Pork belly

Last Spring, I began to hear rumours about a Polish restaurant in Tooting (my area of London). I heard that it was in a Polish club, but that the restaurant was open to non-members. I had visions of a little storefront club - with a bar full of horny-handed, bleary-eyed Polish labourers smoking cheap, bootlegged Eastern European cigarettes - with a tiny dining room off to the side, lit by flourescent strip, rickety tables covered by cheap yellowing vinyl tablecloths.

I ventured out with the Vol-in-Law sometime in July to visit the Polish restaurant. It turns out that the Polish club - The White Eagle - is really more in Balham than in Tooting (a little further north) - and it's not a little store front joint. It's in a massive old pub building - imposing with a full parking lot out the front and a gristly-armed hard man (probably named Stanislav) guarding the door. Nope. I didn't believe I cared for that - we got a curry that night instead.

The Texan and I had talked about going there a couple of times, but never followed through. But the Texan came back from the States this morning determined and texted us about going to the Polish restaurant. So we made the plan to go to the White Eagle and if for some reason that didn't work out, we could always choose from one of the many, many fine curry establishments in Tooting.

Stanislav wasn't on the door last night. And we were able to go through the 1970s wood panneled club bar into the restaurant without challenge. For a Monday night the place was...well, empty. There was absolutely no one there. But the restaurant itself was really lovely, beautiful blond hardwood floors. All the Christmas decorations were still up, bizarrely, but it was certainly festive enough. There was a salsa class going on in the function room which we could see and hear through glass doors, so until the waitress turned up the Baltic pop enough to drown in out, it was one of those weird conjunctions of culture that one seems to regularly find in London.

The menu offered a variety of Polish standards at quite good prices. We ordered practically the most expensive thing on the menu - the platter that includes all those Polish standards- for three.

"Is that a lot of food?" the Vol-in-Law asked.
"Mmmm...is good choice," said the the Polish waitress in a suitably Boris-and-Natasha-esque accent.

We chose to have our food brought out in one big platter, rather than separately plated. She brought out two big pyrex casseroles on their own stands full of food - Hunter stew, breaded pork chops, weird blossoms of sausage meat, dumplings, potatos and stuffed cabbage rolls. We ordered a salad "set" as well in a bid for healthfulness and received two delicious varieties of pickled cabbage.

It was a good choice and it was a lot of food. My husband is known for being able to pack away the food, was in pain as he left. The Texan, well - that girl can pack away a lot of food. And me, I'm eating for two. Of course, with the amount of dumplings I ate - those two really should have been a couple of brickies called Mikoslaw and Lucasz.

The Vol-in-Law and the Texan both ordered Polish beer on tap which they decreed very tasty and quite strong and it was at a good price, too. (I had just enough for a few sips - and I agree it went down very well.)

Below is a photo of the Polish platter at Daquise in Central London. The food we were served last night was just about as tasty, not quite as pretty and heaped up in copious amounts and pound for pound much, much cheaper.