Archive | June, 2013

Korean Chicken Sandwich at Wishbone, Brixton

24 Jun

LOCATION: Wishbone, Unit 12 Market Row, Brixton Market, London SW9 8BR [map]


BREAD: White  sub roll/baguette type thing – I’ll get to that.

FILLING: Chicken thigh nuggets, crushed peanuts, pickled daikon, fermented chilli mayo, shredded Chinese cabbage, spring onions.

PROS: I hurried to Wishbone in desperate circumstances. I was frenzied. Panicked. This sandwich was a special you see, to be plucked from the menu but two days later. As it turns out I wasn’t  the only one to *SPOILER ALERT* like it, and so they’re keeping it on for the foreseeable. YES Brixton! People power!

So what’s all the fuss aboot? Aye? Well, those nuggets  inside are made from thigh meat, which we all know is the way to go when choosing bits of chicken what will be eaten into the face. If you’re not eating a bit that was once sporting bone then it had damn well better be roasted, with crispy skin and a blob of aioli on the side. I’ll take a potato salad with salsa verde too while you’re at it and also some young broad beans; lightly cooked, podded and dressed with a spiky vinaigrette and nuggets of bacon. Ta.

So yes, nuggets. Nuggets nuggets nuggets nuggets. The Wishbone nuggs were succulent and greaseless. Spot on. To be honest though, one would hope Wishbone would have the whole frying of chicken bit down by now, what with being a er, fried chicken shop and everything. The fermented chilli mayo is an appropriately Korean flavoured lube, which is actually surprisingly subtle. Don’t be put off by the word ‘fermented’. Personally I’m drawn to foods that have been shoved in a pot, sealed and left to their own devices for an extended period of time but I can empathise as to why the idea might strike fear into the hearts of nervy eaters. Chinese cabbage, if you’re not familiar, is kind of like iceberg but without the water…no, that’s unfair…it’s like regular cabbage but without the sulphurous twang. An excellent sandwich ingredient (see katsu sando). There are dinky batons of pickled daikon, there are delicate papery rings of spring onion, the crunch of scrunched peanuts. It’s a balanced sandwich and it shows restraint; knowing when to stop is the clincher.

I bet that bread recipe is a well kept secret, too. Wowzers. I dunno who is making it but it’s a goddamn revelation, like a very light baguette, with much of the inside crumb removed to make way for more filling and a sort of polenta-esque sprinkle on top which reminds me of that grainy stuff you get on a Maccy D’s sausage and egg Mcmuff. DON’T PRETEND YOU DON’T KNOW.

CONS: My name is Helen and I am a spring onion addict. I can make sandwiches with big ol wedges of spring onion inside and munch them down happily. I often find myself  dunking whole ones in salad cream by the sad yellow light of the fridge. More spring onion in everything, please? YES INCLUDING TRIFLE.*

SCORE: 9/10

They lose half a point for not having thought of this sandwich sooner and half for the fact I’d like more heat, although I guess that’s why there’s hot sauce on the table.

 *not including trifle.

Nutella Sandwich at Bravi Ragazzi, Streatham

3 Jun

LOCATION: 2a Sunnyhill Road, Streatham, SW16 2UH [map].


BREAD: Flat bread – the same dough used to make their pizza bases as far as I can tell (the pizzas are amazing). A dusting of icing sugar on top.

FILLING: Nutella.

PROS: I rarely write about sweet sandwiches because firstly, they’re not that common and often, they’re rank. As a child I thought Nutella a vile substance, which I understand is contrary to the opinion of pretty much every child in the whole world, ever. What can I say? I’ve always had a savoury tooth, or as a friend once described it, a ‘fat tooth’. Cheers, mate.

So this sandwich got ordered because there were children at the table. Twenty odd years later I decided to give Nutella another chance. Brave, I know…and fuck my hat if it wasn’t delicious. I think actually that Nutella is rather a grown up taste – something to do with the nuts. Or maybe it’s just that now I will actually touch sweet things outside of my childhood repertoire, that being ICE CREAM ALL OF IT, Wham bars, anything that came in ‘quarters’ from the corner shop (‘I’ll have a quarter of cola cubes/millions/cough candy twists please’), Walnut Whips, Turkish delight, Sun Lollies, Curly Wurlys, Clubs, Boosts and and and and oh sod it okay so I just didn’t like Nutella.

The thing is, even though I now know that I like it, I still wouldn’t go out and buy a jar. I want it always in this sandwich. The way the flatbread went slightly gooey where it was in contact with the Nutella inside made me feel funny in a good way. The chocolate nutty once-evil-now-friend spread thick inside, warm and melty. I suddenly understood. I got down with the kids.

CONS: I dunno, this is hard. I liked this sandwich as much as I could probably like any sweet sandwich. I only had two bites because, well, I’ve been told it’s bad form to steal food from children. Whatever. They need to learn to share if you ask me.

SCORE: 8/10