Forman's

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When it was displaced by the development of the Olympic Park, London’s oldest salmon smoker – established in the early 20th century to supply London’s Jewish community with Baltic salmon – moved to a prime site just across the Lea Navigation from the Olympic Stadium. The snazzy new premises incorporate a restaurant and bar as well as the corporate headquarters and a spacious smokery with viewing gallery.

But if the plan was to showcase the quality of the produce, it has slightly misfired. The menu features half a dozen routine Modern European dishes among which salmon features only incidentally. The mild London cure is served as a starter with accompaniments of sour cream, capers and red onion, which were rather tired on our visit; salmon and tuna sashimi with wasabi sauce was much nicer. Mains, of herb-crusted salmon and a smoked haddock fish cake, were OK, but nothing more.

In playbook modern design – black spindly furniture, wood-strip flooring, open kitchen – the dining room, like the food, is nothing special, but it has a wall of windows and a small terrace offering great stadium views (ask when booking if you want a window seat), as does the nicer gallery-like bar next door.

Venue name: Forman's
Contact:
Address: Stour Road
London
E3 2NT
Cross street: Fish Island
Opening hours: Bar Open/snacks served 5-9pm Thur, Fri; noon-5pm Sat, Sun. Restaurant Brunch served 10am-2pm Sat. Lunch served noon-3pm Sun. Dinner served 7-9pm Thur-Sat
Transport: Tube: Hackney Wick rail or Pudding Mill Lane DLR
Price: Main courses £11.50-£19.50

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Murray

Feel cheated out of £68 for a poor meal which was supposed to celebrate my husband's birthday. The service was unfriendly. The starter was ok, but my idea of a blini is a flat round pancake like object not a small dollop of mashed potato that has dried out a bit. That was nothing compared to being charged £12.50 for essentially one poached egg, a fishcake and a handful of rocket for a main course. Then adding insult to injury, my main of salt-marsh lamb did not come pink in the middle as expected, and the potato tasted like it had been soaked in bleach. Suffice to say I won't be gracing their doors again. We departed early to find coffee and dessert down the road at the Counter Cafe instead.