Moolis: Not a f***ing buritto. F***ing tasty.

5 Sep
The exterior of Moolis

Moolis before its recent refit

I discovered Moolis as part of a noble quest to eat all of London. When I first arrived in London a year  ago it was incredibly new and exciting. Having spent years reading about restaurants and  knowing that reading was all I would ever do, I was suddenly walking past them on my way to work.

My first weekend in the Big Smoke I went to Moro. Having read the books more times than I dare to count, to be actually eating there was like I had arrived in a culinary oasis. The bread, oh the bread. I remember the slightly unnerved expression of my dining partner as I examined said loaf with a forensic intensity. It was an auspicious start to my London eating.

Yet like any young man, I wanted to discover the new. Stake my own claim. I started work in Covent Garden but given that it is still a bit of a culinary wasteland I was drawn to Soho like a dipsomaniac to the window of Gerry’s. Vibrant and seedy, the area was everything that appeals to me.Having made a decision to eat my way around Soho I chose Moolis first, merely on a whim. The plan was to go once and then try somewhere else.

But that somewhere else always became Moolis. Each time, it was a Moolis that I found myself chomping with gleeful abandon. Then I started dragging other people to have one, like an alcoholic bringing people to the pub so he feels justified draining that second bottle of gin.

Sure, I’ve tried Koya, and I’ve tried Fernandez and Wells, enjoying them both immensely. It’s just it felt like cheating. I’m chronically addicted to the pork Moolis. Moist shredded pork with tiny bombs of juicy pomegranate, wrapped in a roti roll. The salad also serves a purpose in terms of flavour, rather than the often token limp lettuce that serves only to bulk out a meagre filling.

Not a Fucking burrito

Pork Roti. F**k Yeah.

Having worked my way through the menu with a couple of willing friends I can confirm that the rest is equally as good.

The other reason I like Moolis is the fact that the two people who run it, Sam and Matthew seem to be genuinely nice people. On Twitter they are engaging and friendly rather than simply spamming promotions, creating that sense of personality and identity that is so crucial for any independent.

I’ll keep my advice simple. Run to Moolis. Buy a Mooli’s. Eat a Moolis. Run skipping back down the street with a great big smile on your face.

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The Providores and Tapa Room: The dark art of fusion

18 Aug

Fusion cooking is one of the most maligned of all culinary disciplines. Often rightly, for in the wrong hands it can be an affront to the crockery it’s placed on. The Providores and Tapa Room is one restaurant that practices such dark arts. Led by Peter Gordon the antipodean who caused Jay Rayner to say “there was nothing wrong with fusion cooking… as long as Peter Gordon was doing it”. It’s located on Marylebone High Street and is the perfect spot to do some people watching. The Providores, the restaurant proper is on the top floor, whereas the bottom is filled with the Tapa Room. It takes no bookings and so there was a small queue outside when we arrived on Saturday morning.
My previous experience of fusion at The Modern Pantry, led by Anna Hansen, Gordon’s disciple, had been excellent. I was slightly disappointed by Gordon’s other restaurant, Kopapa, finding the portions too small for the price. I hoped that this wouldn’t be the case here.

The room itself is what could kindly be called intimate, verging on cramped. It does have the advantage of helping to create that crucial ‘buzz’. There are two menus, a breakfast that runs till 2pm, and a full menu from 3pm. The menus both read like a potential car crash of cuisines, miso doing a dance with sweet potato next to lime mingling with basil in a waffle. The brunch menu is relatively restrained in comparison to the all day menu although still has some surprises. Amongst this madness the full English seemed out of place, although I soon changed my mind once I smelt the glistening bacon and the wafting earthiness of the mushrooms.

My Friend and I opted to share some dishes, being achingly trending/a bit greedy. Often I find this annoying, as when I chose something I want to eat all of it. I don’t want to share it. Sometimes it’s nice to have small sections of food as it helps to keep things fresh and exciting. More often than not it’s simply frustrating.

In this case it was a slightly unwise decision as we had too many plates to fit on the table. Having had my love of chorizo rekindled by Brinsida in Borough Market I opted for chorizo with miso, sweet potato and creme fraiche. I was intrigued by how the miso would work with the sweet potato. The first mouthful was enough to wave at my companion for silence, better to savour it. So quite well then. The smokiness of the chorizo and the umami from the miso lifted the sweet potato up to a mash of MADNESS.

The next dish was goat’s curd, broad beans, grilled artichokes and rocket. All the flavours mingled together in a symphony of spring. It was less exciting than the whoomph of the miso and chorizo yet for me it still worked as a dish.

My companion went for the lime and basil waffles with a sweetcorn and jalapeño relish. I was less enamoured with this. The waffles were fairly staid and the relish nothing special. A bit of a non starter if I am honest.

Having ransacked these dishes, I still couldn’t get the smell of that bacon out my head. I went for the bacon with banana and walnuts, feeling that I couldn’t stomach a full English. The bacon was nice, but overall the dish was almost cloyingly sweet due to the syrup over it. The bacon cut through it somewhat, but I would have preferred more bacon and less sweetness.

All in all, a meal of highs and lows. Yet none of the lows were disasters or car crashes. They just didn’t sing to the same standard as the others. With fusion, it seems almost a perverse achievement to manage to make a dish that is merely boring, but I guess that speaks to the skill of Gordon. The standard of cooking is obviously high and I have no doubt that the full English is the proverbial dogs. It’s enough to make you want to move west. Almost.

The Providores and Tapa Room
109 Marylebone High Street W1U 4RX 020 7935 6175
Closest Tube: Baker Street
The Damage?: easily £15 to £20 per person with drinks.
http://www.theprovidores.co.uk/

Pollen Street Social: Refined yet relaxed

4 May

Jason Atherton’s Pollen Street Social is the latest high profile opening of 2011. Tucked away on a strikingly small alley off Regent Street, Pollen Street Social sets out its relaxed intentions from the off with a huge glass frontage.
On entry we were led through the bar area into the restaurant proper. The two are separated with a small wall dotted with cutaways creating a nice balance between the two whilst also allowing the buzz of the restaurant to seep through into the bar.

We sat near the now famous dessert bar, which takes pride of place at the head of the room. Flanked on the left by the glass-fronted kitchen, you can see chefs moving with a practiced calm. Further evidence of Atherton’s desire to break down the boundaries of formality and create a more relaxed atmosphere. Indeed I spoke to a chef working behind the dessert bar who said that whilst she missed the adrenaline of the kitchen it was nice to be able to chat to people about the food.

The room itself is light and relaxed with the lights a personal highlight. Being free with my words and careful with my cash I opted for the set lunch. This was accompanied by glimpses of the food gliding through the room on trays, all of it beautifully presented. A charming young man brought us a choice of bread, with the brown sourdough being preferred by both my friend and I. We chomped down on this as we watched service unfold. Our appreciation of the General Manager’s dapper double breasted waistcoat was curtailed by the arrival of the first course.

The first course for me was fish soup with saffron and garlic. The fish came nestled in a bowl with a scallop resting on the top. The waiter then flooded the bowl returning the fish to its natural habitat. The soup itself was rich in flavour with the fish perfectly textured. My companion’s choice of salmon, jersey royal and avocado was met with a flurry of praise, the particular highlight being “How does this potato taste so much of potato?”

The salmon appeared to have been cooked sous vide producing a texture that was apparently more reminiscent of sashimi and vibrantly flavoured.For me this demonstrates, that despite the technical wizardry in the kitchen, from vacuum sealers to a Thermomix, this is still ingredient lead cooking.

At this point I’m going to make a brief confession. I love looking at the toilets in restaurants. Not in a pervy way but because I’m a sucker for design. The toilets often appear to be where the designer has run riot. I think this is because nobody can see them. They are hidden oases of beautiful madness. Take Nopi for example. Reviews focused on two things; The prices (slightly high) and the toilets (a mirrored wonderland that almost makes up for the cost).

The downstairs of PSS is amazing. Again leaning heavily on glass, there is a private dining room, a prep kitchen, and a meat aging locker. I stood staring at this for slightly too long, entranced by the hanging cuts. The toilets themselves were nothing special, classy but no match for allure of the meat.

I returned upstairs for the arrival of my main. Shoulder of lamb with pasta, broad beans and peas, garnished with edible flowers. In all honesty the shoulder was tiny, its diminutive scale further emphasised by the unusually large amount of pasta that rested in the small silver pan on the table.

The lamb and accompanying jus were fantastic, resisting the tendency of the pasta to overpower them by virtue of their sheer strength of flavour. Whilst churlish to complain there was too much food, especially given my tendency to feel less than full at restaurants like this, the problem was really one of balance. Also if you are going to make lamb that tasty, give me more of it.

For dessert my friend had decided at the beginning she was going to have the Eton mess. She pronounced it excellent. I was more enticed by the basil sorbet with fruta cru.The highlight of this dish was the lime and ginger scented steam that rose from the bowl as a waiter poured liquid onto the ice. It perfumed the air and whetted my appetite. The sorbet was excellent and much better than my homemade attempts. The only flaw was the small bits of ice that fused to the fruit. The visual effect of the steam was almost worth this error, drawing gasps from the table opposite.

The staff, whilst slick, were still getting used to the menu on my first visit. This is understandable given the initial complexity of the menu. Whilst it has since been slimmed down somewhat, there still remains a dazzling variety of options. The efforts to create a relaxed atmosphere needs staff who exude confidence and help the diner to relax. In all honestly they seemed slightly unsettled on the first Saturday. Having dropped in again more recently you can definitely see the team gelling and I have every confidence that things will soon be seamless.

For me, Pollen Street almost completely succeeds in its ambitions. The room buzzes with no hint of stuffiness. I turned up looking disheveled to say the least and nobody batted an eyelid. The care and attention to detail are transparently obvious as is the passion of all the staff. The food is almost there and once things are fine tuned this is going to be a restaurant to be reckoned with. In many ways it already is.

Onion Soup Mark 1.

1 Feb

Here is the first instalment of my Onion Soup escapade.

I think that this recipe is a good base to work from but there is, as ever, room for improvement. I realise that the way of blogs is not normally to post stuff that’s half finished, but I think you can argue that a dish is never quite finished. You are always tweaking it depending on mood and available ingredients.

This method of posting also allows me to crowd source the testing and get more feedback which is always a bonus. Therefore any comments would be greatly appreciated.

To give you some insight into my thought process, I made use of sherry vinegar because sherry has a compound in it called DKP. This reacts with Unami (THE MYSTERIOUS FIFTH TASTE) compounds such as those found in Parmesan or Grana Padano(another hard cheese) and whacks them into overdrive.

You can get sherry vinegar from Sainsbury’s, but as ever it’s worth seeking out something a bit special to add a bit more flavour. I’ve got really into sherry recently, so it’s something I will be blogging about more in the future.

Serves 4

50g unsalted butter
900g onions, thinly sliced
3 tbsp sherry vinegar
1.5 litres chicken stock
50g Parmesan or Grana Padano, grated (plus a piece of rind if you have one)
A squeeze of lemon juice

This recipe takes around 2 hours, depending on how long the onions take to caramelise and how long you simmer it for. There is however very little hands on cooking. It’s a good thing to make over a weekend and freeze so you have loads of lovely soup for when you come in from work and are too tired to think.

First, slice your onions as thinly as possible into strips.

Try and slice them all equally.

Next put a big cast iron pan on a low heat, so usually about 2 on the hob. You want a good balance between the onions taking ages and not burning them. Add the butter to the pan and let it melt before adding the onions. You don’t want the butter to brown, so if it starts to do that turn the heat down.

You want to let your onions caramelise, so stir them periodically. Taste them every so often to see how soft they are getting. If you stir them all the time you wont’ get the caramelisation and it will take much longer as stirring lowers the temperature this will take around half an hour. You want to wait till the onions have gone a nice deep brown, and then add the vinegar.

This sort of went a bit wrong. The colouring should be more even.

Let this boil off before adding the stock. I use cubes as I don’t have a freezer to store stock, but if you use fresh it will definitely enhance the taste.

Bring the stock up to the boil before bringing the heat down to a simmer. You want a couple of bubbles periodically floating to the surface, but not a full on boil as that will reduce the stock too much. If this happens, and it can if you leave the pan as I do, just taste it to see if it’s too strong and top it up with a bit of water if required, adding a little at a time. If you have a piece of the rind you want to drop it into the stock when it is simmering. This will add a massive amount of flavour, although there is a tendency for the cheese to stick to the bottom. Don’t worry about this.

I’d simmer the soup for about an hour, maybe two. You want to add salt and pepper to taste about 20 minutes after you add the rind. Parmesan can be quite salty so you want to give it time to infuse through the soup.

To serve, fish the rind and onions out with a slotted spoon or pour the whole soup through a colander into another dish. The onions can be left in although they won’t have any real flavour. I leave them in when I am trying to fill myself up for not very much money. Grate the Parmesan on the top, taste and add a bit of lemon to cut through the richness and add a bit of sparkle.

Souper. I sort of hate myself for this caption.

The most important thing is to keep tasting periodically. Often people, myself included, will serve something only to say “Oh it needs a bit more X”. If you had tasted it during cooking, it would still have needed that X, but you could have added it and wowed your guests even further. So give it a try next time.

Wahaca

24 Jan

In my early teenage years a meal out with friends meant one thing; Pizza Hut. This was mostly because it had a cheap buffet. This allowed the girls to eat salad and the boys to prove how manly they were by eating dangerous level of pizza slices. This was always proceeded by an event that was always dangerously close to taking longer than the meal itself; the bill. Pennies, coins painstaking pooled together, or nobody having any change, with negotiations protracted enough to be reminiscent of Kyoto.

Now age 22 whilst I still have friends who enjoy a trip to the hut most have graduated to the dizzy heights of Pizza Express, that haven of the chattering classes. Yet there is only so much pizza a man can eat, or at least so many times one can go to Pizza Express before you start to get dough based malaise. So it’s good to know that I now have somewhere I can suggest the next time we all meet up.

Wahaca is a Mexican restaurant run by Thomasina Miers, cleverly setting out its operational style in the name, an anglicised pronunciation of the Mexican for Mexican city. She has used her media exposure from winning MasterChef to open a business. I am reliably informed she is heavily involved in, from setting up the kitchens to menu tweaking. When asked on Twitter she said that she had lost a stone in five days during the setup of their latest venue in Soho, which was the scene of this particular crime.

I went having rattled through a list of about 30 places I wanted to go to. The response of the missus was to repeat ‘Wahaca” in an interested tone, and so that was that.

We breezed in and sat down quickly, although a queue built up throughout the meal, mainly due to there not being enough two tops and it being the Monday before everybody goes back to work.
Having snacked on a pork chop whilst we ambled round the sales I felt less enthused than normal about the meat, so scoured the menu for fish and vegetarian options. The Missus is not a meat eater, so we ended up getting the same thing. This was partly because one of the two fish mains was off but it seemed somehow wrong, although I couldn’t quite work out why. I also plumped for a veggie Taqurio, because it said it was fried and I had never heard of it. Contrary I know, but I’m always worried that there is something mad delicious that somebody is hiding from me. You never get the really tasty shit, countries keep it to themselves. The average British tongue is also traditionally scared of flavour, so it seems reasonable to feel that the really vibrant and exciting stuff is that stuff that nobody else knows about.

The food turned up with surprising speed, although this was pleasant rather than suggestive of anything untoward.

The Taqurios, were, looking back, slightly disappointing. The filling of cabbage and mushroom did nothing to allay the view that vegetarians come a poor second in the flavour stakes. They just didn’t seem to add anything more than vitamins to the dish. The dish overall was elevated by the freshness of the salad and the feta, which was an interesting replacement for what I assume is another ingredient the Mexicans are keeping from us.

The Fish Tacos were on the other hand hugely enjoyable. They might not win any awards, and it may not be on the cutting edge in terms of innovation, but it was delicious. Especially when I slathered it in hot sauce. I think that at the end of the day that’s a pretty fucking good thing. It’s sometimes easy to lose sight of the fact that something simple and fresh such as this is what you want, and might even be better suited at this time than a smoked salmon bagel that’s actually made out of ice cream, however cool that sounds (this is a real thing, and I want to eat it so much it hurts.) The batter was crisp yet yielding, the accompanying slaw crunchy. The food as a whole was bright and vibrant. This feeling extended to the restaurant as a whole, which was full of people enjoying themselves, making what is a fairly large space seem full and lively despite being about half full. The sense of fun was evident throughout the entire place, from the chef I caught having a discrete boogie to the music when he thought nobody was looking, to the “thirsting or bursting” decision you made when you went down the stairs to the bar or toilets respectively.

For me, this is what eating out is all about. Wacaha claims to offer something, and fulfils that claim admirably. I don’t know how authentic it is, although the aforementioned feta gives some clue. To my mind, authentic is much less important than is commonly thought among self described ‘foodies’. It tasted good. That’s what important. Wahaca is a heartening example of a chain done well and a challenge to other restaurants.
This is cheap, ethical without making an Otarian style song and dance about it, (They use free range chicken and Msc certified fish) and tasty. I left satisfied and I enjoyed myself. And isn’t that what going out to eat is all about?

http://www.wahaca.co.uk/

New Years Blog Resolutions

13 Jan

A new year is always an oppurtunity for people to make a fresh start, to try things that they haven’t had before and do new things, whether this be trying to lose weight or inventing new ways to drinks gin and tonics at alarming speed (if anybody wants to know the secret to my infamous Gin Bomb, drop me an email).

Having left this blog dormant whilst I went through the minor inconvenience of trying to find both a job and a flat in London, with both these goals achieved, it seems high time I started filling the internet up with some hard hitting insights. Or posts on food, which ever comes first.

So here in no particular order are my resolutions.

1. Destroy my kitchen nemesis.

The trouble with blogging and surfing food sites is you are always looking for something new, something shiny and covered in pork fat. The next big thing. Yet as any chef tells you, the way you get better at dishes is by practicing them. Refining them. So I decided that I would pick one dish, and just refine it and get it on. I chose French Onion soup because onions are cheap and its a dish that is simple to do, but harder to get right. its very technique orientated. I also have loads of Grana Padano kicking about and the rind makes a wicked Unami bomb when you simmer in the soup.

2. Momofuku my cooking.

Whilst less well known over here, David Chang is a dude. I was massively inspired by his lecture on creative ceilings found (here. What I refreshing was his revelation that chefs fuck up all the time. People make mistakes. It’s often easy to forget this, and to a certain extent why would Chefs shout about it? But it inspired me to get more involved in my cooking, as well as being more rigorous which can only be a good thing. It made my mistakes “progress” rather than mistakes. Steps on a road to being a culinary ninja.

Within his book, which has just been released in the U.k, there is a bit of blurb about his journey and how he ended up where he was 2 years ago when the book was published in America. The bit that stuck out for me was his approach, which was “American”. A sort of fusion between the traditional, but running with this and twisting it and adapting it. It inspired me to be a little less anal about authenticity, which is I think something that can often happen when you get caught up in a sub culture. You want to know whats “really” cool, or how its done by people in the know. Chang’s whole approach is focused around one question. “Is it delicious?”. Which is heartening, as well as inspiring. So from now own, its my guiding principle.

3. Blog more.

Speaks for itself really. Also its an excuse to go out and try some wicked food in the name of “research”.

Haute Cusine and Horse Meat

7 Nov

This is the write up of the meal I had here. Getting to eat here was a massive surprise, as well as intensely enjoyable. My only regret is not being able to quiz the head chef on his philosophy as he had gone when I finished eating.

Not wanting to be late, I arrived, smartly dressed, twenty minutes early. I spent this time pacing up and down outside the restaurant and the surrounding area checking my watch and trying to convince myself this was actually happening and it wasn’t all about to go horribly wrong somehow.

At seven on the dot I entered through a sliding door. This was one of many strange touches that served to accentuate an already surreal evening.

After communicating to the waiter who I was, he led me to a table, and presented me with a menu.

The Menu

I looked at it, half in amazement at the food, half in horror at the prices. I then succeeded properly communicating who I was to the waiter, driven by the fact I had already been presented with a glass of sparkling wine that I was sure I couldn’t afford. This resulted in JB himself being ushered into the room.

He was a small man resplendent in chequered trousers and chef whites. The waiter helped us communicate both my thanks and his assertion that I would be treated as a guest in his house. With that he went back into the kitchen.
The menu was whisked away and I was presented with a wide variety of dishes, most of which were absent from the menu. Bizarrely, the other dinners at the restaurant seemed to experience something similar, with the waiter asking “we could do a fish course for you if that suits?” and then being presented with whatever took the kitchen’s fancy.

Right, let’s get onto the important thing. The food.

1.Amuse Bouche of marinated shrimp with tapioca.

First off, what’s an amuse bouche, for those of you who don’t spend all the time reading about food? Its French, and literally translates to “mouth amuser”. It’s a free bite sized dish that appears at the start of the meal and is often an unexpected bonus, except in Michelin star restaurants, where it has become basically obligatory. This particular example was light and pleasingly textured. The prawns were fresh and delicate and the tapioca soft and yielding. My mouth was suitably amused.

2. Pig’s ear carpaccio with pumpkin seed oil dressing, young carrot red onion and raw mushrooms.

The photo completely fails to do justice to how beautiful this was. I recently saw the Sistine chapel, and whilst that was impressive this had a more immediate impact on me. I think that’s because I know how difficult it is to do something like this, and I have no knowledge of art. But this was seriously impressive in terms of taste. Especially the unknown sauce.

3.Marinated tuna, avocado and radish with beetroot and wasabi sauce.

Again, another light dish. Raw tuna is something wonderful, and its a shame that most people’s experience is of the tinned stuff. The wasabi and beetroot complemented the cleanness of the fish well.

4.Sea scallop with braised cabbage and some sort of foam.

This was nice as well, although the foam was a bit inconsequential. It floated around in my mouth not daring to have any real flavour. Scallops are in my mind the poshest fish in the world, made more expensive by how small they are. The cabbage acted like a pillow for the scallop, all soft and gentle. Cabbage is often seen as boring, but this was luxurious.

5.Soft maize porridge with Treviso hocry and cheese from the Tolminsko region.

Polenta, or soft maize porridge, is a classic Slovenian ingredient, the countryside being liberally sprinkled with corn fields. It is also a result of the fact that the far left half of Slovenia was at one point part of Italy. Polenta made properly is a labour of love, requiring continuous stirring for hours at a time. It’s notoriously difficult to get right, but this was an example of how to do it.

This dish was homely elevated to great heights by the use of technique. Simple ingredients left to speak for themselves. The pleasing bitterness of the chicory contrasting nicely with the smokiness of the cheese, the polenta providing an earthy background for the whole thing.

6. Lime and basil sorbet.

I thought this was the last dish. After all, ice cream comes at the end. Unbeknownst to me, I had two more courses to go and this was merely a palate cleanser. Yet what a dish. Punchy, vibrant and incredibly refreshing. It was intense, but not overly so. It sort of teetered on the edge of being too much, but never got that far. It was a massive contrast to the polenta, and probably my highlight of the meal. I think this was because it was probably the most exciting of the courses, yet also the most vibrant.

7.Wrapped calf’s sweetbread with yellow botuletuses, goose liver, calf tail sauce, over heated cream and boiled apple.

Veal Sweetbread

The veal was in effect a very delicate high class meatball. It’s the first time I’ve had veal, and on this basis its something Id like to get into. Although not in a bear grylls living inside its corpse way.

As an aside veal gets quite a bad press due to the spectre of crating. My own opinion on this is that whilst crating is an obviously barbaric practice, which is thankfully not a part of most modern veal production in Britain, it’s hypocritical to condemn it whilst eating factory farmed meat. Factory farmed meat is just as bad if not worse, and if you wouldn’t eat veal on the grounds of compassion, don’t eat factory farmed meat.

In terms of flavour however this was rich as your average city banker, without any of the in your face obnoxiousness.

8. Pudding JB


The signature pudding of the restaurant. Named after the restaurant, which was named after himself.
It consisted of chocolate mousse, passion fruit compote, and some pastry wafer things that were crispy, but I don’t know what they were. I mean I know they were tasty, but that’s all I can give you. It was really good overall though.

A Special mention should be made of the music, which was questionable to say the least. At one point “I love you baby and it’s quite alright” blared out shortly followed by the BBC children in need version of “perfect day”. Not your typical restaurant sound track, thankfully.

Overall, the meal was one of simple flavours, executed well. It was subtle, with nothing mind-blowing, but it was a unique chance to see high-end Slovenian cooking. Although I don’t know how much of that there is. What it did show me was that Slovenian cooking doesn’t have to be all about stews and potatoes, and that the tradition can be the basis for a very intelligent style of cooking. It’s interesting to see that this is very similar to what has happened in England, with the “modern british” style of cooking now found in restaurants. It will be interesting to see what happens to the Slovenian culinary landscape over the next ten years, and whether this sort of dinning becomes more prevalent.

After this, I decided to try and find the elusive horse burger I had been searching for, this being my last night in Ljubljana. After all what better way to top off such a meal than with a massive burger.
The stand was located in the middle of the park, and was shut when I got there, the only 15 mins that its shut during the entire day. This seems to suggest a huge number of horse based puns from which I will refrain. I say that whilst horse is a lean meat and thus healthy, this is unfortunate in burger terms, as it means it lacks the fat you need to get a nice juicy one. Still up for trying horse steak however.