St Aldates Tavern

A narrow-fronted pub tucked inconspicuously away next to the Post Office, St Aldates Tavern had barely caught my eye during my ten years in Oxford. Passing by, I'd occasionally observe a few patrons chatting outside over a cigarette and a pint, but I was never once tempted to step through its doors. Not even during that phase when it served Thai food (somewhat incongrously, given its British boozer exterior). It just never looked like anything special. These days are gone, however. Now under new management, St Aldates Tavern is no longer an average spot for a city-centre pint: it's been given a makeover and a decent menu. Nowadays, it's an ideal venue for an after-work bite to eat, a catch-up with friends over a glass of wine, or erm... a city-centre pint.

Don't get me wrong, St Aldates Tavern hasn't gone all gastro. There are no high-backed leather chairs, faux-distressed tables and arty wallcoverings here. The interior is tasteful and minimal: it's definitely still a pub, but its wooden tables, neutral colour scheme and tasteful fixtures and fittings hint at a slightly higher end market than its previous incarnation. Walking in on a Friday evening, it was almost standing-room only: luckily, we managed to grab a little table at the back, behind the bar. Winding our way through the pub, C and I noticed tables of hungry customers tucking into sharing boards and platefuls of hearty-looking food. Never having seen the menu (unfortunately their website wasn't yet up and running), I was pleased to notice that the dishes being demolished looked more appetising than standard pub grub.

It certainly promised to be appetising, with the announcement at the head of the menu that all food is homemade from fresh ingredients every day – and on the premises, no less. The all-day menu (food is served from 12–9.30pm) is unpretentious but appealing: classics such as sausage and mash (£7) and beer-battered fish and chips (£7.50) sit along side a few 'St Aldates Specials' (such as crevettes with braised fennel and aioli, £8.50, and rump steak with hand-cut chips, £9.50). There are also a couple of dishes to share; ideal accompaniments for a post-work glass of wine: there's a baked camembert with freshly-baked bread (£8.50) and a charcuterie board featuring smoked duck breast, chicken liver parfait and ham hock terrine (£14). Prices are surprisingly reasonable given the pub's central location: but does the low price mean comparable quality, or petite portion sizes?

Oh hi, camembert

No, as it turned out. C and I devoured our whole baked camembert (I blame the appetite we'd worked up over a glass of red) pretty damn quickly: it was just too tasty. The centre was perfectly melted throughout, and the warm fresh bread ideal for scooping up the cheesy goodness. C pronounced it the best baked camembert she'd ever eaten, and I'd have to agree. Now I know that sticking a cheese in the oven doesn't sound like the most challenging of feats, but getting the right consistency is something of an art form. And it's one that the chef at St Aldates Tavern has clearly mastered. Add to that the touch of honey crowning the camembert, and welcome to cheese bliss.

Witness the fitness

My main course of roast pepper and butterbean stew (£7.50, one of 3 vegetarian options) had a hard act to follow, but it put in a sterling performance. In addition to peppers, the stew also featured a selection of other veg, including courgettes plus plenty of herbs, making it tastier than anticipated. I admit I hesitated before ordering, as I find that vegetable stews can often be disappointingly watery in consistency, but the St Aldates version was robust and tasty.

Vegetable and butterbean stew

C opted for the 8oz beef burger served with hand-cut chips (£8.50), which came topped with red onion and cheese. It was cooked medium (just right, apparently), with a well-seasoned, herby flavour. The bun was toasted, the salad topping worked well: all in all, an excellent burger, apparently. Both our mains were on a par with a gastropub offering, at a more modest price.

Beef burger

If your appetite is more restrained than ours, St Aldates Tavern also serves bar snacks (from £3). Although about half of the customers were dining, it's very much a pub: there are 8 beers on tap, priced from £3.70 a pint. There's also a decent wine list, with small glasses from £2.20 – but be warned, large glasses don't come in so cheap, with the house white £4.85 for 250ml and the most expensive wines over the £8 mark. Bottles are better value, so all the more excuse to settle in for the evening and order some dinner while you're at it.

With a strong menu of well-cooked – and well-priced – food, a wide choice of drinks at an average city centre rate, a comfortable setting and friendly service, St Aldates Tavern is worth a visit. After ten years, it's now well and truly on my radar.

Verdict: 8.5

St Aldates Tavern is at 108 St Aldates, OX1 1BU. Tel: 01865 241185.

Apologies for the silence: fortnightly reviews to be resumed!

Las Iguanas foodie night

Italian? Make mine a pizza. Indian? Yep, I know my order by heart. Chinese? That's a rice versus noodles decision. Latin American? Hmm... what does that mean, then?

While most Brits have now embraced a variety of world cuisines,food from some countries has been slower to reach our shores. Delicacies from Central and South America definitely remain under-represented. London has a smattering of independent restaurants from this corner of the globe (plus the Mexican chain Wahaca) and Brazilian rodizio places are gradually popping up nationwide, but it's probably fair to say that Las Iguanas is the best-known Latin American eatery in the UK. Established in Bristol in 1991, there are now 28 branches across Britain, including one on Park End Street in Oxford. The kitchen draws inspiration from numerous countries across Central and South America, largely Mexico and Brazil, although dishes from other nations (and a few geographically hazy but tasty sounding numbers) also pepper their menu. You certainly won't want for choice at Las Iguanas: all tastes are catered for, including fussy vegetarians like myself who wouldn't touch a rodizio restaurant with an asparaus spear.

One Tuesday night every month in the Oxford branch of Las Iguanas, that Latin American geography I mentioned gets a little more soecific. A three-course set menu from one of the countries that make up the continent is also on offer to diners. In August, Brazil took the culinary spotlight. The welcome caipirinha (the country's signature cocktail, or 'drink of the people' as the menu would have you believe) seemed to speed our decision-making: with three options for each course (one meat, one fish, one veg) there's just enough choice. M and I opted for the salt cod bolinhos (fritters) and the cheese empanadas (pastries) to start, rejecting the least Brazilian-sounding option of spinach and chicken dip served with tortilla chips. Aren't they a product of Central America's behemoth instead? Ah well, it's all a big Latin American love-in at Las Iguanas, so a bit of cross-border food trading can be excused.

Empanadas

Bolinhos

Starters were served promptly by our friendly waiter. The presentation and portion sizes were both above average: M and I already had the feeling we'd be rolling home bolinho-shaped after our meal. Of the two, we preferred the empanadas: although their slightly crisp texture suggested the traditional method of deep frying had been at work, they didn't taste artery-clogging. The cheese inside was pleasantly gooey, and the spicy cranberry salsa was an unexpectedly tasty complement. The salt cod fritters were, as M pointed out, 'a bit salty', but worked well with the accompanying aioli and rocket garnish.

Feijoada

The difficult-to-photograph bobo

Next up was Brazil's traditional feijoada for M and an intriguingly named seafood bobo for me (chicken, steak or butternut squash crepes being eschewed this time). Feijoada is a meaty stew made up of braised beef, chorizo and black beans with a garlic and red wine sauce, served with rice and plantain. It was reportedly tasty: the beans were particularly flavoursome and held their texture rather than turning to mush. The chorizo was good too, the beef perhaps not top quality but fine for a stew. It was good to see plantain featuring in both of our dishes: it's not something we're often served in the UK, and a different taste makes a welcome change from the usual medley of vegetables on our menus. My seafood bobo was elaborately presented in a clay pot, with a candle to keep it warm. A good selection of fish (prawns, mussels and cod) were cooked in a spicy tomato, cassva and coconut milk sauce, and also served with rice and plantain. To bring yet more flavour to this carnival in a bowl, I was also given a spicy salsa and some toasted coconut farofa. The salsa I soon discarded as unecessary, but the coconut added more depth and an interesting texture to the dish. Despite sounding like some kind of bogeyman, the bobo was fresh-tasting and recommendable. Again, portions of both dishes were generous without being over-facing: you definitely feel you're getting value for money with the set menu.

Chocolate pot

Cheesecake

Given the speed with which our desserts appeared, I had a feeling they weren't going to be something a Brazilian grandma had laboured over for the occasion. I find that pudding is often a chain restaurant's downfall, as they're so easy to buy in and refrigerate. Sadly this proved the case here, with both of our desserts tasting ever so slightly of fridge. We regretted rejecting the most Brazilian-sounding dessert, the quindim de yaya (apparently this means 'girlish charm' - why on earth did we turn it down?). If the promise of feminine charm didn't lure us in to order this baked custard flan, the word 'homemade' should have. Instead, we opted for the chocolate pot and the dulce de leche and macadamia cheesecake. The Argentinian caramel that is dulce de leche (ah, there's that inter-country food swapping again) is lip-lickingly divine. It's also my joint favourite ice cream flavour ever. So naturally I went for that. But it didn't taste so much of sweet, gooey caramel as I'd hoped. In fact I detected a hint of garlic (or maybe the taste of the bobo just lingered longer than expected). M's chocolate pot wasn't quite what we expected, but was pleasant nonetheless. A misplaced comma in the menu (layers of dark chocolate, sponge) misled us: there was more sponge in evidence than dark chocolate, and the coffee Kahlua taste was definitely dominant.

For £21.50 for 3 courses and a drink, the themed set menus offer great value if you fancy trying something a bit different. And let's face it, whose Tuesday evenings couldn't do with a bit of Latin American flavour? Upcoming nights include Venezuela (4 Sep), Cuba (2nd Oct) and Mexico (6 Nov). If you don't fancy going the whole enchilada and committing to three courses, give the regular menu a try. There's plenty on there (including enchiladas) to suit everyone, and if you're feeling adventurous there's bound to be something new to try. No matter what night you visit, there's always a bit of atmosphere in Las Iguanas too. As someone who dreads a silent restaurant complete with waiters hovering expectantly, the lively music and flag-filled decor are a welcome touch. There's also a bar at the front of the restaurant with a nightly happy hour if you fancy a mojito or caipirinha. The continent's drinks may be more familiar to us than its food for now, but you could easily be converted.

Verdict: 7

Las Iguanas is at 40 Park End Street, Oxford OX1 1JD. Tel: 01865 263150 or book online.

Byron

If a friend had suggested going out for a burger a decade ago, you'd have automatically thought of parting with a few pounds at those golden arches. Nowadays, the simple hamburger isn't just a fast food phenomenon: it's gone a bit gastro. Pubs pride themselves on serving the 'best burger', with high-quality, locally-sourced mince seasoned with just the right mixture of herbs; chains such as Gourmet Burger Kitchen have challenged the dominance of the humble beef patty with creative combinations of both meat and vegetarian ingredients. Sometimes though, simplicity wins.

British chain Byron was established by Tom Byng in London in 2007 with the aim of serving simple hamburgers done well, in the tradition of great American diners. Not that there's anything kitsch about this burger joint, though – the decor is more along the lines of stripped-back industrial chic than 50s retro. Until recently, Byron's branches could only be found in the capital, but in July, their Oxford outpost opened on George Street: just two doors down from recently-renovated GBK. A burger battle was about to commence, surely?

Well no, as it turns out. Stepping through the doors of Byron one weekday evening, the atmosphere couldn't have been more different from that of its near neighbour. Rather than a brightly-lit space full of families polishing off a towering stack of meat plus topping, Byron is as simple and fuss-free as its menu. The varied clientele show that burgers appeal to all ages, while the cool and quirky design differentiate it from other Oxford restaurants: as N said, it's 'very London'. Clearly appealing to a different demographic than GBK, there should be space enough in this town for the both of them.

But the proof of the burger is in the eating. How would Byron's 'proper hamburgers' fare when put to my Belgian burger connoisseur's taste test? The restaurant manager explained the concept behind the menu: it's structured around the Classic burger (£6.75), a 6oz hamburger cooked medium (unless otherwise requested), topped with lettuce, tomato, red onion and mayonnaise and served in a bun. The beef they use comes from small farms in Scotland and is freshly ground every day. The menu features only 5 other items: Cheese (a choice of 5, £7.75), Byron (with dry cure bacon, mature cheddar and Byron sauce, £9.25), Skinny (no bun, with salad, £7.50), Chicken (chicken breast with tomato mayonnaise and spinach, £8.75) and Veggie. Which isn't a burger at all, but a portabello mushroom with roasted red pepper, goat's cheese, spinach and aioli (£7.75). Apparently the idea was to give vegetarians something like a burger so they don't feel 'left out'. As one of their number, I say give us a burger! If you go for a burger you erm, want a burger. But still, I decided to withold judgment until I'd sampled one for myself.

While we waited for our Byron (N's choice on the manager's recommendation) and Veggie to arrive, we munched on some 'proper olives' (£2.75) and tortilla chips with salsa and guacamole (£3.50). Both were excellent: good quality olives, and delicious homemade dips. I normally flinch at the English pricetag on olives, but shared between a few of you, these are worth it. When it comes to drinks, Byron's prices reflect its London origins, with soft drinks weighing in at £2.30+ and milkshakes for £3.95. In-keeping with the 'simple' ethos, the wine list is divided into 'good', 'better', 'great' and 'best' categories. I opted for a large glass of 'good' red (a Spanish Tempranillo, £5.25) – and very good it was, much nicer than the house red at my local – while N chose the 'great' Malbec (£6.95), which she loved but I wasn't sure warranted the price tag.

After a short wait, the burgers and our sides of skin-on chips and courgette fries (£3.25 each) plus a house side salad (£3.50) arrived. Prices may be in an entirely different bracket to Maccy D's, but the portion sizes and presentation take Byron's burgers out of the fast food category entirely. N's burger was definitely sizeable enough to keep her quiet for a good few minutes; once she surfaced from meaty mouthfuls she reported that it was the definition of medium, juicy and delicious. The salad was fresh, the bacon and cheddar were both 'perfect' – as she put it, 'the whole experience was enjoyable'.

The veggie versus...

The Byron

My veggie 'burger' was also generously sized yet less tricky to eat than some I've been faced with: it didn't collapse or crumble everywhere. The mushroom, red pepper and goat's cheese all worked well together, providing plenty of flavour and texture. Everything was fresh and tasty, but ultimately I couldn't help but feel that it was more of a fancy sandwich than a burger. It was definitely less substantial than N's meat version, but with the addition of starters and sides I was more than satisfied. The lightly-battered courgette fries were clearly made to order and it showed: they were delicious and moreish. The skin-on chips were the only dud note of the evening – in their haste to feed us, the chefs hadn't let them cook quite long enough.

Sides

Heaven

Dessert more than made up for this slight fault, though. I didn't think an Oreo and Brownie Sundae sounded like much to get excited about: after all, it was just ice cream mixed with chunks of cookies and brownie with some chocolate sauce thrown in for good measure. I was wrong. It was pure indulgence in a dish; so good I almost wanted to lick the remnants from the glass. Clearly inspired by the Olympics, N declared that the person who invented it deserved a gold medal. I'm inclined to agree. Silver would have to go to the cheesecake: a worthy contender, although outperformed by the sundae on the night.

Providing simple, fresh food at a decent price, Byron is bound to succeed in Oxford. Although once you've added sides and drinks to your main a meal doesn't come too cheap, it's worth it if burgers are your thing. With excellent service, a relaxed atmosphere and a setting that's a little out of the ordinary for Oxford, it's worth a visit. As for me, I'll be back once there's a veggie burger on the menu...

Verdict: 8

Byron is at 33-35 George Street, OX1 2AY. Tel: 01865 792155.

Ashmolean Roof Top

If you want to marvel at some Egyptian mummies, check out some Chinese ceramics or study some still-life paintings, you'd go to the Ashmolean. If you want to enjoy a post-work drink with a difference, accompanied with a tapas-style bite to eat, turns out you'd go to the Ashmolean too.

A prestigious museum isn't the first place that springs to mind when you think fine dining, but in-the-know Oxford residents have been enjoying the Ashmolean's top-floor restaurant since the museum's extensive re-fit finished in 2009. With lavish lunches and afternoon teas on offer during gallery opening hours, the Ashmolean Dining Room transforms on Thursday and Friday nights. Step through the concealed doorway on St Giles and take the lift skywards: an evening on the roof terrace awaits.

The restaurant itself is full of light, with floor-to-ceiling glass windows maximising the view of the historical Randolph Hotel and beyond to Oxford's famous spires. One of these windows is a sliding door, opening onto the terrace. Thanks to our wonderful British weather, this terrace is sadly under-exploited for much of the year, but once summer rolls around (hurry up, would you?), this space is the place to be. There's an extensive area of decking with tables and chairs for informal dining, plus a patch of real grass with deck chairs that's perfect for lounging after a hard day's work.

In addition to a well-chosen wine list, a selection of wines and beers, the Roof Top menu also offers three appropriately-named cocktails: the Randolph, the Oxford Fool Sling and the Rooftop Daiquiri £6 each). N, D, M and I tested the range between us, with the vodka and cointreau Randolph and the rum-based daiquiri winning particular praise. The watermelon flavour of the Randolph makes it the perfect summer drink. Sadly the weather on our visit didn't quite fall into the 'perfect summer' category, but we didn't let a spot of rain stop us from ploughing through the entire food menu.

With dishes designed to be shared, the Roof Top's is ideal for a sociable post-work bite (or what I like to all a pre-dinner dinner). Or, if you order everything on offer as we did, you'll have more than enough for an evening meal. The select menu features a range of 'small plates', priced £4 each or 3 for £11. There are also sharing boards featuring either meat or cheese or a combination of the two for £14.50 a pop. These nibbles are definitely pricier than a bag of crisps down your local pub, but they're also a damn sight tastier – and more filling.

Meat and cheese boards

Dosa Park

It's 7pm, you've got £5 in your pocket and an empty stomach. Looks like a sandwich is the most likely option, unless you want to go down the greasy burger/chips route. Or you could take that fiver to a kebab shop. Not just any kebab shop: Dosa Park. Because as I discovered, not all kebab joints are created equal. In fact, some aren't really kebab shops at all.

You've probably passed by Dosa Park on your way to and from Oxford train station and not spared it a second glance. Unless you found yourself in the aforementioned famished in possession of a fiver situation. Then you might have wandered in and realised they serve far more than just various combinations of meat + chips: they also serve South Indian food. The clue's in the name, really – a dosa is a savoury rice pancake popular in the south of India, as well as in South East Asian countries such as Malaysia and Singapore. In the UK, we're much more familiar with curries from the north of India, Bangladesh or Pakistan, so dosa can be hard to come by. Oxford now has three purveyors of this light, crispy stomach filler: Chutneys, Trichy Dosa and Dosa Park. The latter may look like any other greasy kebab shop, but its cheap cooking gives much pricier Indian restaurants a run for their money.

The Grand Cafe

There's something about the first flush of spring in Oxford that makes me feel incredibly English. I'm not sure whether it was the daffodils down by the river or that first annual glimpse of pasty white legs showcased in shorts, but this particular Sunday had me craving a cream tea. Visiting the UK from her usual home in Spain, my friend K was only too happy to share my oh-so-English craving, so we made our way to the Grand Café on High Street.

Apparently the site of the first coffee house in England (as claimed by Samuel Pepys), these days the Grand Café is all gilt and mirrors. Classic in style it may be, but it's certainly no historical relic: it's quietly buzzing at all hours of the day. Its petite proportions could be overshadowed by its imposing neighbour the Examination Schools, but the colonnaded front and swish interior of the Grand Café hold their own. Open daily for brunch, light lunches, afternoon tea and cocktails, it's certainly a multipurpose venue, but there's something about its slightly overblown interior that just suggests indulgence to me.

Served from 2-5pm, afternoon tea is one of the Grand Café's mainstays, if the scone-laden tabletops around us were anything to go by. The Grand High Tea (£16.50) reads like the perfect reason to ignore government guidelines for calorie consumption: sandwiches of the smoked salmon & cream cheese and egg mayonnaise varieties, scones served with jam and clotted cream, handmade chocolate truffles, a glass of champagne and of course, tea (or coffee for the less traditional). Just a couple of hours after our picnic lunch, neither of us could quite find room for this decadent delight, so we both ordered the more modest-sounding cream tea (£7.50) of scones and err, tea.

Hungry?

Chiang Mai Kitchen

Hype is a dangerous thing. When it’s PR-generated, we’re all naturally suspicious, but word of mouth is usually so much more reliable. After hearing excellent reports of Chiang Mai Kitchen for several years, I was thrilled to be invited to a work dinner there. It’s probably the priciest of Oxford’s Thai restaurants, so I’d been saving it for a celebration (or February at least), but thankfully there was no need.

Walking in at 8pm with high expectations, I was glad we’d made a reservation: the place was packed. Nothing unusual for a Friday or Saturday evening – but it was Monday. We were shown to the last free table in the restaurant’s cosy upstairs. Set in a historic building, Chiang Mai is charmingly higgledy-piggledy, its oh-so-English wood-beamed dining area given a Thai touch with the addition of gold statuettes. Glamorous it isn’t, though: tablecloths are the paper variety and the menu was well-thumbed and spiral-bound. I wasn’t impressed to note a stain on our tablecloth – yes they were busy, but surely there was time to quickly exchange a sheet of paper?

The menu quickly improved my opinion though. If you’re indecisive, you’ll find dining at Chiang Mai a challenge: there are just so many tasty-sounding dishes to choose from. With a page each, starters and salads are manageable, but when it comes to the main event, there are options galore – chicken, pork, beef, seafood, fish, vegetarian dishes, curries; it’s all covered. There’s something for all palates too – spicy dishes are indicated with chillis; 1 denotes medium spice and 2 is seriously hot. With starters ranging from £5.60–7.90 and mains between £8.30 and £14.50, it was less expensive than I imagined – but of course, the price of noodles or rice (from £2.70) must be factored in. After a good ten minutes ruminating, we placed our orders. 45 minutes later, as the other diners had almost all emptied out of the restaurant, we were still waiting to eat.

After some prompting, our starters appeared. M and I had both opted for the tofu (£5.60), which was deep-fried and served with a spicy peanut sauce. Thank goodness for the sauce – we both agreed the tofu was bland and a little watery in the middle, as though it had been sitting around for a while rather than jumping straight from the fryer to our table. The portion was generous, though, as was C’s Mieng Gai (minced chicken with spinach, £6.60). This dish was particularly well-presented (apologies, we were too ravenous to care about photography at this stage), the spinach leaves forming a pretty floral pattern on the plate. She was surprised to discover it was served cold, though. The peanuts sprinkled on top certainly gave an extra dimension, but were whole rather than chopped, overloading the dish somewhat. The chunks of lime also included were a more successful touch, adding a fresh flavour. Unlike the Mieng Gai, S’s fishcakes were hot: both in terms of temperature and spice. With 4 pieces, this was another sizeable starter, and was complimented on its taste.

Christmas at No1 Folly Bridge

Turkey, roast potatoes, brussels sprouts, parsnips, stuffing, gravy, looseing a notch on your belt. For most Brits, the phrase 'Christmas dinner' conjures up all these images. Christmas is definitely a time when diets are relaxed and indulgence rules. In the build-up to the main festivities, it's likely you'll eat more than one Christmas meal with work colleagues or friends. And with the majority of Oxford restaurants offering festive set menus, you're spoiled for choice when it comes to choosing where to tuck into your turkey. But what if you're looking for something less traditional? If you can only face the full turkey and trimmings once over the festive period but still want to keep things festive, try No1 Folly Bridge.

With a prime riverside location, this new brasserie no doubt comes into its own during the warmer months, when the terrace opens up. However, it's also a lovely spot for dinner at any time of year, with its white walls, light wood furniture and candlelit alcoves. The main menu changes with the seasons, offering well-priced French-influenced meat and fish dishes (such as swordfish steak, £12.75) along with a selection of stone-baked pizzas. The Christmas menu offers even better value, though: 3 courses for just £19.95. With 4 options for each course, we weren't limited on choice, but at such a good price, would the dishes deliver?

A, N and I greedily sampled one of everything on No1 Folly Bridge's Christmas menu, starting with baked goat's cheese salad, a salmon and prawn tartlet, parsnip and celeriac soup and a ham hock and game terrine. I admit I wouldn't usually opt for soup as a starter, but a taste of this creamy, subtle yet rich tasting parsnip and celeriac number had me rethinking my ideas. Notoriously fussy N also loved it, but preferred the terrine: both my carnivorous companions said that it was a real meat lover's dish, densely packed with good quality meat, and offset well by a cranberry relish.

Badly photographed salmon and prawn tartlet

The Ball Green Door

You'd expect a top dining destination to be fully booked on a Friday night, and The Ball Green Door was no exception. With four courses on offer for just £25 and a friendly atmosphere, you can certainly understand the appeal. But where is this people- and pocket-pleasing restaurant? I can't tell you, I'm afraid.

A dining phenomenon that has taken London by storm, supper clubs (or underground restaurants) are gradually extending their reach across the UK. Either held at the homes of keen amateur cooks (or sometimes professional chefs) or organized in unusual spaces, these pop-up dining destinations take many forms. They all have one thing in common though: the ability to bring strangers together over a shared love of food. Some supper clubs are regular, while others, including Oxford's Ball Green Door, are more sporadic, but all must be booked in advance. After perusing a menu, diners either purchase tickets in advance or email to secure a place before their destination is revealed to them: shrouded in secrecy due to their lack of licence, supper clubs should appeal to all those mystery lovers who like a side of the unknown with their steak.

Taking advantage of the Ball Green Door's last date for this year, N and I booked tickets for a  Friday night. For £25 including a welcome drink, the price compared favourably with Oxford's restaurants: but unlike visiting a restaurant, we weren't quite sure what to expect. After attending two very different supper clubs (Fernandez & Leluu and The Shed) while living in London, I wasn't a complete novice, but as each experience is unique, shaped by the host's ideas and tastes, I was excited to see how an Oxford take on the phenomenon measured up.

Arriving at our destination, we were welcomed by friendly waitresses and presented with a sloe gin sling. The softly-lit room was buzzing with chatter as strangers broke the conversational ice, aided by a sip of alcohol. We took our seats on one of three tables of six and introduced ourselves to our table mates: a couple and 2 brave solo diners. Communal dining sets supper clubs apart from a traditional restaurant experience: although many people attend in pairs or small groups, over-dinner conversation is the norm. Sometimes this takes the form of awkward and stilted chit-chat; sometimes common ground is found, laughs had and issues debated. Fortunately, the latter was the case at The Ball Green Door, and I can safely say that it's the friendliest supper club I've attended to date.

Beetroot and horseradish blinis

Our starter of beetroot and horseradish blinis sprinkled with poppy seeds was an ideal entree: light, tasty and fresh, it was enough to whet the palate and tantalize us with a hint of what was to come without being too filling. Timing was impeccable; we had just enough time to chat and relax before the next course appeared. Slow-cooked beef shank osso bucco for the meat eaters and stuffed portabello mushrooms for the veggies, the mains were served with a chunky potato gremolata and green beans. Despite the generous portion size, our table polished their dishes off in record time: the meat was tender and slid off the bone, melting in the mouth, while the mushrooms had a robust quality and were so flavoursome I put aside my reservations regarding stuffed vegetables. In fact, I may even be a convert: the rich tomato sauce certainly packed a punch and with its help the mushrooms made for a satisfying main.

Beef shank

Stuffed mushrooms

Sufficiently stuffed with two delicious courses and oiled with the wine our tablemates kindly shared with us, there was time to rest and chat about every imaginable topic: we even covered those dinner party disaster areas of politics and religion without any kind of disagreement occurring. This triumph was possibly surpassed by the dessert, though. Chef Charlotte's pear and frangipane tart with masala chai ice cream was, as N declared, 'the winner'. The delicate flavours of the poached fruit and the frangipane, the perfectly made pastry and the subtle spice of the homemade ice cream made this a moreish pudding I'd be happy to see on a restaurant menu.

Pear and frangipane tart - this photo does it no justice!

Wrapping up the evening with Oxord Blue cheese served with rowan berry jelly followed by coffee and homemade chocolates, our table concluded that good supper clubs have the edge over restaurants. Attending one is risky, though: unlike a restaurant, you can't be quite sure what you're going to get at a supper club. A keen chef is presumably not always a good chef, you need only watch an audition episode of the X Factor to see that some people's belief in their own talent is sorely misplaced. Although food and venue are key factors, your fellow diners are the biggest gamble of all: the people who share your table have the power to make or break the experience. Luckily for us, our tablemates were excellent company; fun and easy to talk to. After a lovely evening of well-cooked, unfussy but excellently executed food in interesting company, I realized that the best supper clubs combine the ease and sense of occasion of dining out with the convivial, relaxed atmosphere of a friend's home. And with prices lower than most restaurants and a bring your own policy, their appeal in these financially hard times is understandable. In an age where independent restaurants often have to fight for survival as town centres are engulfed by chains, supper clubs are putting the personal touch into dining.

Verdict: 10.
I wasn't sure I'd ever give anywhere full marks, but the food, setting, service and company at The Ball Green Door were worth it.

Unfortunately we attended the last dinner at The Ball Green Door for the foreseeable future, but keep checking their Facebook page for updates. To find out more about our evening The Ball Green Door and other 'dining with a difference' ideas, tune in to my slot on Jo Thoenes's show on BBC Radio Oxford on Friday 28 October from 1pm. I'll be discussing other supper clubs in Oxfordshire, as well as some other unusual dining destinations. You can listen here.

The High Table

Set menus strike horror into the hearts of some people. That pared-down list of culinary offerings signifies a lack of choice; a limit on your tastebuds. This is sometimes undeniably so. However, set menus can also represent significant savings: they can be a chance to check out what’s on offer at a ritzy restaurant while keeping your spending on the down low. Personally, I don’t mind eating early and picking from a reduced menu if it enables me to satisfy my stomach with chi chi cuisine at a fair price.

The aptly-named High Table sits inside the High Street’s Eastgate Hotel. Popular with tourists due to its prime location, it’s also increasingly name-checked by local residents on Twitter. I visited a number of years ago and remember being impressed by the high quality of the traditional dishes served, but memories of a rather stuffy interior delayed my return visit until this year. Following a facelift, the High Table is no longer a staid hotel dining room: the traditional space has been given a modern touch with fashionable furniture and light colours. It met with my mother’s approval: and that’s no mean feat.

Mrs T also approved of the menu, too: at The High Table, prix fixe merely restricted to the earlybird slot. In addition to their excellent value Monday to Saturday offer (£10.95 for two courses at lunch and from 6 until 7pm), there’s also a slightly higher priced set menu on Sundays until 2 (two courses for £13.95, three for £16.95). With four options on offer for each course, there’s slightly more choice than on most set menus, and I noted to my satisfaction that two of the starters were vegetarian.

Over a basket of fresh warm bread, we perused the options.Mr and Mrs T both chose smoked trout salads with mango, chilli, lime and coriander to start.

Shocking phone photo of smoked trout salad

Immaculately and artistically presented, they were what Mrs T termed ‘proper starter sizes’: no spoiling your appetite here, these entrées were designed to leave you salivating for more rather than satisfied. I suppose serving so many set menus encourages balanced portion sizes. The salad’s ingredients worked harmoniously together to create a fresh, summery flavour combination rather than an overpowering culinary equivalent of the tower of Babel.

Watermelon and ricotta salad

My watermelon and ricotta salad with podded peas and green beans was also perfectly presented and an interesting summer dish, but I did feel that the taste of the watermelon dominated the cheese, so perhaps an extra flavour element would have been welcome here.

Blurry chicken

Much to Mr T’s dismay, there was no roast beef to be had by the time we sat down, so the traditional roast was substituted for chicken. As a chap who likes his hearty meals (a little too much, Mrs T might say), my dad was a little disappointed by the portion size but once again impressed by the presentation. The rosemary-infused roast potatoes also helped to win him around. Mrs T’s pork belly with apple purée and Madeira jus looked decidedly unappetising to my vegetarian eyes, but she assured me it was well-cooked and melted in her mouth, although the crackling could have been crispier. My pan-fried Cornish bream was perfectly cooked, light and flaky, combining well with the accompanying panzanella salad (although this was just a touch too oily).

Pan-fried bream

With friendly and efficient service and tasty and interesting dishes served in an inviting setting, The High Table deserves to steal another High Street institution’s crown. The price-quality ratio was spot on, and the ample availability of set menus is a definite winner in my book. However, if the portion sizes on the a la carte menu are similarly sized, you’ll definitely need more than a main to satisfy your stomach – even if your appetite isn’t as healthy as Mr T’s.

Verdict:7.5/10

The High Table is at71-73 High Street, OX1 4BE. Tel: 01865 248695.

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The Nosebag

If you want to grab something to eat on the go in central Oxford, your options are almost limitless. Gourmet sandwich chains, supermarkets and independent coffee shops all cater to our hurried needs. But what if you're looking for a quick sit-down lunch or even (gasp) a rapid bite to eat in the evening? There are times when we just don't want the rigmarole of restaurant dining: being seated by a waiter, perusing the menu, ordering, waiting. At The Nosebag, there's none of that: just hearty, home-cooked food served up quickly without any fuss.

As that description suggests, there aren't any frills and fripperies involved in dining at The Nosebag. An inviting if old-fashioned wood-pannelled cafe on St Michael's Street, it's located above the Makan La Malaysian restaurant and run by the same owners. Offering a wide selection of reasonably-priced salads, baked potatoes and soups, The Nosebag also has lunch and evening menus of more substantial fare. Options are chalked-up above the salad bar and orders are placed and paid for at the counter.


A Friday evening may not be the most typical time to visit, but there were a few other customers enjoying main courses, soups or just cups of tea during the evening. With 5 meat and 5 vegetarian dishes on offer as well as the lighter options, both carnivores and herbivores are well catered for. After some debate (quite a novel experience for me, having 5 choices), I plumped for the green vegetable and taleggio risotto with rocket, while M chose the massaman curry (both £9.40).

After a short wait, two laden plates appeared in front of us: the rumours of stomach-defeating portions seemed to be true. For less hungry customers, one meal between two would suffice.

Green vegetable and taleggio risotto

The advertised 'green vegetables' in my risotto were asparagus, courgette and peas, but there was no rocket to be seen. The rice was unusual, thick and soft, quite unlike normal risotto rice. I have to say there wasn't really much flavour until I prodded at the chunks of cheese to melt them into the rice: without the addition of some tasty dairy, the risotto was rather bland. Add in the taleggio however, and it was goregously creamy. Ah, the powers of cheese.

Massaman curry

M's massaman curry definitely wasn't lacking in flavour: featuring sweet potato, cauliflower and chickpeas, it was well-seasoned, hearty and full of cardamom. So full, in fact, that a bit of pod-dodging was required. A minor gripe though: it was tasty and filling.

Apparently The Nosebag's cakes are delicious (and also served in gigantic portions), but for the sake of my waistline I abstained, although a mere £1.90 for their famed pear crumble cake was certainly tempting.

If you're looking for unfussy, quick and filling food in the town centre at any time of day, The Nosebag is well worth considering. It may not have the fanciest setting or the most elaborate of menus, but it will have something to satisfy most appetites and budgets. The main courses are perhaps a little on the steep side, but I suppose that's what comes of having such a prime location.

Verdict: 6/10

I'll be discussing more vegetarian-friendly places to eat on BBC Radio Oxford on 23 September from 1pm.

The Nosebag is at 6-8 St Michael's Street, OX1 2DU. Tel: 01865 721033.

Quod

The two glasses of champagne on the table should have been a giveaway, but it was actually the suit that did it. When my friend D called to say he was back in Oxford and asked me to meet him at Quod on bank holiday Monday, I was pleasantly surprised. When I arrived to find him smartly clad and elated, I knew something was afoot. And I was right: his four years of hard work had paid off and my very clever friend had just been awarded his doctorate. Wonderful news absorbed and champagne in hand, surely nothing could spoil my lunch.

Self-promoted as 'the busiest brasserie and bar in Oxford', Quod is a bit of a High Street institution: all gloss and chrome, it's true that it's usually bustling with tourists and locals alike, drawn by its atmosphere and sleek good looks as well as its menu. I must admit that since a brush with a main course portion of ravioli featuring a mere nine parcels of pasta (£1 per spinach-stuffed sheet) many years ago, I haven't been Quod's biggest fan. But on a day like this, I was willing to give them a chance.

As it was a bank holiday, the £11.95 two course menu wasn't on offer, so we perused the selection of modern British/European brasserie fare, from seasonal dishes such as fennel, cucumber and dill salad (£5.50) and roast chicken breast with courgette and saffron risotto (£13.95) to burgers, pasta and some interesting-sounding pizzas (including courgette, broad bean and spinach with lemon and pecorino). Avoiding the £11.95 artichoke ravioli, I opted for a starter of gazpacho (£5.95), while D went for the steak tartare (£7.95).

Steak tartare

The idea of raw meat may be completely alien to me, but D's quite the fan of uncooked flesh, and as a chap with high standards I was happy to believe his assessment of the beautifully-presented dish as an eight out of ten. Topped with a quail's egg still sitting in a half shell, the patty of beef came with tomatoes and cucumbers already blended into the mixture: apparently this isn't usual and D prefers to mix in the vegetables himself, but the quality and taste of the well-seasoned meat made up for it.

Gazpacho

I should have known better than to order gazpacho. After sampling heaven in a bottle thanks to Pedro's mum, chilled blended vegetables will never taste as good again. I can only assume Quod's blender was on the blink though, as I received a dish of cold chunky vegetables with two cubes of ice nestling on top of them. I have been presented with 'rustic'-style gazpacho in the UK before, but the ice cubes in a £5.95 portion served in a restaurant of this ilk was just plain lazy. Unfortunately, the tomato, cucumber and pepper mush didn't improve on tasting; it was under-seasoned and far too chewy. My jaw didn't get such a workout with Pedro's mum's gazpacho, that's all I'm saying.

Seafood risotto

My main course of risotto of the day (an interesting idea, especially if most of them are vegetarian, thus sidestepping the wild mushroom trap) improved matters somewhat. Seafood-based, I wasn't quite sure of the exact ingredients given the volume at which the waitress whispered its existence to us, but I detected prawns, clams and possibly mullet. Just creamy enough, the rice was perfectly cooked and the flavour of the fish was subtle rather than overpowering. I chose the smaller portion, which was just enough following a starter.

Spaghetti bolognaise

'School dinner', I said when D's plate of spaghetti bolognaise (another special, chosen in honour of his impending move to Italy) slid onto the table. 'If the steak tartare got an eight for presentation, this is a two', he agreed. A bowlful of pasta topped with what seemed to be a mere ladleful of sauce, this dish was a letdown: although the taste was OK, the pasta-to-sauce ratio was completely imbalanced.

I was right that nothing could spoil my lunch, although the gazpacho certainly tried. Underwhelmed once again by Quod, I was too overwhelmed by D's good news to care. I can't say I'll be rushing back: although the risotto was tasty and enjoyable, a sense of trading on their reputation prevailed. And when you're serving iced gazpacho, it's time to question whether that reputation can be maintained.

Verdict: 6/10

Quod is at 92-94 High Street, Oxford OX1 4BJ. Tel: 01865 202505.

The Ashmolean Dining Room: Autumn/winter menu

Can you ever be too discreet? In these financially hard times, it seems that almost everyone bar footballers and Z-list celebrities now subscribe to the maxim that less is more. And while I'm definitely of the opinion that these two groups would do well to get on board with this trend, I also think that the Ashmolean Dining Room could blow it's own trumpet a little louder. Not so loud as to be vulgar, you understand: just enough to be audible and to make its presence felt on the Oxford restaurant scene.

As part of the Ashmolean's extensive re-fit which culminated in 2009, the museum not only gained extra gallery space: it also acquired a rooftop restaurant. A swish, understated space looking out across the Randolph and beyond, the Dining Room has an ample terrace (shame it's in a country lacking ample summers) and even a patch of be-deck-chaired grass for those who fancy an al fresco aperitif of an evening. With a seasonal menu of British and European fare, the Ashmolean Dining Room makes a much-needed contribution to dining in the OX1 postcode: or at least it would, if more people actually realized it was there.

When one of my Twitter followers drew my attention to a new menu tasting and 'networking' evening event at the Dining Room, I put my name down almost as quickly as Peter Andre signs up to the opening of a letter. Although my curiosity hadn't yet been piqued sufficiently to make it through that discreet entrance on St Giles, I had caught the odd murmur that the restaurant was worth a visit. Expecting an hour of bite-size portions on a buffet table and a spot of mingling, I was surprised when our party of six was shown to a table, glasses of prosecco in hand. The one copy of the autumn/winter menu we were given revealed we were in for an evening of sampling a balance of hearty, comforting dishes and lighter, Mediterranean-inspired fare.

Starters

Cauliflower and pine nut salad

 Cauliflower isn't the most common salad ingredient, and dare I say rightly so: the salad of cauliflower and pine nuts with a raisin and caper dressing was universally judged under-seasoned, and I found the cold cauliflower a little undercooked. Much better use was made of this winter vegetable in the thick, creamy cauliflower and truffle oil soup. Served in a vintage teacup, this thick, creamy number was sophisticated cold-weather comfort food, the truffle oil enhancing rather than overpowering the taste of the cauliflower.

Crab panna cotta

Creativity certainly has its place in the kitchen, but sometimes the quality of the ingredients should do the talking. This was definitely the case when it came to the ill-judged crab panna cotta: the glutinous cream tasted of crab on first bite, but when applied to the accompanying toast it lost all flavour. As T pointed out, it was made with the crab's white meat rather than the more flavoursome brown meat, and I understand why - who wants a brown panna cotta? The brown crab meat served on a chicory leaf atop the glass was much tastier, proving that simplicity can pay off.

Gravadlax

I'm not usually a gravadlax fan, but the Ashmolean's home-cured gravadlax with cucumber relish and a chive creme fraiche may have changed that. A further testament to the powers of simplicity, the flavours combined well and the quality of the smoked salmon stood out. Usually served with rye bread, this would be quite a substantial starter.

Serrano ham & figs

I couldn't try the meaty starters of serrano ham and figs with chardonnay vinegar and honey syrup or Trealy Farm air-dried ham with a celeriac remoulade, but my companions attested to the taste of both. Opinions were divided over preferred hams: M praised the contrast between the sweet figs and the salty serrano ham while S went into raptures over the remoulade. L was more prosaic: apparently the mini gherkins lifted the dish, 'otherwise it was just a plate of fancy ham and coleslaw'.

 I was very pleased I was able to eat the grilled squid marinated in lemon, garlic and smoked paprika and served with a rocket salad (also available as a main course). In Spain, squid is usually kept simple, so I wouldn't have thought to add the paprika, but its subtle, woody flavour made the dish. The excellent quality squid did all the ground work of course, but the spice stole the show and made it a universal favourite at our table.



Main courses

Pearl barley with wild mushrooms

As a pescetarian, one of my main gripes is the lack of inventive vegetarian main courses on the menus of many upmarket restaurants. So when I spotted a main of sauteed pearl barley with wild mushrooms, leeks and spinach, I had high hopes for the Ashmolean: and I wasn't disappointed. Another winner, this filling autumnal dish was understated yet full of flavour. T suggested it was merely a posh take on that veggie staple, mushroom risotto, but I disagreed - for me, the pearl barley took the dish to a different dimension.

The chargrilled bream with glazed lemon chicory and lime creme fraiche was served whole, and although to M it was one of the most appetising dishes on the menu, to me it looked like a plate of grey (hence the lack of photo). It was simple and well done, and although I remained unconvinced (sometimes a whole fish is just too fussy), everyone else polished it off with gusto. The lamb rump with chargrilled vegetables and a black olive jus was another hit: the meat-eaters were divided between this and the bream when it came
to favourites. The jus had a strong flavour which lifted rather than  overpowered the dish, and the vegetables were a well-judged complement.

More successful for me was the salad of candied beetroot and spiced pecans topped with a goat's cheese fritter. Perhaps better off as a starter (although presumably the salad will be beefed up for paying guests), this was an excellent flavour combination, with the beetroot adding an earthy tang to the dish and the pecans contributing a crunch (and tasting 'of German Christmas', according to S. Very seasonal, then).

The sole meuniere was another dud for me: bony and unappetising, I passed this one on quickly. The braised rabbit leg served with savoy cabbage, roasted carrots and a mustard and tarragon sauce was fairly well-received among the carnivores, but the monkfish tail saltimbocca got a universal thumbs down: a strange cut of monkfish served with a few carrots that brought nothing to the party.




Desserts

After eating our way through the entire menu bar the rib-eye steak, I'm a firm believer in the existence of the pudding stomach. Somehow we found room for panna cotta with a cassis poached pear: the cassis was barely discernible, but the panna cotta was perfect in consistency and flavour. Simple but effective, this dessert was one of the most memorable dishes for me.

The Paris Brest (choux pastry filled with hazelnut cream) was perhaps more of an afternoon cake than an after-dinner dessert, but it was beautiful: rich and creamy with excellent pastry. A whole one may have been a little too much, but A and I were more than happy to devour half each.

The chocolate and amaretti sponge may not have impressed visually, but the taste was spot on: the subtle aftertaste of amaretti even won over almond-avoiding M, and T praised the crispy amaretti crust, which brought an unusual textural element.






With some well-judged, skilfully prepared seasonal fare, the Ashmolean Dining Room's autumn/winter menu offers more than a few worthwhile options. There were definitely a few dud dishes and others that disappointed slightly among the starters and the mains, but those that were kept simple and based around successful flavour combinations really stood out. As for the desserts, there wasn't a let-down in sight, although the prices are somewhat steep at £6-7: in my opinion, desserts should stay around the £5 mark. In general, prices are what you would expect of a rooftop restaurant, perhaps slightly less: starters range from £6-8, while mains go from £11 to £19 for the steak. It's not cheap, but the sophisticated setting makes the Ashmolean ideal for a celebration yet accessible enough for a slightly special occasion. In my opinion, the weekend counts as one of those. Next time you walk past that discreet entrance on St Giles, consider stepping inside: you won't be disappointed (as long as you avoid the crab panna cotta). And a bit of word-of-mouth marketing wouldn't go amiss either: just don't tell Peter Andre, will you?


Update September 2011: Returning to the Ashmolean as a guest on a 'normal' evening, the quality of the food was possibly better than that on offer at the new menu tasting. I chose a starter of  smoked paprika squid, and was again impressed by the taste - and this time, I got a generous portion all to myself. The pearl barley was just as good as I remembered, and the panna cotta even better: this time the pear was discernibly poached in cassis. Choose carefully from the menu and enjoy.

Verdict: 8

The Ashmolean Dining Room is at the Ashmolean Museum, OX1 2PH. Open Sun, Tues & Weds 10am-6pm and Thurs-Sat 10am-10pm. Tel: 01865 553823.

Edamame: sushi night

When someone suggests eating a chunk of raw fish, you either smile or squirm. Until my visit to Edamame's sushi night, I was definitely in the latter camp. Although I'm a pescetarian whose range extends beyond cod and who isn't averse to grappling with a king prawn on occasion, the thought of tucking into uncooked salmon, tuna or even squid didn't exactly fill me with joy. But in the interest of research, I paid a second visit to Japanese restaurant Edamame on Thursday to sample their raw offerings.

Prior to this experience, the only types of sushi I could identify were sashimi (chunks of raw fish) and norimaki, commonly known as California rolls (tiny pieces of fish wrapped in rice and held together by an outside layer of dried seaweed). There was far more on offer than this, though: I let my sushi pro dining companions K, L and S talk me through the menu, and before long we had an array of beautifully-presented plates of nigiri (small  blocks of slightly sweetened sushi rice topped with salmon and tuna - we passed on the octopus and squid this time), gunkan (sushi rice rolled into little 'boats' wrapped in seaweed and topped with salmon and tuna with leeks, salmon eggs or avocado), temaki (also known as hand rolls: sushi rice rolled into small cones and filled with tuna and cucumber with mayonnaise, shredded cucumber or pickled daikon radish) and a special of spicy tuna rolls.

Gunkanzushi

Ngirizushi

Spicy tuna rolls

Norimakizushi

Sashimi

Temakizushi

Being more than a little inept with chopsticks, sushi posed another elegant eating difficulty, but the fact that it seemed acceptable to deposit whole pieces of maki in your mouth at once definitely helped. I started at the less scary end of the scale with a piece of tuna maki, but dipping it in the provided soy sauce, wasabi or ginger was a step too far for my clumsy mitts. Fortunately, it had just enough flavour by itself, which was more than I could say for my next choice, a piece of tuna ngiri. The salmon variety was topped with a small chunk of orange, infusing it with a delicious citrus taste and receiving particular praise from S, who had never seen it served this way in her former home city, sushi-loving London.

Sipping on my cup of rich-tasting miso soup, I pondered my next move. Suitably impressed with the taste of raw fish so far, I chose a spicy tuna roll and wasn't disappointed: there was no dipping or dunking required to produce a delicious depth of flavour, perfect for cack-handed individuals like myself. A Californian temaki (filled with tuna mayonnaise) seemed an easy bet, as the alternative name 'hand roll' implies that it's fine to get your paws involved. However, its dried seaweed wrapping was a little tougher than I anticipated: tasty, but not pretty. The avocado gunkan was a fish-free interlude (plenty of vegetarian sushi is available at Edamame) before my grand finale: a piece of salmon sashimi. Probably the most emblematic and the most intimidating style of sushi for novices to get to grips with, I understood the scariness of sashimi, but was pleased to discover it tasted rich with a smooth texture as opposed to slimy, as I feared. The quality of the fish is clearly high at Edamame, winning praise from my sushi pro friends.

So, sushi isn't so scary after all. In fact, it's pretty tasty. Light and fresh, sushi is ideal for a summer supper, especially accompanied with some miso soup and edamame beans. I can't say I'm a definite convert, but next time someone suggests sushi, I'll agree rather than making my excuses. And who knows, I may even pluck up the courage to try some squid next time.


You can listen to me talking about my experience of sushi and about other places to eat fish in Oxford on Jo Thoenes' show on BBC Radio Oxford on 29 July here.

Edamame is at 15 Holywell Street, OX1 3SA. Sushi night is every Thursday from 5 to 8.30pm. No reservations are accepted, and it's deservedly popular, so arriving early is advised.

Lovely photos copyright Sarah Haynes of The Pea's Kneas.