The Fish & Chip Shop - Liverpool Street

Dashwood House 69 Old Broad Street, London, EC2M 1NA

What do tourists eat in England? That's right, fish 'n' chips. Great big pieces of questionable white fish, lathered in a thick soggy batter, and fried in oil so filthy it could pass for crude. They'll pay dearly for the privilege and leave thinking England's culinary excellence is as overstated as its football team. A big 'Thank you!' to every chain-owned pub around Covent Garden.

It doesn't have to be like this and The Fish & Chip Shop shows how it should be done. Delicate white fish, encased in a light crisp batter. That's it, nothing else needs to be said - on the fish at least.

The Fish & Chip Shop 'chain' have two restaurants, one in Islington and one in the City. Tucked along an alleyway just off Liverpool Street, next door to the picturesque lawn of a church, and opposite the old Dollhouse Gentleman's Club, this new branch sparkles warmly through an L-shaped wall of glass. Inside, an oval bar is surrounded by small round tables for four and booths for a couple more. It's clean, crisp like the fish, and very welcoming - the theatrics of the guy on the door would please the tourists too.

Served promptly and politely, with two courses polished off in an hour, there aren't many complaints from me really. The insistence on bringing my food in separate bowls is a slight gripe. The fish looked lonely and less than impressive sat on its own. This is a hearty meal and I want to see a piping hot plate, spilling over as chips fight fish fight peas for the precious space of the enamel. The chips are the wrong sort too. They're fat, but they crunch. Where are the soggy chips that fall apart in your hands as you overload them with ketchup or curry sauce?

The minor gripes aside, plus an additional one for glass of ice with my beer (really? I don't know what that's about), I'd give The Fish & Chip Shop a healthy seal of approval, if I gave out such things. Definitely worth a visit if the queue for Poppies is too staggeringly huge, which it always seems to be.

DF Mexico - Brick Lane

Hanbury Street, London, E1 6QR

Notting Hill Carnival is a parade of colour through the streets of a vibrant, eclectic, and wealthy district of London. Or at least that's what I've been told. I wouldn't know, as on Monday I was confined to an East London flat by torrential rain and a hangover. It turns out the sorrows from footballing disasters (and boy, was that a disaster) can easily be put to be bed - drowned, if you will - by four pints and countless rum and cokes.

Instead of becoming the embodiment of one stereotype, chugging cans of Red Stripe while sheltered under a golf umbrella listening to reggae, I threw myself headfirst into another and trooped around East London, drinking coffee, visiting a charitable cinema, and eating at the latest foodie hot-spot. Insert line about beards, fixie bikes, etc, etc.

DF Mexico seemed to spend at least a week crowding my Twitter feed; thanks in part to it's colourful interior that attracted @mat_buckets, but more so from a visit by @JaxxNelson, that then descended into a 582 tweet-chain with the restaurant. Clearly, this was a place that had to be visited and given that I was going for free, floods of biblical proportions and a hangover to match were unlikely to stop me.

@Mat_Buckets was spot on with the interior. DF Mexico doesn't stray too far from the stripped back industrial chic of the neighbouring coffee holes, supplementing this with the colour yellow, a lot of plants, and so many lights I'd wager they bought shares in Habitat before it collapsed. I can't complain, I liked habitat.

The more I eat, the more bored I get of ordering. It's a hard life, I know. Just £2 a month is enough to buy a food blogger a long black in a take-out cup. Please, call now. On this occasion, I let Little Miss Very Very Excited order all that she thought I'd like. We ended up with an overflowing table of chilli fries, corn, pork taco, steak and cheese 'alambres', guacamole and tortillas, and two hibiscus drinks - hey, I was hungover and this is East London, a man can get away with drinking that sort of thing here.

We'd overdone the carbs, that's for sure. Chips, corn, and tortillas. All delicious, but all too much, especially after the popcorn in the cinema. The latter, a bad idea in retrospect. The first of the mains (I say first, it all arrives at the same time), the pork taco, I ate quickly. We were running out of space on the table and my fat fingers aren't dextrous enough to hold a taco together once a bite has been taken, especially not one oozing with the juice of pork and luminous onions. Seriously, don't come here in a cream coloured jumper, not unless you're prepared to wear a bib and gloves.

The pork taco was great. Mouth melting meat, with a hint of fire, smothered by some sort of cooling diary product. The only problem was the speed with which I ate it - my fault - and the sizzling pan of steak and cheese placed on the other-side of the taco - their fault. Taco is all very well and good, but, but, but...steak! And...cheese! Also, the 'alambres' is a sharing platter. There was a danger that if I didn't move quickly enough, I wouldn't get my fill.

The platter is a DIY job. Grab a bread, stuff it was meat, balance some onions and guacamole on top, and insert your face. Hot steak with a smokey flavour, sweetened by the cheese, and disguised as healthy amongst the avocado and onion. Low in carbs too. The food of a Weight Watchers' king. That bikini body is only five whole summers away.

If I ran some form of rating system for the places I visit, DF Mexico would get eight thumbs up. Great food, good setting. I need to plan another trip, ditch the carbs, and have a true Mexican meat feast.