BBQ Whisky Beer - Edgware Road, London

Brendon Street, London, W1H 5HE

As a newbie to London it's hard to know where the real gems are. You can stand at any tube station look left, look right, and see mile-after-mile of chain - pub, restaurant, cafe. London's streets have more Prets than you can shake a crayfish sandwich at and more Wetherspoons than you can shake a £4.99 beer and burger at. To get off the beaten track and find something of real quality you have to follow a blog, read a newspaper, listen to friends, and (most importantly) be on Twitter. And that's how we came to BBQ Whisky Beer - the name for the kitchen found in the Wargrave Arms.

A brief walk from Edgware Road tube station, through the sweet fug of countless shisha cafes, the Wargrave Arms is a Young's pub, the website of which will reveal absolutely nothing of the delights within - the pictures show a trendy wine bar and the 100+ bottles of single malt is a footnote at best. Scandalous.

I'm sure we drank some beer while we waited for our table and afterwards there may have been a small glass of whisky; but these are the grey council-issued local-library steel bookends holding the calf-leather bound gold leafed papyrus pornography that was dinner.

Seriously, this was a dinner that made whisky taste like ash and beer taste like water. It may have taken an hour or two to get a table, and then a further forty minutes for the food to arrive, but ignoring the idiot in the pink shirt, the picture says it all.

That is a foot of beef ribs. A whole foot! Sweet, burnt, delicious ribs. The sort of ribs you grind your teeth across, shattering the enamel and blunting fillings to make sure the last strands of meat have been entirely consumed. The chips? Fine. Probably, The coleslaw? Great. Probably. How can any man comment, consider, or even taste a side when meat of this quality is present.

I don't know how long these ribs will reside in the Wargrave, but if you pass through Edgware Road, London, or indeed the UK and don't try these ribs you...are...insane.

Red Dog Saloon - Hoxton Square, London

37 Hoxton Square, London, N1 6NN

London is a home-from-home for any rib chewing, pulled pork eating, spicy bean munching American. This unhealthily-delicious cuisine is now offered by pubs, street vendors a-plenty, and even the high street sandwich chains. The full 'US of A' experience, complete with buffalo skull, Budweiser, and bourbon, can be found at one of the four Bodean's venues - one of which is a mere fifteen minutes walk from home, luckily for me. Of course, with rising popularity comes a host of competitors keen to jump on the wagon train. Enter Red Dog Saloon.

Not being a fan of a monopoly - even one as delicious as Bodean's - I'm always willing to sample the wares of a newcomer...even if it does mean a tube trip to the opposite side of town. Red Dog Saloon can be found in Hoxton Square, a short throw from Shoreditch, which guarantees a crowd queuing at the door even on a Monday. We'd booked, so no waiting around for us. Until we ordered our food. Starters shouldn't be necessary when so much meat is on offer, but if the waiting time for your main course is creeping over thirty minutes the staff should warn you that an appetiser is a must. It did give us time to get mildly sozzled on a pitcher of 'Beverly Hills Iced Tea', which may have been the inspiration for the post-dinner tequila - something Red Dog has a nice long list of.

But when it comes to the crunch, be it Red Dog, Bodean's, or a.n.other BBQ house, ultimately no amount of decor, skulls, novel booze, or beer is going to make up for poor food. And unfortunately, the tasteless ribs even when smothered further in an equally tasteless sauce were a huge disappointment. BBQ is about punch of flavour. A faint-to-strong burn in the mouth of spice that has been stewing for hours (or days) combined with a sweet tang so common in all American food that you're willing to forgo pudding. There was nothing here, no spice, no sweet, just a sticky sauce that you were happy to wipe, rather than lick, from your fingers.

I'm sure somewhere in London there is an equal to Bodean's, but it's not to be found in Hoxton Square.

Bodean's - Clapham, London

After three failed attempts to get in to Bodean's in Soho, showing up mid-afternoon to their Clapham branch on a Saturday during the Six Nations gave us a direct pass to a table for two. Granted, the rugby was showing here, but who in their right mind was going to be distracted from their plate in this place?

A £15 match day special featured a foot of ribs, the tenderest chicken wings, fries, coleslaw, and a beer. A plate of extreme-value-deliciousness unsurpassed by anything I've eaten in the past 6-months - and I'll include Christmas dinner in that.

Throw in the fact that everything fits neatly on a single oval plate - not a metal bucket of chips in sight - and they provide as much kitchen towel as you can eat, and this is heaven.

I may be a late comer to this place, but I can see a bright future of BBQ sauce encrusted fingernails to come.