You'll have to forgive the gaps between posts, but now that America's Next Top Model All Stars has finished I've got a lot more time on my hands.
Anyhoos, I've got a bone to pick with Jamie Oliver. On the whole, I find him to be quite an affable chap and you've got to admire the way he took on the behemoth that is Bernard Matthew's Turkey Twizzler, but my gosh the man hates vegetarians. His easy to follow-at-home recipes are great, it's just a shame these aren't extended to his restaurants. Going for an Italian is usually a good middle ground when eating out with a meat-eater (Who doesn't like pasta and gooey cheese? Answer: no one. Except people with a lactose intolerance) but veggies are woefully underserved at Mr Oliver's establishments: at least Gordon Ramsay's honest (as the Daily Mirror so quaintly puts it, all joking aside. About electrocution).
I like to think I'm a master of my emotions, but I found it hard at a recent trip to Jamie's Italian (is he?) to bite my tongue when the over-friendly waiter congratulated me on my choice of vegetarian option, to which I sarcastically replied "It wasn't exactly hard out of two", not some of my best material I admit. Happily, the menu's recently been updated, but you may note that's just the pasta menu: nope, no mains for you my friend, it's carb overload with extra pumpkin or nothing. It's safe to say it's going to be a while before I go back, at least until I've worked on some better comebacks.
As such I was slightly apprehensive when someone suggested Jamie's latest offering, Union Jacks, on a night out with the girls, but I was easily swayed by the fact that it's located in the premises where the last series of The Apprentice had a pop-up restaurant, and that it had been described as a "slightly posher Pizza Express" - reality TV and thin crust pizza are all it takes to win my heart.
Union Jacks at St Giles Plaza looks nice enough on the outside, and despite warnings that it was hard to secure a table we managed to walk in on a Thursday night without a problem (Thursdays are the new Saturdays in London, dontcha know). I cooed over how much it looked like The Apprentice pop-up pie shop, when it struck me it looked like they'd barely changed anything since Sugar's lot shipped out and Oliver's army moved in. Although it had been open for a good few weeks by the time we'd shown up, the four of us were sat around the corner (looking on to the spooky church and what my former NBC colleagues used to fondly call "Crack Alley") with only a step-ladder for company. I couldn't make out a 'Property of the BBC' sticker anywhere, but I'm pretty sure the aesthetic they were going for wasn't "half-way through a shop fitting". In fact, I wasn't quite sure what look it's going for; the wonky-lettered menu boards would look cool in East London, but were at odds with the sleek glass and steel modernity of the rest of St Giles Plaza. However, seeing as I dress as though I've just stumbled out of a Powell & Pressburger film, I try not to judge on appearance. I will say that it was rather cold though.
I was quite charmed by what I'll call 'Bernie Inn style' menus, but I've never actually been to a Bernie Inn; I just wanted to avoid using 'old school', as everything else (including and especially the desserts) scream it, to the point I half expected Will Ferrell to streak shrieking across the quad (*nods at knowing reference. Oh yeah. I watch films). But I'm a sucker for cool graphic design and stationery, so I was won over there.
Unfortunately, woman can not dine on typography and paper alone, and as is usual it didn't take long to locate the veggie options. There are no less than three vegetarian main options (which are amusingly called 'flats': pizza is pizza is pizza for chrissake, if you've managed to venture this far off the beaten track from Garfunkel's it's safe to assume you don't think pizza means Chicago Town). And one of those options was a 'Margaret' (ha! I see what he did there!) which you can, and I quote, 'pimp' with extra mushrooms or chillies. Woopdedoo. I must point out here we skipped over starters, given we'd already shared a bottle of prosecco, and I flat out refuse to eat salad as a main, due to the fact I always feel slightly short changed.
So, it was either a 'pimped' Margaret with extra mushrooms and chillies, 'The Woodsman', essentially the Margaret, but with mushrooms, or the "Chilli Freak", which was a Margaret but with chillies, and intriguingly, 'curd'. How appetising. Not wanting to burn the inside of my mouth on six different kinds of chilli (and the fact that the mention of 'curd' freaked me out), I opted for 'The Woodsman'. The meat-eating ladies I was dining with weren't quite brave enough for the somewhat unusual concoctions which were on offer (brisket, worcestershire sauce) so they played it safe by ordering the same. Score one for the veggies, alllriiiight.
By now, you're probably screaming, "yes, yes, but what about the food?". The reason why I put in so much pre-amble is because the only thing I could really say (interchangeable mushrooms and chillies notwithstanding) was that it was OK. Not amazing, not terrible, just OK. The mushrooms provided a welcome smoky flavour to cut through the sharpness of the Westcombe cheddar, but the red pickled onion was an odd choice, given you'd expect caramelised onion to give a sweet contrast. Together with the tarragon (listed as an actual ingredient: Extra herbs with the mushrooms and chillies Jamie?! You are spoiling us!) it left me with a slightly bitter aftertaste which was only helped by more prosecco. The base was flat as promised, but nothing that you wouldn't get at Pizza Express and at least there you have slightly more vegetarian options if you can ignore the fact half their cheese has animal fat in it.
The main thing which grabbed me at Union Jacks however wasn't the infinite combinations of cheese, mushroom and chillies, but the promise of 'old school' (dammit!) desserts. Straight away, there was only one thing on my mind: Arctic Roll. I forgave the inclusion of chocolate ice cream and a berry compote because I'm a forgiving girl: I lived on Arctic Roll as a kid so my only criticism was the paper thin slice served to me, rather than the hunk I would usually carve off. The sponge was just the right consistency balanced with just the right amount of jam, although I had a hard time trying to determine what flavour it was.
All in all, the meal was balanced but not outweighed by a yummy dessert to a rather uninspired pizza; I never thought I'd be hankering for a Giadiniera, but there you go. Much like the pizza, I was left a little flat by the whole experience. The website claims all the ingredients are "unashamedly local", which tells me the inner circle of the M25 must be a barren wasteland where only three types of vegetables grow (and presumably all the pumpkin gets immediately shipped off to his Italian eateries).
I give Union Jacks 5 carrots out of a possible 10.
By the way, I did take some pretty pictures but I lack the dark magic required to get them from my phone to my Mac. I will sort this by my next post, coming sometime in 2014.
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