What better way to break the 2012 bubble than to recount a November 2011 visit at a true London institution and a destination restaurant. Yup after nearly four years of hot air, I finally made it to Chez Bruce in Wandsworth.

In my often narrow and simplistic view of the shadowy powers which have molded our idea of the template for london posh dining, I see two power players whose influence reaches across an association of restaurants. Glorious chefs have passed through these kitchens at some point in their career, and in a way, these breeding grounds are the bedrock for the progression of high cooking.

On one end of the stick, we have zen master Phil Howard with his double-macarooned lair – The Square. This is of course a story that is written to death about, since Brett Graham trained with Phil in the beginning days before they spun out the Ledbury, Harwood Arms, and Phil’s other diffusion restaurant, Kitchen W8.

The other is of course the highly respected (Chez) Bruce Poole whose 16 year old outpost in Wandsworth is still going and going but perhaps just beginning to look a tad long in the tooth. It still charms the pants off of most, but certainly not all of you. Bruce’s diffusion restaurants include La Trompette and The Glasshouse, both michelin starred and highly regarded in their own right.

If ever there was a formula for special occasion restaurants, then these guys have discovered it. Both men share a common connection, the silent partner who has helped shaped many a chefs career – Nigel Platts-Martin.

NPM’s ownership of starred restaurants stretches back to the old glory days when the site of Chez Bruce was formerly Marco Pierre White’s Harvey’s. I am bittersweet that I’m too young and so have missed MPW’s most dominant days. To me, he is mere urban legend. I only have youtube videos of him cooking for Albert Roux (whom he describes his proteges as his little bunny) to go on. In those days, Philip Howard was only just a precocious up and coming chef de partie in White’s flaming kitchen.

Moan all you like about NPM’s classic French fare, the bottomline is that these guys know what paying punters (that’s you) really look for in restaurants. And consequently, NPM’s restaurants turn profits. Solid cooking at 2003 prices, a shushed ambiance and a strategic neighbourhood location. Mid-level fine dining at its finest yes?

As Chez Bruce is the kind of special occasion restuarant, We thought it was apt selection for me and the missus’ anniversary. A Saturday lunch, I put a tie on to pay homage to a culinary giant. The prix fixe menu is impressively affordable : at £27.50 for three courses (£45 for dinner) , it’s simply unbeatable value for money in 2012 (Nov 2011). It reads like any classic French menu – divine, classy and a little lost in time. Which is good, the fantasy spirit of eating out is well and alive in Chez Bruce.

The starters.

Potato, chicken and thyme soup with poached egg.

The better half started things off with a starchy, gluey, rich potage, finished with poached egg. Cooked to a T, it was as potato soup should be. The missus approved.

Buckwheat pappardelle with braised hare, bacon and parmesan.

I chose the house made buckwheat pasta, which was expectedly al dente, with a nutty sting and a rather pleasant coarse texture, like sand in cockles. The rest of the dish was the forest of flavours it looked. Woody, familiar, rich and a cracking sauce. This was classic cooking at its best. One could say this recipe was boring, but then again, you can’t fault good cooking. Mastery of conventional food is as important (if not more so) than pioneering modern trends.

The mains

Shoulder, loin and hache of venison with spatzle, chestnuts, bacon and red cabbage (£5 extra)

Venison, three ways. Very rich, very sweet. After a hefty starter, this seemed a bit of a meat overload. The shoulder melted like candy floss, the loin was tender yet firm, flavours of onion and sage, and the chopped meatball was so sharp, it was nearing pungent. A good kind of pungent. I think that perhaps it could have done with less spatzle, which to me, tastes like wetted rice crispies, began to disturb the meat textures.

I can’t say I absolutely loved it, since it was a big plate of meat, veg and sauce. However, I did think that everything on the plate was well cooked. It was clearly the mark of a kitchen which has perfected their skills over the decades.

Roast rump of beef with shallot purée, cocotte potatoes and bourguignonne sauce.

The better half was impressed with her textbook roast beef, and so was I. It had the nostalgic effect, hearty, roasty and cooked to a perfect pink. Personally, I would have preferred to see just a little more blood, but preference aside, this came out just right. I thought the beef selected was top notch. The butter-flavoured fat on the beef was a sign that this was a good breed whose hide was well hung. My notes indicate that this was some kind of Devon Angus crossbreed which comes from the Westcountry. This isn’t something I’m familiar with per say, but given that it was a rump, it was rather tender, with fantastic natural concentration of flavour, and it made for an enjoyable plate of roast beef.

Benchmark roast beef, perhaps even a version of perfect roast beef. I’m a big believer in restaurants which can get the classics spot on. And I think this effort speaks volume about the skill of Bruce Poole’s team.

Dessert.

Pineapple cannelloni with lime and ginger syrup, mint granita and coconut.

I suppose this shaved ice dessert is Chef Poole bowing to the Nordic food trends, or perhaps it’s just a reworking of a regal ingredient in French puddings. Deconstructed pina colada? How about reverse pineapple tarte tatin? Nah, that’s taking the p.

It looked nice, a departure from the rest of the dishes. While we both liked it, shaved ice is not necessarily my favourite gimmick on a plate, be it a savoury or a dessert.

In fact, I’m curious when shaved ice transitioned in to ‘haute cuisine’. For me, shaved ice belongs in Asian (street food) desserts like Ais Kacang (literally for Ice Beans). Blocks of ice are milled in its shaven form using hand wound ice shaving machines , and then scooped into large bowls and served with syrup, sweetcorn, sago and red bean and other starchy things. It’s hugely satisfying if you’ve never tried one. And it’s been around for at least 50 years. It’s a mountain of colour and ice.

Prune and Armagnac ice cream.

Wicked. Classic. I love this. Let the nostalgia wash over. Ahh.

The ice cream was creamy, velvety and generously alcoholic. A prune on the side was absolutely seeping with brandy flavours, that one can only assume that Bruce had done it to demonstrate that he had allowed plenty of time for osmosis to take place when he soaked the prunes in brandy. I cannot fault this, I loved every bit of this ice cream. This was a bona-fide dessert.

On the topic of armagnac, I’ve taken an interest in this kind of brandy. Did you know that armagnac precedes cognac, but since they are less popular, it makes Armagnac the cheaper alternative. Quite conveniently, Berry Bros & Rudd – yes that venerable wine bod in mayfair – stock a particular family of armagnacs which go back two centuries. This is an area where I’ll invest some time in this year I guess.

But darn it, ain’t it such a Chinese thing to drink brandy. My dad drinks cognac. Louis XIII to be exact. What a cliche yes?

As much as the next generation of progressive cooking has taken over, these evergreen classic French recipes – butter, lardons and red wine – are still top notch. It’s a reminder and a relief to find that when you dine out, portions are still adult sized and fill the entire plate, and not served on a Chinese soup spoon.

We paid £ 85.78 for food and 2 glasses of wine , and we fell into a satisfactory snooze as we took the bus back toward the North of the river. Well, that just leaves The Glasshouse, and then I would have visited all of Nigel’s current portfolio of restaurants.

So as Gordon Ramsay is changing the direction of his business with the cheaper, less dressy bread street kitchen, Plats-Martin’s restaurants, in my view, stand the test of time with their prix fixe, no-nonsense French food. While New Nordic has undoubtedly influenced newer restaurant menus with lighter (and perhaps healthier and better looking) recipes, heavy meals like this still has a place for the lovers of old-fashioned eating out. While the table cloths were perfectly pressed at Chez Bruce, it really buzzed more like a bistro than a prolific stuffy affair.

If I can be quite frank, the meal was ordinary, but this is probably by design. That’s not to say that it was bad, far from it, it was a delicious meal, everything was well cooked. But the recipes feel mature, and definitely doesn’t come with the flash of younger (hungrier and triendier) restaurants.

I noted the similarities between Medlar’s food, and it was obvious that Joe Mercer Nairne’s cooking has its roots in Chez Bruce. But I think Medlar’s food is just bolder and more exciting.

Nevertheless, I enjoyed the meal, the classic feel and it didn’t escape me that this is the epitome of the neighbourhood restaurant. Is it a destination restaurant? Yes, because of its history. No, if you’re seeking meat-fruit, nitro-blasted cucumber, vintage potato dust or yeast baked champagne lemon sole. But you already know that.

It’s straight up, finger-licking, double portioned French cooking, at reasonable prices, decent service and a charming room. Chez Bruce has aged gracefully into an icon fully deserving its place in the annals of history, but the old guard’s definitely still got it.

The Gist of It

Chez Bruce
French, £50pp
2 Bellevue Road
Tel : 0208 672 0114
Rail : Wandsworth Common

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Perhaps this is the secret to the good cooking since this is also the view from Stephen Harris’ kitchen. I’m sure you must have heard about this place by now, quite literally every blog and hack with the vaguest interest in food, in this country has written and raved about this michelin starred restaurant. It is one amongst a very rare collection of restaurants which commands near unanimous appeal, and as such, it is often regarded as the very best this country has to offer.

The original gastropub began life when Stephen sat through a revelatory meal at Chez Nico way back in ’92, which then became his inspiration to bring the slickness of high cooking to a more accessible setting. In the subsequent years, Stephen set about unravelling the mysteries of macaroon winning ways by visiting the nation’s darling restauranteurs of the era including MPW and GR until one fine November day in 1999, he decided to buy an isolated pub nestled between the English coast on one side and rolling fields of grazing sheep on the other. He crafted a brand new kind of experience that sought to marry cutting edge decadence with a wedge of the English seaside. Boy, did he managed that and then some. Today, he holds a Michelin star, the restaurant is constantly full up, and it must be said that the local taxi operators owe a large chunk of their business to Stephen.

Venturing out of town exclusively to experience a mind blowing meal is very appealing to me these days. The anticipation and the physical act of travelling to an alien location. You feel your mind mature on the train (as you lock eyes with grazing sheep) and contemplate how life may change after the adventure. The Sportsman is located in Seasalter along the North coast of Kent, between Faversham and Whitstable. To get there, one must brave a 90 minute journey from Victoria (assuming you are travelling from London) , 70 of which on a train to Faversham, and the remainder is spent hurling on the narrow and winding roads toward the coast. The experience is pilgramatic (not a real word) altogether, when we finally reached the destination, I couldn’t help but admire how peaceful this part of the world was. The air was fresh, time moved at a more profound pace, the winds whispered sweet nothings as they brushed past my hair, how nourishing for the soul… is this what heaven looks like for us gluttons?

Decor is as unassuming as any loved-up family owned pub in the country. The all-wooden interior does feels a little shabby, musky but very down to earth leading me to speculate that this is all probably intentional. It was reminiscent of walking into a warmly welcoming B&B, the ambiance has more in common with a home than a portentous purveyor of gastronomy. Everything seems so blissful, I felt like I was on holiday. Total zen.

Taster menus were not available on weekends, so instead we were instructed to pick our 3 courses from the chalked up daily menu by the bar. I washed down with a pint of late red ale as I resisted the temptation of ordering everything on the menu. After we settled on our table, I headed to the restrooms to wash my hands, and contemplated putting a two pound coin into the condom machine, to take home a souvenir from this visit.

Home-made bread on the house.

“All baked in-house.” The restaurant’s pride in their food is immediately made known to us. It is widely understood that Harris places a lot of emphasis on his produce, leaving as little to 3rd parties as is possible, which (so I read) include churning their own butter and growing much of their own vegetables. Sourcing locally is in vogue these days, after all the ability to secure fresh ingredients of consistent quality is half the battle toward perfecting the art of sustenance. The soda bread, foccacia and sourdough were perfect.

The Starters

Crab risotto, £9.95.

I think the risotto was made with brown crab meat, and so came infused with a mud-like minerality. My attention was immediately arrested by the essence of shellfish within the risotto. The flavours were in perfect balance. The fishy brown crab allowed to clash with the brightness of the white crab meat in the ultimate battle for your tastebuds’ affections.

Many have praised how brilliantly simple the food is at The Sportsman, and based on this meal, I have to agree. It is brilliant. I’d add to that hyperbole and say that it isn’t just mere simplicity that has intrigued, rather I think they have achieved some higher form of elegance. I think it is mainly to do with the balancing of flavours – eerily harmonious. The dish was entirely easy to eat, there was such clarity in the execution, that one feels will appeal to any set of tastebuds, imparting a sense of total nourishment, and I believe that’s the beauty – you don’t need to acquire any tastes to eat here, it is simply just good grub.

Pork Terrine, £9.95.

Same story here, like the missus’ risotto, this cold terrine was another lesson that highlighted the importance of balanced flavours. I appreciated that it was not overly salty, and was made with dense chunks of pork. The cabbage wrapping was the stand out feature – imparting a crisp brightness to the flavours. Cabbage-infused pork, it was brilliant because it was such an easy dish to eat. Needless to say, the scratchings on the side were fine as well.

Mains

Roast Waterham farm chicken with bread sauce and roasting juices, £17.95.

Damn fine roast chicken in every respect. I can’t seem to remember a better version of chicken at a restaurant, maybe when I visited Harnett’s Y&A , but as chicken goes, this has become a cherished memory for me. Tender, smooth and soft textures, the bread sauce was lightly spiced, and the roasting juices enveloped the chicken with a wonderful vanilla-like fragrance. Perfumed chicken, I must also applaud the sheer quality of produce – great ingredients carefully cooked by someone who loves to eat. Most of all however, I thought the potatoes were ace. Like mashed potato croquettes as opposed to just potatoes cooked in fat.

Thornback ray, brown butter, cockles and sherry vinegar dressing, £19.95.

A sweet vinegar, feminine lemon butter flavours, smelling all lavender and tulips, the garden of flavours were as nourishing as the surroundings we were in. The fish was fresh, and so the textures were lively, the cockles were chock full of sand, and so were a little rough upon chewing. A nice fish dish, visually stunning, but if I am honest, just a shy overcooked and probably a tad under seasoned, but still it was a satisfying main dish.

Custard tart with plum ripple ice cream, £6.95.

I loved the pudding. This is better than the Marcus Wareing recipe. The textures were so cloud-like, more akin to a whippy mousse, or perhaps meringue from a baked alaska than humble baked custard – how did they manage this kind of texture? Easily the most unique custard tart I’ve yet had – the lightness was pure genius.

This is what you see when you leave The Sportsman.

Salt and fish recovered from the sea, lamb and poultry from within driving distance and vegetables grown in their back garden – This is our Noma, why travel to Copenhagen when we already have such a gem in our backyard? Amazingly, for 5 dishes of food, two coffees and two drinks, lunch was an extremely appealing £72.35. What fantastic value for money.

All in all, I think The Sportsman thoroughly deserves its reputation, this kitchen is a finely tuned instrument, Harris and his team can definitely make sweet music with pots and pans, the sheer clarity in the cooking is rarely experienced, and something that eager gluttons yearn for. But upon reflection on the ride back to London, I don’t think this meal was the revelation I’d hope it would be. It came very close to changing my life, but truthfully it didn’t. In a way, I don’t think it’s meant to, this isn’t the precise opera of Blumenthal, this is the jazz of Harris in a seriously laid back pub. I think that while the honesty and authenticity in the cooking is admirable, it is the pure romance in its setting that makes The Sportsman truly special. I can see myself coming out here again, The Sportsman is a charming restaurant and a class act. Together with Kerridge’s Hand & Flowers in Marlow, I believe they epitomise the concept of haute cuisine without table cloths. Not absolutely extravagant, but still more than worthy of a visit, if only to lock eyes with the sheep.

The Deets.

The Sportsman
British. £55pp.
Faversham Road, Kent CT5 4BP
Tel: 01227 273370
Travel: Train from Victoria to Faversham, then 15min taxi ride.

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I have never been to Denmark, with the way things are going with the rise and rise of Rene Redzepi, it looks like it will be a long while before I contemplate the Copenhagen trip. It doesn’t mean I’m not curious (obviously I am), you can already picture a Chinese guy perched over the dinner table, reluctant to eat anything till he has papped the dishes to death. All this sudden appreciation for Nordic food in the media is extraordinary. It’s still very new to us, for starters, Nordic cuisine is universally lumped together as an umbrella cuisine covering everything that includes Swedish, Icelandic, Danish, Norwegian. Honestly, I do not know the differences between the respective cuisines. It just seems a little weird that all the fervent attention on Nordic cuisine hasn’t translated to a more comprehensive coverage, it’s like lumping Chinese in with Japanese, Korean, Vietnamese, Thai and calling it Oriental.

Then again definitions might be moot when observing the high end stuff because they hardly anything like the traditional cuisines they have sprung from. And it always looks good. Take for instance Maemo in Oslo – this stuff looks awesome, but nothing like what I ate when I spent some months in Haugesund, a coastal outpost of yatchs and rich kids awash with Norwegian oil money. What I ate was markedly unexotic. Crayfish, giant lobsters, sunflower seeds with lots of butter, and surprisingly alot of olive oil and chorizo. It was nothing like the cutting edge Nordic stuff the hacks write about, you know sous-vide fish cheeks , hay smoked deer testicles, irradiated shark’s fin… then again, Haugesund isn’t exactly the culinary heartland of Scandinavia. I do remember coming away feeling like I ate some of the best rice puddings on the planet. Less porridge and more whipped meringue, in fact, it is more apt to call it a rice cream, and it was fucking fabulous. Norwegians know how to whip up a proper rice pud they do.

But North Road is not Norway, in fact far from it, it’s suppose to be local British ingredients reimagined with a ‘new’ Nordic twist. On the surface, Danish chef Christoffer Hruskova appears to have gone down this route to appease the media by bringing together two of the flavours of the era: Revitalized Nordic cuisine and British provenance. Obviously there are those who have denounced this cook-what-you-can-forage concept as simply being a Noma copycat (and they really don’t like the food here, yikes!) but equally there are those who realise that Christoffer had been ‘Scandilising’ in London for much before Noma’s win last year, with his previous venture, Fig.

I admit, I am a shameless fan of Adrian Gill’s writing. I never miss his column on Sundays (except when he’s away) and I own a couple of his books including the best sex novel man has never known ‘Starcrossed’ , his lifestyle ones ‘Away’ and the condensed version of his column ‘Table Talk’. Yeah he might have some strange opinions at times, but for the most part, he’s just bloody damn good at articulating cultural observation (or anything with words for that matter) , and since I read his North Road review a few months ago, I’ve been itching to visit.

(Really the entire paragraph is just an excuse for me to sneak in unnecessary hero worship, I don’t know why.)

And so I decided to take Monday off to have a long lunch here, and rather to my amazement, the whole town slows to a serene pace, businesses tick along, but everything is at low volume…

…The ALC is justifiably priced, £9 starters and £20 mains, while the set lunch is fantastic value at £20 for three courses. I asked for the taster menu instead, which wasn’t on the menu for lunch, but seeing as to how empty the restaurant was, they kindly laid on a five courser for me for £58.

Warm bread rolls with butter shaped like a scoop of ice cream. I drank a Sydre brut by Eric Bordelet, a Frenchman’s take on cider, a poncy man’s sidre. Lightly fizzy, smooth rather than dry, sweet rather than crisp, like a ballerina to a break dancer. Who knew cider could taste so good from a wine glass.

Course 1: Scottish Langoustine, muesli & caramelised cream

Damn these Scotch critters are massive – very nicely cooked piece of shellfish, fleshy, juicy, well seasoned with a crusty skin. Muesli ? The rocky road crunch was … healthy… but the cream was just lemon butter, a little so what, in all honesty, but for the sheer immensity of the produce alone, I enjoyed the dish.

Course 2: Razor Clams & Cuttlefish Ink, buttermilk ash

Also Scotch, and fucking brilliant. Ice cold ‘ash’ with ink sauce poured around it and finished off with sorrel. Visually, the dish was eye opening. I remember the smell, as if I was standing in the middle of a forest with a bucket of just opened fresh paint. Doesn’t sound appetizing I know, I was on the verge of a brain freeze with this one. The crammed up texture of the razor clam (which I wonder if it’s just psychological from the ice cold ash) was unique, obviously there wasn’t much to harp on about with regards to flavours, just sliced razor clams, I enjoyed this dish nonetheless. The peculiar thing about this dish: the decision that it be eaten with a soup spoon. I tell you, scooping up razom clam is a much trickier affair than one expected. I should like pick up the phallic creature of the sand by poking it with a fork. Or maybe I wasn’t suppose to poke it. Hmm.

Course 3: Wild Mushroom & Birch Broth, cobnuts & kent truffle

This exotic fungi soup was so aromatic, I could have sat there all day and smelled it. It was like walking into the same forest, holding a sack full of foraged mushrooms. The soup was bursting with woody, shrubby, shroomy flavours, it would have been a vegetarian’s dream, a potent stock that you could use to bring any dead meat back to life. I enjoyed this immensely, it was redolent of superiorly slow cooked Chinese broths.

Course 4: Roe deer, smoked bone marrow, beetroot

Death on a plate.

For this, I readied myself with a glass of Rendez Vous de Soleil, a jammy red. Hard to believe this blackurrant juice is French. So acidic, the rising alcoholic fumes went straight up my nostrils. I needed the extra alcohol to comprehend this dish.

On first glance, the vibrant colour of beetroot looked great, but the more I looked at it, the more it looked gruesome. As if the chef had gutted the animal and let the entrails drop onto a plate below it. There was a time when beetroot was the ingredient of the future, but now beetroot on any restaurant menu feels cliched. Here it is overused to death, raw, juiced and boiled. I can hear the chef saying “Here’s your fucking beetroot you wanker! Five a day! Arggh…!”. What’s with the obsession with the vegetable anyway? It doesn’t even go with meat.

The ash covered roe deer was nicely cooked, but it was wild after all and so a little too chewy. What I really enjoyed however were the smoked bone marrow. Exactly like popping glowing embers into the mouth, it was infused with an exciting sensation of eating encapsulated fire. I think the smoked bone marrow saved this dish.

Course 5: Hay & Brambles

I have no idea what was in this ice-cold pudding. Some shaved icy bits, some blueberries, something that tastes like milk flavoured ice cream and biscuits shaped like antlers. Foraged stuff of dreams, rocky road and river stream textures. It was fine.

Coffee and petit fours

Included as part of asking price for the taster menu, which makes for added value. Uncheap. I paid £80.44 for the taster menu and two glasses of wine and service.

I liked the meal. I like the ambiance and I think service was good enough. Let’s firstly give Chef C a huge pat on the back, this guy is well trained, disciplined and he can definitely cook. He’s well on top of the balancing act of flavours, meat came out fleshy, juicy and nothing was overcooked. The final products were all very slick, five points. As for recipes, well, an awful lot of muesli makes for a bumpy ride. I was bemused by some of the concepts, why muesli for example, and why beetroot? Were these Nordic flavours adapted for British palates, or is this truly what Danish cuisine taste like? Or maybe it is true after all – Nordic cooking is just a bit boring.

There’s was little in the way of flavour, or to put another way, it was a different sort of flavour. Herbs on everything, ice, smoke, milk and more ice. The curiously good bread was so good that I had to ask for seconds. Shame how good they were, wasted on these recipes. Nothing I ate, suggested I could actually wipe the plate with it. Melting shards of ice cold buttermilk? Clear mushroom broth? Beetroot juice? I tried, disgusting with warm bread. That is the irony of North Road I suppose.

Maybe he should just get rid of the deer completely and replace with something a little clearer in concept, because I genuinely think he can cook really good food, it’s just the ideas he’s trying to eek out are a little misshaped. Or perhaps he can consider doing what Ledbury do with their stuff; more muscular recipes , flex those culinary skills. Hay, ash and game are present in Graham’s cooking I think, and you guys seem to be unanimous about liking that stuff.

In spite of my reservations, I think North Road deserves a visit, if nothing but to cure the fascination surrounding this type of cuisine that is still introducing itself to the world. Even if it turns out to be a disaster, it would only set you back a handsome £20 (for lunch). You can afford a £20 disaster, even though I suspect you might be in for a pleasant surprise instead.

The Deets.

North Road
Danish £80pp … £20 for 3 course set lunch.
69-73 St John Street EC1M 4AN
Tel: (020) 3217 0033
Tube : Farringdon

The Great Nordic Debate : John Lanchester , Nordic Nibbler , The Scrag End , The Skinny Bib , Tom Eats Jen Cooks , Harden’s , The Critical Couple , M’OL.

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Tom Kerridge is an ingloriously talented chef. We both know this guy can cook the pants off of anybody, competition or no competition. I first savoured his brilliant ways when he joined forces with Anthony Demetre at Arbutus for the one-off 10-10-10 event for last year’s London Restaurant Festival.

Look I’m a Demetre fan right, and you know I love his michelin winning pigs head terrine, but when placed side by side with Tom’s dishes; we were absolutely blown to bits by the quality of Kerridge’s cooking. His mussels in warm stout was nothing short of edible divinity. Anthony aint no slouch in the kitchen, but we thought Tom’s dishes totally outclassed Anthony’s on that day. A visit to Marlow to Tom’s pub with an overachieving, and michelin starred kitchen was inevitable, obviously, but I had forgotten about it the Marlow trip until I saw the chief on GBM last week, creating his ultimate lobster burger, which in itself, caused quite a stir on twitter. And with the last bank holiday in May, I thought it the perfect opportunity to finally eat at Tom Kerridge HQ.

Deep fried whitebait to start.

Crispy, warm and juicy on the inside, mmm. The low ceilings, brick walls, solid wooden beams and sturdy wooden tables, grant the pub a genuinely old world, country feel. The room is naturally cavernous, and a little musky and dark which adds to the ambiance. It’s so comfortable inside, I could fall asleep. The pub does feel like it has been here for a long, long time.

Truffled Pork Terrine with Dill, Pickles and Toasted Sour Dough. £9.95

A little unsuccessful. I know its suppose to be served cold, but it was probably a little too cold. This meant the terrine was quite hard to chew, and rather numb to taste. The layer of truffle jelly was intoxicating on the other hand, really concentrated truffle flavours, and so too was the mousse-like truffle butter on the side. The slice of sourdough however, was overly crispy and so burnt, that the taste of carbon had all but destroyed the wonderfully delicate flavours of truffle.

Maybe if terrine was warmer, it would have been better. In my mind, I wished the textures were mushy, oily and congealing, and it seemed to have the potential to be amazing. But this feeling remained only a fantasy, the reality was soberingly benumbed.

Crispy Pig’s Head with Pickled Rhubarb, Pancetta and Chickweed. £8.50

On the other hand, this deep fried fritter of meat from the head of pig was nothing short of elegant brillance. Moist with rich porky flavours, a sharp apple sauce, a tangy pickled rhubarb, and also served with a thin film-like layer of skin, which tasted like bacon. Bacon skin? I liked this.

Breast of Suffolk Chicken with Pistachio Crumble, Lovage Poached Celery, Soft Polenta and Spring Truffle £19.50

Wow! Possibly the best chicken recipe I’ve tried in a restaurant. Alot of effort has gone into ensuring this piece of chicken breast got the attention it deserved; This was a michelin star winning dish. Freshly shaved truffle, rained upon the chicken breast encrusted in an armor of pistachio, a dash of gravy to bring wetness to the chicken, and voila, what an enticing plate of food.

Mmm, the dish had a certain sweet fragrance to it, a sweet chicken, vanilla scent and forest fresh. On the side, a bowl of truffle infused polenta, took the chicken to a place, where you didn’t think chicken could go. Heady truffle infused flavours in the polenta stew overwhelmed the senses. It was very impressive. The chicken itself was sweating with juice and tenderness, but I think the way the chef had chose to dress the chicken gave it an air of regality. Accomplished.

Slow Cooked Duck Breast with Peas, Duck Fat Chips and Gravy. £22.50

To be honest, the duck breast was rubbery. The caramelised skin was a beauty, but I didn’t like the deep fried dumplings – livery. I wasn’t too sure what the mince was, but it was overpowering and it made me queasy, abit like deep-fried balls of aromatic duck. Oil everywhere. The oil from the duck leg made the peas an extremely sluggish side, which I struggled to finish it. I wished for something fresh to balance out all the duck fat, the peas did not work at all, again, too oily.

On the other hand, the duck fat chips… ACE. Better than chips cooked in beef dripping and on par with Heston’s triple cooked genius. Some of the best chips I’ve ever had, in a restaurant.

Mango souffle, cardamon ice cream, lime custard, £8.50.

Initially, I wanted to try the pannacotta, but then I saw the perfectly risen souffles headed to the other tables, that I became curious…

…and my god, it was the perfect souffle. Sugary goo, a candy floss centre and eggy, custardness, like sticking a spoon into puffs of clouds. Infusing the souffle with mango, was a stroke of genius, it imbued the pudding with a whiff of tropical elegance, like a mango pudding, but with the tender textures of a quickly diminishing souffle; this is something that must be experienced first hand. Observing etiquette, I dropped dollops of the cardamom ice cream into the hot centre, so now we had this cold subtly spiced sensation mingling with the hot puffy souffle. The lime custard, only added to the elegance of the pudding, it gave it a refreshing fragrance. It reminded me of the ‘lime grove’ course at The Fat Duck.

The best souffle I have ever had, even better than Pierre Koffman’s pistachio souffle. If you visit H&F, you must have the souffle, well worth the 20 minute wait, and the strong finish itself, was worth the trek to Marlow.

The cost for two was £84.30. Service was at our discretion.

The style of H&F compels me to make the comparison to Harwood Arms. While the latter is meatier, heavier in cooking, and lighter and airier in ambiance; they share the essential posh pub grub spirit.

There is wonderful elegance and rusticity in Tom’s cooking. A genuine sense of heartwarming nourishment, enhanced by the shrubby environs of Marlow. It’s wholesome cooking, it left us feeling utterly stuffed to the brim, and I enjoyed nodding off on the train ride back to Paddington. However, the food was a little on the heavy side and – dare I say – a little stodgy, that I feel that it would probably better suit a wandering glutton in winter than in spring. I think some of the faults in a couple of the dishes, could probably be due to Kerridge’s absence in the kitchen (it was a bank holiday monday afterall) , but I also think some of the dishes were hit and miss, a little ordinary, but on the same token, the others were simply brilliant. Overall it was a positive experience altogether. And now we wait until the Ultimate Lobster Burger to appear on the menu, plus the perfect souffle man has ever made, and it might just be enough to propel me to return to the scenic town on the Thames..

The Gist of It

The Hand & Flowers
Michelin starred British Grub £45pp
126 West Street SL7 2BP
Tel: +44 (0)1628 482 277
Rail : Marlow

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When I think about spending big on meals, where multiple stars are involved, I think French, I think Japanese, I think miniscular gastronomy, water-bathed, raw and beetroot. Rarely does the thought of an expensive Italian meal ever cross my mind anymore these days. I put this down to the recent drive by like-minded restauranteurs in launching the lean and mean, baby River Cafes (and derivatives). As you are well aware, we’ve been loving the revolution in London-Italian dining, feeling the gastropubistro-fatigue. Come on admit it, you can’t get enough of a novel-thick grilled veal chop, dripping in wet bloody juice. Especially if it costs under £20.

Yes, the Zuccas, Tinellos, Dock Kitchens, Bocca Di Lupos, Polpos, Tinellos and Trullos are good for Londoners. We have competed with one another in overbooking them to their fullest capacity, and we especially like the much slimmer bottomline, and delicious yet elegant recipes, built around fresh produce, which is the whole crust of Italian cuisine. At last, good Italian food has become democratic.

Having said that, there is still a legacy of the old-world, grand but homely Italian restaurants, designated by (quite strictly) by region and the Michelin man, and the pre-crash prices. Give it a go, call L’Anima, or Locatelli or River Cafe or Murano, and then ring any of the above mentioned mid-priced super Italian cucinas. You are likely to secure a table at the premium ones, before you nail one at the cheaper alternatives.

I’m making sweeping assumptions obviously, but I think its safe to say that the tide has turned. The alternatives are now the superstars. Vivi a lungo River Cafe-nites!

Enter Semplice. Opened to pretty strong reviews in 2007, won it’s first star two years after, and it has a very loyal fan following, yet it is one of these sleeper restaurants which people seem to not like boasting about. It is pretty expensive after all, although like all top end restaurants, they do have a £20-something lunch menu. At the top of the table is Marco Torri whose CV boasts stints at Locatelli, The Halkin, Gualtiero Marchesi, Lucas Carton, and at El Bulli too.

Aside from the Milan dishes, I would boldly guess that the menu is largely inspired by cuisines of Northern Italy. Semplice (for Simple) are also quite proudly insistant on the provenance of their ingredients, going as far as to list an exact % (60 to be exact) of how much of is flown in from Italy.

Baby monkfish “Milanese” served with gem lettuce “panzanella’ style and soft quail eggs, £10.75

Very amazingly awesome. The very embodiment of distilled mastery resulting in something that looked deceptively simple, but which deep down inside of me, after the second bite or so, I concluded that it was anything but. Firstly though, I did a swift google image search for ‘baby monkfish’ because… I’ve not seen baby monkfish up close before. I can only speculate that these are a species of monkfish which do not grow to as large as the normal kind, which can be pretty large. Huge, flat, with a real kisser of a mug. Gunards or Monkfish? My local fishmonger sells the monkfish pre-filleted, so I’ve never really seen a monkfish up close either. Thank goodness for the internet then.

The entire dish was textured like baby food, the salt on the soft quail egg yolk, really so creamy and so simple, and the panzanella, a kind of soaked stale bed salad, vinegary, citrusy and interesting when combined with the truly wonderful baby monkfish nuggets. It was probably the best fish and mash I’d ever had. Loved this dish.

Traditional Milanese risotto with saffron and bone marrow, £14.50

This dish has polarised opinion across reviews spanning the restaurant’s lifetime. Some say this is man’s greatest gift to his neighbour; others write it off as simply bad risotto, for not being creamy enough, for being too al dente, leading to speculation that the rice hadn’t yet had enough time to soak up the juices proper.

I thought it was fucking fantastic. This was definitely the stuff. The sunflower yellow was so saturated that I had to shield my eyes with my wayfarers. It smelled bloody great. Strands of red saffron visible, I like that, and an intensely cheesy creamy consistency. The rice was al dente, chewy and not mushy-creamy like congee. I don’t know, I think I prefer risotto which is ‘thinner’ than what is expected. The flavours of saffron (herby, shruby, tannic, rose-woody, flowery, – how to describe?) was pure love, and to finish off with three flavour bombs of bone marrow was sheer ecstasy.

I really enjoyed this risotto. In fact, it could well have been one (if not) the best risottos I’ve ever had, in London. The cheese, the bone marrow, the saffron, brilliant combo, and more importantly, beautifully cooked.

Roast milk-fed Piedmontese veal with shitake, courgettes, taggiasca olives and sweet potato sauce, £28.75

Here’s a dish where the proud Italian provenance was realised. Hands down the best sliced veal I’d ever had. The meat was incredibly tender – moral/ethical issues aside – , the natural fragrance of veal (like a really high quality butter) coming through, it just melted on my tongue.

But sadly, I didn’t agree with the recipe. It was tacky, old-fashioned, tired, lazy, stereotypical, uninventive, unimaginable, overpowering, heavy, too heavy, it just didn’t seem to fit in with the semplice theme. The sweet potato sauce was absolutely criminal.

Coffee tiramisu with tiramisu ice cream,

I enjoyed the meal thoroughly through this point, because I really have to hand it to the restaurant manager and his merry servers. Giovanni Baldino is a model front of house man. He and his staff put together a really modest, heart warming, and genuine round of service. One can definitely feel the love. They do take care of guests with true humility and genuine hospitality. In all my years of eating out, I’ve not so much felt so well taken care of, but I’ve never really felt quite so comforted, and genuinely grateful for service. There is simply no ego involved, no bib induced snobbery, and they really gave me the impression that they just want to show their guests a good time. Six stars out of five in this category.

And then they bring me the pudding. What’s this? A twist on the age old Italian stereotypical dessert in a restaurant which goes by Simple?! Hah. I was surprised at first, and I have to say I really enjoyed it. The bitterness of the coffee really lifted the heaviness of all that sugar and cream. It was like having frozen tiramisu and then warm tiramisu. The ice cream was ace, the coffee sauce, probably acer.

It wasn’t cheap, I paid £80.16 (including water + a glass of tipples) for the solo adventure, and it was a pricy lunch. But for once, I find myself recommending that you consider throwing your money away for one special night at Semplice, and to not be thrifty about it. Yes, while you can get fantastic ossobucco at Polpetto, excellent home-made pappardelle at Zucca, and a formidable pumpkin risotto at Trullo; I don’t however think that any of the mid-range trendy Italian restaurants quite match up in terms of sheer technical ability when it comes to the cooking. And I think that’s where the real strength of these rather old-school Italian stifferatos lie. I was blown away by the sauces at Zafferano, just the balance of flavour and texture, spectacular, and I think the same of this meal at Semplice.

Food was simply delicious, bottomline was a little much, but service was stratospherically awesome. I was completely seduced by allure of fine Italian dining once again, and for that reason, I heartily recommend Semplice.

The Gist of It

Ristorante Semplice
Italian, £75pp
10 Blenheim St W1S 1LJ
Tel: (020) 7495 1509
Tube: Bond Street

The interwebs speak: Genuiness ; Travel with Wingz ; The Critical Couple ; AA ; Matt Norman ; TimeOut

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If ever there was a restaurant synonymous with the term institution, that restaurant could well be Zafferano. Entering its sixteenth year of service, it is regarded by all of us, as one of the key purveyors of high Italian cuisine, in London. It boasts a fancy postcode, the single macaron from the Bib, as well as about a dozen or so blogposts showering praise upon it. It even has a name – Zafferano for Saffron – that echoes its maturing charm. This restaurant appears to have become impervious to the trendy competition of younger restaurants, yet to establish the sort of loyal patronage that Zafferano has the distinct honour of having. It is about as proper as it gets.

As Mr Blyde once put it, Zafferano is indeed an important restaurant not only to indulge yourself, but for a ’rounded’ education in classical Italian cuisine (in London (short of a protracted trip to Italy)) to satisfy one’s experiences in benchmarking what is supposedly the best the cuisine has to offer (in London).

This is likely one of the few restaurants to make return visits not for the sake of novelty, but to return because the food is genuinely fantastic. The main man in the hot seat, is the long time head chef Andy Needham who has been with the restaurant (at least to my knowledge) since its beginning days. Previous to his tenure at Zafferano, Andy had trained at the Savoy, Le Pre Catalan in Paris and then joined the Saffron as sous chef… yes, any essay of the restaurant’s origins would be incomplete without speaking of its first steward : The rather legendary, Giorgio Locatelli. He stayed with the restaurant from day one till 1999, drawing his first taste of the red guide during this time with Zafferano in the nineties. Eventually, he went on to set up Locanda Locatelli, and of course in the current gastronomic climate: Both restaurants are considered to be two of the three greatest Italian restaurants in London. The other belonging to Ruth Rogers.

Age definitely shows in decor, taking on a maturing musky charm, that seems to suggest that this would be your dad’s version of Polpo. The white table cloths are a drenched sepia, the yellow walls losing its sheen to match the rather featureless surroundings, small pots of plants litter the rooms, classic posh. The trumpeting jazz in the background completed the ambiance. In its graceful middle age, Zafferano has definitely become the quintessential nostalgic Italian restaurant.

Nostalgia extends to the way the menu reads, that is to say, it reads like a complete bore. It flows as you’d expect, the standard four courses, for a rather reasonable asking price of £49.50 (bar supplements and the truffles) , but dishes are written in such a reserved manner, it just seems like any other neighbouring Italian joint. “Octopus salad with potatoes” , “Buckwheat pasta with leeks, sage and cheese” , “Pan fried veal cutlet with mushrooms and potato gallette”. Maybe I am used to the newer openings which seem to have engaged more enthusiastic copywriters, but if experience has taught me anything, it is that creative prose is never a reflection on the actual quality of food. I drank a glass of Dolcetto, £7.

Antipasto: Bresaola della Valtellina con rucola e caprino

Which translates to thinly sliced cured beef with rocket and goat cheese. Large bulbs of caramalised onions gave the dish a triple dose of sweetness, the lubricating oils were pure luxury and though I thought there was abit too much rocket and too little bresaola, overall it was a fine salad. But a salad nonetheless.

Primo: Pappardelle allo zafferano con guanciale di maiale

One major criticism I have of the food (if not of Italian food in general) is that these classic dishes are apparently formless in presentation. There is very little to look at, hand in hand with a similar assessment of the reserved nature in which it has been described as well. But food is about taste and smell, and in that regard, this dish of saffron pappardelle with pigs cheek was simply tremendous. The entire dish had taken on a regal oilyness about it, the dripping deep-fried crostinis added so much flavour, there was a perfumed sweetness, like vanilla or perhaps it was the saffron, accompanied by a satisfying, meaty savouriness. The small dollops of pigs cheeks, flossy, tender and gorgeous. Finally, the pasta was obviously al dente trice over, while it may be invisible in a photograph, I felt it was an expertly well made dish of pasta, with a sauce that made for tingling tastebuds. This dish demonstrated the kitchen’s deserved reputation as a Michelin restaurant. The beauty was how simple the dish looked and yet it tasted anything but simple.

Secondo: Merluzzo arrosto con zucca, cime di rapa e bottarga

Roast Icelandic cod with pumpkin , “cime di rapa” and “bottarga.

We took issue with the breathing time between courses, on average it was about 45 minutes. Which meant we sat from 6.45 till 10 at night. Not that I didn’t enjoy Mark’s company, but the long pauses between dishes had my appetite yoyo-ing throughout the meal. “We give good gap between courses, prego.” was the Maître d’ answer to our query. Gap yes, but it was not good.

Luckily the fish was amazing. It was cooked just a little under, perfect in my book, flaky, ever so slightly translucent in the centre, juicy and steaming. It sizzled with every bite. Too much chickpeas, but otherwise, it was the invisible gravy it came with, that made the dish jump in the mouth. Awesome, understated cooking that can really only be fully appreciated first hand.

Dolce: Semifreddo di torrone con mango fresco e frutto della passione

To finish, a simple semifreddo, with fresh slices mango and passion fruit, adequate in cleansing the palate, in the face of an absent palate cleanser.

We paid £129.39, or just under £65 per person. Beautiful cooking, lousy visuals, but beautiful cooking. Did I mention the fabulous cooking? It’s all about the vintage-like food at Zafferano, which in my opinion makes it an excellent restaurant. When we entered the restaurant, we were baffled why something that seemed outdated maintained its Michelin star for all these years, but after the meal, I think Mark and I were in agreement that it was simply because the cooking was brilliant. And I cannot stop praising the food, and food alone. So in the end, I got the education I wanted from the Saffron. In my humble opinion, it’s better than Mazzei’s L’Anima, which in my view, is the new kid on the block, vying to usurp the authority of the old guard. I do not think Mazzei is cooking at this level yet, so it will be a while before we see Zafferano falling out of favour, and until another challenger steps up, Zafferano remains one of the great Italian institutions in the Smoke.

In light of the rather reasonable pricing, especially in comparison with the likes of other leading Italian restaurants, I can only recommend that you put Zafferano on your list. I certainly enjoyed my meal, and it is one of few which I would gladly revisit, just to indulge myself. I already have my nose on the veal chop.

The Gist.

Zafferano
Italian £65pp
15 Lowndes Street SW1X 9EY
Tel 020 7235 5800
Tube: Knightsbridge

Prego: Intoxicating Prose , FoodSnob , Time Out London , Hardens , The Skinny Bib , The Epicurean , The Standard

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Those of you interested in Angela Hartnett’s (MBE) progression as a chef, rejoiced at the news that she has finally left Gordon Ramsay to make her own name, though truth be told, the charismatic chef has already built a formidable reputation over the years. There are very few – if any – negative reviews written about her restaurants, and she’s my favourite chef on TV. Her years with GRH had led to critical success where she famously won her first Michelin star while at The Connaught in 2004 and then another after just her first year of stewardship at Murano in 2009. My my, how far she has come, since her waiting days with Hans Schweitzer.

Following in the steps of Wareing and Atherton, Angela joins – what is now – a rather illustrious Gordon Ramsay alumni. She leaves on good terms, buying out El Gordo’s stake to take the helm at Murano outright, which as far as we know, is to become her sole restaurant venture, as of writing. Practically however, it is business as usual, Murano is still, by Angela Hartnett. Success also means that there will be difficulty in securing a table at either of her restaurants. I had to wait until the 2nd week to secure a table at Murano; the week before, I managed a very late lunch at the Gordon Ramsay restaurant – which she will soon part company with permanently- she oversees, York & Albany. We loved the meal at York & Albany, so needless to say, we were looking forward to sampling the unhindered rendition of Angela’s cuisine.

Murano is nestled within the comfortable environs of Mayfair, and much like Y&A, public transportation will take you close enough, but you’ll need to trek to the restaurant on foot for a good 10 minutes. Helps to work up an appetite I suppose.

Like all Gordon Ramsay restaurants, no expenses are spared in the decor, or staff threads, this restaurant swings in the big leagues. The overall theme is green and gold, like a marbled forest in fall, or a little bit like Royal China. To be honest, I found the exuberant design to be a little old fashion what with the mirrored walls and such, catching my own eyes was disconcerting.

As per usual, I sample the ala carte, £60 for 3 courses, and the better half went for the well-priced set lunch at £30 for three…. and advanced apologies for not getting the names of the dishes, I forgot to write them down.

Starters

From the set: Confit Salmon, lentils.

I tasted a sliver of the fish, the insides were pink like it was cooked sous vide, lending a fluffy and delicate texture. The missus seemed to enjoy the straightforward, and substantially sized starter.

A la carte: Lobster linguine, spring onion, chilli and garlic, cherry tomato fondue (supplement £5)

The chances of us visiting Murano again in the short term was slim, so I thought I may as well aim for the priciest dishes on the menu. But not the Autumn specials, a sleuth of Alba truffle-enhanced dishes for a hefty £50 supplement. Hmm, I’m still in recession.

Expectedly, the stringy noodles were cooked on point and al dente, with generous chunks of lobster meat. The recipe may be Italian accented, but it reminded me of Chinese lobster noodles. The dish was simple, well seasoned and cooked well. Boring, but it was delicious.

Mains

From the set: Sea bream.

The way the fish had been pan-fried looked interesting – the crusty skin was rigid and eerily flat. Again, it is cooked perfectly, with a mildly interesting green curry puree, but on the whole, the recipe was lost on us. The missus thought this was pedestrian, in comparison to York & Albany meal. Well cooked, but unfortunately, it didn’t dazzle.

A la carte: Monkfish tail meuniére, grilled leeks, garlic purée, baby fennel, watercress

The memories of the fabulous baked lemon sole at York & Albany was still fresh in my mind as I received this dish.

But first to digress. I was left feeling lost when we were ordering; Our waitress didn’t explain the dishes to us, even when I inquired. About the only thing she said to us were that partridges were in season… yes, I realise this is pedantic of me, and I don’t want to come across as an twat, but I do appreciated it if staff take the time to explain the various dishes to diners, especially in a place which has a Michelin star. Surely there are redeeming signature dishes on the menu which deserve a few minutes of exposition to help whet appetites?

As the dish landed, I noted the superb visual impact – the crust was a fried impenetrable armour, a shimmering example of a fillet of fish. Monk fish is a temperamental ingredient, and I was glad to find that the kitchen had cooked this perfectly, just under, muscular tenderness. Aside from the technical quality of cooking, however, I was underwhelmed by the recipe. Truth be told, after three days to reflect on the meal, I can’t recall much of the puree, perhaps it was garlic, perhaps it was something else. I was trying to love the dish, trying to decipher some kind of USP about it, some sort of opening of the umami dams, but I just didn’t get it.

Amuse and palate cleansers

I almost forgot to mention the excellent amuse bouches (more nibbly than an amuse to be fair) we started with; Truffle infused arancini balls and a mini board of prosciutto, salami and bread, complete with Manni olive oil, a luxury essential (oxymoron surely) that is now used by other Italian accented joints in London, such as the mighty Zucca.

To cleanse the palatte, a visually enticing two-tiered rack of assorted sorbets – I sussed the green coloured, basil flavoured one.

Desserts

From the set: Lemon Cream

Simplicity, not alot to add to this really. Like a double palate cleanser.

White Chocolate Creme Brulee with White Alba Truffle, £15 supplement.

A £15 supplement I can afford! Sadly, the pudding was a trainwreck. The white Alba truffle shavings, on there own, were divine. A potent puff of the distinctive flavours of truffle unravelling in the mouth, very fragrant and pleasing. The brulee had a scrambled eggs texture, but it tasted wrong. Like pungent overnight socks stuffed in between a cheesecake. Or perhaps like a cheesecake that was made with Époisses de Bourgogne… which is to say that custard and truffle do not, and should not mix. At least, not in the way it was presented. I tried to divorce the truffle shavings from the pudding…but alas I couldn’t. Upon reflection, I’m bemused as to why I ordered this weirdly indulgent dish, that seemed like a throwback to the excessive years gone by, than something so cutting edge, that is deserved of a star.

Don’t chastise me for this, and it does pain me to have to write this, but I didn’t like Murano. There are shades of glory, but I think it misses the boat on the crucial parts of the meal, more glitz than substance, and toward the lower end of the one starred spectrum. You couldn’t fault the cooking, it was superb of course, and service was generally top notch (the Maître d’ always addressed the lady, and not the bloke) but gosh those recipes, they seemed tried and tired. I loved York & Albany, and I read all the reviews, and I tried to like the meal, but there was no wow factor, in complete contrast to Y&A, I think the problem with this meal was that it felt anonymous to me.

Toward the end of the meal, Angela emerged from the kitchen to speak to some guests, and naturally, I was spellbound, put in a daze that my heroin was merely steps away from me…. I don’t really know what etiquette when it comes to these things, but if I had a copy of Cucina, I would have surely mustered the courage to shake her hand, and ask for her hand. I mean her autograph. Seeing as to how it was Angela herself who oversaw the kitchen during our lunch, I can’t say this could be chalked up as an off-day. Comparisons are inevitable, and if Murano can manage a star on this form, then perhaps L’anima deserves one too, or even two.

The Gist.

Murano
Italian, £75pp
20 Queen Street W1J 5PP
Tel: 020 7495 1127
Underground : Green Park

The Italian Job : Matt Norman ; AAiL ; A Girl has to Eat ; A forkful of spaghetti ; Andy Hayler

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No doubt you will have read the multitude of pieces extolling the virtues of this greatest of London pubs. The pub’s shiny Michelin win, was both a surprise and a seal of approval that solidified its status as the epitome of pub grub in London. For the months that followed, the euphoria ensured difficulty in securing a free table, and this well hidden pub in Fulham had become a gastronomic destination of sorts. I wonder if the owners had predicted the frenzied success when they put their heads together to open this pub, a result of a partnership between Brett Graham (of two starred Ledbury), Mike Robinson (who owns Pot Kiln, a pub in Berkshire) and Edwin Vaux (of Vaux Brewery).

I had avoided the hurrah until a peaceful Friday in August, to have lunch with an equivalent food lover (who turns 30 this week) whose major goal right now is visit Noma, having failed to win a table at the closing El Bulli. This was to be both our virgin Harwood Arms meal… and we were a little surprised that HA looks exactly like a quiet neighbourhood pub, albeit painted of a harrowing red, with no particular features that stand out. The interior was a civil affair, there was no raunchy debauchery, no hype induced fandom nor happy snappers (except for me of course) filling the room. Instead, the lazy pub was unnervingly serene, with a couple of couples and a trio of retired folk (I assume) celebrating a birthday.

Service was as laissez-faire as the tiresome if friendly room, two waiters who barely patrolled the floor and one who occasionally popped up behind the bar; time dilation seemed to apply inside the pub, there was delay before we received the hessian napkins, a delay before we ordered our food, and pause before we could order our wines. I drank a glass of ice cold Pinot Grigio to cool-off (£5.50).

Home of the Venison Scotch Egg , £3 each.

It did not appear to be on the lunch menu (it appears on the ‘bar snack’ menu), but we asked for them anyway, after all, it is the major highlight of a visit to Harwood Arms.

Forgive the vulgarity of this diptych, but it’s got to be done.

Breaking the yolk was strangely satisfying, the texture of the whites, pillowy and verging on being fully cooked. The crispy, well salted exterior was a delightful crunch, the mince, juicy, wet and even better seasoned. It was warm, it was comforting, it was simply a gorgeous scotch egg.

Salad of smoked sprats, baked beetroots and fresh apple with a soft boiled hens egg, seaweed salt and sea purslane £7.00

Look at this dish – vibrant isn’t it? The sprats sat on top of a soft boiled egg, its surface powdered with seaweed salt.

Breaking into the egg, again – another visceral experience. Smoky bitterness from splats, the beetroot – so visually impactful – provided a grainy sweetness, and the gently boiled egg rounded off a dish, perfectly poise for summer.

Crisp brawn with tarragon mustard and broad beans stewed with smoked bacon and gem lettuce £6.50

My starters were much more visually reticent, but no less exciting on the palate. The brawn shared the similar fried crustiness with the excellent scotch eggs. A burst of muscular heartiness, with gentle hues of herbs; taking it apart, I saw carrots, fatty globules (which might be from the pig’s head or trotters or both), this lovely roasting quality about it – the consummate appetiser. The broad bean stew was a god send, the green broth with flavours of bacon and beans, resulting in something hearty and heaty. I kept tearing off more and more bread to soak up the soup, untill I had wiped the bottom of the ramkin dry.

The starters were filling, perhaps comforting was the more appropriate word, we definitely felt half way satisfied by the time the mains landed.

Roast Cornish cod with salt cod puree, stewed courgettes, marsh samphire and toasted walnuts £16.00

What wonderful aromas – one could smell the roast fish from a mile away, it was wholesome, hearty and fabulously arranged. The mash tasted unerringly of ginger, but sadly I felt the fish was a tad overdone, giving rise to a soggy and dense texture. The dish was perhaps a little to warm to have for the weather; the steam that kept hitting my face wore me down, before long, I was sweating and the stodginess felt like a chore. In the end I struggled, then failed to finish off the mash. It’s a solid dish, perhaps a little too solid, and maybe because of its Michelin star, my subconscious was searching for a spark of creativity, only to find that this recipe was forgettable, unremarkable and typical.

Grilled Steak of Berkshire Roe Deer and Douglas Fir Sausage with Raw Celeriac, Spelt Flatbread and Grilled Field Mushrooms £17.50

It would appear that I had missed a trick however, this colossal plate of food – one from the specials (written on a chalkboard no less) – looked downright stupendous! Mark was smiling ear to ear as it landed. He failed to finish it too, as the food just had us bursting at the seams. The sausage had fatty bits sticking out, full on and intense. The deer – presumably personally and proudly shot by one of Harwood’s owners – lively, bloody and wonderfully juicy. However I fear this was another dish which was better served as part of a wintry collection, rather than for the British summer.

Come to think of it, it was probably a little embarrassing to have two self professed food nuts (replete with man boobs and love handles) struggling to finish massive portions of gorgeously cooked, and extremely well presented grub.

Warm strawberry jam tart with clotted ice cream, £7.50

Even more embarrassing that we could only find room to share a tart to finish. Separate spoons however. Oh my giddy lord. This was a pudding. An exploding burst of summer jam, rich, gooey, dense and substantially sugary. The strawberries reduced to a mushy, muculent mess. It was better than brilliant, the warmth of the tart melting the ice cream to its constituent ingredient as we dug into the tart.

We paid £40.50 pounds each – great value considering the amount of food we had. There were definite highlights from this meal, but the main dishes were a real let down. On one hand, the food was well cooked and featured muscular, man-sized portions chock full of meat (and probably shot), very full on, and that’s kind of what Harwood Arms is all about. On the other hand, because of all its brawniness, I felt as if the meal was just a little too unrestrained. Little about it was refined (which of course, it shouldn’t be, its a pub!) and I think knowing it has a Michelin star probably degraded the experience. The weight of expectation probably works against it. Don’t get me wrong though, I think Harwood Arms remains true to its intent of carving a modest location in London where one can enjoy good food, down a couple and to chillax. It is more pub than gastropub (whatever the latter means) , and while I believe there are more serious Michelin-intended pubs around (Royal Oak, Sportsman perhaps?), food at Harwood is still very good nonetheless. Stephen Williams’ Ledbury training is ever evident, and if you have left it late to try it (like me), I think it is definitely worth a visit, but maybe when the weather is a little cooler. Just don’t expect to be bowled over with invention, it should be a case of familiar comfort food and perfectly awesome scotch eggs. I am slightly envious that people who live in Fulham have such a brilliant pub to call their local. When I return, I would definitely graze on a couple of starters as opposed to a stiff three courser. Maybe I should consider moving back to Mendora road.

The Gist of It

Harwood Arms
27 Walham Grove, London SW6 1QR‎
Tel: 020 7386 1847‎
Tube: Fulham Broadway

Everybody loves Harwood: Oliver Thring ; The Epicurean ; Gourmet Traveller ; Time Out London ; Terry Durack for the Independent ; AA.

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Texture is the brainchild of Icelandic born Chef Agnar Sverrisson and French born sommolier Xavier Rousset. Butter and cream, I’m told, are not involved in the Icelandic-inspired recipes. Winner of a michelin star in 2010, Texture is one part of the ascendency of Nordic cuisine.

I recently made two excursions to Norway last month, to the coastal town of Haugesund, I know next to nothing about Nordic cuisine, so while there, my meals became a personal education of sorts. I tried brown cheese or ‘Brunost’ (at the breakfast buffet no less), was introduced to shrimp-flavoured cheese pastes and smoked reindeer. The highlight however was a meal at Lothes¹, some say the pride & joy of Haugesund (in gastronomic terms), and I was thoroughly impressed with its ‘elemental’ use of local produce. Ginger ‘foam’ with truffle on risotto with Monkfish; Hollandaise and cauliflower sauce with Fillet steak; ohh… and crayfish steamed, with sunflower seeds and pickled red onion. I’m not certain how ‘Norwegian’ the meal was, but it was markedly different, an alien set of flavour combinations, but in a good way.

It was only natural for me to come home with a new found curiosity for Scandinavian food² and since we were entertaining relatives from Down Under, Texture became the default choice to further our gastronomic explorations.

The restaurant conceived by Le Manoir³ alumni, Xavier Rousset, a French sommelier and Agnar Sverrisson, an Icelandic chef places as much emphasis on cooking as it does with its selection of tipples. This partnership is also physically apparent in design, with the back-to-back bar taking up nearly as much space as the dining room. There is something very zen about the space; unpolished wooden floorings and green couches set against coffee accented walls that evoke a displaced sense of a forest in a town house. All it requires then, is maybe a recording of mother nature playing in the background, to complete the effect. This impenetrable serenity is broken with the stimulating brushstrokes of Icelander painter Tolli’s⁴ work, whose vibrant use of saturated colours breathe life to the walls, as well as to the cover plates on our tables. Elegant, natural, and maybe abit like the lair of a James Bond nemesis.

Cod fish skin, parmesan, potato and bread crisps.

These were a welcomed change to bread (although bread was also served, rye I guess), thinly crispy as one expected, though I found the fish skin was a little too much so; The yoghurt dipping however helped to alleviate the fishiness, wasabi, lettuce and I think dill, adding a invigorating edge.

We were a table of four, three of us had chosen the £22 three course set, I opted for the a la carte. Not cheap however, starters average £15, mains £25 and desserts for £8.50, that’s nearly fifty quid. We’ll come back to menu choices after the dish descriptions.

Amuse Bouche: Pea and Mint.

And we’re off with a cracking start. Ice shavings, the sweetness of whole peas, and at the bottom, a sort of custard-like mousse, minty like a toothpaste but also with flavours of pea. I think the ice made this dish more interesting than it was, a frozen pea and mint soup which helped to cleanse the palate. I’ll refrain from bringing textures into describing this combination…

Starters

Yellow fin tuna with barley, toasted almond and elderflower (set lunch)

The first course from the lunch menu, while I had a quick bite, my memory fails me as I write this. My better half seemed to enjoy this dish, though she struggled to identify the elderflower. From a visual standpoint, I thought the styling was a slobbering mess, but then again, beauty is such a subjective thing.

Anjou Pigeon, chargrilled, Sweetcorn, shallot, bacon popcorn, red wine essence £14.50

Aurelie, the front of house charmed our socks off. She was a gracious hostess, as was the rest of the staff, who were friendly, unpushy, and seemed almost shy to talk to us, even when presenting the dishes. They didn’t force conversation. She took my order and recommended this dish, one of Agnar’s signatures. Rock and roll. The meat was superbly delicate, it carried only a tinge of seared-ness about it, with sprinklings of rock salt for seasoning. I’d hazard a guess that the pigeon has been cooked sous-vide ie: very warm water and in a vacuum bag, giving rise to this melty sponge-like taste which inhabited a textural-limbo-land that was both raw and cooked at the same time.

The sweetcorn cream was just superb, it was so slippery it may as well have well been oil. The sweetness (from the three ways of corn) balanced well against the poultry, there seemed to be other earthy, shrub-like flavours thrown into the mix as well, a nutty fragrance, woodiness, as if this dish was composed of foraged elements. I know I’m reaching a little, and I am being vague, but the ideas on this plate was new to me. It was unique, at least in terms of what London based restaurants offer.

Mains

Sea trout, dill and carrots (from the set lunch)

I didn’t touch this dish, it was what my Uncle ordered. He really liked it, and from his indications, it was another example of sous-vide perfection. The styling was just ghastly, for some reason, this reminded me of those hair gel commercials pitching the messy, I-just-woke-up look…so much green…everywhere.

Corn-fed Free Range Chicken breast, leg, beans, peas, chicken jus (from the set lunch)

And the slow cooking procession continues. The chicken, like the pigeon before it, regardless if it was the breast or the leg, was melt-in-the-mouth fantastic, managing to maintain its juices, delicate and sumptous. I nicked the wing, and it was categorically the best fried chicken wing I’ve had in recent memory. Crumbly, crispy, corn-flavoured and juicy, look out Colonel Sanders. It had been deboned, and interestingly I felt the ‘phanton-bone’ effect take over. I couldn’t believe that I was cautiously chewing through it even though I knew it wasn’t there. The better half thought it was good, but her attention was elsewhere, on my dish to be exact…

Cornish Skate, langoustines, cockles, prawns, barley, shellfish broth £26.50

The messy styling technique was evident in every single dish, though by now, I was getting used to it. I suppose at least I could see all the ingredients. As one would expect with seafood, this was heartily aromatic. A barley base soaked up a smorgasbord (forgive the pun) of flavours: I detected lemon zest, raisins, cinnamon, dill, nuts, capers as well as a wholesome broth chock full of shellfishness. I am guessing white wine was involved as well.

There was so much going on, but luckily the myriad of wonderful ingredients didn’t overwhelm. Instead, the soup was simply brimming with liveliness, earthy and clean flavours abound. This was no butter, cream or truffle in sight, and in the place of big-bang flavours, there were mellow sensations, this dish marched to a utterly alternative beat. And what great interchange of textures too. The mushy langoustines disintegrated like roe, the skate, fried to a crisp, and flaky when necessary with spongy cockles and baby shrimps rounding the dish off. Everything melded and melted, it felt like a masterclass of harnessing harmonising flavours from the interplay of the various constituent ingredients.

Dessert

We were a little ‘creative’ when it came to pudding, being that the set lunch options seemed like a subset of the ala carte, we opted to share three puddings, forgoing my own choice, which would have set me back £8.50.

Valrhona White Chocolate mousse, ice cream, dill, cucumber (from the set lunch….but also on the ala carte menu for £8.50)

I really enjoyed this. Dill and cucumber reminded me of mango, bits of white chocolate and muesli cracked over seemed more for effect, though the the cloud-like chocolate mousse was a sweet whiff of fresh air. I didn’t understand the significance of the foam, it was superfluous, both figuratively and literally.

Strawberry Granita (from the set lunch)

Finally then, a frozen granita with a jammy syrup and bits of cereal. I would have preferred the soup to be warm, but overall it was a pleasant finish.

It could just be my malfunctioning taste-buds but I was certain to have tasted ginger in the truffles, and coffee in the macarons. They were both underwhelming and ironically ordinary when compared to the rest of the meal… the macarons in particular were shamefully atrocious. Petit Fours aside, we had a hugely enjoyable meal. We also ordered half a bottle of Roussette de Savoie, I forget the year or winery, Roussette being a grape which I hardly drink. Plus 2 teas and a single espresso, the bill came to £163 for four. My ala carte alone bore most of the expense, a whopping £70 (thereabouts) for two courses plus wine, coffee and service. It was expensive alright, based on this experience, I’d urge you to try either the £22 set lunch deal, which is similar in quality to the ala carte, or to go all out with the five course taster menus. The Scandinavian Fish menu is £52.50 and the meat & fish taster is £59. A wine tour available to compliment at £45 a pop.

Might these Clifton water baths⁵ be Texture’s secret weapon in the kitchen? I felt the slithery slow-cooked meats were the defining theme in Chef Agnar’s bag of tricks. On top of that, I was hugely impressed with the interplay of ingredients, and I also feel that this method of foraging to marry flavours and highlight textures (as much as it pains me to state the obvious) made the meal intriguing, beguiling and had set it apart from the pack. The chef seems to prefer naturally sweet ingredients such as barley, sweetcorn, raisins for example. I didn’t think it was just all for show, I think it was practical, adding an appealing sheen to his cooking with such ingredients.

So how Icelandic is Texture? I don’t know, I’m no expert, I did not spot Hakarl (rotting shark) or Lundabaggar (soured lamb) on the menu, though skyr (Icelandic yoghurt) and cod are on it. I’m not a stickler for authenticity to be honest, as long as it tastes good, the chef can tweak to his heart’s content. Nordic flair with a British accent then. For no apparently connected reason whatsoever, Texture reminded me of Viajante⁶. Maybe it was because this meal too, felt abit like a journey.

The empty dining room during Friday lunch service is an indication of the public’s wariness toward Nordic haute cuisine. If you were getting bored of French-Italian conventions, Texture might just be a pleasant change, if you were searching for one. I certainly enjoyed the distinctions, I think it is more than just a superficial concept and I think the food excelled. It explains why they’ve won a Michelin star this year. This certainly has been one of my more memorable meals this year, I liked it and I wholeheartedly recommend it.

The Gist of It

Texture
Icelandic £22 for lunch ; £70 for alacarte
34 Portman Street W1H 7BY
Tel. 020 7224 0028
Tube: Bond Street

Reviews elsewhere: A fork full of spaghetti ; Terry Durack for The Independent ; Matt Norman for Guardian ; Time Out London ; Wine, food and other pleasures ; Love food, Love drink ; Niamh of ELAG.

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All text and photography on this blogpost is copyright and belongs to Kang Leong, LondonEater.com. If you repost this without my permission, bad things will happen. So please don’t do it.

As many of you have heard, the big news for restaurant obsessives this week is the (leaked) release of the 2010 update to the Michelin Guide. As usual, there are some winners, some losers and some shock decisions where potentials didn’t make the big time. Whether you love it or hate it, backpatting exercise or true culinary standard, winning a michelin star (or two) is still seen by many as the ultimate accolade in the restaurant world. The iconic Red Guide has been kicking around Britain since 1974 and in it’s latest iteration has decided to award another three jewel to the British gastronomical crown. As of 2010, Britain now boasts four three-star restaurants. The lucky fella is of course the international brand name Alain Ducasse, and the winning restaurant is based in the Dorchester… which coincidentally is owned by the Sultan of Brunei.

The other big winners are of course the rising star himself Mr Brett Graham and by extension his mentor Phil Howard of The Square. The Ledbury finally lives up to their ‘rising stars’ status bestowed upon them last year, and in my view they have scored a surprise whopper with the addition of Harwood Arms to the list. So now both master and apprentice share the limelight in London, both on equal footing with two stars. I think 2009 was definitely the year of Howard and Graham, I had already alluded to this in my Ledbury/Square reviews in 2009 and while they weren’t quite the hottest tables in town, they certainly ran the best kitchens.

So who were the biggest losers then? Without a doubt, it’s got to be Gordon Ramsay. Whilst his pride and joy at Royal Hospital Road remains untouched; Claridges has been stripped of it’s solitary star. To add insult to injury, reports of his GR Holding’s financial losses certainly does not help. So this looks like a personal kitchen nightmare for Ramsay, it would be interesting to see how he digs himself out of this. Less TV work, less books and more time in the kitchen perhaps? For more on this, you can read Jay Rayner’s extended commentary. Though probably more damaging is The Capital being stripped of both stars! I was planning a visit (I still am) since it was the most affordable of the London two stars, but I had thought it was more underrated rather than dipping standards. Oh well, now that they have lost their stars, I have somehow become more fascinated with it… will they suck it up and cook their pants off this year to recapture the glory days? Has anyone been and what were your thoughts?

One announcement I was expecting never came and I am still reeling from the shock of Eastside Inn’s exclusion from this list. For me, this was 2009′s breakthrough restaurant, and I think Bjorn thoroughly deserves his sparkles. Coincidentally, I actually dine at the Bistro last night, and had a chance to speak with Bjorn himself about this year’s revision. I could tell he was gutted, well I am gutted for him as well. Though I fully expect them to gain a star when I do this write-up again in a year’s time.

Which brings me to speak about the significance of this list – how accurate is it, and what are their benchmarks? Does it guarantee good food? In my view, I feel that the Michelin guide doesn’t simply seek out great cooking, it’s judging a much smaller pool of restaurants which are backed with moneybags, or chefs with star power… sometimes, I just feel that it is abit of a back patting exercise, and stars being granted on the basis of reputation than on the back of bloody great recipes, executed by well-oiled kitchens. Then again, I don’t want to say that there is a definite pattern to things, because I don’t think there is any conspiracy here, nothing more than a madman’s babble. I think if one enjoys old fashioned wining and dining, the validity of the michelin guide still hold true. Not to say that the restaurants in the current guide serves bad food, but that good restaurants do exists outside this guide. Heck two of my personal favourites are not even in this list, Cambio de Tercio and Eastside Inn. I think it is down to different people having different perceptions of food, afterall, it is such a subjective topic that sometimes pinning down great cooking to a set of rigid standards is paradoxical to the spirit of food. One aspect of the guide that gets overlooked is value for money. As much as I love throwing money away to fund my ever increasing trouser sizes; the prices at multiple starred restaurants are simply out of reach for me. One thing is for sure: this list is not definitive. Somehow I feel that in the new mellenium, this sort of worship of the glamarous is horribly outdated, but still, I respect it.

Finally, looking into my personal crystal ball, I predict 2010 to be the year of the Galvins brothers. As I alluded to in my Bistrot de luxe write up, I think they are blazing a trail of glory this year; Windows has already won a star this year, and I am now ever anxious to see what the kitchen at La Chapelle is really capable of. They are highest on my list, and I expect to visit very soon.

Ok so what are your thoughts on this year’s guide? Feel free to share. I have put together the London List below and the information has been sourced from the official Michelin Guide website. For the restaurants which I had been to, I have linked it to my write-up where applicable, for the ones where I didn’t write it up, I have included a short remark of what I thought of the place. Deletions are marked with a strike through.

I’m hardly a Michelin Star worshipper, having only been to 19 from this list of 50 in the last two years. If you would like to follow a foodblog dedicated to the glamourous try Gen.u.ine.ness and FoodSnob.

Three Stars: 4 Restaurants

Two Stars: 7 restaurants

One Star: 39 restaurants

Source : The Michelin Guide for Great Britain & Ireland 2010 )

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