Denis Staunton, Beijing, China
To reach my favourite restaurant in Beijing, you have to walk through a vegetable market and past a flower stall run by a man with a ponytail who spends all day bouncing a basketball and throwing hoops. Up a narrow steel staircase, next to a barbershop and an alterations tailor, the entrance is so unobtrusive that if you were not looking for it you might never find it.
Little Yunnan is not the finest or most sophisticated of Beijing’s 30,000 restaurants – 33 of which have Michelin stars – or even the most celebrated of those serving Yunnan cuisine. In & Out in the fashionable Sanlitun district is more celebrated, not least because US treasury secretary Janet Yellen was reported to have eaten magic mushrooms when she dined there last year.
It’s about half an hour away by bicycle but this mid-market place, simply furnished with plain wooden tables and a bare tiled floor, is where I go most often for a weekday supper. I usually cycle over there with my friend Song, a painter who lives around the corner and has plenty of time on his hands.
In the summertime we would sit on the terrace and look out over the rooftops in the hutongs, or traditional alleyways, with their one-storey houses arranged around little courtyards. But this week as it turned cold in Beijing, we took a table in the corner indoors, Song slipping past me to take the inside seat so he could get a better look at the other guests.
Main dishes in China are shared, so ordering in a restaurant is a communal and consensual activity. We had two salads, one with shrimp and papaya and the other of cold beef with mint, which arrived alongside some prawns stir-fried with tea. We each had a bowl of steamed rice and shared a litre of tamarind juice served in a Tupperware-style, plastic jug that snapped shut at the top.
The dishes here arrive as they are prepared, and some delicious stir-fried eggs with jasmine flowers came at the same time as stir-fried beef with lemon. Everything had to be pushed towards the edges of the table for a steel skillet bearing a whole grilled tilapia with a lemongrass sauce on the side.
Even though Lebanon is under aerial bombardment from Israel, people still go out to eat, though wartime means normal operating hours have transformed into opening when it is safe to do so and staff are willing. Many restaurants are now using their kitchens to prepare food for displaced people
— Sally Hayden, Beirut
We picked at everything with chopsticks, dropping tasty morsels into the rice bowls before holding them up close to our lips and shovelling mouthfuls inside.
Chinese meals don’t generally include dessert, although they sometimes serve fresh fruit, and here in Little Yunnan we had a couple of rose flower cakes – flaky pastry with a rose petal filling.
The bill came to the equivalent of €44, and since there is no tipping culture in China – and Song is a bit tight – that’s what it cost.
Sally Hayden, Beirut, Lebanon
Beirut does simple takeaway food really well: falafel, shawarma and tawouk, or a manoushe (flatbread) with jebne (cheese) and zaatar (a spice blend). I also love avocado cocktails (non-alcoholic) – basically liquidised avocado layered over fruit and nuts, which you can get mixed with Nutella, peanut butter or other kinds of juice or smoothie. The best ice cream I’ve had here was knafeh-flavoured, a version of the traditional syrupy cheesy dessert turned into ice cream. I also recently had rose-flavoured ice cream, which was very nice.
There’s no food I have hated here, though I did stop short of eating sheep brains.
The current war and subsequent economic crisis means restaurants are financially out of reach for many people. Despite the challenges, Lebanese culture really places a high value on shared meals, and people have found workarounds, with one community association near me charging a small annual membership fee for building rental and staff costs, for example, so locals can eat meals there at cost price, in a place that still feels like a restaurant.
Even though Lebanon is under aerial bombardment from Israel, people still go out to eat, though wartime means normal operating hours have transformed into opening when it is safe to do so and staff are willing. Many restaurants are now using their kitchens to prepare food for displaced people, and some restaurants have even been bombed – I recently reported from the rubble of Al Rida restaurant in the ancient city of Baalbek, for example.
Mezyan in Hamra is the restaurant where I’ve had some of the best conversations with some of the most fascinating collections of people since I moved here, over Lebanese meze – like kibbe, fattoush, tabbouleh, rakakat, hummus, baba ganoush, labneh, muhammara, vegetables and pickles – while drinking Almaza beer or arak.
I also have to recommend Aaliyah’s, which is an English-language bookshop, bar and restaurant, part owned by an Irishwoman. They have delicious food, and before the war they held regular wine tastings, with different Lebanese winemakers coming in each week. A typical restaurant meal for two would cost minimum $25 (€23.70) but more likely $40+ (€38).
Dan McLaughlin, Kyiv, Ukraine
Most visitors to Kyiv are amazed by the range and quality of food on offer in the capital of a country that has been fighting a full-scale war with Russia for almost three years, and which has to fend off drone and missile attacks nearly every night. This is still a city of 3 million people, for whom living as normally as possible is a daily act of resistance against the invader. So eating well, whether at home or at a restaurant (for those who can afford it), is on one level a way that Ukrainians boost their spirits and show that no amount of Russian terror will make them give up on life.
On another level, it’s just about eating delicious food. All the major cuisines of the world and many less familiar ones are represented in Kyiv, and visitors from the West do not have to go without artisan bakeries, perfectly prepared coffee or street food stalls where hipster chefs elevate fast food and deconstruct gourmet dishes.
My diet here is as varied as it would be in any other major European city, but on returning to Ukraine from trips abroad it is good to sit down to its culinary classics. I would start with a bowl of rich borscht (more precisely, borshch in Ukrainian) with a dollop of sour cream, served with the traditional accompaniments of sharp spring onions and little white bread rolls soaked in garlic butter which are as soft and inviting as their name – pampushky. Borshch also comes with thin slices of salo, or pork fat, which is not to everyone’s taste.
To follow I would have a plate of varenyky – another timeless comfort food for Ukrainians – which are plump dumplings that are boiled and then often fried until golden and slightly crispy. They can be filled, when savoury, with meat, cabbage, curd cheese, mushrooms or a mix of potato and onion. And you can always have a second plateful for dessert, when they may be stuffed with cherries or berries.
For traditional Ukrainian dishes cooked with the best local ingredients and an ingenious modern twist, a great restaurant is 100 Rokiv Tomu Vpered (100 Years Back to the Future) in central Kyiv. If you are in Odesa on the Black Sea coast, eating at Dacha feels like being a lucky guest at a 19th-century country house hidden in leafy, languid gardens. Back in Kyiv two people can easily find a tasty and satisfying lunch for under €20 and eat an excellent dinner for €50, not including alcohol.
Keith Duggan, Washington, US
My first experience of the US came through working in restaurants here in the mid-1990s and I still believe the world of restaurants to be a brilliant crash course on American class, manners, generosity, transience and so much more. Everything then seemed very different and exotic. I remember, a few days in, taking a drinks order that went something like, ’GimmeaStolimartiniandaDewerswithatwistontherocks,’ in thick Bostonian. I thought the customer was speaking Hebrew. Plus, the menu was this odd mix of old world French and trenchant American. The point is: all of that has changed. I think Ireland has caught up with and probably eclipsed America in the quality and variety of food.
Sheba, one of the grand dame restaurants on the street (also known as the ‘curry mile’), serves a Bangladeshi lamb and pumpkin dish called shofri ghust that you’d sell your granny for a bowl of
— Mark Paul, London
The major American cities offer 60 per cent domestic and 40 per cent international food types. Drive through the interior and the domestic percentage rises. It’s difficult not to find something enjoyable, but during the US election attending rallies meant hours in big sports arenas where the only options were ghastly hot dogs and cold-storage sandwiches for which the owners could charge a king’s ransom.
Arguably the most famous eatery in Washington, for historical as well as culinary reasons, is Ben’s Chili Bowl on U-Street. Everyone can make some version of chilli, but not like theirs. There’s also a baffling surplus of Ethiopian restaurants here which are really good and different: doro wot, a slow-cooked chicken dish, is a popular favourite.
Stand-out dining experiences here have included the Chubby Fish, a small seafood restaurant on a beautiful side street in Charleston, South Carolina; an evening with friends in the Twin Anchors, a family-owned ribs and beer place in Chicago’s Old Town, formerly a haunt of Frank Sinatra’s; the gorgeous GupShup, an Indian restaurant in New York, and a $10 quesadilla and salad combo in Archer City, Texas, on a blazing hot June evening in one of those classic diners that are disappearing from the landscape all too fast.
The cost of dining out has skyrocketed, in keeping with most other pleasures. With drinks, sides and a standard tip of at least 20 per cent, a restaurant visit can cost anywhere between $150-$500+ (€142-€474+) for two. And because the dollar is so strong, international visitors no longer benefit from the favourable exchange rate. Any tourist I encounter here is usually shocked by the cost of everything.
Mark Paul, London, England
One of the joys of living in London is its global nature – all foods can be found here. My hopeless curry addiction means taking regular pilgrimages to Brick Lane in the East End. Brick Lane is the eclectic beating heart of London’s Bangladeshi community, and I have now learned that the Bangladeshis make amazing curries. Sheba, one of the grand dame restaurants on the street (also known as the ‘curry mile’), serves a Bangladeshi lamb and pumpkin dish called shofri ghust that you’d sell your granny for a bowl of.
Brick Lane is also famous for its 24-hour Jewish bakeries and their salt beef and pickle bagels. The two main bakeries serve the best after-pub food in London.
At the weekend I like to visit one of the myriad global food markets dotted around the city. The ethnic food market under the A40 flyover at Acklam Street near Notting Hill is one of the best, but nothing tops Pakhlaan Afghan food stall in South Bank Centre market at Waterloo. You’d sell your other granny for one of its rice boxes.
My favourite restaurant in London is Pizzeria on the Green, a simple neighbourhood Italian on Clapham Common South Side. We regularly eat there as a family and it feels like a little slice of Italy. A meal for two with a glass of wine in most half-decent restaurants in the West End will top £200 (€240). But we typically feed the four of us, including our two girls, in Pizzeria on the Green for less than £80 (€96). A decent business lunch for two around Westminster with a glass of wine costs about £140 (€168).
Jack Power, Brussels, Belgium
When you picture Brussels and food, you probably imagine waffles and chips. Temporarily taking over as Europe correspondent aged 29 and moving to Brussels in April this year, I certainly won’t be the one to tell you your assumption is wrong. Some of the best takeaway frites here are at Frit Flagey, a small green and white hut on a square in Flagey, a neighbourhood to the south of the EU quarter. Shops close relatively early here, so if I’m walking home to a near-bare fridge from some evening reception or post-work drink, a cone of frites has hit the spot on more than one occasion.
When it comes to food, I’m with Julie Andrews. One of my favourite things is ‘schnitzel with noodles’. Except here we call those noodles spätzle
— Derek Scally, Berlin
As a foreign correspondent it can sometimes feel like you’re in a continuous cycle of packing and unpacking. This month I travelled to Valencia to cover the aftermath of the devastating floods and to Budapest for a summit of EU leaders. In addition to work travel I have also been to Rome and Lille this month. All that is to say when I’m home in Brussels I buy a big grocery shop at my peril.
If I’m eating out I’m usually in Sainte Catherine, an area close to the centre of the city that has a lot of restaurants and bars. If I had to pick one spot I’d recommend Billie, which was formerly called Monk. When you come in the door you walk into a bar, but there is an unassuming restaurant in the back corner that exclusively does (really good) spaghetti dishes. The Belgians are big fans of spaghetti bolognese, likely from the influence of the wave of Italian immigrants who moved to the country to work in long-closed mines during the industrial era.
If you’re going casual, one great spot I took a visiting friend to recently was Fight Club, a trendy bar that does pizza slices in the Saint-Gilles neighbourhood.
When I’m hosting people in the city I’ve taken them to Strofilia, a Greek restaurant in Sainte Catherine. While Strofilia is a bit more expensive, generally eating out in Brussels is good value, even when including a bottle of wine, and you rarely need to book ahead. A nice meal for two with drinks might only set you back between €60 and €80.
Derek Scally, Berlin, Germany
When it comes to food, I’m with Julie Andrews. One of my favourite things is “schnitzel with noodles”. Except here we call those noodles spätzle. Schnitzel is a generic term for a breaded, fried cut of meat. The wiener schnitzel (made with veal) is the queen of cutlets, but you can make a schnitzel with pork or chicken. The first – fun – step is to get a mallet and hammer the meat thinly, but not too thinly. Then dredge it in flour, dip it in beaten egg and, finally, dredge it in breadcrumbs – don’t press. Then fling it into a frying pan containing lots of hot oil and cook until golden brown.
While the schnitzel is an acquired art, and makes a mess of the kitchen, spätzle are easy. First, in a heavy bowl, you make a batter of flour, salt and eggs. Next you need a bit of kit. Some use a special board, a bit like a grater, but I prefer the spätzle press which is like a massive garlic press. Ladle a decent glob of dough in and press out the stringy dough into a large saucepan filled with boiling, salty water. First the spätzle sink; when they rise to the surface, they’re done. Serving spätzle with a brown sauce, often with mushrooms, is popular.
One good address for schnitzel is Borchardt in Berlin. While you wait for your schnitzel, bigger than a regular dinner plate, you can watch Eurotrash C-List celebrities hoping to be recognised. If you like it rough and ready, try the Tiergarten Quelle, under the Berlin S-Bahn train tracks.
Like everywhere else, inflation and rising costs have seen restaurant prices rise noticeably in Berlin. A schnitzel with spätzle – or another side like fries or potato salad – will cost you at least €20 (€30+ for veal). But you can still have a meal for two in a decent restaurant with starters and wine for about €80.
Guten appetit!
