A dominatrix feeds champagne to a horny dog.

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Happy New Year!  I hope this finds you rested and rearing to go.  The two weeks of sloth leading up to the first day of work in the New Year is a dead time in London.  It is also a great time to eat at hot restaurants without the usual scrum to get in.  That was my theory anyway as I made my way to Bubbledogs on Charlotte Street in London, late on a wet Saturday afternoon.  Charlotte Street has now gone all genteel.  Time was when its most famous resident was Theresa Berkley, an early 19th century dominatrix who ran a brothel specialising in flagellation.  Up the road from the old whorehouse is Bubbledogs, which serves hotdogs with champagne.  That’s all they serve.  No starters, no coffee, no dessert, no whips, no cuffs, no Shades of Grey. There are veggie hot dogs for vegetarians, but you really shouldn’t come to a hot dog restaurant if you are a fruit and nut type.

Bubbledogs is one of the hottest restaurants in London and annoyingly takes no reservations (except for parties of 6 or more).  Having a number of tables free for walk-ins is a good policy (as practised by the Wolseley and its sister restaurants – see my review “Slums, Prostitutes and French People in London“).  Otherwise you have the absurd situation where the next available reservation may be six months away (as at Dabbous – read my review “My Dinner with Nigella“).  A blanket  no reservations policy however, appears designed to keep out the over 40 crowd.  No one over 40 has the time or the patience to stand in line to eat a hot dog.  So the restaurant is full of pretty young things who don’t mind standing in line for an hour and a half, while cheerily updating their Facebook status (“still waiting in line….”).

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Looking into Bubbledogs

I got into Bubbledogs at my fourth attempt, having refused to stand in line on principle.  Once I was with cost centre number one – we ended up having a nice meal at the Charlotte Street Hotel instead.  On my second attempt I was with the Irish Media Baron.  We ended up at Kikuchi – easily one of the best and most authentic Japanese sushi restaurants in town – although with no atmosphere and bonkers service. On my third attempt I was with the diplomat.  We repaired to Brasserie Zedel – with room for 270 covers you can always find a table there.

So who in their right mind would pair hot dogs with champagne?  A hot dog is a simple pleasure, best eaten at a baseball game.  Champagne, especially the hard to find artisanal and vintage champagnes served at Bubbledogs is a higher, more refined pleasure.  John Stuart Mill famously postulated that simple pleasures are for ordinary people and Americans, while higher pleasures could only be appreciated by highly educated and creative people.    Bubbledogs can be viewed as a social experiment in bringing together the lower and higher pleasures for the benefit of the Facebooking proletariat.  Or something like that.

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The food menu at Bubbledogs

The experiment doesn’t work.  The hot dogs are good, especially the beef variety (they come in beef, pork or veggie) which is nicely spiced and bursts out of its skin on the first bite. There is an intriguing variety of flavours including a Korean version – the K Dawg (with Kimchi, lettuce and red bean paste), the 4th of July (a hot dog wrapped in bacon and  served with BBQ sauce and coleslaw) and the Horny Dog (a proper corn dog, the first I’ve tasted outside the USA – a hot dog wrapped in corn breading). They are interesting flavours and they are good.  The husband and wife team behind Bubbledogs, James Knappett and Sandia Chang have impeccable credentials.  His last gig was at the double Michelin starred Ledbury restaurant in Notting Hill.  She came from Noma in Copenhagen,  ”the world’s best restaurant” .  They know a thing or two about combining flavours.  Even the side dishes are good.  I loved the sweet potato fries and tater tots, last seen on a school lunch menu in America.  Tater tots are small, cylindric hash browns; grated potatoes, breaded and deep fried .

The champagnes are tasty.  They are all sourced from small artisanal producers and include a decent smattering of recent vintages.  The champagnes are reasonably priced from £35-£98.  Five varieties are available by the glass including the Laherte Freres, Blanc de Blancs which is a rare non dose champagne (meaning no added sugar – even the best houses add sugar to their champagnes to keep the flavour consistent).  The most popular champagne being ordered was also the cheapest, a rosé at £6 a glass (£35 a bottle) which was a cheerful bubbly reminiscent of a cava.  Therein lies the rub.  The cheapest bubbly had enough of a proletarian easy drinking vibe to work with a hot dog.  Frankly, the delicate flavour of a nice champagne (a high pleasure) is simply overwhelmed by the phoar wallop of base flavours in a hot dog (a low pleasure).   I’d stick to beer, of which Bubbledogs has a nice handpicked selection.

The Jose Dog with salsa, avocado, sour cream and pickled jalepenos

The Jose Dog with salsa, avocado, sour cream and pickled jalepenos

There is also a small but well put together selection of cocktails. I liked my Quince Sour, an interesting take on a whisky sour with dark rum replacing the whisky and quince (apparently the original forbidden fruit of the garden of Eden) adding a nice sharpness to a surprisingly light cocktail.

Don’t get me wrong, I like this place.  Its fun and buzzy – a single small room with wooden floors, and walls of distressed wood and exposed brick.  One sits on closely packed high stools at small tables or at the bar.  The staff is friendly and chatty.  Bubbledogs has the unmistakable ambiance of a successful restaurant – the excited chatter of people tasting unfamiliar flavours, the conviviality of friends toasting each other with champagne.  The problem is I wanted to stay and savour more champagne and more cocktails, but it’s hard to linger when you know there is a crowd standing outside waiting for you to leave.

The Quince Sour with a side of sweet potato fries

The Quince Sour with a side of sweet potato fries

Bubbledogs is successful despite its core premise, mixing hot dogs with champagne, being off-base.  Fortunately both the hot dogs and the champagne are good enough that people seem to overlook the fact that they don’t really go together. I’d go back, but I’d wait for the novelty value of the place to die down so I could relax and work my way through the drinkables part of the menu.

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Bubbledogs on Urbanspoon

More Canine Wisdom

Technically, the restaurant is called Bubbledogs &.  The & is a chef’s table at the back where James Knappett keeps his hand in haute cuisine and serves a tasting menu with nary a hot dog in sight.  Reservations required.  A Rather Unusual Chinaman has a good review of the tasting menu experience.

Slums, prostitutes and French people in London

France is the world’s fifth largest economy. At the turn of the last century Argentina was the world’s fifth largest economy. By the 1900′s Argentina was already living beyond its means, but it took several decades for it to become a basket case. France is sadly heading the same way. Their people refuse to work harder, adapt to change or recognise that socialism is daft.

Whenever Paris is sacked, either by revolutionaries or Germans, their best and brightest decamp to London. Such is the case now as waves of French entrepreneurs, financiers and anybody with ambition flood London. Paris is left with a bunch of Gauloises smoking libertines.

In the meantime, the French schools in London are massively oversubscribed and the more than 500,000 French in London are spilling out of the Gallic quarter in South Kensington. London real estate, already booming following the post Arab Spring exodus, is doing stratospherically well.

I like the French. What is there not to like about great food, fabulous wine and beautiful women? I am happy that many of my French friends will be living closer to me.

So where do the French eat and drink when they get to London? Martini Mandate decided to check out continental style food and drink in London. The African Queen and I chose three favourites, the Wolseley in St James’s, the Delaunay in the Aldwych and Les Deux Salons off the Strand.  She is both african and titled, but like most of her people, the African Queen prefers to shop on the continent and is most at home in the cafes of Paris.  We were at various points accompanied by a crazy mathematician and a warlord.

The gorgeous Wolseley 6/80 with the famous lit-up badge on the radiator

The car would have been the star inside the gorgeous interior of the Wolseley showroom

Wolseley Motors was the largest auto manufacturer in Britain through the 1920′s. Its legacy lives on today in the Isuzu Car Company of Japan (founded originally as a joint venture) and in the Wolseley Restaurant in London. The Wolseley restaurant is the site of what was once the Wolseley Motor Company’s London showroom. The large room with its high ceilings is airy and masculine with original black lacquer and natural marble. The restaurant probably makes more money than the car company ever did.

The Wolseley is like a club for people who don’t like to belong to clubs. You can get a reservation here (and they have tables for walk in guests), but regulars have priority. The artist Lucian Freud famously dined here at the same table every day. When he died they decorated his regular table with a black tablecloth and a single candle. It was a classy and understated statement from a restaurant that is all about classy understatement. The menu is large and mittel-european; schnitzels, cakes and coupes, chicken soup, chopped liver. The food is good. Not spectacular, but reliably good.  This is a cafe and cafe’s are not known for cocktails.  I like to drink Americanos at cafes on the basis that “in cafés you have to drink the least offensive of the musical comedy drinks that go with them.” (James Bond in Ian Fleming’s A View to a Kill). The cocktail menu is limited but the waiters are superb and the bartender will accommodate any reasonable request.  Just make sure your request for an Americano (Campari, red vermouth and soda) doesn’t get you a weak black coffee.

Cashing in on its success, the Wolseley opened a sister restaurant called the Delaunay in the Aldwych, presumably named after the French artist. This is a handsome, masculine room – it doesn’t have the vaulted ceilings of the Wolseley, but it has critical mass and presence.  Like the Wolseley, the Delaunay is an all-day operation but here the inspiration from the grand cafés of Vienna, Zurich and Budapest is more apparent in the dishes. There is a forceful mittel-European slant, with two of the menu sections entitled wieners (including a New York hot dog) and schnitzels. The African Queen tried a chicken schnizel. It was perfect, as was my bockwurst, but these dishes rarely challenge a kitchen.  This is basic, reasonably priced cafe food.  There is a good selection of wine by the glass, half litre carafe or bottle. My Old Fashioned was made the old fashioned way with the bar tender painstakingly crushing sugar cubes with water and bitters, creating a nicely muddled paste before adding bourbon.  Its all very competent and reliable.

The elegant interior at the Delaunay

While the Wolseley is in undeniably posh St James’s, the Delaunay is in the Aldwych, which is a less distinctive territory sandwiched between the diamond dealers of Holborn and the tourists in Covent Garden and the theatre district.  The clientele too is more diverse than at the Wolseley, consisting of people who couldn’t get reservations at the Wolseley and the inevitable gaggle of braying Sloanes .  The latter are easily recognised by their excessing air kissing and the common greeting of “darling, where have you BEEN?” as if they were long separated freedom fighters, hardened by loss, stumbling into the same fox hole in Kandahar. Most likely they last met on a shopping spree in Milan.

Les Deux Salons is off the Strand, in what was one of London’s most infamous rookeries.  These were the slums of Victorian London, mazes of narrow streets and alleyways, home to thieves and prostitutes;  the dark heart of Dickensian London. The Wolseley and Delaunay have cafe menus,  Les Deux Salons’ menu has more traditional restaurant dishes on it than brasserie ones.  The decor is familiar; polished brass rails, mosaic marbled floors, dark wood, frosted glass mirrors, red booths, ball shaped lights – it’s brasserie cliche on a grand scale.  It’s a darker space than the others, with a decidedly inter-war French glamour.  We shared a charcuterie plate.  I ordered a Negroni.  The story goes that the Negroni was invented by a bar tender in Florence in 1919 when Count Camillo Negroni wanted something stronger than his normal Americano.  The bar tender replaced the soda in the Americano with gin.  The version at Les Deux Salon is decent, but there are others (for example the folks at Dabbous) who have  turned this drink into an art form.

All three restaurants are confidently presented by successful restauranteurs.  Chris Corbin and Jeremy King, the folks behind the Wolseley and the Delaunay, made Le Caprice and the Ivy into the brands they are today.  Les Deux Salons is the brainchild of Will Smith and Anthony Demetre of Michelin starred Arbutus and Wild Honey.  I will continue to frequent them all – as will my newly arrived French friends. These restaurants are not havens for cocktails, but what they make, they make competently.  The overall experience will leave you feeling well fed and watered. Bon Appetite!

Further Reading

Blogger reviews of the Wolseley by The Date Guy and Gin & Crumpets. Reviews of the Delaunay by Twelve Point Five Percent and London Stuff. Reviews of Les Deux Salons by A Girl Has to Eat and Get Forked.

The Wolseley on Urbanspoon

The Delaunay on Urbanspoon

Les Deux Salons on Urbanspoon