Barbican Food Hall, Barbican Centre, London, 21.06.12

I should start by declaring a conflict of interest. I love the Barbican. There is something alluring and safe about its pedestrianised greyness, its maze of walkways and plants dripping from the concrete in summer. Furthermore, I love the Barbican Centre. My other life as a keen muso draws me here frequently, usually to hear the LSO (my preferred London orchestra) or just to hang out in the foyers and Red Bar, and feel included.

I sometimes eat at the Barbican Food Hall, which is found on the ground floor, looking out onto the concourse with the fountains. It is relaxed and functional, but still manages to ooze a touch of class with its retro metal seats and white tiles. The cake selection is nothing short of marvellous- an enormous plinth that greets you with smile of currants and carrots as you walk in. The more substantial food selection is divided into a salad bar and a hot food counter, serving comforting lasagnes and other favourites.

Unfortunately, today was disappointing. I opted for the salad option, which includes a choice of main "thing" (cold cuts of chicken, beef, little vegetarian tarts etc) and a selection of three cold salads. I opted for what appeared to be a beetroot cured salmon, along with a selection of three of the tastiest looking accompaniments from the selection of six. The plate looked pretty, but was somewhat of a culinary haiku. I jested to the woman on the till about the curtailment of portion size, and she commenced a rant about how the managers had been getting strict recently, chastising those staff who were over generous. I nodded sympathetically, before realising that it was me who was ultimately hard done by.

The cured salmon was an attractive dark red, but was bland and lacked flavour. It was more of a lack-lustre sashimi. The brocolli was pan fried with almonds, but would have challenged those with poor dentition, and was burnt around the edges. All the sauce seemed to have fallen off the penne, but the occasional lump of melty soft aubergine made up for it. The chickpeas were dry and did not seem to have had much more treatment than a splash of vinegar. Their lack of glue set them rolling off my fork.

Perhaps I have a bigger appetite than the average Barbicanite, but I felt that for an investment of £7.50 I was provided with poor returns. Next time I will stick to the soup.

The Wet Fish Cafe, West Hampstead, London, 14.06.12

As you wind your way down West End Lane in West Hampstead, you are faced with an abundance of eating options. The generic restaurants are present en masse, but West Hampstead also offers numerous independent outlets for the more discerning crowd. The Wet Fish Cafe is situated half way down the high street, and in previous decades served as various reincarnations of the local fishmonger. In more recent years it has progressed into a casual and yet refined eaterie, boasting its trademark art deco wall tiles.

The dinner menu comprised a mixture of starters and appetisers, including favourites like mackerel pate, deep fried squid, and scallops. The seafood platter to share was as pretty as a picture. Two enormous and perfectly seared scallops nestled amongst gravadlax, a handful of squid rings and a bucket-load of crayfish. The waiting staff seemed a little surprised by our request for some bread, but after its delayed arrival we set to work. The gravadlax was plentiful but plain, the squid a little on the soggy side, and the crayfish needed livening up with the marie rose style sauce.

We remained loyal to the ocean with the main courses, and a generous fillet of ling was served riding a cylinder of green quinoa, accompanied by a tartar style sauce. Ling is a meaty white fish akin to monkfish and needs a firm slice with the knife rather than a gentle tease of flakes like haddock or cod. It was cooked with respect, moist but perhaps a little underseasoned. Unfortunately the quinoa was bland and the accompanying sauce a touch overpowering, although the idea was right, with this particular fish needing a kick of acidity to cut through the creamy meat texture. The sea bass fillets were simply pan fried, and accompanied by a generous portion of risotto and sliced fennel. 

The overall experience was not overwhelming, but the Thursday night ambience gently ticked over with enough customers to keep it feeling busy. The service was somewhere between relaxed and a touch disinterested, but not enough to get upset about. In this sense the Wet Fish Cafe presents somewhat of a dilemma. West Hampstead offers the solidly performing generics at about two thirds the price, but whether the Wet Fish Cafe has the punch to pull the punters back for second helpings only they can tell you.