Who comes up with all this fiction just for a restaurant? This is the persuasive language Oliver’s people have generated for his latest project:

“Ours is a union of ideas, traditions, and of people.”

“Where wood-fired flatbreads meet great British flavours.”

Lookintomyeyeslookintomyeyes.

What’s with the wonky name – why not just call it Union or Union Jack. Is this meant to be ironic? I don’t get it. The ambiguity with the plural form (or misplaced punctuation) is the restaurant equivalent of the 2012 Olympics logo.

In spite of the spin, this really is just a pizzeria. It’s billed as some kind of ground breaking bastardisation of the humble Italian pie, by the hand of Jamie’s very Bri’ish style and nicknamed as Flatbreads. As if one could reinvent something simply by calling it something else. I do like the ‘Gary Baldy’ biscuit, however. I’d like to think these concepts were the result of a complicated brain storming session by a think tank of consultants locked in a meeting room and eating nothing but pizza to precipitate ideas.

Back in the real world, this union is a partnership between Jamie Oliver and Pizza Maestro Chris Bianco. This Central St Giles location being the pilot for a upcoming franchise, which (presumably) pending the success of this branch, will spread throughout London and the rest of the country in the next couple of years.

Bad naming aside, I think the rest of this restaurant however is brilliantly conceived. The decor is spot-on. Few restaurants come in pink, this one is so colourfully retro, it feels like a fifities diner which has been lifted out from Archie comics. I especially like the cinema billboard style overhead menus above the open plan kitchen. Speaking of which, you can sit by the bar and watch the chefs stuff the wood-fire ovens with bubbling pizza dough. Picture this : solo dining, malted milkshake, by the bar, reading 1Q84 Part III. And then Betty Draper walks in wearing a neat black and blue pokka dot, body hugging, knee high dress with a big blue bow as a belt. She decides to locks eyes with you, as she undoes her elbow length white gloves. (Huh?)

It’s clear that Jamie’s people have astutely noted the current trend of un-ceremony and retro flair. This place is so back to the future, so infectiously a happy place, that you can’t help but smile when you come in. Service was so terribly friendly and forward that I just wanted to give my waitress a big hug every time she brought me some food. She was blonde, was very nice to me without crossing waiter-customer lines and she may have fooled me into believing it was.. love.

By-Catch Fish Fingers & Tartare Sauce, £5 with Roobarb & Custard, £5.50.

The Captain would’ve been proud of these fish fingers, flaky, crumbly, can’t say they were best but they were nostalgic with gooey batter coating the undersides of the crust.

The real eye-whopper was the roobarb and custard – great drink! I can hardly believe it contains alcohol, but apparently it is made with Chase’s Rhubarb Liqueur. That’s a distillery in Hereford which makes vodka from potatoes which they grow themselves. An interesting story, they sold their first bottles in 2008. For this liqueur, they laced their vodka with rhubarb from the area. The rest of the drink was finished like a spritzer with Union Jack’s in-house apple and cinnamon drink. It’s like an apple strudle flavoured cream soda! Addictive.

Flatbread, Oxtail & brisket, slow braised in Worcestershire sauce, Sparkenhoe Red Leicester, watercress & fresh horseradish £12

Ah, here we go, the flatbread. Well, well, isn’t she a sight for sore eyes. The Betty Draper of pizzas, look at those beautiful burnt spots and the perfect oval shapeliness, the tussled watercress with flaming red stems. Is your blood racing yet? The flatbread was still sizzling when it came. Freshly grated horseradish produced stinging eye-watering fumes and breathing in all the flavours nearly knocked me out. The dough is somewhere between the juicy Franco Manco dough and the powdery Pizza East semolina base, I liked it fine. Generous flosses of tender oxtail and brisket with full bodied winter stew flavour was extremely pleasing. I have to say, the sharpness of the melted red leicester did give the impression that this was not just a pizza, but that it had beenlocalised as an ‘English’ pizza. I gobbled it up very quickly, and I really wanted to have another one.

Retro Arctic Roll, £4 and Home made Earl Grey Tea Ice Cream, £1.50 per scoop.

Oh man, pure nostalgia. This was a treat for me when I was growing up. I think my mum bought the Bird Eyes ones which came with this cream flavoured ice cream centre and thin swirls of jam. This version is just as frozen, but has additional swirls of chocolate ice cream. The blackberry jam it came smothered in, with was very good, but the frozen pudding was no where close to replicating my favourite memories.

The home-made earl grey tea and biscuit ice cream, on the other hand, was bloody fantastic. It’s frozen cream tea and biscuits! Served in a frosted copper ice cream cup! Also retro! The best £1.50 I’ve spent all year, this is the dessert of the year for me.

But here’s an idea, an alternate version of the artic roll with the excellent earl grey tea ice cream. I recommend they call it “Kang’s flamin’ tea flavour arctic roll”.

I paid exactly £30, plus an espresso. Service was at my discretion so I put in an extra £2.

Ok I admit. The think tank wins. The British theme is a charmer, I’m totally into the Union thing now. The flatbreads are of excellent quality, and the British toppings do work. Oxtail, horseradish work just as well as egg and potatoes on pizza. I think that stronger English hard cheeses when melted produce some game changing flavours, as compared with relatively mild mozzarella. I am intrigued with the potential of the other choices. The Old spot with pork shoulder, quince and stilton sounds like it could be immense. So too the seafood option of cornish sardines with fennel.

His other partnership, Barbecoa was shambles, but this one is going to be a winning franchise. It’s very likeable and upbeat, I predict Union Jacks invading the high street, and eventually superseding Pizza Express.

The Gist of It

Union Jacks
The Flatbread formerly known as Pizza. £25pp
4 Central St. Giles Piazza
LONDON
WC2H 8AB
Tel : 0203 597 7888
Tube: Tottenham Court Road

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Roka is part of an ever expanding chain of zenith-class restaurants owned by German restaurateur, Rainer Becker. He also happens to own the Zuma line of luxury restaurants. Since he opened Zuma in 2002, and then Roka two years later, his highly acclaimed brand of refined Japanese cuisine has gone strength to strength, now Zuma and Rokas have expanded to Hong Kong, and in 2009, a new Roka in Canary Wharf, right in the heart of fatcatland. I was a little sceptical at first, especially since I had only heard nice things being said about Becker’s restaurants, I do love Japanese food (Sushi Hiro is still the best this side of West London, yo), it’s just that I had to experience it for myself, before I started swooning with the rest of town. And so I did.

I was told that making a reservation at Roka was not an easily accomplished feat – it is one of the few top-end restaurants in town that is constantly packed night in, night out. Sure enough, we arrived to a chatter filled restaurant for the first dinner service, company was in the form of the enigmatic tweatup crew – five of the strangest creatures known to mankind. We were at the Charlotte Street branch and there are reports that the Canary Wharf branch is equal in output to it’s original, so dining at either one is just an arbitrary choice of location. Once inside, I noted how yellow everything was – the hardwood walls, a collab between Japanese interior designers Noriyoshi Muramatsu and Super Potato of Tokyo. Muramatsu himself is a Super Potato alumni and both parties have long track records in crafting high concept restaurant spaces, including an involvement in Blumenthal’s Little Chef project. The interiors of the glass encrusted outfit is lit by a melee of low-level spotlights which bounce golden light against the very same wooden walls. I’m sure some panels are backlit as well, giving rise to this feeling that I was dining in a gold mine, or perhaps a copper mine. The atmosphere is quite abit stripped of elegance, more polished chaos but with a clientele that is no less dressy. People speak about the dining room’s wow factor, but honestly, I’ve been in cosier settings, Roka no more comfortable than Wagamama. Much of the intimidation from an open plan space is largely dispelled with the centre piece (and prime gimmick) of Roka : the Robata. The robata is nothing more than a glorified barbie. The ‘open flame’ allows the chefs to deliver superbly grilled meats with a touch of charcoal.

Speaking of which, the menu is largely organised by the style of cooking (though does not follow strictly) : Sushi & Sashimi harbours it’s selection of traditional raw fish fare; Snacks, soups & salads, for all the side dishes; Roka dishes are a selection of their signature stuff and finally the Robata are where you will find the charcoaled infused grilled food. Personally, I think the menu is best experienced with a semi-large table (of five or six) and then by simply ordering a selection from the different sections of the menu, to share. A restaurant such as this will be at it’s best when the customer is able to spread himself across the range of dishes, rather than to limit oneself to the tried and test three course meal – yep, ground breaking stuff. Basically, that was the crux of the tweatup dinner.

Starters: Butterfish Carpaccio

I’ve had whole grilled butterfish fillets before, but this was the first time I tried it in a more raw format. As the name implies, butterfish is meant to be buttery soft, though I found it to be more chewy soft than otherwise – fatty but not slithery. It is a white fish, did not impart any obvious fishiness and it was different to the melting intensity of otoro, which I would describe as buttery. The sauce laden on top was of a citrus variety, the dish is finished to a very high degree and tastes razor fresh. I’ve decided I’m not the biggest butterfish fan, I find it has flat flavour, and its texture is a little too papery. This rendition almost changed my mind, almost.

Next up, we give the sushi a go. Tuna with pickled daikon and avocado maki with a spicy breadcrumb crust.

The sushi is neat and tidy, top marks for presentation, and clinically sliced. Let’s start with the tuna. The roll is wrapped in what appears to be crispy battered seaweed, and well stuffed with tuna, it tasted of extreme refined elegance. The rice an epitome of balanced umami; crunchy and warm, not too sweet, not too sour, not too mushy and not too glutinous, it was at the crossroads of harmony. Similarly, the avocado maki crusted with a spicy breadcrumb, oozed the same style of slick clinicality. I came to Roka expecting the sushi to be a high standard, as with most of the capital’s steeply priced Japanese restaurants, and honestly from Nobu to Zuma, to even Sake no Hana (though standards have slipped), sushi is usually very accomplished. Roka is no different.

Moving on to the last of the raw stuff : Maguro to caviar no tartar, uzara no tamago zoe (or) Tuna tartar, sevruga caviar and quails’ egg yolk.

Finely chopped raw tuna, to the point where it is minced fish. I was a little surprised with the colour, instead of a deep ruby red, this was pinkish with speckles of white, leading to speculate that perhaps a chu-toro (half fat tuna belly) had been used. Whatever the case, I loved it. Served in its own shot glass on a bed of ice, a half cracked open quail egg shell joined the glass of tuna. Five wooden baby spoons accompanied the dish, presumably for each of the five creatures of the deep (me inclusive) to ferry a small sample of the prized tartar to our plates. A paltry portion of sevruga caviar, those black pearls, nearly countable completed the dish. So abit of everything mixed together, produced a very consistent flavour indeed. A cold, creamy, slimy melange of yolky fishiness filled the mouth, I was detecting fishy oiliness as well, which leads me to wonder if it was lashings of olive oil, or if this was indeed oil from the belly of a tuna. I loved this, I wish we could have had individual glasses.

We are now surfing in the Roka dishes section, just in case you were wondering. Next is a rice hotpot with mushrooms.

Always nice to see the waiting staff get in on a cameo. Here, the tiny hotpot sizzles and steams, as he gives the rice a theatrical stir before serving the mushy risotto-like rice. Yeah it was ok, rich in mushroom flavours, nothing to complain about as this was hearty and cooked well, but nothing particularly exciting either. Mushroom flavoured, creamed rice. Moving on.

Here’s the photogenic one of the bunch : Grilled scallops with ponzu.

I was expecting to be blown away by yet another exercise of refined elegance, but was a little disappointed with the tepid scallops. They weren’t quite a mouthful as I thought, nor did they have a superb undercooked melt in your mouth texture, nor did it gyrate with a heated, charcoaled centre. It was just fairly standard medium sized scallops, seared well enough, but it looked much better than it tasted. Still very good, just not excellent, like the rest of the meal.

We delve further into Roka’s Robata menu with a grilled asparagus and a baby back ribs glazed with their ‘master’ stock.

I was beginning to wonder two things : if their robata had been overworked with it’s popularity and needs maintenance, or that the cook on service, was a novice with the machine. As open-flame specialists, their openly flamed dishes lacked fire in taste. Charred, smoky flavours were on the subtle side, the grilled asparagus in particular was laughable. Served with pitchforks and laid out like vegetable scaffolding, pretty to look at, but that’s about it. Similarly the baby back ribs, while good, was probably no better than say Bodeans, the latter is no fine dining establishment, but the monster portions and slender price package might be the better call than the photogenic, but mostly bland Roka ribs. Style horribly glazed over substance in my opinion.

Finally, the last of the robatas : Smoked duck with candied mandarin, and spiced lamb cutlets.

Up to this point, Roka is about a 3.5 out of 5, if I rated restaurants that is. Good, some dishes verging on excellent, but overall falls short a little as I find the robata horribly gimmicky. But then these two dishes landed and it blew me away. Starting with smoked duck with an interesting sharp and sweet mandarin sauce. A fruity contrast with the salty soya sauce. The meat had a dense livery texture, I was also detecting hints of peanut, and this seemingly asian twist on the classic orange and duck combo was startlingly good. It’s the texture of the meat, chunky soft, intense. I can only think of one other place where I was positively blown away by grilled lamb chops and that’s at Tayyabs. Here, the cook made no errors in delivering the promise of the robata. The lamb cutlets were a godsend. It was juicy, mainting a warm and largely pink centre. The texture was dense, but tore away from the bone very easily. Oh, I felt like such an animal. The spicy hit was spot on, alternating with the smokiness to continually pound your tastebuds to umami heaven. And the heaty, smokey charred centre I was looking for – it was hidden away in these cutlets. This dish alone warrants at least a 4.5 out of 5… but that’s in a parallel universe where I give ratings to restaurants. We are still on Earth 616 last I check, no ratings, but I will say that when you eventually make your way out to Roka, do yourself a favour and order this.

We finished with a raft of desserts, all are good, as one would expect from these establishments, they are inventive, stylish, very sweet and provides a theatrical send off. Myself, I opted for tea flavoured creme brulee which for want of a better expression had smoked flavours mixed with a delicate custard which had a texture close to slow cooked egg. Masterful.

As you can appreciate, Roka comes with a steep price tag. To buy into the Becker’s brand of stripped down elegance in the heart of ‘media town’, you are looking at between £50 to £100 per person, depending on what you order and how much you are willing to share your food. Our meal, including a short carafe of sake came to around £250 for the table – or just about 50 quid each. We were sober enough to avoid any of the wagyu dishes. I was a little cheesed off with the service toward the end, when the waiter chose a grand hissy gesture of wiping our table down to signal that our time was up, when a gentle a verbal reminder would have been more appropriate. If I had not paid my bill yet, I would have most definitely requested my 12.5% reimbursed. It puts a large chip on the largely accomplished service. I am not going to let the lasting impression of highly snobified central London service go so easily – stuffy, regimental service should be abolished outright, we are living in 2010 afterall : Restaurateurs, make note. As we are also living in web 2.0, and possibly web 3.0 soon, I do wonder when people will understand that flash-heavy websites are slow, clunky and dizzy graphics, are just that dizzying. The Roka website is just inoperable and hugely outdated. Again, 2010, not 1999 – do away with the slow moving lava lamp inspired flash animations, you’ll get more covers that way. Examples you say? Take a look at Nuno Mendes’ recently reconstructed website for his supperclub ‘The Loft project‘. That’s refined elegance right there, powerful, bold and effective. Utterly modern no?

Yes, yes, I’m overly critical and overly wordy with Roka because I actually really love this place. I love the concept of it and I think the food is lip smackingly brilliant. Aside from a few duds on the menu, I think Roka is a prime example of an exceptional highly evolved, highly produced and eerily pretentious restaurant that so epitomises modern metropolitan classiness. It is a tad cheaper than the other stripped down elegant Japanese inspired brand with a gimmicky roasting machine – a wood-fire oven at Nobu Berkeley in place of a robata. If I had to choose, I would choose Roka over and over again. I highly recommend it if you have money to throw around.

Goodbye Nobu.

Other considered accounts of Roka : TimeOut London ; The Catty Life ; A girl has to eat ; Cheese and Biscuits ; Gourmet Chick

The Gist of It

Roka official site £50pp
37 Charlotte Street
W1T 1RR
Tel: 020 7580 6464
Tube : Goodge Street

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L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon Official Site
13-15 West Street WC2H 9NE 0207 010 8600
Set Lunch £25 for three courses; Ala carte £expensive.

Photography is an addiction. The kit lens that comes packaged with a standard digital SLR is never enough, all it does is make you lust after the very best lenses either Nikon or Canon have in their arsenal. I am £400 poorer but oddly enough, feeling good about it. What better way to celebrate this than to lunch at the two Michelin starred, internationally hyped sensation that is L’atelier de Joel Robuchon.

Lunch munch.

As of writing, this is my fourth visit to a restaurant with two Michelin stars. A grand total of seven two star restaurants belong in London (as of 2009) including Alain Ducasse, Hibiscus, Le Gavroche, Marcus Wareing, Pied a Terre, the Capital and the Square. Not all will produce a stunning meal, most will hit a certain standard (as you’d expect) and all will burn a hole in your wallet.

Unless of course, if you’re here to sample the everyman £25 set lunch. I’ll be comparing my Robuchon experience with my visits to other multi-michelin star places, bearing in mind that this cut price meal really represents a preview of a full blown dinner experience. Besides, the head chef wasn’t even in the kitchen on the day.

Interactive Dining

I really wonder about marketing blurb and where it comes from, sometimes its so pretentious, it downright corny. I pulled this off the robuchon website regarding their concept:

“The philosophy of the counter where you dine at L’Atelier is one of interactivity. The eating counter surrounds the entire kitchen where the diners’ food is prepared. Robuchon utilises this format as a chef can actually gauge the reaction of his clients, and even converse with those regulars that wish to participate. In turn diners may watch their food being prepared by consummate professionals in the Japanese inspired lay out”

So it’s an exposed kitchen, and the chef can come up to you and stare you down – if you play with your food – or in my case, stare me down while I photograph my (his) dishes.

The restaurant is absolutely gorgeous. The sleek black marble is accompanied by plush red linings, the branding is both memorable and exciting. There is even a whole wall panel of leaves and it looks real, if indeed it is real. With the usual chic chillout music tracks playing in the background, one does feel as if he’s dining out at the capital’s latest and greatest.

Robuchon features table-cloth free high tables and high stools, though I was happy that front of house chose to sit us in the counter area with full view of the exposed kitchen. The bar setting is now adopted by newer restaurants in the city, though, watching the kitchen do its magic is still a wonder to behold, especially a two Michelin starred one.

Starters

On to the food then. The set lunch is £25 for three courses and £19 for two; both my brother and I went for three courses. We did consider the ala carte menu, which looks to me like it’s French inspired Italian/Spanish fusion what with the small dishes to share, each hovering the £15-20 mark. Ouch.

In the end we decided the hefty price tag was just a little outside of our budget, for now.

Le Petit Pois. Pea soup with crusty croutons.

My brother’s first course was a warm plate of pea soup – an underused ingredient – and superlatively incorporated in this dish. The loving mix was milky and creamy with fine graininess and it tasted not unlike a creamy vanilla infused honeydew milkshake. The bubbly soup was umami rich and the concentrated pea flavours amounted to good body in the soup. A clinical dish, very tasty and it suitably opened up appetite.

Les Asperges. Warm white asparagus with french dressing.

Apparently, its in season. I really liked the vinaigrette the delicately cooked asparagus was served with. Bursting citrus flavours against a backdrop of garlic and pepper, it provided for a tender sizzling sensation. Like the pea soup, it wasn’t anything particularly creative, rather it was just juicy vegetables, but very well done.

Mains

I probably should mention that the bread was fantastic but even more so was the heavenly butter which it was served with. It was the salted variety, and it carried a refreshing creamy hit.

Le Saumon D’ecosse. Salmon, spiced honey and curry polenta.

The salmon was cooked well done, I appreciated the oily yet crispy fried salmon skin, though I would have preferred this one just slightly undercooked. It didn’t taste like it was seasoned, a little bland, and really, nothing special about it. On the other hand, the curry polenta it came with was very, very good. In fact, it was so good, we initially thought it was a dollop of smooth scrambled eggs. Just lightly infused with curry, it had nicely rounded aromatic cumin flavours. The highlight was the richness of the mixture and the creamy fine grain was a real treat. Amazing polenta, but with so-so salmon.

L’Onglet. Steak tartar with baby potatoes.

Some of you might get feel a little squeamish with tartar, essentially an uncooked mince beef burger, though, I love steak tartar (I like my food just alittle too raw..). Anyway, the mince was grounded down a fine grain, so the texture was very smooth indeed. The typical shallot-caper-pepper flavours were noticeable, and appetising; I also detected zingy heat on the palette as well – perhaps down to a few drips of tabasco sauce. Technically speaking, it’s a perfect tartar, just like the ones you would have in Paris or Belgium, but I guess that almost means that it’s nothing spectacular either. Thankfully, much like the polenta, the potatoes and beans on the side were superiorly cooked. Salty, toasty and full of roastness – the warmth from the vegetables was a perfect contrast to the smooth steak paste. A seemingly simple dish, well executed. The tartar was so smooth, it was spreadable on bread and I thoroughly enjoyed this as a light lunch.

This is just a preview, no?

Pudding du jour was a rather imposing looking chocolate tart, with gooey chocolate sauce smothered over it, served with a rum sorbet of sorts on the side. Sadly, the ganache underneath the sauce was much too dry, so much so, it took several swipes of the fork to finally cut a piece out, which by then looked as if Hannibal Lecter had a go at it. Oh, and it tasted pretty dry as well, and the rum sorbet was much like frozen flavoured water; looked great but sadly the pudding didnt show up. I opted to finish with a slither of Brie de Meaux served with a cranberry compote on the side. The cheese was so well matured, I could taste a mushroom explosion, and my brother nearly fainted as I told him that – very smelly, indeed. A good sign I’m sure.

This was a favourable experience. It was pretty clear that this set menu was a cut down version of its fancy ala carte; the dishes were simple, straightforward and classic recipes, nothing particularly outstanding. My first reaction: underwhelming. Being a two michelin starred restaurant, there was nothing spectacular in the set menu to suggest its heady reputation. To its credit though, I actually enjoyed this set lunch, which was simple, classical food, but very well executed.

A light lunch that did the trick, without resorting to tricks. If this were a meal at a ‘normal’ restaurant, I would have been singing louder praises, but being a two star place, one expects extra-special even if it’s just the set. I was rather curious as to why there was an obvious lack of freebies. Comparing contemporaries: The similarly priced Hibiscus set lunch was awe-inspiring, with two amuse bouches and some of his signature stuff as one of the courses. Marcus Wareing offers his £35 set with his famed egg custard pudding, complete with two in between amuse bouches and petit fours for you to take home. So in comparison, Robuchon is clearly none too bothered with the budget fine dining market. Clearly, the set menu pales in comparison with the ala carte, so much so, that I get the feeling the set menu is much like a herald to get diners to throw money at his ala carte. Hmm, not a nice feeling.

In closing, this review really, is more of a preview (maybe I should start doing previews…) because it’s no way an accurate representation of a true Robuchon experience (for the purists among you), hence I will need to revisit to get more bang. Shame I’ve already spent most of the buck on my camera…

The Gist of It.

L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon Official Site
13-15 West Street WC2H 9NE 0207 010 8600
Set Lunch £25 for three courses; Ala carte £expensive.

Verdict: Robuchon is a signature name, so you can’t go wrong. Its a solid set lunch for the money, although, for the money there are significantly better budget fine dining lunches around.

I finally made a trip out to this much talked about cafe, and it was awesome. I need my breakfast, and this review is now a guest post on the blog A girl has to eat. 

[Read the full review there...]