Boak. It's a horrible word, really. Boak. But it does sum up how I felt after putting the food at this week's restaurant in my mouth. Boak. Sorry Jamie.
I feel bad because I've got a lot of time for Mr Oliver, whose grand ambition extends to some really rather good recipes and entertaining TV. His Jamie's Italian chain is, by all accounts, pretty decent and I'm fond of the Jme wooden chopping board in my kitchen.
Although it's now been announced that a second branch will open soon in Chiswick, his latest venture, Union Jacks, was supposed to be a one-off in a new development near London's Oxford Street, and the music, décor, drinks and tableware (the plates say "Stop looking at my bottom" on their base) are suitably witty and pretty. But the food is dire.
Actually, that's not fair. The starters and puddings are delicious, with the wit and flair of Jamie Oliver Inc at its best. But the central concept is a reinvention of the pizza. What's that? Pizza doesn't need reinventing, being one of the world's most loved, perfectly assembled dishes? That's where we're wrong, apparently.
Union Jacks is a celebration of British produce and flavours, showcased on "flats" (that's pizzas to you and me, not that you'll see the p-word on the menu). There's nothing wrong with showcasing the fantastic meat, cheeses, veggies and herbs of our nation. Just not on the same plate as a "flat" – not even one made by US chef Chris Bianco, whose pizzas are fabled and who's been brought over by Jamie to recreate his Arizona magic here.
It starts well with roasted beets with Westcombe curd and smoked seeds (£4), prawn and Morecambe Bay shrimp cocktail (£6), potted British seafood (£5.50) and catch-of-the-day fish fingers with tartare sauce (£5). All on the modest side, but that's about right for the price and as a curtain-raiser for something stodgy like pizza, sorry, flats.
Read more at http://www.independent.co.uk
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