Time To Say Goodbye

After exactly four years and three hundred blog posts, I'm calling time on Eat Noodles Love Noodles. Giving up blogging hasn't been an easy decision to make. After all, it's a hobby that's given me great joy, and one through which I've met some great friends, online and off, along the way. Big thanks to you all, especially to those of you who took the trouble to comment on the blog along the way. {Update July 2015 - I've made a kind of a comeback on my other blog - click here.}

Why now? The truth is I've been thinking about jacking it all in for the past year or so. The only reason why I continued was the proliferation of ramen shops in London and my travels abroad. But there's only so much I can blog about ramen, and my mad run of travel this year has come to a halt.

If there's one aspect of blogging I'll miss, it will be writing about food on my travels. I doubt I would ever have started blogging if I didn’t have the kick-start from a trip to China in 2009. And to the end, it's these posts that have given me most pleasure to write.

I won't miss writing about London restaurants so much, though. Despite all the new openings, I've not really blogged about too many places in the capital this year. It's not that I don't take an interest in all the big name chefs and restaurateurs. I do, and I even sometimes eat in their fancy gastrodomes. It's just that I feel the London restaurant scene is a bit like English Premier League football: an exciting and cosmopolitan spectacle, but one where the actuality does not match the hype.

Now I don't want to end my blog on a negative note (although I have been known to shake my fist at crap restaurants, awful food TV and incorrect food grammar), as I've always been passionate about promoting the food I love the most. So with that in mind, I thought I'd end my last post with my fantasy last supper. I've bent the rules a bit in that I've somehow ended up with a ten-course Asian seafood banquet.

My Last Supper
Sashimi selection
I love sashimi and it's the perfect start to my banquet. Of course it's going to be weapons-grade raw fish, with the only stipulation being the platter must include some of my favourite hamachi (yellowtail).

Steamed scallops topped with garlic & glass noodles
This classic epitomises all that is great about Cantonese cuisine: fresh ingredients, simply cooked. This is also the first appearance of noodles in the banquet.

'Chao Tom' - Grilled prawn paste on sugar cane
In this Vietnamese dish the sugar cane acts as a skewer and the prawn paste is eaten by wrapping it with herbs in lettuce and rice paper before dipping in nuoc cham.

Under the Typhoon Shelter pissing prawns
After a relatively healthy opening three courses, the banquet get dirty in the form of fried 'pissing prawns' aka mantis shrimp tossed in a violent mix of fried chilli and garlic. ('Under the Typhoon Shelter' is the poetic Chinese name of this Hong Kong dish more commonly cooked with crab.)

Singapore chilli crab with fried mantou
Things get dirtier still with this Singapore classic where the crab is almost an afterthought. I can foresee much dipping of fried mantou (Chinese buns) into the flavoursome eggy, tomatoey chilli sauce.

Clams in fish soup with rice vermicelli
Asian food is all about balance, which is why this course is a bit cleansing. Having said that, a big glug of rice wine should go into the soup. (Noodlewatch: noodles make a second appearance in the banquet.)

Shanghai-style river shrimp stir-fried with Longjing tea
The comedown continues with a delicate dish of river shrimp, coated with egg white and cornstarch, stir-fried with Dragon's Well aka longjing tea leaves.

'Pla Neung Ma Nao' - Steamed grouper with lime, chilli, garlic, lemongrass & fish sauce
I have to have a Thai dish in my top ten, and this whole steamed grouper (sea bass would do at a push) sat in an aromatic 'soup' is my choice.

Pak choi stir-fried with garlic
Although my last supper is being served banquet style, this simple vegetable dish will be brought out just after the fish. And for those carb lovers, now might be a good time to ask for some rice. Mind you, not too much though…

Lobster fried with ginger & spring onion on a bed of e-fu noodles
So this is it, the coup de grâce. Of course it was going to be Cantonese, of course it was going to have noodles, and of course it was going to be lobster cooked with ginger and spring onion! My apologies to dessert fans, there's no proper pudding but there will be slices of watermelon.

Now I know some of you may be surprised at my choices. For instance, neither dim sum nor Cantonese BBQ makes an appearance. But that's OK, as I had both at my penultimate meal at lunchtime. Being a critic of the concept of pan-Asian restaurants, some may be surprised the feast contains a mix of different cuisines. However, I don't think it's an issue, as all of the dishes are bona fide classics and they will be served 'banquet-style' rather than in a blurry family-style free-for-all. And being a bit of an obsessive, I've also given a lot of thought to the sequence in which the courses will be served.

So that's it. I am now a former blogger, although I will continue to post food photos on Instagram. Thanks again for reading.

PS: Thanks for the good wishes and messages on Twitter - I'm very touched. For clarification, I will be keeping the blog alive but there won't be any new posts. And I'll still be on Twitter.

The 21st Century A-to-Z of Food & Drink

X is for Xiao Long Bao

A is for Artisanal
B is for Blogger
C is for Craft Beer
D is for Denmark
E is for Ethical
F is for Forage
G is for Gastronaut
H is for Hipster
I is for Instagram
J is for Jam Jar
K is for Kilner Jar
L is for Lobster Roll
M is for Macarons
N is for Negroni
O is for Offal
P is for Pop-up
Q is for Queuing
R is for Ramen
S is for Supper Club
T is for Tapas (that aren't actually tapas)
U is for Udon
V is for Vietnam
W is for Wagyu
X is for Xiao Long Bao
Y is for Yotam Ottolenghi
Z is for Za'atar

Let me know if you have any alternatives e.g. S is for Sous Vide etc...

It's Not Tapas

Imagine for one moment a turd; not a pleasant image, I know. Imagine that this turd is then cut up into little bite-sized pieces before being artfully arranged in the middle of a small plate. There are some people who will tell you that this is tapas. It's not: it's shit on a plate.

With apologies to Jorge Valdano for bastardising his famous 'shit on a stick' rant.

Food Bloggers Aren't Necessarily Hipsters - The Proof

There are some tired restaurant critics in the 'old' media who relentlessly bang on about hipsters and food bloggers as if they're one and the same. This is, of course, total bollocks. And if you don't believe me, here's the proof as depicted by a Venn diagram.

If A = Hipsters and B = Food Bloggers then the intersection A n B = Hipsters AND Food Bloggers (to those bad at maths, the intersection is the shaded area).

As the Venn diagram clearly demonstrates, while there are hipsters who are food bloggers, there are those that aren't. And by the same token, there are food bloggers – myself included – who aren't hipsters (not that's there anything wrong with being a hipster).

Not getting it? Well here's another example to explain the logic involved.

If A = Professional Restaurant Critics and B = Grumpy Middle Aged Blokes Who Dislike Social Media then the intersection A n B = Grumpy Middle Aged Male Professional Restaurant Critics Who Dislike Social Media*. In other words, not all professional restaurant critics are grumpy middle aged blokes who get the hump about social media.

* The terms 'Dimond' and 'Sexton' are often used to describe this category of restaurant critic.

The Way We Used To Eat

What were you doing in 2002? Were you at school, college or university? Or maybe you'd just started work. Me? I was, as I am now, living and working in London. I was just about hanging on to my twenties. I had more hair, and it was largely black. I'd like to say I was slimmer, but that would be a lie. Was I as obsessed about food as I am now? Probably not, but I did enjoy eating out to the extent that I was the proud owner of the 2002 Time Out Eating & Drinking Guide. I came across my copy when I was having a tidy up. Needless to say, this meant that I spent a good few hours flicking through it instead of clearing out crap in my flat.

Browsing through the guide, I was particularly fascinated by the changes over the last decade or so in how we eat and what we eat in London's restaurants. Take burgers, for example; the options in 2002 would absolutely horrify the burgerati of today. Without irony, Hard Rock Café, Planet Hollywood and TGI Friday's all appear in the 2002 guide as do Ed's Easy Diner and the long-departed Tootsies.

Back then, there was no Patty & Bun, no Byron and no spawn of Meatwagon. In fact the best in class was the original, and in those days, sole Gourmet Burger Kitchen (GBK) outlet on Northcote Road. In the words of Time Out: 'We're talking better than Eds, better than Hard Rock'. I was a big fan, and while GBK has since lost its lustre through over-expansion, it was a harbinger of better things to come. Whilst GBK might not be the godfather of the burger revolution that we have seen in the 21st century, it can certainly be considered a stepping-stone.

It's not just the burger scene that has changed beyond all recognition; London's Chinese restaurant scene has evolved, too. Dim sum was just beginning to break out of its for-us-by-us-Chinatown-ghetto with the opening of Hakkasan in 2001. Other signs of this sea-change included the expansion of the Royal China mini-chain and the likes of Phoenix Palace opening up in not-particularly-Chineser parts of town such as Marylebone. Fast-forward to 2013, and there is little doubt that pretty much all of the capital's finest dim sum eateries are found outside of Chinatown.

Going back to 2002, London's best Chinese restaurants were dominated by Hong Kong-style Cantonese joints serving up authentic dim sum, seafood and roast meats in parallel with a menu serving westernised dishes for the perceived tastes of the non-Chineser. While this style of restaurant still predominates today, there is so much more variety with many regions of China represented in the capital. In particular, as in China itself, Sichuan cuisine has emerged as the main challenger to the Cantonese hegemony. In turn, many Cantonese places now translate their menu in full to showcase their hitherto hidden delights. So, while not quite up to the standards seen in New York, Toronto or Sydney, there has been a big improvement in the quality and diversity of Chinese cuisine in London.

If you thought the burger scene was a bit crap in 2002, it was positively buzzing compared to what passed as ramen in London. Then as now, Wagamama was the mainstream option, but there were very few specialist indie ramen shops. In fact, scouring the Time Out guide, the only joint that seemed to put ramen first in those days was Ramen Seto. I reviewed it in 2009; it was decent enough but compared to the new generation of ramen shops, it now seems all a bit old-fashioned.

Every era has its culinary trends and places-to-be-seen-at. Looking back at the early-noughties, it would seem that I was more a dedicated follower of fashion than I am today. Atlantic Bar & Grill, Bank and numerous Terence Conran restaurants were all ticked off my list. And knowing what I now know, I am a tad horrified that I was a big fan of Smiths of Smithfield, which had a certain John Torode in charge of the kitchen. In my defence, he hadn't appeared on MasterChef at that point in time, and the cocktail bar was brilliant.

Many of these places served up food, which fused Middle Eastern, South Asian and East Asian flavours into dishes served the European way. Sometimes this worked, other times it didn't. Plus ça change. And while the quality of the food was often variable, all of these places had a fantastic buzz. All of which makes me wonder if Balthazar's arrival on the London scene is at least a decade too late in that punters nowadays place as much emphasis, if not more, on the food than the atmosphere.

The last decade or so has seen the rise and fall of a certain Gordon Ramsay. Back in 2002 he hadn't quite reached his commercial peak, but it could be argued that the restaurants in his stable were at their creative peak. In particular, Petrus, which in those days was an intimate restaurant in St James, operated by his then best mate, Marcus Wareing. I had the privilege of eating there around that time (I did tell you I was a restaurant whore back in the day) and it remains one of the best meals I've ever had.

Original Petrus is a rare instance of when things were better back in the day (another one is Antonio Carluccio's Neal Street Restaurant – what the capital would give nowadays for a centrally located Italian restaurant of that quality) but on the whole, London's restaurant scene has just got better and better. Whether it's up there with the best in the world, well that's another question for another day.

The Copenhagen Model

Over the last decade or so, Copenhagen has become one of the must-visit foodie destinations. With all due respect to the Danish capital, this would have been scarcely believable a generation ago. After all, Danish food isn't traditionally thought of as being one of the world's major cuisines, and nor is Copenhagen - unlike London - a metropolis that draws big name chefs from all four corners of the world. So just what is it that makes the restaurant scene in Copenhagen so exciting?

If I was being facetious I would say that it's as simple as giving my restaurant a trendy one-word name like Noma, Radio or Geist; staffing it with bright young things in check shirts and aprons; getting some stylish interior designers in and using some weeds found growing by the side of the road as garnish. If only if it was simple as that. The thing is when it comes to style over substance, you'll get found out sooner or later. No, there has to be something more to it.

Raw salmon, horseradish crisp with macadamia nuts 

For me, it's the 'anything goes' mentality that brings different ingredients together in a fresh, imaginative and visually arresting manner that makes eating in Copenhagen so exciting. For example, dishes like poached egg topped with raw mushroom, mushroom confit and fried chicken skin at Manfreds & Vin or the raw salmon, horseradish crisp with macadamia nuts at Geist, which combine different flavours and textures in a single plate. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, but who cares as long as they're having a crack.

As has become quite common, the food doesn't necessarily follow the traditional three-course structure. Instead, a mix and match of small, medium and large dishes to be shared (or not) as well as tasting menus where you leave it to the chef are all the rage. Oh, and another thing I like about eating in Copenhagen is that many restaurants offer you a glimpse of the action with a ringside seat peering into an open kitchen.

Wood pigeon sausages

I know these attributes don't necessarily make a restaurant 'Copenhagen-style', but the thing with a smaller city is that a 'scene' can develop in a way it can't in London or New York, where there are many different culinary voices wanting their song to be heard. That said, in parallel to developments in Denmark, restaurants with a similar ethos are popping up everywhere. For example, The Clove Club in London is wowing punters with its no-choice tasting menu (I want those wood pigeon sausages!). Although derided by bitter, cynical hacks as food-for-Instagram or cuisine du blogeur, I really hope this is one trend that is here to stay.

Lacking A Signature

If you've ever been to Shanghai then you've probably come across sheng jian bao 生煎包 - these crispy-bottomed soup filled pork buns can be found in street food stalls, cafés and restaurants all over China's largest city. You could say, along with the better-known xiao long bao 小籠包, that these are two of Shanghai's numerous signature dishes.

sheng jian bao 生煎包

Indeed Shanghai is not alone, as many cities around the world have at least one signature dish. I'm thinking of Naples and its pizza; Beijing's crispy skinned duck; Philadelphia cheesesteak; jambalaya from New Orleans; paella Valenciana and Hakata's tonkotsu ramen. But London doesn't really have a signature dish. At this point, some of you may be screaming 'jellied eels' and 'pie & mash' at the screen, but I'm talking about contemporary London, not some 'My Fair Lady' fantasy London of yesteryear.

Come to think of it, London doesn't even have a phoney signature dish such as Singapore noodles or chicken Madras. Sadder still, despite welcoming people from all around the world, there isn't a London signature dish with DNA from beyond these shores. This is particularly piss poor on the capital's part when you consider that Birmingham has its balti.

But does it matter? Not really, but I think it's a bit sad (although my inner-northerner thinks it's bloody hilarious) that the capital doesn't have a dish to call its own. So let's have a crack at creating 'A Dish for London' - your ideas are needed!

Strange Habits

Me: 'If you don't mind me asking, why do you eat your dinner like that?'
G: 'Like what?'
Me: 'You know, veg first, chips next, steak last.'
G: 'I like to save the best 'til last; I do it with all my meals.'

I thought, my then colleague, G was a bit of a weirdo. The thing is the steak would be ruined by the time he tucked into it. Being a forthright little so-and-so I let him know, in no uncertain terms, that his best 'til last strategy was a load of bollocks (although, for some reason, I didn't chastise him for the far more heinous crime of ordering his steak well done). Looking back I feel bad at having had a pop at G, as who doesn't have a food habit that others think contrary, odd or rude? I know I do. I probably have several. But there's one habit that friends of mine think is proper weird.

The sausage 'breakwater' as devised by Alan Partridge 

I love a full English breakfast, but I have certain ground rules when it comes to how it's served. I won't bore you with a list, as I'm not that intolerant when it comes to the humble fry-up. That said, it really gets on my tits when the baked beans come into contact with the fried egg. I hate it when this happens, and nothing makes me happier than when the beans are served in a separate container. Failing that, the egg should be at the opposite end of the plate to the beans. At worst, the sausage should act as a breakwater to stop the beans touching the egg (I have the legendary Alan Partridge to thank for that last tip).

Reaction to my behaviour ranges from agreement (one person) through mild bemusement (most people) to those that think I'm a right diva (a significant minority). Yes, I know it's weird, as bean-egg touchage doesn't even really affect the taste of the overall fry-up. But what about you guys? Any of you want to fess up to strange dining habits?

The Authenticity Debate

Big Night is a brilliant film that chronicles the fortunes of a pair of brothers who leave their native Italy to run a restaurant in New Jersey. One of the themes of the film is the paradox that, despite serving high quality authentic Italian food, the brothers' restaurant isn't as popular as a rival that peddles inferior Americanised fare.

Although the film is set in the 1950's, its theme of exploring the conflict between sticking to one's culinary principles and compromising those principles in order to earn a decent living is one that still resonates today, even in a city as cosmopolitan as London. After all these years, the capital still has scores of Chinese and Indian restaurants that serve a formulaic anglicised version of their respective cuisines. They are what they are, and most places don't bother to disguise the fact that their food isn't what one might find in Shanghai or Delhi.

At the other end of the spectrum are those restaurants that are renowned for offering authentic food. Yet there's still suspicion that even in some of these places, it can be hard work to get to the true heart of the cuisine unless you're familiar with it through your family upbringing, extensive travel or obsessive-compulsive food nerdiness.

So how do you make sure what you're eating is authentic? And does it matter if it isn't? And what is authentic anyway?

Mixed Starters - not 100% authentic

Navigating The Menu
The first obstacle is the menu. For example, many Chinese restaurants have a second menu, featuring more interesting dishes, written solely in Chinese. I've written about this practice before, and I disagree with it, as non-Chinese readers shouldn't be disenfranchised. However, I do understand why many restaurants don't bother. Many restaurant owners would argue that the hard work in translating the menu into English would be a wasted effort given its limited interest to many non-Chinese customers.

That may have been true in the past but I like to think that diners nowadays are more adventurous. So whilst the practice of dual menus does persist, increasing numbers of Chinese restaurants have a comprehensive bilingual menu that encompasses all their specialities. These places deserve kudos for doing this, not least because I can't really read Chinese despite being able to speak it!

But that doesn't necessarily help one sort the wheat out from the chaff if even the better Chinese, and for that matter, Thai and Vietnamese restaurants pad out their menu with westernised crowd pleasers. Take for example, Mien Tay, one of London's best-regarded Vietnamese restaurants, where the menu includes crispy aromatic duck and Singapore noodles. That said, I am assuming that more discerning diners can filter out the take-away standards and home in on more authentic dishes, which brings us to our next challenge.

Turning Down The Heat
Congratulations. You've managed to track down that special dish you tried on holiday in Bangkok at your local Thai. When it comes out, it looks like the real deal but there's something that isn't quite right. That's because the flavours have been compromised. You wonder whether the restaurant has played it safe, or worse, profiled you as a customer who can't handle the spicy stuff.

Yes, you read right. Profiling. There is anecdotal evidence that customers are profiled in many Asian restaurants, but the only place that I know for sure it happens is Red N Hot, a mini-chain of Sichuan restaurants, where they rather unsubtly detail your ethnicity and associated spice tolerance on the bill.

Needless to say, turning down the spice levels whether as a default, or after profiling is something that annoys me. A better approach would be if diners were told that a certain dish is traditionally spicy, and be offered the option to tone it down.

Very authentic sushi

Cultural Ambassadors
Whilst it's all very well banging on about authenticity, most restaurateurs are businesspeople first, cultural ambassadors second. Returning to the point about menus, that's why they tend to be so bloody long in many Asian restaurants so as to attract the widest possible clientele.

But is it actually worth the aggravation to do things properly? Look at Yashin Sushi, a restaurant in London where the chefs, just like they do in Japan, season each piece of sushi individually. It should go without saying that these works of art shouldn't then be doused in copious amounts of soy. However, just to make sure, management put up a humorous neon sign that reads: 'without soy sauce… but if you want to'.

Now I accept that this message could've been conveyed in a subtler fashion, but nonetheless some of the outcry was a bit OTT. I'm not even sure what some people were angry about. Was it the bad grammar? Was it because it was a neon sign? Or was it because some just like to take offence when none is meant? All told, it makes me wonder why Yashin Sushi bother to do things the right way.

What Is Authentic Anyway?
In all cultures, there is a fair bit of mixing and matching when it comes to ingredients, which begs the question: what is authentic anyway? After all, ramen and udon are considered to be authentically Japanese yet these noodles both have Chinese origins. And then there's the Chinese love of Worcestershire sauce (喼汁 gip jap) which is used as a dip for dim sum and other snacks.

So why are some 'inauthentic' ingredients considered acceptable while others aren't? For example, wasabi (Japanese in origin) is very popular amongst Chinese chefs at the moment. Dishes such as wasabi prawn dumplings and gai lan with wasabi soy dip are genius. While not authentic, there is no doubt that the presence of this Japanese interloper is a good thing. However, when ketchup is used in pad Thai, this is considered bad. Why? It's because ketchup is being used as a shortcut, and doesn't add anything to the dish.

Does It Matter?
Authenticity does matter, for those dishes that are sold as such, and where it is essential to use the correct ingredients and seasoning. I hate it when dishes aren't done properly, like the time I ordered a piss poor Thai green curry that was too sweet, had minimal heat and where courgettes had replaced the pea aubergines. Complete rubbish.

However, that's not to say the use of 'inauthentic' ingredients is necessarily a bad thing. Food shouldn't stand still; experimentation should be encouraged just as long as the fusion of flavours work, and ingredients aren't being added as a gimmick, or worse, as an expedient short cut.

At this point, I think I've worked it out. But have I? The thing is who am I to judge what is right or wrong? Others might well regard what I consider is a genius combination as being total dross. And who knows, there might be people out there who think that pad Thai is enhanced by ketchup! So after writing over a thousand words on this subject, I still don't have the answers. Do you?

The Debate: When Bad is Good

Good food and bad food are such absolute terms. Nevertheless, there are those who might deem sourdough bread, mature Cheddar and pata negra to be good whilst condemning sliced white bread, American cheese slices and processed luncheon meat (Spam) as being bad. That would be a mistake, as without the so-called bad stuff, some of our favourites wouldn't be half as tasty. Not convinced? Well, let's look at some classics that are enhanced by being a little bit bad.

Bacon Sandwich
Foccacia is my favourite bread, but I'd never dream of using it in a bacon sandwich. And nor should other posh breads like sourdough and ciabatta ever be used. Brown bread? You will be if you try using it in a bacon sarnie that I'm going to eat! That's because bacon sandwiches should be made with soft white bread that's pre-sliced and comes out of a plastic bag. At a push, soft white rolls, such as baps or barm cakes, are allowed too.

Cheeseburger
Amongst burger die-hards, only one cheese belongs in a cheeseburger: American cheese. That's right, those processed cheese slices (like Kraft Singles) that many people don't actually regard as being cheese. So whilst many cheeseburgers may use mature Cheddar, Stilton or Brie, the burger fundamentalist will ignore these real cheeses in favour of their beloved American cheese slice.

Chinese Hot Pot
There are few finer foodie sights than watching a Chinese hot pot in full flow. As a big cauldron of broth bubbles away, all kinds of goodies are thrown in. My favourites include crab legs, prawns, fishballs, thinly cut beef, enoki mushrooms, pak choi and, of course, noodles. However, many hot pot aficionados will eschew these treats, and make a beeline straight for Spam. I'm not kidding; many Chinese prefer Spam (or the Chinese branded Ma Ling Luncheon Meat) above all else in their hot pot.

In terms of these 'bad is good' examples, there is only one that I believe 100% in: the use of soft white bread in a bacon sarnie. When it comes to cheeseburgers, I happen to prefer American cheese but that's only because I'm partially lactose intolerant, and I have trouble with some real cheese. Otherwise, I couldn't give a toss what cheese is used. On the matter of Spam, I'm afraid I'm a bad Chinese in that I'm utterly indifferent to its charms.

Anyway, what do you guys think? Is my stance on bacon sandwiches, complete bollocks? What about the burger fundamentalists and their insistence on American cheese? And then there's the question of Spam – although, personally, I'd sit that one out. The Spam lobby are a vociferous, and at times scary, bunch. I'm more frightened of them than I am of the burger mob! Oh, and whilst we're at it, I'd also love to hear of any further examples of when bad stuff makes good food taste better.

The Debate: Why Does Japanese Food Cost More Than Chinese in London?

I recently mused, on twitter, why Japanese food in London is pricier than Chinese. There were some good points raised in response, but the thing is twitter's 140-character limit doesn't exactly encourage in-depth nuanced debate. So, I've decided to transfer the discussion to this blog post.

Now, let's get the bleeding obvious out of the way. Of course, a posh Japanese sashimi set will always be more expensive than an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet. That's not what I'm driving at. The point I'm making is that, in London, a decent Chinese joint will invariably be better value than its Japanese counterpart. Not convinced? Well, let's look at a real life example.

Udon @ Koya

The other week I had lunch at Koya, the acclaimed Japanese udon specialist. I ordered a bowl of soup noodles with duck aka kamo atsu-atsu udon (£11) with a side of skate wing tempura (£7.70) and batter scraps aka tanuki (60p). I drank tap water but with a 10% service charge, the bill still came to £21. The food was excellent, and whilst I wasn't exactly hungry after this meal, I was far from full.

Dim sum @ Princess Garden

Later that week, I went for dim sum at Princess Garden of Mayfair, a classy Chinese restaurant. Between the five of us, we probably ordered in excess of 20 dim sum dishes, and together with tea, some soft drinks, and (an eye-watering) 15% service charge, the bill came to around £100 or £20/head. The dim sum is amongst London's best, and I was stuffed. We actually over-ordered, and the leftovers were taken home in a doggy bag.

Now some might think that I'm equating value to how full I was, but that's only half the story. The thing is Koya is a casual noodle bar, and it doesn't seem right to me that a quick lunch there should cost a wee bit more than a lengthy dim sum session at a proper restaurant like Princess Garden. By proper restaurant, I mean that Princess Garden has a cocktail bar, the management wear suits and there's table linen i.e. these are overheads it has to cover that Koya don't.

I appreciate that this is just one example, but there's plenty more instances that I can cite. So why is Japanese food more expensive than Chinese in London? Many theories were posited on twitter – and here's a summary of some of them.

Some believe there is a price premium for Japanese food because it's considered trendier than Chinese. I'm not so sure, after all, Vietnamese cuisine is very trendy, and that's cheap as chips. Some of you are of the opinion that Japanese food is better. That's subjective, and although it's not a view I share, it is one that many believe. Mind you, that isn't really a reason why Japanese food should be pricier.

After some further twitter exchanges, some pointed out that there is a perception amongst the Great British public that Japanese food is classier than Chinese. This is a theory that I can subscribe to, but why? After all, both cuisines have a long and proud history, so why should Japanese cuisine be considered posher? To answer that question, we need to consider the respective histories of Chinese and Japanese cuisines in Britain.

Although, there has been a Chinese presence in the UK for well over a century, significant migration only occurred post-World War Two. This generation, of which my parents are part of, came to these shores to better themselves and their families. And through their self-reliant industrious enterprise, many opened take-away shops and simple restaurants all across the land. These places served a hybrid cuisine that can be characterised as 'half chips-half rice', and as such a 'cheap and cheerful' image became associated with Chinese food. An image that persists to this day.

However, not all Chinese restaurants were cheap westernised joints. At the same time as Chinese food reached the mainstream, authentic restaurants sprung up, sometimes in Chinatowns, serving the Chinese community. Some dishes on the menu, such as abalone and lobster, could be expensive but prices, in the main, were reasonable. In particular, dim sum was especially good value.

By contrast, the Japanese first came in numbers to the UK in the latter part of the 20th century. Most were business executives, and Japanese restaurants soon sprung up to cater to this crowd. As the clientele were well remunerated, these restaurants could charge a little more for a reminder of home. Moreover, these were places where Japanese executives did their business entertainment. On expenses.

Nowadays, the divisions are less clear-cut. There are high-end restaurants that serve Chinese food and there are cheaper Japanese eateries, but by and large, Chinese restaurants remain better value. Anyway, that's my theory, but I'd love to hear your opinions on this matter. Especially, as I'm thinking of having more debate-based posts on my blog.