushing this order out, they went for a rougher, larger plait.



The siu mai (烧卖 - a pork and prawn filled dumpling that uses an ultra-thin wonton like pasta wrapper made from wheat and egg) had the nice bounce and chew of a well made Chinese meatball. Topped with a wolf berry (or goji berry, if you are looking for it in a poncy 'health food' store), these were larger than the average dumpling in most restaurants. One often finds crab roe as the colour contrast on these dumplings, so the goji berries were a bit of a cheat, but added a faint sweetness. The filling is usually made by roughly chopping pork by hand, and mixing in a little chopped prawn to add flavour and texture contrast. The mixture is beaten with water and a little starch to make it juicy when steamed. The chopped pork has a tender, but bouncy texture, very different from minced or ground meat.



The feng zhao (鳳爪 - chicken feet, often in a bbq-esque sauce) were very nice. Gelatinous, but with enough bite not to run off the bone, these were well flavoured with the sweet sauce that is usually described as 'BBQ', but is in fact a mixture of oyster, hoisin and soy sauces. Not the best that I've ever had, but no complaints for this yum cha must-have.



The pan fried turnip paste (萝卜糕 - a paste made from starch and grated Chinese white turnip, flavoured with Chinese sausage, dried shrimp, Chinese mushrooms, and other dried umami-enhancers, steamed until solidified, sliced and then pan-fried) was very well done. Because of the delicacy of the paste, many places will douse it with oil before frying, to ensure that it does not stick. This was crispy without a hint of grease, and the specs of dried meat and shrimp added bursts of flavour without overwhelming the paste itself. The crispy coat was the perfect foil to the soft unctuousness both in the paste itself, and the other dim sum items.



The pork ribs, which is not an item I tend to order, was well flavoured and had that little bit of chewiness that rib-meat tends to retain, which makes the bursts of flavour more intense when chewing.



The prawn cheung fun (肠粉 - a thick but very light sheet pasta made from steamed wheat starch, usually rolled around a filling of prawn, pork or beef, and doused in a sweet soy-based sauce) was the weakest link. The cheung fun itself was slightly thicker than I would prefer it, meaning the sauce that clung to the surface wasn't quite able to add enough flavour to the starch. The starch itself is all about texture, and has little flavour other than a slightly floury note. The prawns in the filling tasted old, which is surprising given how nice the prawn dumplings were.



The final dish that came was the nuo mi ji (糯米鸡 - literally glutinous rice chicken, is a parcel of sticky rice with a meat filling (usually chicken, Chinese bacon and sausage, Chinese mushrooms) doused in a sweet-savoury sauce, wrapped in lotus leaves and then steamed. The lotus leaf adds considerable flavour to the rice). The portions were small, and so the rice-to-filling ratio was difficult to judge. The filling should not spill out of the rice, nor should it be non-existent; in this case, it was ample by ratio to the rice, but anaemic by most standards. One of the best incarnations I have eaten used pieces of wing in the filling; the bone adding robust chicken flavours, which just goes to show that it's not the price of the ingredient, but use thereof, that counts.

All in all, a very nice lunch for two. Cafe Opium is one of the better yum cha places in Oxford, and although can be inefficient, noisy and with that floor-staff attitude: that customers are an exasperating nuisance, unique to Chinese restaurants, the food is still worth the visit.



Lunch for two. The damage: £26.50 including a 10% service charge. Not bad at all.

Continental Market

Every once in a while, the continental market rolls into town. There are a couple of different incarnations, but they always drag in to ubiquitous soap, weaved products, baker, confectioner, cheesemonger and the suspicious sausage guy.

This time, the market placed itself on Broad Street, right outside the Disneylandish Balliol College. I realise that Balliol precedes Disneyland by some seven centuries, but when you see the ancient steeples and towering turrets, what do you automatically think of?



The suspicious sausage guy (in fact, I believe that he may be a member of the ancient and respected guild of the suspicious sausage), peddled the same porcine wares that I'd come to expect from every continental market. The dried sausages are... bland. At best.





Olives and olive-oil drenched goods. Any better than the local delicatessen, where, if I fall victim to salmonella, I could sue? Not terribly.



Sugar! Sugar in so many forms!



Churros without chocolate. From France. He wasn't terribly popular.



More sugar.



Aside from comestibles, there are also various gift or display items for sale.







Biscuit-y goodness. Hygiene? Of course leaving biscuits out in the open air all weekend is hygenic.



OK, this is one stall that I do like, although a fiver for a platefull of potatoes is a little much.



Bratwursty goodness.



Unnaturally large vegetables.



I saw a young lady drop a pair of tongs, then place them back on the table. Not back on the candied figs, thankfully, but what do you think the stallholder will immediately do, when he finds the tongs?



The baker made an unusually good custard tart. The baguettes are also quite good.



The smoked garlic is excellent, and will last months. At almost a pount per head, it's quite pricey, but does add a wonderfully smokey tone to subtle dishes.

The Mission

The Mission Mexican Grill
8 St Michael’s Street
Oxford
OX1 2DU

Comparatively new to Oxford is The Mission, a small establishment opposite the Union buildings, where the nth Meltz in Oxford used to reside.



A pre-movies meal took A and me to finally find out what all the fuss had been about.



The menu is simple. You can have either a fajita or a burrito, with a choice of either chicken, steak, pork or vegetarian fillings. Guacamole and cheese were extra, which certainly seemed a little stingy. Tacos were also available, as well as a few snack foods such as nacho chips.



An efficient team of three people were on hand. The 1st asks your order, toasts the flour tortillas, and fills with the first filling of rice and/or beans (depending on whether you have chosen a burrito or a fajita). The second person portions the meat (or, if you're mentally retarded, vegetables). The third takes your money and smiles. Me thinks that although it seems to work very well for them, this is not the most efficient way of apportioning the work.



The room was incredibly crowded. One communal table in the room seated a dozen people, and perched on window seats were another dozen being very politely English, desperately trying not to intrude on one's neighbours.



The only difference, aside from the obvious, was that A's chicken burrito had black beans in its filling, and that my steak fajita had sauteed peppers.



The fillings were certainly plentiful, although mainly bulked up by the rice, sauteed onions, and various bits and bobs. The steak was tasty, but was far too few and far in between for such a large fajita.

And large, indeed it was. Certainly more filling than a baguette, I presume the density is to justify the £5 price for unleavened bread filled with rice.



The Cholula hot sauce suited my palate perfectly. Not too spicy, and deliciously tangy, it was perfect when doused over my fajita.



We washed down our food with two mexican beers (Desperados), at a whopping 5.9% alcohol due to the addition of tequila. The taste was incredibly sweet, and the ingredients list revealed honey amongst various other odd flavourings. Not terrible, but certainly not something I'm anxious to retry.

All whining aside, the food was very nice. If you measure value-for-money by the ingredients used, then this will come up short. If you're looking for a tasty and filling meal for around a fiver, then this is your man. A fajita and a burrito, washed down by two mexican beers set us up for the evening. In fact, we were probably well-fed enough to have survived a day of hard labour. But you talk to a Pole about hard labour, and they look at you funny.

I digress.

The damage: Two fajitas (or burritos, or whichever way you call it) + trimmings, plus two beers came to just under £20. Pretty steep for a quick and dirty kebab replacement, but I imagine that a no-frills fajita at £5 would be plentiful for a hungry student.

Cafe Opium

Cafe Opium
67-69 George Street
Oxford
OX1 2BQ
01865 248680

It is surprisingly difficult to get a decent Chinese meal in Oxford. Surprising, because the University itself boasts 745 students from China and Hong Kong (hey, since it was liberated from the foreign pig-dog oppressors, and rejoined the Motherland, HK is a part of China now, people!) plus the researchers, academics, academic groupies, general citizenry and hordes of tourists every year, there must be a sufficient body to warrant some authentic food.



Alas, most serve the default setting of meat and vegetables in unfathomable gravy, served with greasy rice and masquerading as Chinese. A few places, though, deserve an honourable mention, and Cafe Opium is one.

Once upon a time, not so long ago, Opium Den was a slightly more expensive Chinese restaurant, on the end of George Street, that nobody went into. Some downturn in its fortunes had meant a vicious circle of declining clientele such that the place always looked empty, and possibly also haunted. Meanwhile, next door, the same owners had a small, dingy, run-down shack named Cafe Orient that sold noodles and one-bowl rice dishes, and the punters would queue for its cheap but tasty meals. Not somewhere to take a date, but extremely efficient and very tasty and filling for £6.

Ditching the loss leader, and regrouping as the new Cafe Opium was an interesting move. Cafe Orient was great, but because it only seated around 10 people at a time, could not keep up with demand. The new premises, complete with shiny decor and expanded menu, meant that there are more bums on seats, but lost some of its grubby student charm.

Although the menu had gone up-market, some of the one-bowl dishes remained. As well as boasting yum cha, there is a range of hand-pulled noodles, and also set meals for students and those who are on the go.

Late for the train, but too cold to put up with the nonsense that is a sandwich (honestly, the worst blow to culinary pleasure, ever), A and I, joined by KH, found ourselves in Cafe Opium for a quick and cheerful meal.



Being a sucker for any form of pasta in soup, I went for the 'lunch and pre-theatre menu'. I certainly can't imagine the pre-theatre crowd chowing down a big bowl of noodle soup in Britain, but the hot and sour noodle soup looked good to me.



Interestingly, they serve traditional Chinese slow-cooked soups. These are also touted as health tonics, and certainly have a warm and nourishing effect on a blustery winter's day. Is it any better than standard chicken soup? Hell yes. Is it going to make you run faster, jump higher, or avoid cancer? No.



A and I went for the hot and sour beef brisket and the crispy chicken noodle soups. The hot and sour was wonderful, with preserved mustard as the base for the tartness, and a little spice thrown in to balance the beefy broth. Chunks of brisket was joined by Chinese mushrooms (I won't say the s word) to crown the egg noodles in the this bowl of joy. The crispy chicken was also very nice, but lacked the interesting taste contrasts of the other bowl. The chicken was fried, and crispy for the first few mouthfuls, before it it was lost in the depth of the broth. Speaking of which, the broth was chicken infused, but I suspected that a box of Knorr was hiding somewhere.



KH had the Sichuan chili chicken on rice from the quick eats section of the main menu. The fluorescent orange of the dish instantly betrayed the lie that Sichuan was anywhere near the provenance of this dish. However, KH liked the chicken, and thought the spice gave it a good kick.



The meal deal came with a beer of your choice, which in my case was Asahi.

The damage: £6.80 each for a tasty, filling and casual meal plus a beer. Not bad.