Camel Valley

On the second leg of my English wine road trip, Tobias Gorn, head sommelier of Michelin-starred Indian restaurant Tamarind in Mayfair, and I stopped off at Camel Valley in Cornwall, where we were shown around by winemaker Sam Lindo, who talked us through the Camel Valley range. In this video, we try the award-winning Pinot Noir Rosé Brut 2010, and finish up with a wine made from what could become England's flagship white grape: Darnibole Bacchus 2011. Chin chin!

Inamo St James

Apologies, dear reader(s), for the three week hiatus. December always seems to whiz by in a flurry of festive obligations. At the start of the month I was offered the job of Staff Writer at The Drinks Business, which I will begin in the new year, so the month has been spent tying up loose ends at Decanter, which I bade a fond farewell to last week.

Aside from moving jobs, December has also been characteristically busy on the event front. Earlier this month, when the first bout of snow hit London, I ventured out into the white night layered up like a mille-feuille to attend the launch of Inamo St James. Arriving fashionably late, the 300-cover Regent Street restaurant was heaving. Standing in line, I noted familiar foodie faces interspersed with the odd celeb - model David Gandy acted as an alluring window display, while son of Salman, Zafar Rushdie, was busy entertaining a Sloaney blonde.

I found my dining companion, David Joseph Constable, sinking a saké Mojito at the bamboo bar. We were swiftly ushered through the sprawling space to our electronic table by a statuesque waitress in leopard print. Billed on its website as an 'Oriental fusion restaurant with influences from Japan, China, Thailand, Korea and beyond' (wherever that might be), Inamo's USP is its interactive ordering system. Diners are in control of their culinary destinies and are at liberty to order as much or as little as they desire from the electronic menu over the course of an evening.

The E-Table technology also allows you to choose your virtual tablecloth colour and design, spy on the chefs at work through the Chef Cam, and even book a taxi home. In a spectacular display of generosity (it being the press night), we were given free reign on the menu, simply split into 'small dishes', 'large dishes' and 'deserts'. The first five minutes of my Inamo experience were happily spent in silence, exploring all the E-Table's functions. My opening move was to turn our tablecloth a tasteful shade of violet, then, at the push of a button, I ordered two raspberry lemon cooler cocktails, which dutifully appeared at our table mere minutes later.

Inamo is ideal for the techno-savvy Twitter generation. There's enough on the table to entertain you to render polite conversation with your dining partner obsolete. And if you did desire to communicate, you could always send them a text, or even better, a Tweet, from across the table. Aware of my anti-social behaviour, I engage David in conversation, proposing that we order some starters. 'I've already ordered three, I think', David replies. And that's the thing. It's impossible not to fall prey to kid in a candy shop over exuberance at Inamo, making it a dangerous place for diners lacking in self restraint.

So the starters arrived in their droves. We tried bite-sized baby crispy prawns served, chippy style, in a paper cone, transparent slithers of kelp marinated sea bass (pictured) served with shiso and soy, which were slightly smoked and utterly moorish, seared tuna coated in black bean and wasabi with creamy cucumber miso, seared scallops with a lifted, lemony Yuzu dressing, Dragon rolls filled with tiger prawns and crab salad, pencil shaving thin slices of marbled beef with truffle vinaigrette and (finally) yellow tail sashimi in a sweet soy, truffle sauce.

Considering the restaurant was operating at full capacity, serving hoards of hungry, sharp-fanged journalists, the standard of the starters was impressively high. Some dishes, like the scallops, failed to reach the standard I have come to expect in London, but others, like the sea bass, yellow tail sashimi and marbled beef, were unique, exciting and extremely well executed. I often find myself more allured by starters than mains in restaurants, preferring to experience a little of a lot, than a lot of a little. Nevertheless, we felt it only right to sample a decent selection of mains, if only for a rounded overview of the cuisine on offer.

David fired up the 'larger dishes' menu on our E-Table, and started placing orders. I did the same. This is ill-advised, as we ended up with three mammoth salmon dishes glaring at us for the remainder of the evening. The main event included exquisitely cooked silky black cod in spicy miso that fell off the fork, soft, creamy, saké salmon cooked in cedar wood and served in a deliciously rich Hollandaise sauce, zesty, juicy, orange-fueled Tamarind duck breast and pan fried salmon glazed with Javanese sugar, which decency forced me to abstain from.

Quite how we found room for pudding is astounding, but it was worth fitting in. My vanilla-flecked strawberry crème Brûlée topped with mint was the highlight of the evening. Our overenthusiastic ordering resulted in an eye-watering £180 bill, but an equally fulfilling meal can be had at Inamo for a fraction of the price, and the progress of your bill can be checked at any stage by pushing the 'calculate bill' button.

Inamo St James will be a success. It's modern, stylish and faddy, like London itself. On our visit, the house music was booming and bar buzzing with trendy types sipping chic cocktails and milling about next to the tables. A number of the diners seemed irked by this, and rightly so. The drinking and dining spaces at Inamo need to be more clearly defined. Like Kyashii in Covent Garden and Aqua in Oxford Circus, there's something of the 'clubaurant' about it. It's an ideal place to take a date with whom you fear conversation may dry up. And if it does, you can book a taxi and make a quick exit without saying a word.

Tamarind restaurant review

Tamarind was the first Indian restaurant in Europe to be awarded a Michelin star. Now in its 16th year, head chef Alfred Prasad clawed back the coveted star in January, after losing it last year, so it's business as usual at the golden-hued the Mayfair haunt.

Located in a basement on Queen street in Green Park, the cosy space is paved with gold, from the suede columns to the gold spattered etched glass. Middle Eastern filigree panels abound, creating an ambiance of luxurious exoticism.

I've been to Tamarind once before, as an over-enthusiastic student journalist on one of my first interview assignments. My subject? Fellow journalist Toby Young, a restaurant critic for the Evening Standard at the time. His paperback How to Lose Friends and Alienate People was riding high in the book charts, and he revealed in the interview that the book was going to be made into a film, with Simon Pegg playing the lead. Young had brought along Jerry Springer's lawyer in the hope of him landing him a slot on Oprah. It never happened.

This time around I brought my mum for company. We began with a glass of ice cold Taittinger Brut Champagne, an ideal apéritif, which we drank whilst nibbling on paper thin poppadoms served with a trio of dips: date, tomato and black currant.

Tamarind's food is rooted in tradition, but allows space for innovation. The food, like the room, is punchy and memorable without being overpowering. Derived from traditional Mogul cuisine, the bread, meat, fish and game are all cooked on a North West Indian tandoor oven, imbuing them with their signature smoky finish.

The à la carte menu is incredibly simple and pared down at a mere two pages. We began with a trio of starters: their signature grilled scallops with fennel and star-anise, ground lamb cakes with lentils and cinnamon served on mint chutney and spiced potato cakes filled with spinach and drizzled with tamarind. The scallops were mouthwateringly tender and exquisitely cooked – I could have eaten a shoal of them, while the lamb cake was full of flavour and had a lovely crumbly, melt-in-the-mouth texture. The potato cake was the least impressive, overpowered slightly by the potent tamarind.

Our wine pairing for the starter was the impressive, almost comic sounding 3 Amigos, made from a blend of Marsanne, Rousanne and Chardonnay from Margaret River in Western Australia. It had a lovely golden hue and a distinctly Burgundian nose, due to the area's cooler climate. Rounded, creamy and mellow, it was surprisingly elegant.

Next up we were presented with a fish duo: a jumbo tiger prawn marinated with ginger, yoghurt, ground spices and paprika, and kingfish marinated with yoghurt, lime-leaf, green chili and saffron. I was seriously impressed - the kingfish was tender and aromatic, and yet full bodied and meaty, while the juicy prawn had a lovely smoky quality from the tandoor, and was both flavoursome and elegant. We were also served the moreish channa chaat, a popular Indian snack composed of spicy chickpeas and wheat crisps drizzled with sweetened yoghurt and blueberries.

During a brief interlude in which to somehow try and find space in my tummy for more, we munched on delicious date, coconut and poppy seed naan. Unfortunately, by this point I was a little too full to fully appreciate the main event. The curries were served in quaint copper pots, adding to the authentic Indian feel. We tried a creamy chicken tikka flavoured with crushed fenugreek leaves and a lamb masala with puréed spinach, garlic and cumin, served alongside tadka dal and dal makni – black lentils from the Northwest frontier.

Both curries were delicately spiced, which suits me, as I was born to to mild. The lamb masala got a bit lost in the sea of spinach, and it was hard to tell what animal I was eating, but the chicken tikka was deliciously rich and creamy. It's incredibly difficult to successfully match wine with Indian food, but we opted for a half bottle of Boyd-Cantenac 2000 from the Left Bank in Bordeaux. Black currant and mint dominant, it was elegant, youthful for its years, and, according to my mum, 'like drinking silk'.

Pudding (yes, I found space), came in the form of the odd sounding but delicious tasting carrot fudge topped with pistachios and rich, milky vanilla ice cream. Tamarind is a place that divides critics and loyalties alike. Some say it's overpriced, others that the food is underwhelming. I disagree. I can see why it won its Michelin star back this year.

While the food may be priced highly, it is exemplary Indian cuisine as close as you can get in London to the real thing. Ingredients are expertly used, spices are subtle and flavours are aromatic and elegant rather than knock-out hot. Like the menu says, it has changed my perception of Indian dining, which is a million miles from a fiery vindaloo. Authentic Indian cuisine is as elegant and refined as anything in Europe, and we could learn a lot from it. Britain's love affair with Indian food is far from over.