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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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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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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The scene is set against the neighbourly backdrop of Chiswick. Tranquillity seemingly dominating this part of West London, a lazy suburbia far removed from the frenzied cry of the urban jungle. Time for lunch me thinks.

It appears that not all Michelin starred restaurants are blood sucking monsters. I was here to meet with Euwen – also a regular grub lovin’ Londoner – who was in the midst of his summer leave and we were giggling like school girls as we saw the prices on the menu – £23.50 for three courses. No this wasn’t the set menu, it didn’t seem like they had one, so this appears to be the real deal. As much as I love splurging my life savings on Michelin conquests, I was also relieved to see such modest valuations.

As I tilted my head upward to survey the décor, the charming dining room – small, but an assured space – I noticed how the clientele were a dapper lot. Fitting with the well spoken neighbourhood I guess. I entered the restaurant shamelessly rocking a red Nike tee (with dri-fit technology) and sporting bright red Nike trainers, I felt like a lost child and the Maitre de gave me a look which suggested it too.

Back to the menu then, six items were listed for each of the courses. The menu read like the usual upmarket euro fare with dishes that toured the culinary destinations Italy, France and Spain. Starters included Gazpacho Andaluz, Bresaola and Foie Gras; classic stuff it seemed. Ok let’s get the ball rolling then with Euwen’s selection of Salad of endive and poached pear with Roquefort, walnuts and sweet mustard dressing.

The summery stink of cheese against the sweet juices of the pear; this contrast was the crux of the dish. We were both a little surprised at the size of this salad, and we ended up sharing this starter. Fresh, oily and teeming with an interplay of flavours and textures, it was a salad as well-dressed as the restaurant.

There was only one thing I wanted to try for starters: Ravioli of Cornish crab and scallop with leeks and a shellfish emulsion.

The magnificent sounding dish matched its exquisite presentation, being that it was served as a single oversized ravioli with thick shellfish coloured sauce smothered all over it. Inside the pasta – al dente of course – we see the tightly packed strands of crab and scallop. The sauce was very fragrant, completely infused with seafood equally matching the rich ravioli. Rich, appetising and completely satisfactory.

I did not know what to expect at La Trompette, but at this point I was completely taken by the starters – the kitchen is churning out serious food. Main dishes were an equally regal read: glazed shoulder of lamb with Madeira; Royal seabream, mushroom duxelle samphire and buttered shellfish; it was like making a choice between luxury cars…. at Toyota prices. I’ll have the DB9 please: Grilled bavette of beef with gratin dauphinois, baby onions, button mushrooms and lardons.

Lardons, what’s that? Oh gosh, the beef looked heavenly. Served sliced and bloody, it was a fantastically viscous mouthful. As a tougher cut, the bavette had a chewy texture, but being cooked medium rare, it was a bovine sponge that soaked up the syrupy sauce that carried deep balsamic and saltiness. The roasted whole shallots bursting with flavour and the bacon providing yet more intensity and we had not even started on the excellently buttery dauphinois on the side. A conventional recipe executed perfectly.

Euwen’s turn: Roast Breast of Poulet Noir, courgette and chorizo risotto courgette fritters, lemon, garlic and parsley.

Just when I thought the beef was excellent, the chicken looked equally like a star. Garnished to the teeth, the creamy chorizo risotto was the highlight of this dish for me. The chicken breast was naturally tender, but I thought it lacked abit of juiciness for it to be anything amazing. Euwen noted a gaminess with the chicken. An attractive dish, that just falls short of being truly exciting.

Wow. A thoroughly enjoyable meal, we sampled serious good Michelin star cooking. Portions were astronomical, and we nearly didn’t have room for dessert. Very nearly. For pudding, we ordered a crème brulee with an apple compote base which garnered a mixed reaction. We thought the tangy compote diluted the eggy custard. The compote was distracting and the custard was a little lost in it. More successful however was the Rum baba resting on a bed of glazed strawberries and chantilly cream. An airy sponge cake soaked in a lightly spike rum juice, charming but the cream was overkill. I have a feeling I would have enjoyed the £5.50 supplement for the cheese instead.

In the end, La Trompette performed a graceful waltz and dazzled the senses. The cooking erred toward classical robustness, and the results were huge servings of mouth watering wonders. I still cannot believe that this lunch sneaked in under thirty quid. One of the slickest meals I’ve had, highly commended and highly recommended.

The Gist of It

La Trompette, £30 for Lunch; £45 for dinner Official Site
5 Devonshire Rd Chiswick, W4 2EU
Tel: (020) 8747 1836
Nearest Tube Station: Turnam Green

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Pompous pretension or serious contender of applied arts and gastronomy? Based in the 18th century townhouse which once bore the Dior label; we take a trip to the institution where haute cuisine and haute couture meet.

Neo

I must admit, I approached Sketch rather skeptically. I had already been for tea at one of their many tea rooms – the Glade, I believe it was – but I’d yet to dine at their Michelin starred ‘The Lecture room and Library’ on the first floor. Amazingly, I was offered a £50 voucher to sample the food there (thanks Kate). The twitterati seem quite positive toward Sketch, and armed with some positive feedback, I was rather anticipating a good meal. I just couldn’t get my head around the flash heavy website. Is this supposed to be a serious restaurant, or is it an art gallery that serves food on the side, and so many different rooms. Dammit, which room am I at again?

Conduit Street, just round the corner from the Apple Store on Regent Street. I felt the cool arty vibe the moment I stepped through the doors, neon blue and red. The entrance is furnished with a couch that looks unseatable, and a swing that seeminglly fits adults.

I’m a little lost to be honest, just what am I doing here? Downstairs and in the front of the townhouse, is ‘The Parlour’, a tearoom. Nope, not dining here. I look inward, and there is a lanky gentlemen in a superswish grey suit, with a shimmering blue tie, incredibly well groomed, he extended his hand as I stumbled – like lost sheep – toward him and shook the man’s hand.

“Mr Leong, we’ve been expecting you” How the hell did he know…?

“Your bag and your coat?” Clap, clap. “Margaret, take Mr Leong’s belongings please, and now sir, will you follow me up the stairs?”

A Mr Anderson moment. The Matrix reloaded to be exact. As we meander up the stairs, he gives me a breakdown of Sketch’s numbers: 5 rossettes, 1 Michelin star, Head Chef Pierre Gagnaire, restaurants all over the glamour cities around the world and one opening in Las Vegas, formerly house of Dior…

And just as he finishes his well rehearsed monologue, we reach the top of the stairs and have stopped in a dark hallway. Staring at us, is an imposing frontdoor, it looks solid and probably about 7 feet high. Gently, he unlocks it.

“Mr Leong, welcome to Sketch.” …..Woooosh!

The big black doors swing open to a room filled with majesty. The vivid colours were overwhelming and so much to absorb, I was in absolute exquisiteness, and for the first time, in a long time, I was completely awestruck with the showy entrance. For just a moment, my imagination was completely suspended and I actually thought I was there to meet with the Merovingian…. and maybe give Monica Belluci a quick peck in the posh loos.

Woah. Again. Woah.

Time to eat

I sat very comfortably, and the ambiance was surrealistic. As opposed to the much too drab faux chillout music in most michelin spots, this one pumped out neo-jazz/acoustic which sounded rather like Ray La Montague, or Jason Mraz. Crazy. sexy. cool. Its like discovering what michelin restaurants were trying to emulate in terms of ambiance all the while – Sketch has seemingly made every other restaurant I’ve been to seem artificial. You’ve got to hand it to the French, they really know how to put on a show, and the atmosphere at Sketch was slick.

And the slickness continued into the canapes. Before I had even looked at the menu, they layed out three plates of canapes on my table. One was a baby mug, of a chilled tomato gazpacho – a great viscious mouthfeel and a lingering rawness that hung on to my palette. A selection of biscuits and jelly, some sweet, some savoury, some cheesy, all served to grease the appetiser wheels. Finally, what I think are biscuit sticks served with a hummus like dip and in what I think, is cassava powder.

French laverbread

The menu is a thin stip of paper (measuring 2×10 to be exact) and it listed the gourmet rapide lunch. We have three choices here. For £30, two courses with coffee and petit fours; for £35, three courses with coffee and petit fours; And a monster £48 for all of the above plus a glass of sherry (which I swapped for bubbles), half a bottle of wine (went for a slightly chilled red, 06′ Touraine) and a bottle of water (sparkling for yours truly).

I don’t usually dwell on bread and nibbles, but Sketch was utterly amazing in this department. The selection included milkbread, chestnut and of course baguette. What was interesting about it were the butter it came with. An unsalted variety and then a fresh seaweed infused butter. It was like having a French remixed Laverbread (and I have had a proper welsh breakfast in Pembroke), it was so different, the oilyness and chewiness of the seaweed blended well with the butter, giving way to this fishy spread, that was a perfect compliment to bread. Flavours of the sea – could the crackles be grains of sand?

The Four Starters

The menu is a quirky one, it lists four starters, and yet, the waiter only asks for one selection from the mains. I was like, eh? What are you going to do, serve me four starters? That would be just unreal. Yup, it was indeed unreal as they served up four starters. Tapas style, I’m told.

And so we start in the middle, with a Watermelon Soup, Brunoise of Melon, Coriander, Mint and Ginger. My taster notes describe a watermelon foam, puffy and full of bubbles, there was an interesting hit of what tasted like tannic fattiness in texture, like an oil slick in the mouth, I had the same mouthfeel with the gazpacho and I believe its down to the olive oil they were using. The fruity and freshness of the watermelon were sweeten with the presence of honeydew and all was swimming in a sparkling juice of what tasted almost like ginger beer. Was it a soup or was it a veloute, or was it a fruit infused milkshake, or perhaps it was all of it, rolled into one.

Next, we go left to sample Herve this Egg, Rocket Jus and Boutargue Foam. A comfortable and what appears to be a superiorly slow cooked poach. The yolk became almost like a custard, while the egg whites was like a silken quilt gently held together with a slightly running exterior. The foamy rocket just had a sharp and salty intensity, almost like a soya sauce, but damn, this is one amazing poached egg, one that was unlike anything I’ve had before.

Moving clockwise, we get to the asparagus cream, strawberry coulis and goat’s cheese. It’s the same viscous olive oil mouthfeel again, and I’d never have thought that a dense melting goat’s cheese would go with the intense red fruits of the strawberries, but it did. It was much like having a deconstructed fruitshake, or even a yogurt, it was fresh, clinical and it wiped my palette clean from the smooth eggs, just before it.

So far, I am quite impressed. Each of the three dishes could stand on its own, each a different theme, and to each a kind of build up in flavour intensity, as varied as the changing seasons.
And now the final starter of mackerel tartare, sesame seed and a summer mesclun salad. This must be the golden summer of the four dishes. Subtle flavours of the sea, warming and tantalizing sea saltiness, with a texture so soft, the raw tartare melted in my mouth. It was roughly chopped but came out like chewable pillows. There was hardly any fishiness, as it seemed to be balanced against a balsamic and sesame dressing. Lots of subtle flavours and well executed.

I love raw food and more so, I love tartare. This was the pinnacle of the form; simple, easy to eat and delicious.

I must say, I was thoroughly impressed with my quadruplet of starters, a rapid medley, but a medley that was as colourfully vivid as the ceremony of the restaurant itself.

No Meat here

On this visit, the restaurant was doing a meatless menu. It was a choice between pan-fried salmon, risotto or sea-bream. I chose the latter of the three: Sea Bream, roasted and poached in olive oil, green pea veloute, cuttlefish, red pepper and artichoke.

My compliments to the chef for serving up a warm plate as this really helped to amplify the roasting aromas. The plate was quite abit hot, perhaps close to 60 oC (Chemistry is one of my many traits, believe me.). To taste: a sour acidity on the palette, perhaps due to the roast red peppers, the heat is hearty. The pea veloute was what prompted me to order this dish; The green soup was very delicate, having a sticky mouthfeel and a warming bang with more umaminess offered by the presence of soft cuttlefish cubes, as well as the artichoke.

The fish, by itself, was quite abit fishy, while the creamy pea veloute was dominated by abit of sourness; however, both elements met harmoniously to counter each of their dominating flavours and it gave way to a subtly rich intensity that was well balanced. My only gripe was with the texture of the fish; maybe it’s the heat, or perhaps because of the wetness, but it was a tad on the mushy side, where I expected robust flakiness.

The food just wouldn’t stop coming. I opted for the trio of desserts, and first to land on the table was a double act. One consisted of a simple red berries sorbet, smartly paired with a powdery biscuit; another was a red berry fruit salad, expertly paired with aloe vera cubes, but it was until the chocolate tart landed was I impressed with the puds. A crunchy base and an airy mousse, it was the anti-chocolate torte one usually expects. In the place of too much rich butterness, was a light crunch best described like a kit kat as opposed to a mars bar. While not as grand as the starters, the trio of desserts was a polite gentlemanly (and lady like) way to end a gourmet express, jazzed up with just a touch of cool.

Ordinary Extraordinaire

Amidst all the pompous showiness, the largely French speaking staff managed to remain calm and friendly. They oozed cool and served with zeal and understated enthusiasm, almost as if they were an extension of the restaurant’s choreography.

Needless to say, I was impressed with this visit. My oh my, do the people behind Sketch know how to put on a show, and for once I actually felt comfortable in a slick Michelin restaurant, instead of having to clench my arse and stiffen the upper lip, they took care of things in true fashion. Of course, the restaurant is nothing, if not for good food and Sketch did not disappoint in this department; flavour balancing was spot on, and I was enamoured with their creative use of olive oil and berries. Dishes tasted as they should, and in particular, the mackerel tartare worked like clock work. If I was being critical, I would say that the sea bream – for a mains – was a no-show, in comparison to the other courses; but with this 3 course meal priced at £35, it was adequate nonetheless. The £15 premium for the extra booze is worth shelling out for.

Of course, like all set lunches at Michelin restaurants, one gets the feeling that one is missing out on the big show in the taster menu, so again, this amounts to half of a review, as much (or little) as it compares to the dinner menu. Having said that, it is one of the more memorable set lunches I’ve had recently. The lecture room and library is a stunning dining space, one which you could just sit there and take in the ambiance and the rays of light penetrating the three storey high skydome from above. Ahh…. Take an afternoon off, turn of the mobile phone and plug into a realm where high fashion and high cooking meet, harmoniously.

The Gist of It

Sketch, The Lecture Room and Library official site
9 Conduit Street W1s 2XG 020 7659 4500
£35 three courses

Verdict: Crazy. Sexy. Cool. The venue alone is a rousing spectacle and the high cuisine matches the high style at Sketch. It ain’t cheap, but its worth it.

Your turn: Have you visited Sketch yet? Were your pockets deep enough for the dinner menu, how did it compare to the Lunch menu?

UPDATE: I am indebted to Gourmet Chick for this one, the £50 Sketch Voucher is actually an offer available to everyone if you sign up on their Facebook fanpage, the offer is good until the end of August 2009….. go check it out folks!