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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Here’s a list of good things I expect from a good bistro:

1.Good soup
2.Good steak
3.Good frites
4.Good tartare
5.Superhot waitress

I recall a highlight reel of what the Glasgow arm of this luxury out-of-town hotelier is capable of, during an episode of Don’t tell the bride. They took the tour through the banquet room, the room for the exchange of vows, the grounds. the venue was so slick, the bride cried knowing her man would never plan their wedding there. Of course, I don’t watch that show. It just happened to be playing in the background as I was shaping my manly deltoids at the gym. Obviously.

There are fifteen Hotel du Vins up and down the country from St Andrews to Brighton, none are in London, but presumably all of the hotel restaurants resemble some version of bistro du vin. As of writing, there are two Bistro du Vins in London; one is next to the shit-hot Duck Soup Soho, and the other currently occupies the site where one of the best London bistros died – Bjorn van de Horst’s Eastside Inn.

You do remember Eastside Inn don’t you? That was nice French food. Bistro du Vin doesn’t punch at that level, but in many ways that’s a good thing, because really the formulae that’s being applied – competitively priced, traditional French bistro affair, enomatic-preserved wines by the glass and really big and comfy leather seats – is the template for the mid-range restaurant of the future. Think of the day when the high street restaurant, the Zizzis, The Stradas and Cafe Rouge’s of our beloved city start serving steaks good enough to challenge Parisian bistros. Oh who am I kidding, that day won’t actually ever come, but places like Bistro du Vin are pushing us closer to that reality. I’m not sure how Hotel du Vin feel about this image I am suggesting about their London outposts, that they are the herald of a new restaurant franchise, but really HdV should take it as a compliment. If we’re going to reboot the standard restaurant, it may as well look like this. There’s oysters and steak tartare, terrines and grilled fish with butter and potatoes. There’s also a Josper in the kitchen, cheese supplied by La Cave a Fromage and serious Scotch and English beef. Add that to an orthodox bistro menu that simultaneously appeals to the masses and easily replicated, should equate to a good business model.

Soup du jour, £6.95.

My twitter feed suggests this was a haricot veloute with slow braised oxtail. I didn’t take notes during the meal, but I’m pretty sure I remembered this to be quite delicious. They even stylised it by pouring the soup out from a small porcelain jar like they do in Ramsay restaurants.

Donald Russell Onglet with frites and bearnaise, £14.50.

The steak was a beautiful medium rare, tender and flavoured like the charcoal embers it had briefly laid atop in the Josper. I was freakishly surprised how well the hanger steak came out. I was even more surprised when I had the frites, crispy, potato-ey, a little oily and buttery, the hallmarks of fucking great frites. I was bowled over when I dipped the beef in the bearnaise. It was a great bearnaise – egg and butter and egg. A solid steak and chips, it epitomised the very idea of bistro steak. For £14.50, I could easily have this for lunch every week.

Pork cheeks with gratin potatoes, £16.50.

Soft, melty layers of pork cheek, the heavy red wine jus was delish, but really I was so jealous of the onglet staring at me as it wrapped itself around the lips of the other half. That lecherous piece of red meat. The potatoes were real nice, you know all butter and oil, so rich it made me queasy, evoking an old-fashioned sense of pleasure, mmmm.

The kitchen nightmares-proof menu is applause-worthy, their selection of wines by the glass are admirable, and their cheese deals are good. We paid £59.85 for this meal which included two glasses of wine.

On a separate occasion, I popped back in to try their £8 cheese platter with a glass of £8 Burgundy. I have to say I was treated to a pretty robust selection of French and English cheeses. Served with truffle honey and a plate of oat biscuits. For £8, it’s decent value. Great brie de meaux.

Actually for my 2nd visit, I was duped by the £12.50 unlimited cheese deal – cheese only becomes unlimited if you order it WITH a meal, as opposed to it being the meal itself. It would have been a great idea for a late Saturday lunch – sampling every conceivable in season cheese they had hidden in their stash – that bit isn’t very clearly written on their website, but perhaps an unlimited deal for cheese monsters may be something for the decision makers at BdV to consider. Come on Mr Hotel Executive, how much unlimited cheese do you really think one person actually eat on an empty stomach, let alone after a meal of buttered potatoes?

We’re getting close to that time of the year again, and if you’ve only just been anointed by your boss to put together your team xmas lunch, then you might want to give BdV a call. My forecast is that you will be able to negotiate a pretty decent £25 per head that will please everyone including the food nerd on your team who you suspect to be a closet food blogger with a fig obsession, and has Jay Rayner as his iPhone wallpaper.

The Gist of It

Bistro du Vin Soho
French, £35pp
36 Dean Street, Soho
Tel: 0207 432 4800
Tube: Piccadilly Circus

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Despite the narrative the web has spun around Galoupet, you should know that this is not a restaurant. Don’t come here expecting to be fed, because you will be a little confused. Even the decor strays far from the norm, like the faintly perfumery, sterile ivory walls and beech floors, mirrors on either side and (if memory serves) a skylight. There was so much light coming from all corners of the room, that we could only be here for a spa treatment.

Such words are not usually applied to restaurant copy: ‘light, fresh, clean’ , ‘deep understanding’ , ‘adapted’. Let’s throw sensory in there too. This was as close an experience to having a detox treatment for the tastebuds… not that I’ve ever been to a detox session for any other bodily part. In practical terms, most of the dishes could pass as salads. There’s fruit in nearly every dish, I felt an eerie sense of being cleansed after the meal.

Yes, fella, this is not the usual restaurant, let alone wine bar, there is something of an unorthodox approach going on here. The emphasis on the grapes are a refreshing change, there aren’t many wine-led restaurants in town, even though most restaurants will try their bestest to flog matching wines with the food, it often feels second best to the food; and for the case of the wine bar, food tends to take a backseat to the wine. And that’s where Galoupet differs from the crowd, supposedly to take on the enviable task of bringing harmony to the disciplines of pleasure.

The owners are a family of winemakers. Naturally it is named after the family business which is based in Provence, Chateau de Galoupet, and quite expectedly, they sell their family wines at this London outpost too. At the front entrance is a long table which I imagine is so patrons can stand around and constantly top up short measures of their 36 wines or so which are in constant rotation from their Enomatic wine preservation machines.

Galoupet may well be the first restaurant/bar to visibly use the pay-per-measure system, but it certainly isn’t the first to deploy it in this country. As far as I know, a similar system has been going for years at the wine shop , The Sampler in Islington. I may love my Rieslings and my Spatburgunders, but I’d rather not splash on whole bottles of Gajas or Rothschilds, so the system is useful in a kind of socialist way of purchasing sips of expensive wine, whenever the owners decide to pop something abit special into the enomatics. Like I don’t know, how about a 1990 Vauchrains, from Nuits Saint Georges by Robert Chevillon, for example. I’ve done the impromptu self-led wine sipping at The Sampler many times before… it can be a rather liberating experience. You end up with all kinds of fruit, rust and mineral flavours swirling around your head after four or fiveakers. Naturally it is named aftt of course.

One of the family wines is a 2010 Rose, which costs £4.10 for half a measure (125ml) , and it is a staggering wine. Crispy, fresh, acidic and verging on the fizzy, it evaporates like ether as it goes does, fleetingly young at its core. So shoot me, I like delightful young juices that are shy on the palatte. Like a fizzy white wine with rose petals dropped in. Doing the math, if you expect the majority of the meal to be for tasting different types of wine, with the odd dish of food thrown in for distraction, then Galoupet can be rather fun. This was the first glass.

So let’s move to the first dish: Figs, fregola, purple basil, orange, konbu, hazelnut , £8.50, the large portion.

Yes very light, amazingly refreshing honey like figs and crunchy walnuts, acid orange, a rather dainty dish of food to look at in and a faint sense of Japanese cuisine stirred in with Italian. Not too bad, but a mere slice of fig hardly passes as a large.

Octopus, fennel, kohlrabi, miso, £9.50

Citrusy, it balanced out nicely with the crispy Galoupet rose, generally clean tasting, nicely cooked but really also rather quite bland.

Stone bass, burnt tomatoes, coriander, £8

The skin was burnt to a char, so too were the tomatoes, accompanied by a tomato paste, which I hazard a guess that this was a variant of romesco. Who knows.

O’Shea’s Onglet Steak, mandarin, peanuts, papaya, £12.50 (large)

For the meats, I asked for another 125ml, this time a glass of Riesling by Heinz Schmitt. I failed to check the harvest. This came with a mesmerizing hue of amber. Flavours of honey and hints of glue (or petrol, you get the idea) – as you’d expect from Rieslings – but this was a little more complex as the citrus was verging on sour. An interesting wine, wet and heavy, more than muscular enough to match with the meat.

O’Sheas is gold standard beef, from Darragh on the other side of Knightsbridge, and is impossible to muck up. This came properly medium rare, and hard to fault such good meat of course. The little cooking done to it was adequate for it to shine. Perhaps a little unnecessary were the sweet papaya which accompanied the beef – sweet steak was a little alien to me.

Chilli pork ‘rib eye’, cucumber, coriander, lime, £11.50.

Finally, we ended the brief meal with this Vietnamese style grilled pork. The pork was expertly grilled, juicy but because it tasted so much like something from the pho mile, I thought the meat yearned for some steamed jasmine rice, and perhaps an egg over it. It was just nude, it really needed some carbs. Not to mention the rather steep price, it could have really done with a little covering up.

I ended the meal with a short 50ml measure of a superb dessert Tokaj… beyond that, details of the provenance escapes me. Sweet and citrusy.

Sweet and citrusy pretty much summed up the meal. We paid £57.25. As a restaurant, I thought the kitchen output was irresolute, food certainly came across as second fiddle to the wines. In a way, it was to be expected, this is first and foremost a wine bar, but for the most part, I did think food was well cooked. I did notice that we were bread-free for the entire meal, personally, it was an aberrant sensation altogether. Fibre, protein, nectar, alcohol, fruit, fibre, fruit.

This begs the comparison to the admirable 28-50 (which I like), a wine bar by the Nordic owners of sleeper hit Texture (which I also like) – that restaurant has more of a urban vibe going for it. Galoupet is the complete opposite, this wine bar feels like a retreat, it’s a spa treatment, something that belongs in Monocle. A facial.

The edible bits of Galoupet are a little Tinto Brass, it’s self indulgent, but the drinking parts are absolutely gorgeous. This type of conceptual, sensory stuff is always going to attract negativity from anti-yuppies who will be quick to write this off as an expensive waste of time, but I ask you to give this a closer look, because this is one of few places where you can go and try alot of different wines, without having to fork out a small fortune. That’s relative speak of course, because it’s not exactly cheap in real terms, but as you know, wine is a game of try, try try, to expand your mental catalogue of what different varietals are capable of. Or so I think, I’m not really the kind of guy to engage a discussion on wine in this sort of capacity. Come on, be abit adventurous, step away from the chardonnay and try a Vouvray. So for reference, take the opinion of a local wine buff (maybe Andy at Spittoon, Blyde on Intoxicating or Gastro1 the Epicurean ) on Galoupet before making the visit.

The Gist of It

Galoupet
French, Wine Restaurant £40pp
13 Beauchamp Place SW3 1NQ
Tel : 0207 036 3600
Tube : Knightsbridge

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I’ve not been this excited about a neighbourhood restaurant for a long time coming and I could only thing of one place to visit for my birthday, last weekend. This time, I took with me, a couple of serial restaurant goers in Mark and Carina, who are such, out of necessity because of work, and obviously because they enjoy the lifestyle, and my better and more skeptical half. 12 courses (that’s 3 x 4 palates) later and we were all largely in agreement : Medlar is brilliant.

I am a firm believer that great dishes rely upon the individual aspects being cooked correctly. The basics have got to be right, since each element acts like a building block, so that when it’s all assembled, it has the best chance of becoming more than the sum of its parts.

Everywhere we sniffed and licked, we were greeted with slick cooking. Take the most basic dish we were served for example, the triple cooked chips, and the in-house whipped béarnaise. Dipping the crusty chips into the scintillating béarnaise was life threateningly addictive. This is a kitchen that respect the art of the simple side dish and by extension, is also kitchen that’s understands the true meaning of good food.

They were some of the best chips I’ve ever had. Better than the overhyped stuff at Hawksmoor or even at Dinner (and Hind’s Head) , perhaps in part because one would not expect triple cooked chips to be this good in such a restaurant.

That was only the start of the good news. The crab ravioli was pasta barely containing a burst of shellfish, the sea, salt and sand; the honeycomb ice cream with the chocolate torte was just plain sinful. Generally speaking, food was rich and large portioned, Brit with a French accent, contemporary yet rooted in tradition. For £25, three courses lasted until supper, and the feeling of being utterly well-fed was satisfying. Afterall, that’s what you want to take away from any meal.

In the end, my very generous diners helped me pay for my birthday meal, £164.75 plus coffee and a carafe of Syrah.

If you’re still hanging on to the last sentence to describe how overly emotive the last meal made you feel, forget it. Drop your keyboard, stop looking on twitter, pick up the phone and jump on the 328 to Worlds End. I will maintain what I wrote in the last review, that this restaurant deserves an award, it should be on a shortlist, or perhaps even a Michelin star, and if nobody will hand it a gong, then at the very least, for me, (assuming no new amazing restaurants open from now till year end) Medlar is my pick for the best new restaurant of 2011.

Now go forth and spread the hype.

Starters

Thinly sliced rump of veal withrocket, fondant potatoes, parmesan, aioli and roasting juices.

Crab raviolo with samphire, brown shrimp, fondue of leeks and bisque sauce.

Mains.

Under blade fillet with persillade snails, salad, triple cooked chips and béarnaise.

Gnocchi with swiss chard, taleggio, girolles and confit cherry tomatoes.

Lamb rack and confit shoulder with balsamic peppers, sweetbreads and niçoise jus.

Assiette of rabbit with pomme anna, carrot pureé, red onion marmalade and lovage

Dessert.

Chocolate and almond torte with honeycomb ice cream and caramel sauce.

Cherry and frangipane croustade with griottines and milk ice cream.

Buttermilk pannacotta with English strawberries, pistachios and financier.

Macaroon with English raspberries, birthday candle.

The Deets.

Medlar Restaurant
British £25 for lunch at £38 for dinner.
438 Kings Road SW10 0LJ
Tel : 020 7349 1900
Tube : Sloane Square

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Remarkable. The standard of cooking is dastardly high, the artistry kept well in check, the flavours were – in my opinion – calibrated to run riot on your palate, that it made for a breathtaking dining experience. Service took an equally disciplined yet playful approach as the cooking, and so too was the decor; lime green and quite so basic, but refreshing and pressure-free. The only question I kept asking myself throughout the meal was “What’s the catch?”. Why is it so damn affordable.

As I understand it, this modern restaurant offers their three course ala carte menu at a princely sum of £25 during lunch, and the same menu for £38 during dinner. Not that I’m complaining of course, but after a string of new openings (NOPI and Pollen St Social and even St John Hotel) that seem to indicate the return of the swinging binge-times, Medlar’s prices come as a welcomed surprise.

You and I should pay attention to Medlar partly because of the pedigree behind the team. In the hotseat is one Joe Mercer Nairne, previous sous-chef at Chez Bruce and before that, The Savoy Grill. Managing front of house affairs, is the very charming David O’Connor whose CV involved running the teams at The Ledbury, The Square and also Chez Bruce (all of which are Nigel Platts-Martin restaurants) , where he and Joe first forged their friendship, and eventually hatched their plans for gastro-domination with Medlar. Presumably of course.

The ambiance is that of the perfect neighbourhood restaurant. Considering the apparently high average disposable income, it is ironic that King’s Road lacks credible places to dine, so Medlar is actually very good news for this part of town. What do we have here? Sushinho? Confused and tiresome Brazilian-Japanese fusion. Bluebird and it’s ever expanding premises? More style than substance. Made in Italy? Massive pizzas, but a brand of restaurants nearing its twilight, imho. I would be surprised if the King’s Road branch of Byron is not raking in the millions. Lest I forget, there is the Cadogan Arms. That’s semi-decent.

But not as decent as this. Check this out: New season’s asparagus with soft polenta, poached pheasant’s egg, St Georges and Mrs Kirkham’s ; Chilled courgette, chervil and oyster soup with preserved lemon and flowers ; Halibut with petits pois a la Francaise, lardo, radishes, baby gem and jersey royals ; Under blade fillet with persillade snails, salad, triple cooked chips and béarnaise. Starters and mains which could easily slip into a Michelin starred menu for fifty quid; but here, they are part of a £25 lunch menu. £38 when the sun goes down. I drank a glass of (£9) American pinot, La Crema, Sonoma Coast, USA, 2008. So jammy sweet that they as well have supplied my fat burgundy glass with a straw. Silkenly genial.

Duck egg tart with red wine sauce, turnip purée, lardons, young sorrel and sautéed duck heart

Wow. Layers upon layers of flavour. Runny duck egg yolk, a thin (and buttery) filo pastry, spinach (i think), make up the tart. There was strength and maturity in flavour, it was redolent of a well sourced Camembert or perhaps even an Epoisses. The rich red wine sauce only served to amplify the wonderful complexity of the tart. Rich flavour nicely complimented the rubbery texture of the duck hearts and mushrooms. Forest foraged brawn, on a plate. Mmm.

I was told that this was their most popular starter, and with good reason. It’s a real winner, and probably on its way to becoming a future signature dish. I showed my appreciation by mopping up the last of the sauce, with the excellent in house foccacia.

Roast cod with artichokes barigoule, borlotti beans, mussels and rouille… and extra triple cooked chips.

Rejoice, rejoice. What perfectly cooked fish. The crust was coarse and crispy, but underneath, the insides were so silkenly flaky, that tearing the flakes of flesh from the loin, was as slippery smooth as changing gears in a Ferrari. A presumptuous reference, of course. Getting this sort of consistency with the fish – just slightly undercooked centre – is extremely difficult. That sort of masterstroke cooking is exactly why you pay money to eat out.

The broth of summer vegetables was inherently sweet, and the chef had managed to eek out all the wonderful stocky warmth from the ingredients, the juice gave the fish a wonderful coat of moistness that is on par with many of the capital’s most established restaurants, Zafferano included, since I had a fish dish there recently.

The triple cooked chips were good, crusty and powdery, but probably just a little below the superiority of Blumenthal’s effort. Although the killer bearnaise was as described. Vinegary egged whipped, fresh!

My only criticism with this dish was that it had too many slices of carrots, and not enough artichokes.

Nonetheless, this is graceful cooking. Triumphant, exultant and supremely confident and admirable stuff. Most of all, it was a right joy lapping it up. Very near perfection (whatever that may be) , and in my opinion, this is at least a one star dish.

Elderflower sorbet with redcurrants and freshly baked madeleines.

Gooey, syrupy and sticky, I was slightly puzzled about the pairing of the zesty sorbet and the doughy Madelines, but individually they were superb. The madeleines took their time to come out from the kitchen, but it was worth it. Warm, fluffy, dense, like the smell of freshly baked pop-corn. I thought St John madeleines were perfect, but these came very close to dislodging that line of thought.

I paid £38.25 for the solo lunch, food, wine and service included.

What remarkable quality of food, what an admirably tireless smile from the waiters and what genial soulfulness from the ambiance. It’s a restaurant that one could easily fall in love with, and one which I desperately wished was closer to me, or at least further up the road and away from World’s End.

It is the perfect neighbourhood restaurant, period. This is King’s Road’s finest hour in gastronomy, and I do not believe there are no finer points in this price bracket.

The talent behind the restaurant may have been honed in the rigorous tradition of star chasing ways, but I believe that David and Joe have chosen to break away from the tiresome ponce of tradition and have created what is – in my opinion – a modern restaurant designed for diners who simply love gastronomy for the act of eating great cooking, and not for the glamour of eating out. This is not a temple to worship the skill of a chef, it is a temple to celebrate one’s love for food.

On reflection, there is one other restaurant which is similar to Medlar, and that’s Bryn William’s Odettes in Primrose Hill. The philosophy is similar, congenial atmosphere, eye popping technical points in cooking, modern yet hearty recipes and a front of house who are there to charm your boots off, as they fill them with the glorious food.

There are few restaurants that feature such clarity in its cooking, and I think I’ve mentioned the C words enough times through this post. If Medlar doesn’t get some kind of New Restaurant Award, or a mention on a National critic’s end of year list, I would be quite shocked. I am aware that this post is based on only three dishes, so you’ll have to wait for the subsequent visits if you still want to know if I think it is a serious contender. I will follow up with more thoughts in the coming weeks. But while I do that, I highly recommend you make Medlar a top priority for your next stop in your own list of must visit restaurants.

The Gist of It

Medlar Restaurant
British £25 for lunch at £38 for dinner.
438 Kings Road SW10 0LJ
Tel : 020 7349 1900
Tube : Sloane Square

Elsewhere : Metro ; Andy Hayler ; Felix Hirsch ; Fay Maschler , Guy Dimond

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UPDATE: Well now, this is news to me. 101 Pimlico Road is closing on the 28th of May, man that’s a loss to the trade, but here’s hoping Keith G’s next project will be more sustainable.

The trick in choosing your next greatest meal is to find a restaurant which borrows its name from its address. For instance, 32 Great Queen Street at 32 Great Queen Street is brilliant, and by that estimation, so is 101 Pimlico Road. I’ve heard nice things about 101, though it’s one of those restaurants which I keep pushing down my list, but I am glad I finally made some time for this maiden visit.

The restaurant decor is both woefully boring, and a successful exercise of restraint elegance. I like the blue theme, but the long and narrow room is a bit of a mind bender. Leading the hob is young Keith Goddard, and as I understand it (from Dino), Keith’s alma mater is The French Culinary Institute in NYC and formerly apprenticed with O’Sheas, Peyton’s restaurant at the Wallace Collection (which is a brilliant private collection of art) and with Mr Aikens.

The theme of his restaurant is English, with a French accent, sashaying on to your plates, to the smokey tunes of Nina Simone grooving over the PA. Oh, so this is what Spring looks like in Belgravia.

The ala carte is … pricy, but is ambitiously well written, such as Wild Garlic Risotto, Trompettes De La Mort, Stichelton Beignets or Anjou Pigeon, Roast Breast, Confit leg, Almond And Saffron Couscous Millefeuille, Orange Purée, Chorizo; the mouthful descriptions seem to indicate either very elaborate (and large) plates of food, or something bewilderingly complex. The set lunch, is the complete opposite, lighter weight, more offal and for a meagre £22 (for 3 courses).

Service is bourgeois, relaxed with equal dollops of appreciated humility and a good dollop of French charm.

What is in the oil with the bread. It’s so familiar, it’s like … sunflower?

Anyway, food time, you need to see this folks. So as per usual, the better half springs for the set luncher, and I observe my table manners and order what I want.

(Apologies for the shorthand descriptions, I was too busy eating to take down the full details.)

Set Lunch : Monkfish Liver with cous cous.

Monkfish liver is a first for me. The first thing that came to mind after the first forkful was … tofu. The texture of tofu, with a faint whiff of fish roe and the stink of something livery. Perhaps it was the sauce it was done in, it tasted much like unagi basted with teriyaki sauce. The portions were massive, a little challenging, since the taste of liver stays with you after the chewing had long ended. Pleasantly surprised though.

Ala Carte: Chantenay Carrots, Fresh Truffle, Shaved Baby Turnip, Truffle Cream, Crispy Quail’s Egg £12.5

Ah a forest made of carrots with truffle shavings for shrubs. This was bloody fantastic. When I closed my eyes, I was certain I was frolicking under the spring sunshine, digging my hands into the soil in search of root vegetables, and stuffing it in my mouth. Mmmm. smell the flowers, the crunch, the freshness, the truffles.

The dish was beautifully arranged, and the elements came together very well. Firstly, the truffle cream, with a hint of garlic, was guilefully whippy; Who knew baby carrots complimented truffle so well? To top it off, it was as if there was a mini easter egg challenge, in discovering a tiny soft boiled quail egg, with a crumbed skin and a runny centre.

Fantastic. High marks for visual flair. High marks for turning the visual into something a little playful, but most of all, kudos to the effort in pairing all the flavours. And, it’s meat free! Mad skills going on here.

Set Lunch: Swordfish with young greens.

Lemon, salt, grilled swordfish fillets. Edible Simple. Layered genius. Boom.

Ala Carte: Onglet with polenta, £24 and truffle chips, £4.50.

It pains to say that my memory fails me as to the source of beef, as well as the full description of ingredients to this dish. Tomato and mushrooms were involved I’m sure. It’s English, I’m sure of it..but which Estate..which Estate…argh. Dedham Vale perhaps?

Rare. The only way to go with hanger steaks. Trust me.

Seeped into the bone flavours… pow! Tomato pureed, ‘shrromed umami depth charges. Normally I would advise against recipes that hide the natural flavour of beef, as I have usually found that steak tastes best naked straight off the coals. But then again, this is a French restaurant (with an English accent), and in French restaurants, you can trust a dressed up steak.

Hearty, brilliantly homely, warm, perhaps a little too heavy for Spring, but that fried polenta cake with ginger (I hazard) was ‘wow’ personified. The beef was so surprisingly soft to cut that it may as well have fell off a bone, and caught on my plate, with the polenta cushioning its fall.

Terribly beautiful cooking going on here, unimaginably easy to eat this kind of long food, I wish my stomach and appetite was bigger. I mean, just look at those slices of red gold – yup, onglets are the thinking man’s steak, the glutton’s choice, no longer belonging to just the butcher and the French Bistro. And it’s cheaper than the premium cuts too.

Prunes & Armagnac Ice Cream £7.00

£3.50 per scoop, you say? I can only speculate that the ice cream was made in their kitchens. It was fab work, honeyed, syrup, datey, boozy and decadent. Cold fury, when you go to 101, make sure you try this. What is it with restaurant ice creams, invariably, when they are made in house, they taste better than the premium gelato stuff. Is it because they make them in smaller batches that make them creamier and fuller in taste? Case in point, the strawberry ice cream at 32 GQS is unmatched. Or perhaps it’s just psychological?

The bill including wine and coffee and sparkling water (shoot me) was £102.38.

Listen, 101 Pimlico is undeservedly underrated, abit of a sleeper gem of a restaurant and I am surprised it isn’t more popular that it ought to be. The food is fabulously well cooked. Keith Goddard (and team by extension) is clearly a man (and his team of chefs), you want cooking for you. The decor, well, if I may say, is a little dry. But service is absolutely spot on.

If I may make a comparison to a promising jazz singer I’ve been listening to lately, 101 is like Stacey Kent singing in French. It’s so damn cool, so slick, so precise, heartbreakingly soulful, so controlled and a really wonderful experience to be taking in. There is a bit of jive and off the cuff flair to 101. Lyrical waxing aside, 101 Pimlico Road has received mixed press, but I think it is unjust, at least with regards to the quality of the food. Price wise, the ala carte is a tad steep, but the set lunch is exceptional value. If you’re on the fence, I suggest going for lunch first, and then a full on dinner. All in all, I like it, and I think you should definitely give this restaurant a go.

Especially as you will soon be in the vicinity for the Chelsea Flower Show that’s coming up in your calendar.

The Gist of It

101 Pimlico Road
Anglais, £60pp or more.
101 Pimlico Road SW1H 8PH
Tel : 020 7730 0202
Tube: Sloane Square

Crossing the Channel : The Epicurean ; Intoxicatingly well prosed ; a fork full of spaghetti ; Zoe Williams ; Matt Norman

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You can almost expect Audrey Tautou to waltz through the front door of this cosy restaurant; hang her coat, and whip her beret onto the coat rack. With Piaf marching on in the background, your eyes follow her every move, as she sits herself down on the round corner table for two (except she’s by herself), briefly re-arrange the silverware, and as she settles to her comfort spot; she senses your longing gaze and looks up. At which point, you change focus and start making eyes with the French waitress, who is in the process of handing the menu to you. You hesitate to say merci, because you feel insecure with the language, but know that it might make the difference between a successful or failed connection. Anti-climatically, you end with a simple thank you.

Ah the romance.

Tucked away in the nether regions of Knightsbridge, an alley way connecting either side of Brompton road, is Knightsbridge Green, where a relatively new bistro, opened by a rather well-regarded chef, has made its home. The full name Chabrot Bistrot d’amis, for the friendly bistro, I believe quite aptly describes the cosy, comforting, Parisian ambiance. Particularly the Parisian bit. Thierry Laborde is the previously mentioned chef, who brings with him an all-star track record that includes time at heavyweight French restaurants namely Roux’s Le Gav and Ducasse’s Louis XV.

And the atmosphere is a winning one. The bistro is very tight inside, atmospheric, and the white and red linen is a thoughtful reminder of Parisian equivalents.

In true bistro spirit, the menu is easy reading, plenty of small plates, of hearty recipes, some to share, such as half a dozen fine de claires with chorizo, soup, bone marrow and smoked salmon.

Main dishes include such classics as entrecote with frites (Oshea’s beef from down the road), veal escalope and Chou Farci Chabrot or stuffed cabbage, veal, chestnuts, foie gras and ceps. Mark gestured at the last dish, what with his French connections, that it was a traditional dish in South West France, something you could even get pre-packaged at the local grocers.

However, Chabrot’s real attraction – as is any Bistro – are the competitively priced plat du jours. Costing £12.50 per dish, £15.50 with a glass of wine, and £17.50 with wine and café gourmand (more on this later).

We were a table of three, comprised of myself, the better half and Mark.

Pate de foie de Canard tiede, Gougères au comté, £8.50.

The comte-infused pastry bread was puffy and stellar. The accompanying duck liver pate roughly diced, capery and peppery. It was honest and down to earth.

Chipirons Frits et piment d’Espelette, £7.

Crispy baby squid and piment d’Espelette.

Beautiful recipe here, squid fried to a powdery crisp, well seasoned, and quite a large portion which was shared out amongst the table.

Os a Moelle, £6.50.

I really should have gone with the snails, but instead I chose roasted bone marrow, with lots of onions. Scrapping the buttery marrow and onions onto the sourdough, was delish, and I wish there was more on the plate.

Main courses.

Pates fraiches aux truffes du Perigord, £15.50.

I decided to go with this home-made pasta with Perigord truffles, as Mark had cited being a rather commonly found dish in restaurants in South West France, as well. I believe there were shavings of hard cheese, sharp and tangy, which at my best guess was a mimolette. Beyond the cheesiness, the pasta was al dente, with the shaved black truffles saturated the tastebuds with flavour.

Skirt steak with chips, £12.50.

The rest of the table went with the classic skirt steak, both medium rare. The chips were too fat and a little soggy, different from what we had expected, ie, skinny, crispy Parisian frites. For the money however, a great piece of meat, juicy with nicely charred flavours.

Café Gourmand, £8.

We ended with cafe gourmand, which allowed for a choice of brew (I chose a latte) and came with three sweet things to help wash down the caffeine. Our sweets included appreciable cannelés, a sinful chocolate mudcake and three dollops of ice cream in three different flavours (the rum & raisin was to die for).

This type of coffee + mini sweets combo is apparently all the rage in Paris bistros now, the concept of which is simply to allow for a nibble of something sweet, rather than a full whack of decadence, as the end of a three course meal. Usually something with chocolate, a canneles, perhaps a macaron or a creme brulee, but I suppose different bistros will probably put their own spin on it. An interesting idea, which you can read more about here , here and here. I for one, enjoyed the mini-sweets, especially the canneles.

On the topic of the rising popularity of bistros; my Parisian mates have always advised on restaurants similar in concept to Chabrot, the hunt for a nice meal, is down to how competitive (and imaginative by extension) the prix fixe menus are, rather than to collect experiences based on how many stars a restaurant has garnered. The idea being that the new wave of Parisian bistros are the result of high-flying chefs seeking to bring their top-end cooking to a more democratic and honest setting. Perhaps the Parisian palate, is more price sensitive, more demanding, more distrustful of the red guide, and tend to prefer a diffused eating environment than we do on this side of the channel. Hmm… I think a return trip to Paris is overdue.

The bill for three was £99.50, which included two glasses of Bordeaux (Le Grave). Hugely affordable, and I felt that the food was of a high standard and was largely well cooked. It fell within the expectations of a classic bistro. Although, if you inspect the menu, it might appear to be quite uninteresting (I refrain from the Café Rouge reference), but don’t be put off by this, because I think its strengths lie in their plat du jours. Perhaps one day, we might see red wine and poach eggs (a la La Fontaine Du Mars) on the daily menu?

For me, it was the atmosphere that had absolutely won me over. This tucked-away restaurant is just the sort of hidden gem to romance better halves, and to enjoy the company of close friends. It is as the name suggests – a friendly bistro.

The Gist of It

Chabrot Bistrot d’Amis
French, Bistro, …French. £25pp
9 Knightsbridge Green
London SW1 X7Ql
Tel : +44 (0)20 7225 2238
Tube: Knightsbridge

Jay Rayner ; Guy Dimond ; Fay Maschler ; Giles Coren (requires an active Times subscription) ; Hardens Brothers ; Yapp Brothers.

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Les Deux Salons is into week 3 of operation, as of this visit, and I am glad to say that the kinks from the soft launch, crucially to do with service & speed, have been thoroughly worked out of the system. But thank goodness, this resplendent brasserie is not run with military precision, rather with a conservative friendliness instead. It is early days yet, though impressions are that Les Duex Salons is a serious contender for the title of ultimo Soho Anglo-French brasserie.

We must start with decor, and boy is it breathtaking. The site is on William IV Street – which is near another Gallic superstar, Terroirs – once a Pitcher & Piano, painstakingly (at great expense I gather) converted into a thirties-style brasserie that harks back to Middle Europe Grand Cafe traditions, of a champagne brass, green leather booths and vintage train station-style lamps. 250 covers are spread over two floors. The decor immediately reminded me of another throw back design that is the sheer grandeur of St Pancras Grand (at St Pancras Station), and sure enough, the man who has dreamt up this luxury is doubly responsible for both. Martin Brudnizki, London based and Swedish born designer, also the main man behind many of Richard Caring’s luxury sites, including the recent redesigns of Ivy, Scotts, J Sheekey and Dean Street Townhouse. I really do feel a certain magic has been ignited with the design, the setting is half the excitement of visiting such restaurants. Just bootiful.

The other half, of course is food, and pedigree is assuringly found in heaps, since Les Deux Salons is the 3rd from the Demetre and Smith stables. You know I hold Demetre’s restaurants in high regard; Anthony has an affinity toward offal, and is a successful interpreter of ‘budget fine dining’ what with both Arbutus and Wild Honey turning in a michelin star, each. To this day, both restaurants are still modestly priced, both with a la carte as well as with prix-fixe options, offering a balance of muscular bistro-style dishes, with a touch of elegance. The Arbutus braised pork head remains one of my favourite dishes in town. Of course, such a high profile chef equates to a high profile opening, and I imagined that its soft launch had serviced a logjam of interested restaurant collectors, bloggers and of course food writers. I avoided it however, not by choice, rather by work commitments which had taken me out of the country during the opening week.

Studying the menu, there are shades of Arbutus/Wild Honey, it is unsurprising that some dishes have simply migrated to this venture, especially the choice of ingredients, namely the ox cheeks, bavette, razor clams, boneless chicken wings and rabbit. Although the pairing of ingredients appear to have been reworked superficially for this 3rd restaurant. For all intents and purposes, I feel that Les Deux is an evolution of the Demetre/Smith formula, which thus far is a winning one, even though his muscular cooking does tend to split opinion at times. I for one, am a fan.

The wine list is predominantly French this time round, however, their house red is a Spanish Tempranillo by Puerto de Santos, at a reasonable asking price of £14.50. We ordered a bottle. Mark, myself on a table of four, in the joyous company of the kinder halves for Saturday lunch.

LES ENTRÉES

Ravioli of rosé veal, fresh goats curd, cavolo nero £8.95

I kicked off proceedings with this pasta-free ravioli made from thin slices of veal, with a rather mild goats cheese and kale stuffing. Mmm. Hearty. Zealous zing in the jus, perhaps reduced from the undiscarded bones, and I surmise it had been garnished with orange peel, as the fibrous feel was certainly redolent of it.

This had Arbutus written all over it, the veal-ravioli is something of a signature accompaniment with the braised pigs head over there, albeit stuffed with something rather stronger than kale & cheese.

Autumn wild mushrooms and Clarence Court poached egg on toast, £8.95.

To my left, I thought Mark was the winner with this umami-rich mushrooms and egg on toast, which appears to be soaking in an equally umami-potent mushroom sauce. A swift ladle on to my side plate – yes fabulous stuff.

The women seemed equally at ease with their choices, an onion tart and a pumpkin soup (if memory serves) from the £15.50 set menu.

“JOSPER” CHARCOAL GRILL and LES PLATS

Andouillette de Troyes AAAAA, mustard sauce £14.50

“This is a dish not for the faint hearted.” said our affable waiter of a traditionally iconic pork chitterlings sausage. And here I’m going to be lazy and lift some content from this website which describes:

The traditional Troyes andouillette is made out from quality pork products – large intestines and stomachs – attentively selected. The original recipe dates back to the Middle Ages according to the Champagne legends.

The delightful – and distinctive! – taste of the andouillette results from cutting the chitterlings lenghtwise first, and seasoning these thin stripes with onions, herbs, salt and black pepper.

The next step is to wrap the mixture with pork bowels and slowly cook these typical French sausages in a court-bouillon stock for 5 hours.

Not for the faint hearted indeed. The sausages were regally presented in a solid copper saucepan – the vibrancy of the mustard sauce, eye catching, as were the folded intestines, now visible when sliced. Unsurprisingly, the dish reeks as it landed, the smell was near enough overwhelming… I can eat almost anything, but this dish eventually defeated me.

The first bite was exactly like a fart in the mouth – bold and resolute, a sobering reminder that I was eating swine insides. The texture was rubbery, but quickly dissolved, akin to squid, and actually quite pleasing. Kudos to the mustard sauce, a creamy, mild, onion and herb mixture that I could drink as if it were soup, and with the overpowering sausages, it ensured that I did drink it like soup. I ladled heaps of it, and drown the sausages in large gulps of red wine, and I must confess I could not finish it off. Though I was proud to have got through 3/4 of it. It was good considering the adventure it was, something to try if you are feeling particularly so, but I wouldn’t attempt it again. I can do offal, but this is in a completely different league altogether.

As an aside, the ‘AAAAA’ suffix doesnt refer to a grade per se, rather it is an acronym for Association Amicale des Amateurs d’Andouillette Authentique or The Friendly Association of Authentic Andouillette Lovers, which convenes twice a year, I imagine to agree standards for this beloved Gallic dish, BO would go unnoticed at the meeting, I’m sure.

Frpm the Set Menu – Mullet and mushrooms.

The missus’ fish was effective and reserved brilliance – completely reminiscent of Demetre’s style which had won him his first star at Arbutus.

Bavette of Scottish beef, shallot sauce. £15.95

Mark and I, being the beefheads we were, thought the bavette was rather bland, dry and lacking of the crispy charcoal taste, which we knew a Josper was capable of imparting. This was a dish I had eaten before at Arbutus, albeit a roastier and meatier version served with the excellent gratin dauphinois. At Les Deux, the gratin had morphed into a £3.50 side dish, while managing to be creamy, it wasn’t quite as cheesy and full-bodied as the Arbutus version which I love. I think they are still grappling to get the Josper up and running properly – it is a beast of a grill to tame, but I’m sure that once Smith’s men fine tune it, this bavette will have the chance to really shine. Great jus however.

LES DESSERTS, all £5.95 each.

We hugely enjoyed this segment of the meal, all the puddings were distinctly amazing. All were benchmark material. For our incessant photography – both Mark and I freely papping away – we were ‘rewarded’ with a rum baba on the house. A first for me, perhaps a sign of changing times, what with restaurants accepting cameras as part of life? Brownie points to staff for this move in any case, I felt comfortable and well taken care of, as opposed to being scowled and ridiculed. Our waiter liberally poured Havana Club 7 year rum over the yeast cake and we savoured what we thought was one of the best examples of this classic French pudding. It were the sickly sweet rum flavours soaking with the cake that got us swooning, complimented by frivolous slices of pineapple and Chantilly cream.

Classic Creme Brulee.

Great demerara crust – blowtorched to perfection which is to say it was not burnt. It tasted surprisingly close to candy floss..! The brulee itself was a cool, smooth and soft custard. I liked it for it was not overly sweet, it was restraint and lovingly folded – a classic indeed.

“Pain Perdu” with Cox apple.

“Like a French bread and butter pudding.” proclaimed the waiter, and perhaps a succinct description. Served warm with a raisin muffin-like flavour to it. It came with a creme anglais that was rich in vanilla, spoonfuls later, I wondered if I had died and gone to pudding heaven.

Floating islands with pink praline.

And finally, a replica of another French fancy, the excellent pink ile flottante which occasionally makes its round on the Arbutus/Wild Honey menu. A soft meringue that disappears like a whiff of mist the moment you eat it. Brill.

You must have pudding when you eventually visit Les Deux Salons, we tried five, and it was unanimously five out of five.

Our bill came to £150.86, working out to roughly £45 each, plus wine, coffee and service charge. A hugely enjoyable experience altogether, as I said, the venue is just great, it’s a looker, yet the staff’s high spirits ensured that proceedings were fluffy rather than stuffy. Most importantly, cooking was on the money, classic flavours that work. And classic seems to be the overriding theme – and I am guesstimating that Demeter wishes to be – catering to a wider audience who may not be au fait with offal, the flavours are definitely milder than his Michelin establishments. Save for the andouillette obviously. There is a danger that classicism might equate to being boring, but I think Les Deux strikes the right balance. Knowing Demetre’s track record, I think this menu will continue to evolve over time. It is early days after all, and the potential for something exciting is only too apparent. Richard Caring has serious competition now, especially for those of you, constantly hunting for a spot that is central, apt for business and can cater to celebrations, in small or large groups.

I’ve always thought of Arbutus as the bold version of Anthony’s vision, fully developed, unhindered and brawny. Wild Honey, its sequel, was always the softer alternative, the feminine companion for delicate palates. And if I am allowed one more hyperbole, then I think Les Deux Salons is the perfect child borne of the marriage of Demetre’s two restaurants – French allusions, with a decidedly London accent.

More photographs from the visit here…and apologies for the unsightly wordcount, but I was excited.

The Gist.

Les Deux Salons
French Bistro, £40pp
40 – 42 William IV Street, London WC2N 4DD
Tel: 020 7420 20500207 377 0155
Underground : Covent Garden

Nostalgia: Guy Dimond for Time Out London ; owjk ; Slow Food Kitchen ; Gourmet Traveller ; Hardens

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I’m dreaming. This is a radical fantasy, the food is beyond excellent, the filtered water is free, a rainbow assortment of bread flows (freely too) all night long, with the startling choice of salted and unsalted Normandy butter on the table.

All hail the new chieftain of Soho, the former steward of mighty Roussillon, and now captain of his own ship, the eponymous Gauthier of Soho, by Alexis. Surely, you’ve have all read the reviews, and re-read them in preparation for your eventual visit, while cooking has been praised with near unanimity, the restaurant setting seems to have split opinion. We’ll get to that eventually, but first, I commend you to try Alexis’ blog. The man has a good sense of humour to say the very least.

I never had the good fortune of eating at a Gauthier-run Roussillon which famously featured the most edible vegetarian taster menus in town (now headed by 24 year old, Blanc trained Dan Gill, in Pimlico) , but I have read so much of the Avignon-born chef. En route to Michelin stardom (with Roussillon in 2000), he acquired valuable training from the Ducasse restaurant, Louis XV in Monte Carlo, where in my best guessimation, is the inspiration for his signature dessert, also Louis XV. Gauthier Soho as far as I can tell, is the restaurant dearest to him, aside from the Head Chef Gerard Virolle; We met the rest of this venture’s key partners, Roberto Della Pietra (Head sommelier) and Damian Sanchez (Restaurant Manager) – both on hand to ensure we were treated like Kings.

Great service is an understatement, as Mark and I thought the genial staff took care of their guests as if we had been invited into their homes, as opposed to a meal at a restaurant. A convivial affair. I wonder if this is to do with its setting, located in a four storey Georgian townhouse with the ground and first floor used for the restaurant, and the kitchen kitted out in the basement. A little cramped, oddly shaped but cosy, appreciated especially on a winter-like Thursday night. Candle-light was supplemented by dimmed spotlights if memory serves. Very romantic, wasn’t it Mark?

A la carte is a choice of 3, 4, 5 (£35/£45/£55) dishes or a full 7 course degustation plus cheese and coffee and petit fours for a not unreasonable sum of £68.

Amuse Bouche.

I’ll start with a mention of the excellent bread selection, and Alexis should be granted an award of some kind for them. Walnut rolls, chopped chorizo, black olives, tomato, a knotty one with herbs (I think) and doughy baguettes. The amuse was halibut with ratatouille, zesty and raw, like cucumber, with but a slither of fish, a little on the overconked side. The other bite sized freebies include a cheese puff (with Gruyere, I think) and a powdery cheese cracker, deceptively like a Ritz bits sandwich.

PREMIER PLAT

Crayfish veloute, blond chicken liver, truffle & chervil.

I made a last gasp decision to skip the soup starter and replace it with something a little chunkier, but Mark thoroughly enjoyed the light parfait and chopped truffle. I had a spoonful and was treated to the texture and flavour of a classic fish soup, I gather, with the shell of the crustacean dissolved into it.

DEUXIÈME PLAT.

I wanted to have two dishes from this section from the menu but didn’t know if it was possible. Not entirely sure how militant Alexis is, about how his guests intepret the menu. Considering it had been minutes after the ordered went through, I pulled Damian back to ask if it was ok to change. To which he replied emphatically “Of course.”. Ahh I see, this is one of those posh restaurants which has the customer’s best interest at heart. Gold star.

Calves sweetbread, truffle & light breadcrumb, celery & bone marrow.

One must have marrow when given the choice. The description was intriguing, and when it arrived, it confirmed what I thought. The arrangement was beautiful, yet efficient. The chef has kept the dish simple, as you can probably tell from the picture, all the ingredients are in plain sight. Note the chopped truffles. It meant the dish smelled immensely swell. The texture, oh my, this was a star dish. A wet crispy quality, mushy yet sponge-like, whatever the sticky jus was, it was full flavoured, without being overly sharp, it was neatly balanced. The truffle enveloped the palate, the bone marrow, looked delicately scooped out, was still pink in appearance, oozed yet more complimenting flavour and added its own marbled feel to the overall texture – a powerplay of umami. Even though it was relatively small, I took my time with it, and savoured every mouthful. Such an amazing dish. This one can win proposals, both in business and of a personal nature, I gather.

Autumn truffle risotto, jus de roti and brown butter.

The other dish from the 2nd plat section, I had to try is of course, a signature of Alexis Gauthier. Now, I’m no truffle expert (that would be Laissez Fare), though we are just entering the season for black ruffles, judging from the hazelnut appearance. As the dishes of risotto begin their march upstairs, even with a lid over it, the smell quickly filled the room with its aroma – what potent stuff. I suppose, we began ‘eating’ the dish before we even saw it. When it came, it was decidedly truffle heaven. The manner of presentation hinted at joy and frivolity, and I had this image of the chef generously shaving large slices of the prized ingredient onto the dish, probably laughing out loud as he did it, intoxicated with working with such a sinful ingredient. A true celebration!

I did it justice. Nose first, eyes firmly shut and I took it all in, the nose eats first. It smelled so good…. I could do this all night until I expired.

As for the risotto, it tasted even better. Nutty and swirly, dare I say, the texture was more in common with an indulgent rice pudding than a famous risotto. Lump upon lump of malleable, and al dente gold, just the slightest chew of grain and a fully formed flavour of parmesan. If the sweetbread opened negotiations, this would appear to be the closer.

TROISIÈME PLAT.

Soft & crispy filet of Dover Sole, thin celeraic ravoili, jerex vinegar reduction, beef-orange jus.

Well now, after those two dishes, I’m not sure if the run can be sustained, and sure enough, I felt a little underwhelmed by the fish. I felt the fish was cooked just about right, on the edge of being overdone. Otherwise, it was wet and juicy, the beef-orange jus reminded me of milk chocolate for some reason, and the razor thin celeraic ravioli seemed more form than function. Still, I appreciated the simplicity of this course, easy to eat, and hard to fault technically.

I think it is safe to say that the kitchen is run by wizards who are masters of their craft. They sure can cook.

Scallops and caramalised red onions, braised and crunchy rainbow chard, sauce choron-brown butter.

More of the same story with Mark’s dish really, but what piqued my interest was the sauce choron, a variant of the bearnaise, usually with added tomato puree, and here it has allegedly been whipped with brown butter. I had a whiff and indeed it was nicely done – as an aside, I’ve started seeing sauce choron being offered in London restaurants (the other is 28-50) , which is a nice step-up from a béarnaise, certainly for steak restaurants, in my opinion. What else should I say? Perfectly cooked scallops with a translucent, well seasoned center, but you already know that.

CINQUIÈME PLAT

Golden Louis XV, dark chocolate & pralin

Finally, we culminate with the showpiece dessert. Note the gold leaf. Gerard once trained as a pastry chef at Louise XV, for reference. Of course, I don’t want to dismiss this as a glorified kit-kat, but for the sake of description, that’s what the pralin base reminded me of. So we’ll start there.

In breaching the famed Duccasse pudding, we witness all the layers, from bottom up, the base, the distinct hazelnut flavour, the rich chocolate mousse, and the melting dark chocolate seemingly poured over it, and forming this continuous reflective shield of an exterior. Not forgetting the gold leaf of course. It lives up to its reputation as globally revered dessert, short of actually having it at Monte Carlo, I felt fortunate to have tried Alexis and Gerard’s recreation. Chocolate (and hazelnut) lovers rejoice.

The ambiance.

I thought I would leave this to last. Critics have seemingly taken issue with the closed-door and the buzzerred entrance, but I think it’s overplayed. I pressed the buzzer, and was greeted by Damian, the manager, like I was coming over to his home – his warmth made it fun. The hushed interior design has caused ruckus too. Normally I would be inclined to agree, but as I visited for a candle-lit dinner in fall as opposed to a meal in summer, I thought this secluded ambiance was apt.

The corner table wasn’t just cosy, it felt romantic enough, that both Mark and I felt like it would be appropriate to take the missus for the next visit. I’m never really one for fully exposed, fully-lit square rooms anyway, as I dislike waiters hovering over my shoulder, watching my every chew. I liked that I couldn’t see the waiting staff. They remained vigilant and stayed around the corner, just out of sight, topping up water periodically and I surmise that after six months open, staff have probably worked out how to manage the awkward arrangement. As I said, I really enjoyed our corner table by the wall, and I do think this sort of ambiance is better suited to dinner than for lunch, winter rather than summer, which from the PR shots, I imagine would feel very business-like, if you did the latter. So don’t, go on a cool night instead.

We drank two glasses of Alsatian Pinot noir (£8.50) from Wunsch & Mann, which tasted very much like a Spätburgunder – more cream than fruit and peat, vibrant and highly drinkable. The final bill was £120.38, which works out to £60 for four courses.

Considering the sheer quality of food on show, I felt this meal was very good value, and (well relatively anyway) charitably priced. Alexis and Gerard trained with the best, afterall, Alain Ducasse does hold 19 macarons. It’s only a matter of time before the bib starts pressing the buzzer, Gauthier Soho is a landmark addition to the dining scene, and I think many restaurant collecting types will be more than happy they have another haunt to call their own. Speaking of which, the restaurant was filled with tables of regulars, our neighbour took two friends and explained that he had followed Alexis from his Roussillon days, yes matey, the décor was that intimate, and I couldn’t help overhearing conversations, especially when he mentioned his love for another important London institution, the Ledbury. His name is Simon, if memory serves. As for me, I’m already plotting a return visit with the better half, the truffle risotto looms in my memory and I suspect this is not the last time I will write about Gauthier.

What stunning cooking and handsome service. Bravo, Alexis.

The Gist.

Gauthier Soho
French, £80pp
21 Romilly Street W1D 5AF
Tel: 020 7494 3111
Underground : Leicester Square

Courted: Marina Metro ; Tracy for Independent ; Harden Brothers ; Allan Jenkins for Observer ; LF ; Andy Hayler ; A girl has to eat ; Pigs Pigs Corner ; Sabrina’s Passions

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Daniel Boulud. Three Michelin Stars. Twelve restaurants. French. Celebrated. Now in London. We were all witnesses when the internet welcomed the meritable chef’s European debut with open arms. Time for us to consider Bar Boulud.

No doubt you are currently sick to the teeth with the media saturation that has followed Bar Boulud’s opening in Knightsbridge. So far, it has amassed nearly as many reviews (scroll to the end to see a list) for each of the days it has been open. We are so full of hot air, no? I wonder if Chef Daniel is the sort of guy who collects clippings of what people say. Perhaps not. Given his apparent popularity Stateside, Daniel Boulud is a superstar, or so I’ve read. With this being his first British and European venture (and with me being the last man to never have visited New York, or American for that matter) his name isn’t one that is impressionable to me at all, save for his picture perfect smiles seen from his PR headshots and his video interviews. He seems a mirthful character, somebody I could have a drink with.

Initially, I was going to spare you the agony of having to read about Daniel’s history all over again, but I’d already written it, I’ll be brief. Reputation is partly the reason so many food lovers have been seduced. Critics and Bloggers included. Born in Lyon, Boulud trained under the old masters of another time such as Roger Vergé amd Michel Guérard. Since, he had spent the last 25 years crafting his now vast restaurant empire across America, though mostly in New York where it is also home to his three-michelin-starred fortress simply called Daniel. His range of derivative restaurants that bear his name are all well-regarded in their own right.

I called it first. 2010 is going to be the Year of the Bistro. The stripped-down splendour, fine dining with the illusion of a more rustic setting, is a little like the world adjusting to this ‘age of austerity’, bombastic splurging replaced with sensible splurging, and everybody loves that idea right now. Remember tapas bars? So 2008. Bar Boulud is riding the fad train at the moment, hitting London squarely between the eyes, and at just the right time. A fanciful fusion of the urgent bustle of New York with the sensibilities of Burgundian and Lyonnais traditions. Speciality sausages, a Gilles Verot charcutier operated in-house and his famed gourmet burgers too.

I had opted for Friday lunch with Marcus yet again (on this occasion, he’s in a patriotic England shirt, exposing his ripping sixteen inch hammers and loafers appropriate for the weather) arriving to a briskly chatty darkly space. It does kind of look like a cellar in here, low ceilings, the rose coloured wood and overall Adam Tihany design make it so eighties. Could it be the perfect venue for a reception to launch Wall Street 2 in the UK? We should seek the wisdom of Gordon Gekko.

Boudin blanc, truffled white sausage and mashed potato £11

I chose to start with one of Daniel’s signature takes on a classic Lyon recipe. The Boudin Blanc, a white sausage recipe which uses pork, eggs and milk…. and I’d imagine no breadcrumbs for tradition. Smell the truffles as the dish arrives, gently browned and fabulously cloud-like in texture. Regal truffle flavours balanced well against the fragrant pork meat, as if the Chef had picked cotton balls, soaked in a meaty jus. I had assumed mushrooms and chopped black truffle was used in the smooth mash, finished with sautéed onions, caramelised pear (or apple) and citrusy salad. Warming and wholesome. Elegant stuff.

Saffron Bouillabaisse, £7.

I couldn’t resist indulging in a fish soup, after all, the all-day dining nature of BB seemingly a direct competitor to the Grand-cafe inspired Wolseley, where they had poached their general manager Stephen Macintosh from. This version of an ancient recipe seemed authentic enough, what with its use of saffron as well as its glowing orange colour. Distincly different to the Anglo-style fish soups that are much more raw, more pungent and fishy.

A quote from a protracted article on Bouillabaisse from CliffordAWright for you to consider:

The most distinguishing characteristic of a bouillabaisse is not the fish, because all fish stews and soups have fish, but the unique flavoring derived from saffron, fennel seeds, and orange zest. A famous Provençal food writer, Jean-Noël Escudier, called bouillabaisse the “magical synthesis.” Another famous French epicure, Curnonsky, called it soupe d’or, soup of gold. The origin of the word bouillabaisse has been attributed to the abbess of a Marseilles convent (a pun on bouille-abbesse, the abbess’ boil?) and, most credibly, to bouillon abaissé “to reduce by evaporation.”

I couldn’t confirm the orange zest, but the soup was beautifully mellow, redolent of a pumpkin soup (nearly). Greatly balanced flavours of the creamy versus the fishy. Leek, swede, juicy jumbo prawn, slices of razor clam, red mullet and rouille basted croutons. Stupendously hearty. I loved this.

And then time stood still for oh a good half hour, bearing in mind Bar Boulud’s obsession with kicking diners out when their two hour slot is up, the wait was torturous, especially since we were merely waiting for sandwiches.

Croque Madame £11

It was rubbish. Overpriced, dry, tepid, bechamel sauce missing, I don’t know why I ordered this, I suppose I had Paris on my mind. I tell you what, in hindsight, I rather regret not having swapped this out for a small charcuterie board (£14) which would have enabled me to sample the Gilles Verot terrines such as Provençal pulled rabbit carrot, courgette and herbs; Coarse country pate with foie gras, truffle juice and port; Shredded slow-braised beef cheek onion confit and pistachio. So when you eventually visit (and you will), do go for the charcuterie.

Finally and ceremoniously then: The Frenchie. £13.50 Grilled beef patty, confit pork belly rocket, tomato-onion compote, morbier cheese, peppered brioche bun and pommes frites.

Everybody has an opinion on what the perfect burger is meant to be, critics, blogs and chefs included. Daniel Boulud was one of the leading chefs to re-invent the American hamburger as an upmarket dish, as opposed to simply being fast food. Actually if our waiting times were anything to go by, a hamburger at BB is anything but fast. Some were disappointed that Daniel did not import his original gourmet burger “The DB Burger” from the Bistro Moderne branch in Manhattan that he introduced nearly eight years ago. Featuring chopped Sirloin Burger Filled with Red Wine Braised Short Ribs, Black Truffle, served on a Parmesan Bun with Pommes Frites or Pommes Soufflées (that’s lifted from his website). I wonder how the humble Germans who migrated to America (along with their Hamburg-style burgers) would feel about the evolution of their dish over the ages. What’s next in the quest for the ultimate burger I wonder – burger mousse?

As an aside, I’ve actually been to Hamburg to try the ‘original’ hamburger, the frikadelle (some with say a cousin rather than direct predecessor to the American hamburger), schnitzels sandwiches, as as well as Labskaus, and so it appears there is life outside of Anglicised American burgers…

On to the pseudo reviewing then. Using Marcus as my handmodel, this gives you an idea of the size of the burger, it will fit perfectly into your hand – the ability to be able to cup a burger in your hand comfortably is an important consideration… so the burger experts tell me, which I am far from.

Regretfully, this did not meet either Mark’s or my own expectations. Personally, I’m a simpleton when it comes to burgers, so long as it is beefy, oily and juicy, has a sharp cheese to accompany, bit of mayonnaise, everything holds together, I’m a happy camper. KISS no? I prefer Byrons for exactly this reason, and I also think Byron patties tend to come infused with this wonderful charcoal, intensely bovine, fatty, starchy flavour that is just – for want of a better term – perfect. Explains why they are popping up all over London.

The BB version had a great bun in the slightly sweet brioche. Frites were excellent, a fluffy centre, crispy exterior, but that’s about it. The patty itself lacked flavour, and if we were comparing steaks, it was as if it were too lean, a fillet as opposed to a ribeye. Bland and dull was the assessment. Cooked to a perfect medium rare, mildly juicy, but for £13.50 ? Bring back the Big D.

The Byron Big D that is, although, we swiftly popped into O’Sheas which was a ten minute walk from BB after our meal to check out the patties there, that Gastro1 – the hugely respected restaurant collector – tells me is indeed the Big D patty supplied to Byron earlier this year.

Actually speaking of the burger craze gripping the capital , I wonder if now is the perfect time to relaunch Burger King’s 2008 £95 ‘Bling Burger’ (still stands as the World’s most expensive in the Guinness record books) that features Wagyu beef, with white truffles, onion tempura prepared in Cristal champagne and Italy’s finest Pata Negra prosciutto. Hey I remember popping over to my local BK at Gloucester Road and asked for a flyer (which I have misplaced) and it required a 24 hour notice to prepare it. I don’t remember any burger fanatics writing about it though.

Hawkmoor? Byron? Goodman? Anybody want to bring this back? You know there is a market for it, you’ve read the reviews.

In the end, I was nearly fuming when the surly waiter requested the table back five minutes before our allocated two hours were up. Ironically, he came just as another waiter handed us the dessert menu. I had only started browsing as he told me “Time is up.”. Keeping in mind, we waited half an hour after the starters to get our main course as well. Sadly then, I decided not to give any more money away, what sorrid service indeed.

I agree with Marina. I’d much rather be wishing for takeaway as the room was simply too chaotic as it got busy. But it’s not all bad, there is a lounge-bar area (separated from the dining room and away from the kitchen and closer to the windows) which is quite a refreshing space. BB is ideal for power lunches, maybe even a small gathering, basically something a little less formal. I’d ask for a double slot for four hours for a grazing lunch, if possible. It might not be the ideal dinner venue, but maybe it was never meant to be, being a sort of half-way house of fine fast food dining. Food-wise there is alot to love, I would come here again, the next time it will have to be a charcuterie board, more sausages and more soup. Until Daniel brings over the genuine article, the truffle-stuffed sirloin “The DB Burger”, we will never really know what Boulud’s best burgers are really like.

Finally I think there must be some sort of case study to be drawn from the amount of media (both old and new) around BB’s opening. That’s not including twitter chatter, forums, comments, the general reach of social media. I can see the positives. This new world of food media (or not-so-secret policing as some call it) has always been the future of restaurant critiquing. At least from the point of view of the reader. In this regard, the synchronized nature of a wider network, a loosely affiliated ‘restaurant-going club’ encompassing critics and bloggers who routinely prepare targeted, well-informed, entertaining and most of all critical commentary about the latest restaurants can only be a plus for the reader such as yourself. A treasure trove of information available to you to make an informed decision when choosing to eat out. With food being subjective as it is, all opinion, positive and negative, count. A democratic view. So it appears, critics and bloggers can co-exist afterall.

The Gist of It

Bar Boulud
French, £45pp
66 Knightsbridge SW1X 7
Tel:020 7201 3899
Tube: Knightsbridge

And these are just the ones I know about..
Jay Rayner ; Greedy Diva ; Gastro1 ; Fay Maschler ; Hot-Dinners ; Guy Dimond ; Tehbus ; The Grumbling Gourmet ; TwelvePointFivePercent ; Chris Pople ; Gourmet Traveller ; The Independent ; Matt Norman ; AA Gill ; No Expert ; Essex Eating ; The Hardens ; Food and Drink in London ; The Travel Editor ; Will Eat For Money ; City AM ; Dos Hermanos ; Nick Harman ; View London ; Parla Food ; GlazeonFood ; Urban Junkies ; A Luxury Travel Blog ; Andy Hayler ; Fiona Beckett ; Richard Vines ; Good for Lunch ; DeplacementPros …. and of course the elusive Marina.

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