Restaurant Gordon Ramsay

ghusya

Gordon Ramsey Royal Hospital Road SW3 4th April 2009

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What we liked :

We went for the “menu degustation”. Some of the dishes were very good (eg. Beef Wellington, Panna Cotta).

What we didn’t like :

Globally, we were completely dumbfounded that the Michelin awards 3 stars to this restaurant.

At the time of booking, the restaurant asked for payment by credit card of around £500 as an “advanced booking fee” since we were 5 people. I suspect this is to build up the feeling of booking with a “low-cost airline” that one would expect from Michelin starred establishments.

We were literally rubbing elbows with the people on the table next door. I can understand that Mr. Ramsey likes to maximise the profits on his investment, but is that really what we should expect from a 3 star restaurant?

The service was incredibly slow. The staff were clearly too concerned about those who had come for the lunch menu and had forgotten about others like us who had foolishly opted for the “menu degustation”. This meant that the poor waiters felt they had to fill up our glasses literally after each sip - which as a result was incredibly annoying.

The sommelier was completely disinterested and either didn’t feel like informing us about the wines, or perhaps didn’t know. In any case he was useless.

The “maitre d’hôtel” was not at all genuine, he should take smiling lessons. Furthermore, he told us that the chef could prepare for us a Beef Wellington with truffles as an alternative to the main dish in the menu. Either they forgot the truffles, or the chap was telling tales. That said, the Beef Wellington was very good even without the truffles.

As they had forgotten about us, we were the last to finish our meal at around 4-5pm. It is often the case that when we treat ourselves to 3 star restaurants, meals wind up around 4-5pm so this is usually not a problem. Here, however, it was made very clear that they wanted us to leave – they brought us the bill before we asked for it and they informed us that they needed to prepare the table for the evening. This I have never experienced before in a Michelin 3 star restaurant. Astonishing!

We are big fans of the Michelin Guide, and continue to use it as a reference for other countries. However, the fact that Michelin UK has felt it appropriate to award this Gordon Ramsey restaurant 3 stars for so many years completely discredits their reputation and very much calls into question the rating by the Michelin of other establishments in the capital, if not also elsewhere in the UK.

intoxicating

GRH: The Ultimate Dining Machine? 15th November 2008

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WHAT GRIM timing? As my booking at possibly London’s swankiest restaurant matured, the nation declared itself collectively bankrupt. I could make light of it, claiming that I got a last minute deal: seven courses for a tenner, rinsed with a complimentary glass of ‘Pétrus’ ‘90 (from another recession year). But the powers that be at Gordon Ramsay H.Q. are probably of the opinion that, like ‘Macbeth’, it is best not to utter the name of that drama. Far too Wareing… (thump timpani).

The truth is that to scythe through 900 reservation requests per day (handled by two full timers with resilient nerves) towards one of only thirteen tables, I had to plan nearly two months ahead. The best they could do even then was 2:10pm. Rather more ‘linner’ than lunch. The Editor of ‘G.Q.’ magazine, Dylan Jones, who seems to prefer anything to editing, suggests that accepting a late lunch in an A-list haunt is tantamount to ‘…touching Scarlett Johansen’s breast, but only when she’s asleep, and only when no one’s watching…’ In all honesty, only our Welsh taxi driver seemed bothered by the belated hour of the booking, buttressing his opinion of “lunch is at 1pm!” through the perspex partition. In fact we used our spare time to visit another Ramsay enterprise just down the Royal Hospital Road.

The much-maligned ‘Foxtrot Oscar’ loiters behind a sexy black canopy. It shines like baby-oiled latex. Inside, almost everything is wipe-cleanable. A distant radio ricocheted through the dark floored, pocked ceilinged space. Dramatic, high contrast portraits punctuate walls decorated with wide turquoise fringed verticals. Whilst we only stopped for flutes of Ayala Champagne (of ‘Trust House Forte’ fame, recently revitalised by Bollinger) and a bowl of fruity bread boomerangs, what I saw looked agreeable. The story goes that the chefs from the main attraction used to come down here, to come-down, following service.

Outside, turn left, and Restaurant Gordon Ramsay is discreet, discernible only by a signed slate. Inside, all is star-bright, glamorous and fresh. Along the corridor, full-length mirrors echo apertures into the square dining room. This culminates in a modestly sized lounge: textured leather sofas, gold leaf recesses, strokeable walls, and spiky chandeliers. It feels like the waiting room to a private dentist.

The same Champagne served down the road puts on four pounds here, albeit served in crystal with blanched almonds that are neatly in harmony with the overall colour scheme.

The picture-less dining room is pretty: a collage of various shades of ivory, with plain, comfortable chairs parked upon deep, fuselage grey carpet. Cream roses rise from sheer vases. Tables are double-clothed. It only just avoids resembling a wedding breakfast.

A prominent British critic once described Gordon Ramsay’s restaurants, from Dublin to Dubai, as being occupied by an identikit mingle of hushed, middle-class, middle-aged, middle-incomed couples stunned to be lucky enough to have triumphed reservations. That has not been my experience at the half a dozen I have ventured into. From tables of women in Burkhas to well-oiled octogenarians, the atmosphere is convivial. Conversations are had continuously, at normal volume.

At Royal Hospital Road, a lady sported a dashing hat. A lank gent braved bureaucracy by wearing jeans. Only my father and I appeared to wear ties. Excepting the elegant lady - and at the risk of sounding like an aspiring cholestosaurus - I lament this loss of decorum. This is a three star restaurant, thirteenth best in the world at last count. Is it too much for a chap to shave (also advisable for some women), bathe and generally beautify himself for a day?

The Maitre’d enquired "Who will be hosting the table?" - an amusing but shrewd gesture to which I volunteered. The menu opened with a watercolour of a younger Ramsay. We were presented with three options: a la carte, tasting menu and the set lunch. I had enticed my father with the promise of the comparatively affordable latter. And now I piled on the pathos, indicating what an adventure it would be to give the place a thorough test drive. Without too much difficulty, we swerved into the Menu Prestige. "Just don’t think about the bill" I counselled, "I will pay the lighter half".

A pungent passenger was presented from a kind of humidor. Apparently it was the largest white Alba truffle in London. Nestling between four subjects, the Buddha of the tuber world and ‘diamond of the kitchen’ (Brillat-Savarin) looked like a sleeping baby. Friends I since sent the picture to described it as ‘something from a Victorian operating table’ which might ‘look better placed on the elephant man’s head’. Either this could be shaved for a fee, or the mattress of preserving rice could render risotto remarkable. The dramatic waft was free, however.

An amuse bouche, arranged ‘especially for us’ featured chilled scallop tartare with tiny black pearls of explosively far-reaching caviar. This was flooded at table with tepid essence of broccoli which transcended the original brassica. Rosemary flecked potato bread was cottony, uplifting and absorbent. Butter was almost tear-salted.

I liberated the last bottle of Clos Poggiale ’05, a vibrant Vermentino from Corsica. It was incisor sharp: granite in a glass with warm garrigue herbs gusting from within.

Pressed, almost Genoese banded Foie Gras with smoked duck came aboard a petrified Madeira consommé. This was overly conceited in my opinion. And the actual foie was slightly underwhelming, especially when compared to another culinary sanctuary like Le Gavroche (or even Le Caprice). Colourful, slender pickles included a curled tongue of carrot. A port reduction looked as if it had been applied with a ruler. The compilation tasted (and looked) symmetrical. In fact a feature of the meal, from attention to portion size and timing was well-judged balance.

A raviolo choc-full of fleshy lobster, tangy langoustine and supple, velvety salmon was crested with tomato chutney formed into a membrillo like paste. This was jabbed by a dried basil leaf. Moisture removed, the flavour of the leaf was made more poignant.

Every time we left a breadcrumb on the linen, a silver comb landed to cleanse our tablecloth.

A fillet of bright tasting Turbot was finely flavoured with a joyously luxuriously, supple texture. Tracing paper of black truffle nudged a soft spun linguine bale bathing within a musky, cep velouté. The Maitre’d reeled off a little history lesson – this dish has been aboard the menu since Ramsay left Aubergine in ‘98. Its indefatigability is not simply attributable to nostalgia, however. As Martial said ‘however great the dish that holds the turbot, the turbot is still greater than the dish…’

I headed for the loos only to have a member of staff dive in front of me to open the padded door. Rather Walter Raleigh. Soon after, my father tried to outwit them, choosing a rare moment where there were fewer staff to hand. The home team still won, however. “One day I’ll get there before you do,” my father warned. Incidentally, I noted a little message carved by the flush. It read ‘Sir G.R. woz ere’.

The road forked for the following course. My tender roast pigeon from chicken capital, Bresse came with a crispy sandwich of grilled polenta, glycerous smoked pork belly and a nutty, glossy concentrated date sauce. The overall aftertaste, a bravura of game, oozingly luxurious pork grease and very posh, lustrous gravy juices stays with me still. A robust, rested, Malbec, which sounds more like a planet than a grape came from Cahors. It added dark, earthy, absorbent tannins.

My father had a Cannon of Cornish lamb which was pinkly centred, with confit shoulder, cossetting ratatouille and a sparky thyme ‘jus’. Appealing, although I was smug in my superior selection.

The cheese cart pulled up next, wheeled in by the deputised mouse with nouse. The fact it constituted a supplementary charge left a slightly disagreeable aftertaste. My father asked whether anyone had ever requested a little of every morsel (there must be no fewer than 57 varieties hectically packed aboard). She said that a gent did once, although he backed down when she informed him that he would have to eat every last wedge. My favourite was a Corsican goat’s, which is apparently very high in protein. It was quiet on the nose, moistly textured, but firm and powerful in its brackish flavours. Bread baked specifically for cheese and a gallion of crackers marshalled, along with crisply skinned Muscat grapes.

The dessert (minor) was a witty prank: a mango and passion fruit soup, with lychee and coconut, drawn through a clear straw. Little eruptions ensued: ‘Fizz-wizz’ popping candy had been layered into the cocktail...
My father suggested that the dessert (major) should be framed. A cylinder infilled with softness: cooling, cleansing ginger mousse, very cold milk ice cream and lagoons of blackcurrant cut into – intentionally or otherwise – the shape of a cockerel.

Cutlery replaced for the final time, we were invited on a guided tour of the tight, hectic - but ordered - kitchen, where a minimum of 18 chefs cook at Michelin’s zenith. A catwalk of recessed blue lights line the floor. A little natural light percolates too. Our guide opened a wine fridge and asked which bin we would like as a souvenir (and then reneged rapidly).

On our return, we were elegantly moved to the lounge for coffee so they could freshen the dining room (we were, as usual, the final diners). Creases were steamed out of tablecloths, silver cutlery and charger plates were polished. Roses were spruced and sprayed with a little mist, beautified for the evening performance. A silver tree bore an unconventional fruit of silvered truffles. Dry ice dramatically overspilled a drum of strawberry truffles.

At only 30, Head Chef, Clare Smyth had steered us through a balanced and entertaining procession of plates. At times they were wry. It may sound sexist, but I could detect an alluring femininity in her dishes.

When I eventually returned home I was told (without irony) that I looked like I had lost weight. This unequivocally serves to prove that lunching at linen is by far the best exercise...

As former bankers replace silver forks for long handled shovels – to deal with a prolonged period of gardening leave – I wholeheartedly recommend mere mortals try their luck securing a table at Restaurant Gordon Ramsay. Perhaps in time they will consider doing a higher purchase lunch? -And only then can I return...

candyshop

lovely 22nd August 2008

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I am literally in love with Gordon Ramsay. I've eaten here twice and it ruined me for eating out for at least a year!

The whole experience was totally fabulous. From the (of course) incredibly gorgeous food to the "always there but invisible" service to the Maitre d' leading the singing of happy birthday!

We got to visit the kitchen which was a geat experience and the chef took time to explain in a lot of detail how a dish was made.

I have no idea how they get such flavours out of food. I remember eating tomato jelly which was one of the pre-starters - I think my eyes popped out of my head when pure essence of tomato exploded in my mouth! How do they do that??

If you can afford it, and you love love love food, you HAVE to go! Save up or rob a bank but GO!

chrisp

Rather good, as it turns out 13th August 2008

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When the nice lady from Ramsays called to confirm the booking last week she asked, "Is it a special occasion?"

"I hope so!" I quipped back, but maybe there was a bad line because she didn't seem to find it as funny as I did. To be fair to her though, dining at Ramsays Royal Hospital Road probably isn't something to be blasé about, as we had been trying to get a reservation at this particular restaurant, on and off, for about 3 years. So you can imagine that, during this time, its status as the pinnacle (or at least one of the pinnacles) of international haute cuisine had been built up in my mind to the extent that if we had arrived to the sound of angels trumpeting and rose petals being strewn in front of us as we got out of the taxi, we probably just would have assumed that this is part of what people had been making such a fuss about over all these years.

The place does make quite an impression as you arrive though - lots of mirrors and glass, lots of staff, and an atmosphere of a kind of hushed awe, almost as if all the other diners couldn't quite believe they'd managed to get a reservation either. It's all quite overwhelming at first, not least because each member of staff seemed to take turns serving everyone - a different person greeted us at the door, said hello inside, took our coats, led us to the table, served an aperitif, gave us menus and took our wine and food orders. That's about 8 or 9 different people to say hello to within 10 minutes of arriving. Perhaps they each just didn't want to be typecast as 'the coat guy' or 'the menu guy', but the effect was quite disconcerting.

Well then, the food. Canapés were a fois gras and truffle mousse, and a taramasalata with poppy seed crackers and potato crisps. Pretty but nothing extraordinary, which maybe is the point of canapes.

Once we arrived at the table however, things got a lot more interesting. Amuse-bouches consisted of a 'Cornetto' of somethingorother (yes I know I should have taken notes, or at least made an effort to remember, but this is my first blog so be kind), which was lovely, and little cheesey balls covered in breadcrumbs on a green pesto. These were, well, as you would expect - they tasted like cheese and breadcrumbs on pesto, but I don't suppose there's anything wrong with that.

After that, another pre-starter the waiter took great pleasure in describing as a Full English Breakfast. This was quite clever - a bit of lovely spicy sausage meat on a spoon, which after you'd eaten the meat you could use to attack the egg, which was a kind of bacon mousse (I think) on top of lovely creamy scrambled eggs, on top of (a fantastic little surprise) Ramsay's own version of Heinz beans at the bottom of the eggshell. Then that big "bacon" thing which looked impressive but actually just tasted like hard baked bacon rind. You have to admire their ingenuity though.

Finally, the proper starter arrived. This was English snails with vegetables and basil leaves surrounded by celeriac puree and jerusalem artichoke sauce. I've had snails before in various places in Spain and France, usually more out of a sense of "when in Rome" or bravado than actually wanting to eat the things, but these were gorgeous. Earthy and sweet, with a good firm texture and a distinctive taste, and the artichoke sauce worked perfectly. Interesting to note, however, that although this dish was listed unapologetically as "English Snails" on the menu, they still felt the need to describe another dish as "Pied de Cochon". Perhaps the pork wasn't British (I hope not), or perhaps the full horror of Pigs Trotters is too much for delicate British diners just yet (more likely).

Now I have to admit - I always get pigeon when I see it on the menu. I've had it done a few different ways - whole, French rustic style at the Anchor & Hope in Waterloo, or a more fancy interpretation at the Square in Mayfair, and I've never been disappointed. So when I saw it listed at Ramsays (wrapped in fois gras and parma ham) I thought "I always get pigeon, I always like it, but I always get it. I should try something different this time" and found myself ordering the John Dory. A friend got pigeon. When the mains arrived, lovely though the John Dory was (though perhaps a tad on the dry side), all I could do was stare with miserable envy at my dining companion's pigeon. The fish was good though, served on what they called sun-dried tomatoes but actually tasted just like very tasty fresh tomatoes, and cornish crab. With it were two little tortellinis of (I think) caviar, which had the most incredible flavour, and roast fennel. To my companion's credit, he let me taste a bit of his pigeon. It was perfect. I should have had the pigeon.

Pre-dessert a cocktail glass full of some sort of palette cleanser arrived. It was nice - I think - but clearly nothing memorable as I have completely forgotten what was in it. All I remember is that it smelt slightly offputtingly of cottage cheese.

Dessert was apple and champagne sorbet with a very creamy ice-cream and bitter chocolate base. Very tasty - particularly the ice cream which was some of the best I've ever had, almost buttery-rich. Not much else to say about this... sorry I'm sure it's a supreme example of its kind but I've never been much of a pudding person. My companion's Tarte Tatin was incredible though, caramely and decadent with a perfect pastry.

Things ended quite theatrically. A selection of chocolate truffles with a pearly coating (I've had these before at Ramsays Claridges) arrived impaled on a little silver 'tree' and looked very pretty indeed.

Some strawberry ice cream balls covered in white chocolate tasted great, and came in a jar bathed in dry ice spilling over the edges of the container like a special effect from a cheap horror B-movie. And finally turkish delight, which was disconcertingly fluffy, almost to the extent that you couldn't feel it in your fingers, but tasted good.

The damage? £155 each, which obviously is a lot by the standards of your average restaurant but seemed more than reasonable for the effort that had gone into the food. This amount included a fair selection of champagne, wines and dessert wine and we didn't feel like we'd held back on this front, so it all seemed quite fair. It’s also worth pointing out that even though we’d ordered the cheaper(!) £85 a la carte menu rather than the £110 Menu Prestige, if you add up all the amuse-bouches and canapés it comes to about 8 courses. As an extra little treat, we were invited by a very friendly waiter called Bernard to have a quick peek at the kitchen, where GR's executive chef Mark Askew held fort. The kitchen was a lot smaller than I'd expected and there hardly seemed any room for the hundreds of chefs packed in there, but it was fascinating to see them all beavering away.

And there we have it. Much of the food was cooking of the very highest order, but is it enough to tempt me back in a city that includes so many other great restaurants? And was it really worth a 3-year wait? If nothing else, it's an albatross off my back and at least I can say I finally made it, I finally ate there. But I'm not going to start queuing up again just yet.

Mitnik

yay 16th June 2008

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not bad

emco

Wow! 18th March 2008

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This was the best restaurant experience I had in a very long time - not to say ever.

Almost everything was absolutely perfect. The food, the staff, the wine.
The cheese was unbelievable, every single one of them was perfectly riped.

This is an absolute must, but best take a big wallet

VictoriaR

Worth every penny 2nd March 2008

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It's hard to over emphasise just how good this restaurant is. Not just the food and wine, which speaks for itself, but the flawless service, charming front of house and general sense of well being which settles itself on you like a cashmere shawl for the rest of the day.

The secret of extracting this much money so willingly from diners is the way in which every diner is treated as the most important table in the room. Whether you choose the gastronomic heights of the tasting menu at £115, or stick to the astonishingly good value set lunch menu at £40, the attention is just the same. Service is very French - lots and lots of immaculate waiters shimmer up to do everything from taking your order to bringing you the truffle of the day to admire - but you never feel 'bothered', and staff can read tables well. If you want the full flourishing experience, it's yours; if you'd prefer a lower-key meal, you'll barely notice the magical way plates appear and disappear.

And the details! The explosion of flavours in the amuse bouches, the strawberry ice cream chocolates on a cloud of dry ice, the little silver tree of truffles... Admittedly, options on the set menu are limited if you're a veggie, but that's about the only drawback I can think of.

My boyfriend and I reward ourselves with lunch here as often as we can persuade ourselves we really deserve a treat. It might end up costing the same as a cheap European minibreak, after he's had a go on the astonishing winelist, but by the time we leave, Chelsea has taken on a rosy glow that makes us feel as if we ARE abroad. In short: the most expensive place we eat at in London, but the only one that I come out of feeling it's been money well spent.

gastro1

Top 29th February 2008

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Still the current best for this type of cuisine even if Mr Ramsey is probably never behind the stoves these days. Good luck to him he knows how to find nurture and develop great chefs and front of house staff.

Ramsey was a great Chef and is now a great restaurateur !

Enough praise though in the world of 3 Michelin stars he has not manged in my humble opinion to reach the heights of MPW in his heyday ( sad to see him promoting Knorr stock cubes) Nico Ladenis or indeed Pierre Koffman's La Tante Claire in the same site.

freddie5540

Well done Gordon 23rd February 2008

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This really is the best restaurant in London. The food here is on another level and the service is flawless. I could talk about the food for hours becaus there wasa so much and all of it perfect. The list begins: pumkin veloute with white truffle, cepe butter and brioche (wow), seared foie gras with carrot puree, sweetbreads & cabernet sauvignon vinegar (wow, wow), seared scallops with octopus carpaccio & parmesan veloute (wow), truffle stuffed turbot fillet with civet sauce (more please), fillet of sea bass with deep-fried oyster, potatoes, broccoli & caviar sauce (delicious), pressed terrine of chicken, foie gras & truffle, the list goes on and on.

I dined with my wife and two friends. Two of us ate one tasting menu and the others had a different one allowing us to consume some 25 or so dishes. I am really struggling to find a way to convey just how good it all was. At times I thought I might be dreaming and had to pinch myself to make sure it was all happening. The balls of strawberry ice-cream coated in white chocolate arrived at the table with dry ice spilling all over the place, adding to my dream theory.

The service was fantastic. They knew all our names and charmed us all night. We even met Mr Ramsay who chatted with us and was very funny. A tour of the immaculate kitchen followed and by the end of the whole experience I was wondering if anything I would eat in the future would ever be that good again.

Hugo at 24/02/08

I am salivating! Gordon Ramsay is on my list, when I have something special to celebrate. Have heard similarly ecstatic reviews from some other friends who claim that the lunch menu is pretty good value for what you get...

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AlexHung

Perfection 24th November 2007

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Gordon Ramsay may be on TV a lot nowadays but there is a reason why Michelin gives this restaurant 3 stars. My wife and I had lunch there and the food were cooked to perfection. The best dish of that day? Caramelised Tarte Tatin of apples. It defines the gold standard from which I'll judge all apple tart from this day onward!

The service was so good that I feel bad to leave only the 12.5% tips they put on the bill! We live in the US and I am more than happy to tip 20+% for this kind of great service!

Is 100+ pound a la carte menu a good value? I think so. Just imagine how many Friday night drinking you need to forgo before able to afford one Gordon Ramsay meal! Not that many, really! So treat yourself, at least once a year.