• Added: 6th of November 2008
• Area: Mayfair
• Category: Restaurants

London W1K 7QR
020 7408 0881

Food_Snob said
Le Gavroche, 30 October 2008
Illustrated Critique:

http://foodsnobblog.wordpress.com/2008/10/30/le-gavroche-the-return-london/

Text-only Critique:

It was raining. It was cold. I was at Marble Arch station and I was early. ‘If I get there too soon, they will make me wait outside till they open,’ I thought to myself. But there was nothing else to do, nowhere else to go, so I headed down Park Lane. My toes had become numb from the short walk between Marble Arch and the restaurant, but as soon as I turned left onto Upper Brook Street, my heart, and my belly, were warmed by the fond memories of my last meal here. Instinctively, I started smiling to myself and my gait quickened, footsteps shortened, my heart began to beat a little faster. I felt the cold no longer.

Its discreet door is distinguished only by the simple signage above. As one approaches, a symbolic fleur-de-lis, the Relais & Chateaux logo, and caricature coq gaulois, the arms of the Traditions & Qualité association, assure the diner they have arrived at one of Les Grandes Tables du Monde.

I rang the bell. Promptly one of Le Gavroche’s ginger gemini allowed me in. ‘Sorry, I am so early,’ I yelped, ‘is it alright if I wait inside, it is freezing out there?’ ‘Of course,’ the little lady assured me as she took my coat, ‘we couldn’t leave you in the cold now, could we?’ And to think of the countless times I have been forced to wait outside a restaurant…

I sat down on one of the plush couches in the cosy salon. Jumbo macadamias were set beside me and I requested the menu. I was pleased to have some time, before H came, to check le carte and I needed it; every dish read delicious. ‘You’re back’ a French baritone boomed in my direction. I looked up. It was Emmanuel. He had recognised me although he had not seen me since July and warmly welcomed me. I felt guilty I had waited so long to return.

Once ready, my greeter’s ringer escorted me to my table; one of the lovely big, banquetted booths from which one can watch all the action of the dining room unfold. H, who I had not met with since Roussillon, arrived on time. Graciously, he left most of the food selection to me and after checking he had brought with him a healthy appetite, Emmanuel and I set about organising our order. It is late autumn, which means ’tis the season for game - j’adore mon gibier - and the ALC and chef propose were brimming with mouth-watering wild birds. I put forward a few of my preferences and let Emmanuel decide the rest.

Amuse Bouche 1: Langoustine Beignet and Curried Smoked Bacon. A small, shimmering serving-tray supplied our starting amuses of crunchy-coated, juicy langoustines swollen with sea-sweet succulence. I had to handover my enticing, but illicit cup of curried pork to H, who was pretty pleased with the unexpected present.

Les Pains: Country Roll; Rye; Baguette; and Mixed Cereal & Raisin. Artisan bread is bought in from French master-bakers, Bagatelle, but bestowed baking hot - every time. Each variety was good and even better than before. Country roll was crisp and yeasty; the baguette, soft, crusty and proved an effective sponge. I liked most the mixed cereal and rye equally; the wholemeal, triangular raisin rolls were thick and rustic while the rye, deeply flavoured and moist. Butter is sourced from two different purveyors: the super-creamy salted is from Le Gall, in Breton Guérande and is made with the town’s famous fleur de sel; and the unsalted is from Sarl Ets Beillevaire, an organic producer in Machecoul in the Loire.

Amuse Bouche 2: Artichoke Beignet, Mixed Salad and Balsamic Vinaigrette. Another amuse of pork mousse quenelle arrived, but informing them I could not eat it, within minutes, this replacement was brought in its stead. Lightly battered, crispy artichoke leaf lay on a bed of micro greens, dressed with balsamic vinegar. The nutty vegetable and vinaigrette balanced the bitterness of the greens, leaving just their fresh bite.

Entrée 1: Soufflé Suissesse. Cheese soufflé Cooked on Double Cream. Although I had tried this already, I did not resist it sneaking onto our agenda again (plus, it means I can recycle my description from my first post: very lazy, I know). The menu’s translation does not do this justice. Arguably Le Gavroche’s most famous dish, certainly its oldest, this has been on the menu since day one. An ethereal island of rich Gruyère and cheddar cheese arrived floating upon a deep lake of béchamel and cream sauces. The initial savoury aroma of the baked cheese confection tantalised the taste buds. The appearance, grandiose and striking yet so precious, almost prevents one from violating that gentle crust, but each ambrosial spoonful that follows brushes all regrets aside. Every moist, indulgent, buttery bite is a palpable step closer towards an early, but richly deserved, grave.

Entrée 2: Coquille St. Jacques Grillée, Compote d’Aubergine et Fleur de Fenouil. Grilled Diver Caught Scallop, Spicy Aubergine, Fennel Pollen and Parsley Coulis. A char grilled, sizeable scallop sat atop spiced aubergine compote and alongside pea shoot salad and beetroot crisp, all upon dark pastel green purls of parsley coulis peppered with fennel pollen. The shellfish, suffused with clean, smoky savour, was soft yet firm. The creamy aubergine, seasoned with mustard seed, had a gentle kick to it, which, together with the peppery, grassy parsley, freshened the whole dish. Sugary-spinach-like, so slightly earthy, crisp pea shoots added some texture while the beetroot, salty and sweet, contributed crunch. Fennel pollen, which I had heard rumours of but not yet tried, was strongly aromatic with a honey-like, flowery taste, smoother than anise. The new, interesting and expensive - similarly priced as saffron, though liberally applied - enhancer’s light liquorice essence worked well with the scallop.

Entrée 3: Petit Chausson de Canard Sauvage et Pistaches, Chicorée Rotie Minute et Sauce Rouennaise. Hot Wild Duck Pie with Pistachios and Roasted Endive Salad. Flaky pastry filled with wild duck and pistachio was accompanied by roast endive in sauce Rouennaise. The pie was perfect: short, buttery crust, lined with moist inner layer and stuffed with steaming, strong, tender duck. The nuts offered mild sweetness and creamy chewiness; whilst the sauce, a Bordelaise (dry red wine, bone marrow, shallots and demi-glace) with puréed duck foie gras, was deliciously deep. Caramelised endive was delicately bitter and thus a good counterpoint to the richer meat and gravy. The exemplary execution and serious savours made this a wow.

Plat Principal 1: Darne de Turbot Grillée et Beurre Blanc à la Ciboulette. Grilled ‘T’ Bone of Turbot, Chive Sauce, Chick Pea Chips and Courgette Cannelloni. Half a hunky chunk of T-bone Turbot, teamed with chive beurre blanc, came with thick-cut chickpea frites and ratatouille-packed courgette parcels. The charred fillet, flush with woody flavour, was great in texture and taste, its firm, white flesh falling off the fishy-spine in steak-like strips. The hot, buttery sauce, mildly onion and garlicky, was a superb condiment compliment. Ratatouille roll mops were filled with smoky, earthy eggplant, sweet red pepper, tomato and onions. The chips were well-made, but seemed maybe surplus to requirements.

Plat Principal 2: Le Lièvre à la Royale. Classic Braised Stuffed Saddle of Hare and Swiss Chard. Legendary Lièvre à la Royale is soaked in history and tradition and marked as the ‘most mythical meal in French cuisine’. Its actual recipe, however, is much disputed.

Original credit for the creation commonly lies with Senator Aristide Couteaux, who in November 1898, instead of his usual political column in Le Temps newspaper, published directions for a new dish. He reported of his week in Poitou hunting a special hare and, once catching it, taking the Paris train straight to his chef-friend, M. Spüller in Rue Favart, famous in his day. Couteaux’s instructions are retold in Elizabeth David’s A Book of Mediterranean Food: one requires (and I summarise) a hare, ‘cleanly killed…so not [to] have lost a drop of blood’; goose fat; bacon; good wine vinegar; red wine; 20 garlic cloves; 40 shallot cloves; carrot; onion; bouquet garni; plus optional cognac for the hare’s blood. The meat is stewed for hours in wine and sauce thickened with blood; if properly prepared, it is ‘needless to say, that to use a knife to serve the hare would be a sacrilege. A spoon alone is amply sufficient.’ As Spüller cooked this, its aroma alone, wafting from the restaurant, apparently had crowds of passers-by sniffing, straining and shoving their way to his door.

However, Henri Babinski, writing in his Gastronomie Pratique (1907) under the brilliant anonym Ali Baba, contested the technique, claiming the animal should be boned, stuffed with foie gras and truffle, simmered slowly in wine and hare stock, with the end result resembling a ballotine served in thick slices with brandy-and-blood-thickened gravy.

And, of course, there is a third way. Prosper Montagne, in Larousse Gastronomique (1938), states the hare be stuffed with a mixture including truffles, goose foie gras and hare blood and giblets, before being braised in white wine and briefly browned in the oven.

Now, that was either Q.I. or quite boring, so let me return to Le Gavroche, whose chefs follow, fittingly, Ali Baba’s ten-page preparation (probably because Couteaux’s civet demands seven days spent hunting and seven hours in the kitchen). The ballotine of boned, foie gras-stuffed saddle of hare, sitting in red wine and blood sauce strewn with wild mushrooms, was served with Swiss chard gratin. The hare was lusciously strong and gamey; its dark red meat, robust and dense, contrasted well with the sweeter, softer foie gras-filling. Sticky, potent, powerful bloody gravy was lip-smackingly good and added essential moisture to le lièvre. The nutty, creamy Gruyère gratin of earthy chard was savoury-sweet and cheesy-rich, complementing the similarly earthy and nutty, plump mushrooms.

Plat Principal 3: Perdreau Rôti en Cocotte à l’Alsacienne. Roast Partridge with Sauerkraut, Roast Potato and Alsace Bacon. Whole partridge, roasted then baked in a sealed pot with its accompanying vegetables, was presented en cocotte, then carved tableside. Half the bird, roasted potato pair, Chantenay carrot couple and sauerkraut serving were plated then dressed with brandy jus for each of us (normally Alsace bacon would also be included). The plump partridge had moist, tender flesh with delicate, subtly gaminess whilst the brandy, blended with jus roti, made for a lovely, not overpowering sauce. Carrots were crisp and honey-like; potatoes, roasted perfectly; and sour cabbage had nice smokiness. This delicious dish, in Alsatian style - which explains the Germanic influence - was soft yet satisfying; all the simple elements gelling gently and comfortably together.

• Added: 6th of November 2008
• Area: Mayfair
• Category: Restaurants

London W1K 7QR
020 7408 0881

Food_Snob said
Le Gavroche, 30 October 2008 (continued)
Illustrated Critique:

http://foodsnobblog.wordpress.com/2008/10/30/le-gavroche-the-return-london/

Text-only Critique:

Dessert 1: Petite Tarte Tatin aux Pommes et Glace à la Vanille de Madagascar. Classic Upside Down Caramelised Apple Tart with Vanilla Ice Cream. Scrumptious apple tarte tatin, adorned with two fat quenelles of Madagascan vanilla ice cream and split sprig of vanilla pod, was encircled with aureoles of salted caramel. This salty-sweet sauce was as sticky as the crisp puff pastry that imprisoned soft, hot poached pommes. The heat from the tart slowly warmed the spoonfuls of thick ice cream, causing them to melt and mizzle over it, mingling with the caramel. The vanilla aroma and essence was felt instantly, the fragrant bouquet lingering pleasingly. Softness contrasted with crunch; hot with cold; sugary with salty; everything was just right, just rich enough; an irresistible dessert.

After gobbling down those yummy tartes tatin, Emmanuel surprised us with the offer to revisit the kitchen and watch the chef de patisserie prepare our second sweets, H’s Oeufs à la Neige and my Omelette Rothschild. Like giddy schoolgirls we leapt from our table and skipped after him into cette cuisine connu…

It was jolly good fun watching all those chefs at work, plus as it was getting late and dinner service was coming to an end, things were winding down and people were fairly at ease, joking with each other, joking with us. All made us welcome, from Head Chef Rachel Humphries - who was running the show superbly in Michel’s absence - down to the commis chefs.

The chef de patisserie took us under his wing whilst Emmanuel returned to the dining room. The chef then led us step by step through how to make my famous soufflé. He whipped the egg whites; mixed the Cointreau with crème patisserie; then whipped the two together. The fluffy, white meringue outcome was then scooped into a small pan; browned golden on the hob; then placed into the 180º oven for three/four minutes. Concurrently, we were able to see a millefeuille made and tarte tatin too. Once our desserts were done, Emmanuel came to fetch us and after thanking and saying goodbye to probably fifteen people, we finally sat down to enjoy the fruits of other’s labours.

Dessert 2: Omelette Rothschild. Apricot & Cointreau Soufflé. Not surprisingly, there are again two different stories of how this treat was invented. One relates that the omelette was originally made for the Baron (James Meyer) de Rothschild by Carême in the 1820s. The other tells us that it came about during the Rothschild family’s visit to a restaurant, when they demanded apricot soufflé desserts. The chef, lacking soufflé bowls, decided to prepare the mixture on the stove before covering and placing it in the oven and thus producing a thick pancake…whichever of these, if either, is true, the recipe was most certainly picked up by the senior Rouxs during their time as chefs to the Rothschild family after first arriving in London.

At this stage, I had already eaten seriously too much, but resisting was futile and I did not even want to try. Michel’s own words came to mind, ‘whatever you have been eating before, even if you feel you have no more room for dessert, there is always room for soufflé.’

This graceful gossamer gift, a bright alabaster bubble dotted with tiny dark dots of vanilla seed and tinged ochre in the oven, was tilted over a cluster of Cointreau-soaked dried apricots and drizzled in thick apricot-Cointreau sauce, then double cream, at the table. Emmanuel watched over as my serveuse poured; ‘non, non, you need more, you must have more, more is better, non?’ he winked as he took over the pourer’s post. The soufflé, at first trembling as I teased her with my spoon, willingly succumbed to my pleasure once I penetrated her subtly tanned skin. It was everything I could have asked for: consummate in consistency - feather-light, smooth and spongy - and tasty on the tongue - delicately fruity and vanilla-rich. The mellow marshmallow-like delight was doused in contrastingly strong, thick sauce that boasted warm, orange, apricot sweetness, cut through by double cream. Plump apricots, with velvety veneers, were soft, deep and when bit, burst forth intoxicating juice. Clearly, I liked it, but I will let Michel have the final words, ‘Oooh gosh!’

Petit Fours: Canelé, Macarons de Café, Groseilles Vertes Sucrées and Tuiles Poivre Noir et Sésame. A collection of macarons de café, canelés, groseilles vertes sucrées and tuiles pavot sésame accompanied our desserts. The macarons had good texture and taste. The groseilles (physalis), caramel-dipped and coconut-laced, had been transformed from soft fruit to hard-husked, molten-cored flavour grenades. The tuiles, made simply of sesame, black pepper and corn syrup, were crunchy, light and sticky; the pepper, replacing the previous poppy seeds, gave these a nicely spicy aftertaste. The best I saved till last: the canelés. Soft, tender custard centre; dark, thick caramelized crust; je les aime. Each breaking bite through that firm, crisp, tenné coat, into the golden, vanilla, mushy egg mush in the middle, made me happier and the more I ate, the better they tasted. These are possibly my very favourite pastry.

It is clear I enjoyed it loved it. But how could I not? The menu is full of enticing choices and must-order dishes. These include both ones from Le Gavroche’s own stable of nigh-forty-year-old classics - Soufflé Suissesse, Omelette Rothschild, Mousseline de Homard au Champagne et Caviar are always there, plus Oeuf Carême in the summertime, and Daube de Boeuf too - as well as those from the wider French tradition; like La Lièvre à la Royale, which I have never seen on offer outside France. On top of this, the ingredients are simply the best that can be found and the cooking, faultless. It was even an improvement on my last visit when, for instance, desserts were the weakest part of a great meal, but that could not be said again; both sweets were sublime and tonight Michel was not even in the kitchen! The food, though, was only part of what made this meal so memorable. Even had the grub been half as good, I would still have had a terrific time thanks to the staff.

At Le Gavroche nothing ever changes. Normally. However, in my absence, after 37 constant and outstanding years in office, the legendary maître d’hôtel, Silvano Giraldin, had retired. Such a potentially disruptive event could have easily and seriously unsettled the FOH. It did not. But this is no discredit to Silvano, instead it is a compliment to his successor, Emmanuel Landré; and to be honest, though I loved the service before, it too was better this time round…

Dining here is an experience, an occasion, made thus by, above all, the staff who, I must say, in my opinion, offer the best service in London. At Le Gavroche, it is all about the guest and making sure that they feel comfortable and enjoy their meal. Making a quick penny, actually let’s not forget where we are, a quick ten-pound-note, is the last thing on their minds. For example, Emmanuel could have easily served us each full portions and thus doubled the restaurant’s money, but instead, he arranged for us to share almost every plate. This not only lightened our bill, but meant we could first, try every dish we wanted, and secondly, not become ill from over-eating! Such consideration I have seen in only one other place, Passard’s l’Arpège (3*) in Paris. And needless to say, the whole behind-the-scenes adventure speaks for itself, but was obviously much-appreciated and will be fondly remembered.

For me, dining at Le Gavroche is like coming home. It is not that I am a ‘regular’ - which makes it all the more remarkable - but rather the warm, welcome feeling I get being pampered and fed in my favourite restaurant in town.

I know not all will agree, not all have shared such a time, but, to be blunt, I do not care. I can only write of what I know and that is my experience and my opinion. And I think that Le Gavroche is so good, so very, very good.


43 Upper Brook Street, W1K 7QR
tel: 020 7408 0881
nearest tube: Marble Arch
www.le-gavroche.co.uk

• Added: 3rd of November 2008
• Area: Knightsbridge
• Category: Restaurants

London SW1X 7LA
020 7201 3723

Food_Snob said
Foliage, 28 Oct 2008
Illustrated Critique:

http://foodsnobblog.wordpress.com/2008/10/28/foliage-london/

Text-only Critique:

Foliage, enunciated [foh-lee-ahj] for the record darlings, is the Michelin-starred flagship restaurant at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, Knightsbridge. The same hotel that was once home to the Restaurant Marco Pierre White, where this celebrated chief won his record-breaking three stars before moving on to the Oak Room (winning three there again, then giving them back). Today, London is littered with MPW’s former protégés - Ramsay, Chavot, Howard, Atherton, Tanaka and of course many more - therefore it is apt and almost inevitable that one old boy now runs his former residence.

Chris Staines, starting in Suffolk, moved first to Llangoed Hall (1*), Sir Bernard Ashley’s Welsh country house hotel; then Lucknam Park (1*), Bath for two years; Chez Nico (3*) for another two; and next the Oak Room (3*). His two-and-a-half years there were interesting to say the least; just as he was joining, MPW was leaving and retiring from day-to-day cheffing, finally serving his last three Michelin star meal to a paying customer here in December 1999, before handing back his étoiles. Under executive chef Robert Reid, Chris worked his way up to sous chef, then head chef, helping the restaurant regain a star in 2001. The next year however, MPW decided to close the Oak Room and in March 2002, Chris succeeded Hywel Jones as head chef at Foliage, which had just earned its own first star two months before. Many of the Oak Room’s staff followed him to Foliage.

Chris brought with him respect for raw materials underlined with technical precision. The first nurtured in the British countryside and expressed by an emphasis on seasonality - ‘I don’t like to mess around with food. Cooking at its best should be seasonal’ - and simplicity through frequently changing menus. The latter skills were learned under two of London’s greats, Nico Landenis and more briefly, MPW, as well as Robert Reid, whom Chris credits with teaching him ‘a great deal about flavours, cooking process and how to treat ingredients’. Chris’ cuisine is certainly French-based with classical dishes delivered in modern style. He is fan of simple, natural flavours that should ’shine through and compliment’ each other and for inspiration looks to fellow chefs Aikens, Osbourne and Gagnaire. Chris has also been commended on his attitude and applauded for his hard work, determination and good leadership. Furthermore, he is a genuine foodie himself and when holidaying, would take empty suitcases to fill with food and wine (this was before customs became so strict, I imagine). This passion is reinforced with a reputation for being first and last in the kitchen and a tendency to devote hours to the same dish before allowing it onto the menu. Having himself travelled and toiled in San Francisco, Hong Kong, Prague, California’s Napa Valley - spending a month with Thomas Keller at The French Laundry - and domestically, The Vineyard at Stockcross with John Campbell and Heston Blumenthal’s Fat Duck, he clearly champions the ‘cross-pollination’ of chefs. Thus, this week he welcomed Relais Gourmand Norbert Niederkofler from the St. Hubertus Hotel to Foliage.

Chef Norbert, himself a double Michelin medallist, can normally be found in his native Northern Italian village of San Cassiano, 1,535m up in the Dolomites. After years spent in some of Europe’s and America’s top restaurants, he returned home in 1996 to run the pizzeria at St. Hubertus, but in 2000, with the award of his first star, the pizzeria was ditched for fine-dining. Norbert has since been honing his craft, combining the traditions of the Tyrol or Alto Adige - a mingling of Mediterranean and German flavours and ingredients - with the methods and ideas he collected abroad, whilst also mentoring London’s own Giorgio Locatelli. Chris describes his cooking as ‘robust traditional northern Italian cuisine, with its unexpected accents absorbed from his travels - completely different from your classic Italian,’ while Gambero Rosso (Italy’s premier food publication) recommends it as ’simple, straight, light…it is essential and convincing, it hits with discretion and class, all the way to the tips of the toes’. Others who have enjoyed his food include the Benetton and Agnelli families and Prince Albert of Monaco. He also hosts the Chef’s Cup, a competition attracting many Michelin-starred chefs, wine-makers and journalists, whose proceeds go to the Nicholls Spinal Injury Foundation, which raises funds to support spinal injury research. This is the bud from which Norbert’s relationship with Foliage bloomed; this charity was started by Mandarin’s executive chef, David Nicholls, whose son suffered a spinal injury in 2003. The mutual acquaintance means that Norbert is no foreigner in Foliage’s kitchen, having already visited last November. This year, he stayed from 21-31 October and offered a special tasting menu together with dishes dotting the ALC.

Foliage is hidden deep within the 150-year-old former Hyde Park Hotel - previously patronised by Edward VIII, Churchill, Valentino and Gandhi (for whom a goat was daily milked) - in part of what was once the Park Restaurant. To find it, one must climb the gilded staircase, traverse the marble lobby, negotiate the loud, trendy Mandarin Bar, navigate past opposing, open-glass, 5,000 bottle wine cupboards into the bright rotunda antechamber before finally reaching the calm, serene, cream and green dining room. The small, but spacious area - 46 covers - is set upon two tiers, allowing all diners a view through the floor-to-ceiling picture windows that look out onto the 350 acre Royal Park. Unfortunately the Candy, One Hyde Park, development next door currently obscures guests’ vision, though builders have considerately tried to camouflage the construction-site with green hoardings. The narrow top tier is fringed on all sides with blinds behind which large smoked-glass panels are filled with 24,000 white silk leaves that change colour in sync with the seasons. In its centre stands a short metal dais decked with dark vase holding bright orange, long-stem daylilies. Passing through a mirrored archway, one enters the wider, higher-ceilinged lower level. The theme is obviously rooted in verdure and designer, Adam Tihany, was indeed charged with ‘bring[ing] the park into the restaurant’. It seems he took this literally and each day the park is brought in with fresh beech leaves, collected by one of the staff, being placed beneath the bespoke clear-glass cover plates. Alan Titchmarsh would soil himself. Clean lines and geometric shapes dominate; cream walls are bordered with glossy rosewood; and chairs are light butterscotch leather and dark wood. Tables, set simply with plate, silver napkin ring and cube jardinière holding persimmon-coloured pincushion proteas, are doubly draped in thick golden linens embossed with white leaf embroidery. The frumpish chocolate-mauve carpet is the only reminder that one is still in a hotel.

I, of course, choose Chef Norbert’s Rosa Alpina Tasting Menu, plus an extra main and dessert from the regular ALC:

Amuse Bouche 1: Onion / Smoked Eel. White onion velouté with a sprig of Mizuna cress came with mustard crisp that concealed smoked eel tartare inset with capers and coarsely cut green apple. The white onion, with a naturally sweeter, milder flesh - offset by the peppery cress - had good density doubled with lovely flavour. The oiliness of the smoky eel was balanced by the sour capers and fruity-tart apple, whilst the pressed discus of fried mustard was sticky, sweet and then sharp.

Les Pains: Walnut; Sourdough; Brown Cereal Roll; White Roll; and French Baguette. Bread is brought in from boulangerie Poilâne, in Victoria. Large slices of sourdough had yeasty tanginess and chewy crust; walnut loaf was chock-a-block with copious chunks of nut; and both varieties of roll were crunchy and moist. My favourite, unusually, was the brilliant baguette; crusty, soft, delicious. French bread works best with French butter, thus this beurre de baratte is from serious Norman supplier, Le Beurre Bordier (who can count Passard, Ducasse and Robuchon as customers).

Entrée 1: Calf’s Head and Lobster; Beetroot Cannelloni / Horseradish Cream. Warm pressed calf’s head arrived adorned with alternating arrangement of lobster and white beetroot cannelloni filled with horseradish cream. The head, cooked, the flesh removed and moulded into a flat square was rich, almost sweet and jelly-like. Bouncy lobster, tail and claw, was intensely aromatic and, together with the sweet beet feuilles, was countered by the mildly pungent horseradish; this curious recipe must draw on Eastern European and Jewish traditions where the seafood-beetroot-horseradish marriage is not unusual.

Entrée 2: Pumpkin Risotto; Lardo Di Colonnata / Black Truffle. Pumpkin risotto (normally overlain with Lardo di Colonnato), sowed with pistachios and trimmed with truffles, was served with scallop brochette. The rice was delightfully all’onda and the addition of nuts, nicely thought out; the slightly creamy bite and mild sweetness of the pistachio paired well with the pumpkin. The brace of scallops too were very good, each sweet, moist and oozing savoury relish. Unfortunately the Scorzone truffles (Umbrian summer truffles) were not strong enough to stand out.

Entrée 3: Geröstel of Sweetbreads / Potatoes / Artichokes / Truffle. Geröstel - traditional Tyrolean peasant provender made from pork, hash and other leftovers - was given a creative reworking. The hashed pork was replaced with deep-fried sweetbreads, sitting atop slices of braised, unpeeled potato and artichoke, in light truffle foam. This time the truffles delivered that longed-for potent punch, both in fragrance and flavour. The succulent sweetbreads’ battered shuck had dry, crunchy outside and moist inside. These contrasted with the sweetbreads at Roussillon, also battered, but very lightly, vainly; here, the fried frame had purpose and presence. The left-on skin of the potato was a rustic touch and the artichoke, pleasantly salty.

Plat Principal 1: Red Mullet; Langoustine and oyster / Spider Crab Consommé. Two fillets of red mullet swimming, with squid-ink-tapioca tuile, in spider crab consommé were teamed with tartare of langoustine and oyster laced with lime. The fish, fully flavoured with the rouget’s remarkable shellfish-like savour, was prepared impeccably and innovatively: hot oil was poured upon the mullet slowly, the process being repeated thrice or so with the same oil to leave the fillets flaky and forming a thin film of bubbles from the skin that crackled and dissolved on the tongue like rice crispies - an excellent effect and one I have never seen before. The tangerine-coloured tarn of crab was clear, concentrated and distinct whilst the tartare, tasty and smooth; the sweeter langoustine and elemental oyster harmonised well and the lime’s citric zing perked up the pair.

Plat Principal 2: Breast of Guinea Fowl; Foie Gras / Black Venere Rice / Kumquats. Parsley sauce was spread below black Venere rice bedding upon which lay two thick tranches of guinea fowl; a slab of pan-fried foie gras, confit kumquat trio and (usually bacon-wrapped) guinea fowl leg confit came alongside. The bird, cooked sous vide and finished in the pan, was moist, meaty and mildly gamey with crispy skin; its legs were intense and deeply sapid. The wild, dark rice - originally a Chinese staple, but now widely grown in Piedmont - was delicious with unusually juicy, earthy grains; it also emitted a faint, but wholesome aroma. The bountifully buttered foie, close to raw and all but requiring a spoon to be eaten, though not necessarily undercooked, had good taste. At first sachharine, thanks to their thin rind, the kumquats’ soft orange inner flesh left a tart aftertaste that provided a decent counterpoint to the richness and sweetness of the foie and fowl confit. All told, a rather hearty dish.

Plat Principal 3: Beef / Tongue and Cheek / Salsify / Horseradish. The only Chris Staines creation that worked its way into my meal consisted of dense, dark chump of beef cheek atop a base of braised parsnips partnered with considerable cannelloni of tongue, mushrooms and chicken mousse. Roast salsify chips and pickled onions accompanied these with horseradish foam and red wine jus. The braised beef, infused with the wine, was mushy and fibrous and had a nice, sharp tickle from the horseradish. The pasta was delicate whilst its filling soft, saucy and earthy. Little pickled onions were especially pleasing and the parsnip, almost puréed, was delicately sweet and slightly nutty; the thick gravy was also good. Strong, robust flavours came together well and all the elements worked with each other nicely.

(Continued)

• Added: 3rd of November 2008
• Area: Knightsbridge
• Category: Restaurants

London SW1X 7LA
020 7201 3723

Food_Snob said
Foliage, 28 Oct 2008 (Continued)
Illustrated Critique:

http://foodsnobblog.wordpress.com/2008/10/28/foliage-london/

Text-only Critique:

Pre-Dessert: Grapefruit Sorbet / Cashew / Ginger. Grapefruit sorbet, covering chopped cashews and crowned with ginger emulsion, came with a grapefruit segment dusted with white and Demerara sugar. Distinctly sour citrus sorbet matched agreeably with the rich, buttery nuts and warm, sweet, surprisingly intense ginger. The juicy grapefruit added some tart refreshment.

Dessert 1: Calvados Soufflé / Green Apple Iced Parfait / Sea Salt Caramel. A pretty plate, centred with apple parfait, skilfully sculpted like the self-same fruit, sitting on streusel and rim-to-rim smearing of sea salt caramel strewn with dried apple, was served with a shot of calvados soufflé and streaks of purée pomme. The forcefully fruity soufflé surprised with buried, burning-warm bits of moist apple and, though it had light consistency, was a little cloying for me. The iced green apple, almost too adorable to be eaten, had frosty freshness and its streusel (essentially crumble topping) setting was sweet and crunchy. The caramel was indeed salty and sticky, whilst the purée, tangy.

Dessert 2: Thai Mango; Mango Sorbet / Jelly / Chocolate Mousse. The final course featured a bar of chocolate ganache and very thin layer of passion fruit jelly gilded with coco mousse and topped with two quenelles of Thai mango sorbet and tuile; crescendoing driblets of mango coulis decorated the dish. The Valrhona equatoriale 55% tartufo had nice bitterness and big passion fruit punch. The sorbet, made from the smaller, stronger-tasting Thai breed of mango, had excellent, smooth texture. The sprig of basil gave a sweet, metallic finish.

Petit Fours: Pistachio and Vanilla, Honey & Iced Sugar Madeleines. Both varieties of sponge were exquisite: feather-light with super-crisp coat and airy, hot centre. The pistachio had gorgeous green colour within, though weak nuttiness, but the vanilla/honey/sugar sort overflowed with honeyed vanilla essence.

The most pleasing aspect of this very consistent meal was the unusual ingredients, techniques and recipes on show; Geröstel, the mullet’s novel cookery and black Venere rice were delightfully new to me whilst calf’s head, kumquat and mango I have not seen on any other menu this year. Obviously Norbert and his three-man team are working well with Chris’; the quality of the produce - some brought over from St. Hubertus, the rest (Irish beef, French fowl, Landes foie gras) sourced from independent, organic producers - nor its preparation could be faulted. Flavours were light and straightforward and presentation controlled and elegant, in line with Norbert’s daily message to his staff, ‘the simple things in life are the most beautiful.’ I also appreciated the signed copy of his beautiful book, St. Hubertus and the flavour of the Dolomites: look above, Katie Holmes and Roberta Armani, Giorgio’s niece have one too! Regretfully, I did not have the belly-berth to try more of Chris’ cooking, but the dish I chose, given his fascination for working with traditionally second cuts, was a good one. I also felt it, though more intricate, was characterised by an exquisite harmonisation between the elements whilst the ALC dessert, although made by the chef de pâtisserie rather than Chris himself, was clearly designed to wow and even if technically exciting, for me looked better than it tasted.

My chief serveuse, was sweet, helpful and patient. When she could not satisfy a query, she would without fail find the answer; asking after the provenance of the butter, for example, she left to learn it and returned not only with the supplier’s name, but their full address. Nevertheless, at other times the staff seemed a little overeager to remove my plates, which in turn made me feel more rushed and thus detrimentally affected my enjoyment of the food. In contrast again, the senior staff, Daniel on the door and restaurant manager, Markus Lindner, were warm, engaging, attentive and enthusiastic. Daniel was keen on my honest opinion of the whole Foliage experience and any ways I thought it may be improved - interactive improvement: uncommon but quite pleasant. Food-lover Markus was delightful to talk with, very open and candid. The whole atmosphere was relaxed, unstuffy yet still sophisticated and professional.

I am very pleased to have sampled some cooking from a distinguished chef whose dishes I would not otherwise have been able to, however because I tried so little of Chef Chris’ food, I cannot comment on Foliage fully or fairly. From the little I did taste though, I was impressed with the full flavours derived from essentially humble ingredients and meeting the man himself, I was left respecting his unpretentious, convivial manner and willingness to make time to speak to me.

In 2007, Foliage was awarded with an espoir by Michelin as well as presently possessing five AA rosettes (out of five): such fine credentials alone warrant a return visit, but my own experience here has earned one.


66 Knightsbridge, Mandarin Oriental Hotel, SW1X 7LA
tel: 020 7201 3723
nearest tube: Knightsbridge
www.mandarinoriental.com

• Added: 30th of October 2008
• Area: Mayfair
• Category: Restaurants

London W1K 1QA
020 7317 6336

Food_Snob said
The Grill at the Dorchester, 23 Oct 2008
Illustrated Critique:

http://foodsnobblog.wordpress.com/2008/10/23/the-grill-at-the-dorchester-london/

Text-only Critique:

Another week, another trilogy realised: I have now eaten at all of the Dorchester Hotel’s three restaurants. China Tang was long ago now and, bar maybe the best egg-fried rice I have ever had, was rather forgettable. Widely derided Alain Ducasse was a disappointment; here, again only one dish - Filets de sole à la florentine, crevettes et champignons de Paris, sauce Château Chalon - shone (very brightly), whilst desserts I thought terrible and I did try three.

Already, automatically almost, I am inclined to favour the Grill. This is solely because it is the common casualty of some uncalled-for criticism from celebrated critic, AA Gill. Together with a favourite of mine, l’Ambassade de l’Ile, the Grill was awarded a single star (out of five) by this aforesaid assessor. Do not misunderstand - I do not mind if my judgment differs from his, but I do think that, after describing dishes as ‘utterly brilliant, deliciously flavoured’ and all the cooking as ‘craftsmanlike, considered and thoughtful,’ giving it only one star essentially because he did not like the décor, is just misrepresentative. I will describe the Grill’s design in more detail later, but for now, let us just say Mr. Gill liked it even less than l’Ambassade’s.

Built surprisingly recently, as late as 1931, the darling Dorchester is the babe of London’s bunch of grand hotels, but maybe my favourite. The Ritz oozes opulence; the Connaught is celebrated; Claridge’s, classy; the Savoy…shut; but the Dorchester endears, delights and has je ne sais quoi. In addition to its illustrious history of hospitality, the hotel also carries an important culinary legacy, of which the Grill is the greatest epitome. From here, Anton Mosimann revolutionised hotel dining in London with the 1975 introduction of his cuisine naturelle - a lighter, healthier way of eating - making the Dorchester’s the first hotel kitchen outside France to earn two Michelin stars. However, years past have seen such success stale and in an attempt to remedy this rot, 2006 saw the Dorchester Grill redubbed the Grill at the Dorchester and dramatically redesigned: from indulgently Iberian to scandalously Scottish. More significantly, a new chef was sought to replace the out-going (to Tom’s Kitchen) Ollie Couillard, who had struggled to stamp his mark on the restaurant. Indeed, the Grill is a tall order for any chef: first, there is its tradition as a bastion of Britishness to bear, but then there is the bad name gained for being the boring retreat of the blue-rinse mob.

Aiden Byrne was approached. Young, dynamic and English, Aiden - the youngest chef ever to win a Michelin star - was seen as the ideal man to inherit the helm. However, he was at first hesitant. Visiting the restaurant did not help: after watching ‘people falling asleep in their bowls of soup’, his wife forbade him taking the job - ‘you’re not coming here,’ she decided. Ultimately though, the lure of London’s bright lights proved too persuasive and he accepted the job in October 2006. Aiden, who had been running Danesfield House near Marlow, previously worked at Tom Aikens (1*) as head chef; Pied à Terre (2*) as sous chef; Adlards, Norwich (1*) as head chef also; and Roscoff, Peacock Alley and the Commons (all in Dublin), chronologically. Thus he had learned directly from the likes of David Adlard, Paul Rankin, Richard Neat and, his mentor, master emulsifier, Tom Aikens. Aiden also, aptly, brings with him a passion for British cooking and ingredients: ‘my aim has always been to shatter the myth that British food has to be heavy and old-fashioned and to highlight the fact they we have some of the finest suppliers and produce in the world.’ Sounds like a marriage made in heaven…

The Grill’s gilded gateway is found along the opulent promenade - which happens to stretch the same length as Nelson’s Column - that runs through the hotel’s heart. That doorway may as well be a wormhole; entering the dining room, one is transported three hundred years into the past and three hundred miles north, to Bonnie Scotland. The décor was the million pound masterpiece of Thierry Despont, the same man charged with restoring nothing less than the Statue of Liberty. I can imagine what had happened: as deadline day drew near, this Frenchman, wrestling to overcome some mammoth mental roadblock and desperate for inspiration, must have found it in one of two places. The first was at the breakfast table: deliberating his dilemma over a bowl of porridge, his attention was arrested by the box, of Scott’s Porridge Oats of course, and his theme was determined then. But, on second thoughts, this is unlikely - they do not really do breakfast across la Manche, petit dejeuner there consists of cigarettes et café, n’est-ce pas? The second scenario saw his motivation come from the menu itself, opening it, reading the first item ‘Oak Smoked Scottish Salmon’ - it must have been the Sunday lunch menu - he decided he had struck gold: reminiscences of the Auld Alliance, la Vieille Alliance, swelled in his breast and this witty Frenchman, in mocking, defiant stand against les Rosbifs built a shrine to all that is Scottish. Historical note: this accord between France and Scotland aimed specifically against England culminated in the 1421 Battle of Bauge when the ‘Army of Scotland’, part of the French royal service, defeated Albion’s army and earned themselves the appellation ‘antidote to the English’.

Getting back on track…tartan dominates the room: green-and-thatched-red tartan carpets the floor; two types of it - green/navy/red-pinstripe and red/scarlet/green-pinstripe - upholster the high-backed armchairs; the same green/navy one wraps the wine shelves on either side of the dining area; whilst the red tartan lines dresser screens. The focal point is a large four-sided centre-couch complete with comfy cushions and crowned by a large bronze urn filled with several dozen roses. The glossy, golden-brown burnished walls are adorned in ‘Carry on Ceilidhing‘ style with the Grill’s most controversial feature -10ft tall highlanders and highland-lassies, unsurprisingly, togged up in more tartan. Other minor talking points include bright red, velvet bedsteads on some of the seating. Four large chandeliers hang from the cream ceiling. The restaurant, fitting about eighty, is filled with square tables dressed with white linen and finely furnished with elegant J.L. Coquet crockery, silver salt-and-pepper shakers made by Peugeot and a pair of fresh-cut roses.

I could continue writing all day, but I best stop and cut to the chase: the food.

Amuse Bouche 1: Lemongrass and Carrot Soup. An attention-grabbing amuse of lemongrass and carrot complete with spherificated cylindrical of coriander awakened our taste-buds. Each spoonful surrendered short sweetness succeeded by a deep, almost sharp finish from the lemony, gingery grass. The bitter bubble burst with a warm, citric spiciness that complemented the lemongrass.

Les Pains: Five seed & cereal; Brown rye; Walnut, thyme & onion; and Stilton. A four-strong selection of homemade breads was offered. A soft, wholemeal brown rye came plain or filled with five seeds and cereal. Walnut, thyme and onion was well-seasoned with the strong aroma and flavour of minty, lemon-like thyme and had a nice, nutty coat. The most interesting of all, however, was the Stilton. This fluffy, white bread with well-baked crust had a mellow, earthy essence; the potentially overpowering quality of the blue cheese was kept comfortably under control. Lescure butter from Normandy, with its characteristic gentle tang, was served alongside.

Entrée 1: Braised Chicken with potato and truffle cannelloni. An Aiden signature dish of three braised, boned chicken wings came sandwiched between two cannelloni - one of crispy spud filled with soup of potato, warm milk and truffle oil and another of chicken and truffle mousse - with a tater tuile, buckler-leaf sorrel garnish and dressed in truffle oil, chive and chicken jus sabayon. The mouth-watering wings, from Jason Wise of Ark Chicken, with sticky, caramelised skin, were succulent and flavourful. The pipe of pommes purée was soft and smooth with earthy, fungi depth. The cylinder of chicken mousse, also containing crunchy, diced potato, was just as creamy. The buckler-leaf sorrel supplied a welcome acidic, clean note of lemon, whilst the gorgeous gravy had smoky intensity from the truffle and richness from the jus roti. of Pied à Terre’s Shane Osborne described this as ‘one of my best dishes of the year,’ whereas, for me, it brought back memories of mumsy’s mash.

Entrée 2: Peach and Tomato Salad with pine vinaigrette. A rather summery second starter followed the first: slices of peach, heirloom, ripe and unripe tomato, served with peach and tomato fondants, peach mousse and tomato foam, were presented peppered with pine nuts, drizzled in vinaigrette and bedecked with baby basil and dill. The juicy, fragrant peach and faintly tangy tomato made a refreshing pair that was balanced by the sweetly-acidic sherry vinaigrette. The herbs added subtle sweetness and faint pungency to the plate; toasted nuts, crunch and creaminess; whilst a little olive oil, vibrant fruity flavour. I particularly liked the use of uncommon green tomato, which sprinkled with salt, is a favourite summer snack of mine.

Entrée 3: Poached Scallops with autumn vegetables and lemon thyme butter. A plenteous portion of four poached scallops were produced accompanied by an assortment of autumnal vegetables and light lemon thyme butter sauce. Moist, soft, sweet shellfish, slow cooked in vegetable broth, had firm, fine texture, full flavour and fell effortlessly apart. The collection of carefully chopped, crunchy, al dente greens - carrot, celeriac, courgette, fennel and onion - had delicate sweetness; and lemon rind julienne were pleasingly sour without being harsh. The delightful dressing, brimming with citric buzz, brought together and enlivened all the elements on the dish. The minty thyme and trim of parsley added additional refreshing tang.

Entrée de Mon Frère: Watercress Soup with poached cod and hen’s egg. My brother’s menu du jour commenced with classic British watercress soup, suitably coloured British racing green. Partnering the potage was poached pairing of hen’s egg covering chunky cod. Good, gently grainy consistency was backed up with stimulating, peppery savour. The egg was well-cooked and agreeably gooey, whilst the cod, tender and flaky. The Stilton bread came into its own when called upon to clean up the remnants of the soup.

Entrée 4: Chilled Beetroot Gazpacho with avocado sorbet and vodka jelly. A Tyrian purple bloodbath of beetroot boasted two buoyant islands of cloudy vodka jelly and electric-chartreuse avocado sorbet quenelles. This second speciality of Aiden’s was pregnant with powerful and complicated flavours: the very unctuous concoction gushed with earthy, sour and sweet smokiness; the vodka shot was seriously strong and sharp, but just about kept in check by the creamy, cooling assistance of avocado. This was a witty reworking of traditional beet borsht, itself customarily complemented with vodka. The potent potion of cooked and uncooked beetroot, golden beet, vanilla, apple juice, vinegar and coriander leaf was striking both in presentation and on the palate. The enduring vision of le visage de mon petit frère swollen with wide, surprised smile, showing off teeth sopping with bleeding beet juice just like a vampire, still amuses me.

Plat Principal: Roasted Turbot with lobster, apple and rosemary. A tripartite delight of three of my most favoured foods - turbot, lobster and sweetbread - saw the harvest of the soil, shoreline and shallower sea amassed upon a single plate. The roasted, golden-tanned turbot, with its delectable, distinguished taste, was excellently cooked and flawlessly flaky (it also came with Parma ham, which I removed); the fishy fillet sat atop apple julienne. Half-tail of bouncy, lissom lobster, roasted in rosemary, was warmed by the woody sweetness of the herb. The unannounced, but not unwelcome cannelloni of succulent sweetbread, moist lobster meat and diced roasted apple (within and atop) was seasoned with Calvados - that in true trou Normand fashion rewoke my appetite. The deeply delicious and creamy, enjoyably chewy roll was rich and intoxicating. Apple and more robust rosemary purée puddles mingled in the middle of the dish with concentrated, condensed sauce of veal jus, rosemary, roasted apple again and lobster oil. The successful application of apple, whose fruitiness underscored the subtly sweet savour of the shellfish, fish and meaty gland, was inspired. This intricate, intense dish was well-relished.

Plat Principal de Mon Frère: Angus Beef with Yorkshire Pudding. Served elegantly and traditionally tableside from the trolley by Victor, this was the second piece of British culinary culture on today’s carte. A plethora of porcelain ramekins and bronze bowls brimful of a variety of vegetables in light Hollandaise sauce; mustard, English and French (le meilleur, Victor nous a dit); horseradish; and Madeira gravy accompanied tender, pink carvings of medium-rare rib of Aberdeen Angus beef and jumbo crispy Yorkshire pudding. My brother’s beef was juicy and good quality; the roast potatoes were better than textbook with great crumbly coat; the sautéed-in-orange-juice carrots struck a pleasing chord with him; but he ignored the steamed broccoli. Digressing, I must mention the lovely handcrafted Laguiole-en-Aubrac steak knife set for this course that caught my eye.

• Added: 30th of October 2008
• Area: Mayfair
• Category: Restaurants

London W1K 1QA
020 7317 6336

Food_Snob said
The Grill at the Dorchester, 23 Oct 2008 (Cont.)
Illustrated Critique:

http://foodsnobblog.wordpress.com/2008/10/23/the-grill-at-the-dorchester-london/

Text-only Critique:

Pre-Dessert: Yoghurt Mousse with carrot, orange and olive oil. This sophisticated structure was constructed thus: vegetal-sweet carrot mousse base was laid with a sour disc of iced homemade yoghurt; soft ring of moist carrot cake - crammed with carrot crème - came embedded in the mousse-yoghurt foundation; atop the cake sat a frozen segment of orange, beneath a quenelle of yoghurt sorbet sprinkled with orange skin crumbs and set with biscuit tuile. An orange potage was poured at the table. Light, refreshing and fruity, this was an excellent pre-dessert. The marriage between carrot and orange, logical with hindsight, was interesting and worked well. Textural variation and the complete continuum of cooler temperatures (ice, cold, mild) were both brought into play.

Dessert de Mon Frère: Melting Chocolate Tart with coffee ice cream and cardamom foam. The carte du jour concluded with molten coco cake with sablé breton base complemented with copious coffee ice cream and spoonful of cardamom foam. The Valrhona Caraïbe 66% sponge was balanced, mellow and woody with little sugariness, but a hint of coffee that obviously went well with the distinct ice cream. The cake’s almost-liquid layered top had a great sticky quality, whilst the base was short and buttery. Cardamom mousse was bittersweet and highlighted the choc’s smokiness. All in all, this was a very good chocolate dessert - and a continuation of the rich vein of cocoa puddings that I have lately hit upon.

Dessert: Super-moist Chestnut Sponge with chocolate mousse and vanilla ice cream. Pavé of chestnut sponge-cake sat under a smaller slice of chocolate mousse coupled with two thin, crisp pain feuilleté - one above, one below it. Atop this pyramid was placed a coco cannelloni sugar tuile oozing with Chantilly crème and a scoop of airy vanilla ice cream, embedded with biscuit wafer. Embellishment comprised of chestnut mousse, dashes of choc sauce and roasted chestnut chips. The Valrhona Ecuador 55% mousse was nicely bitter; the tuile tube, crunchy, earthy and sweet; chestnut cream was bittersweet and nutty, whilst its pieces, soft; but the cake itself, dense yet light, had less strength than was expected/desired. Despite that, the especially enjoyable experience of spooning all these elements together into creamy, crunchy, moist mouthfuls made this a delightful, autumn treat.

Café et Petit Fours: Lemon sponge cake; Chocolate biscuit button; Mohrenköpfe; and Blackcurrant macaron. A crumbly lemon sponge, crowned with passion fruit crème and diced lime zest, had good fruity punch and sourness; chocolate shortbread biscuit and fine coco feuille cemented with Valrhona Caraïbe 66% ganache was sugary-tart. An unconventional Mohrenköpfe - Moor’s head - of chocolate praline packed with pistachio, hazelnut and macadamia, melted in the mouth with milky nuttiness; whilst blackcurrant macaron was sweet and sharp. Coffee was good and, delightfully, free refills were offered.

The menu offers good ol’ English fare mixed with Aiden’s own adventurous creations, which combine humdrum ingredients in interesting and impressive ways, for instance, humble chicken and potato (admittedly with some truffle) were transformed into something surprising and outstanding. Judging from the food, the chef’s trademark must be big, bold flavours. Aiden’s cooking is confident, luxurious and gratifying and it is also consistent; execution was impeccable and not one dish disappointed. Hallmarks of teacher Tom Aikens, godfather of foam and serial saucer, are patently present on some of the plates, but in deliberate, mature, measured manner. Seasonally selected raw materials - micro-greens from Richard Vine (gardener not Bloomberg columnist), cheese from La Fromagerie, even new breed lamb from Denham Estate - are as excellent as expected and many of my favourites are found (turbot, partridge, Dover sole). Lastly, a previously reproved lack of legumes certainly seems set right.

Front-of-house, from Marion our serveuse to cheerful Victor (photographed above) to engaging, expert sommelier, Jason McAuliffe, was first-class. All our requests were dealt with readily, speedily and with a smile. For example, I fancied the 7-course tasting menu, whilst my diet-conscious, budget-watchful brother wanted the 3-course menu du jour. Normally, the whole table would have to order similarly, but this logistical headache was handled consummately - the kitchen even sent little brother a bowl of beetroot gazpacho, gratuit. Marion, on top of being patient, attentive and well-informed, took us on a full tour of the Grill, Dorchester’s many kitchens and Krug room; all impressive. Aiden himself, the anti-archetype of a Michelin chef - chipper, effervescent, shaven-headed and sprouting a thick Liverpudlian brogue - was a pleasure to meet.

Aiden’s ambitious, purposeful, excitingly-presented and thought-provoking cuisine is causing a stir and winning him some influential fans: Marcus Wareing thinks him ‘inventive, creative and a lovely guy’; Aikens commends his ‘passion for excellence’; Richard Vines (the Bloomberg one) rates him as ‘one of my favourite three/four chefs in London’; whilst even Alain Ducasse, steps away, is more worried about competing with him than the likes of Gordon Ramsay. Who am I to disagree with them? Luckily, I do not have to.

Now, if the idea of being trapped in a Walker’s biscuit tin is holding you back, be brave and follow Jay Rayner’s advice - ‘enjoy the food and…don’t look up’. Sympathetically, there is plenty on the plate to keep you busy and entertained. But do go fast: ‘I’m not going to be here forever. My dream is to open my own restaurant and the Dorchester is well aware of that.’ Aiden’s words, not mine.



53 Park Lane, Dorchester Hotel, WIK 1QA
tel: 020 7629 888
8nearest tube: Hyde Park Corner
www.thedorchester.com

• Added: 27th of October 2008
• Area: Hammersmith
• Category: Restaurants

London W6 9HA
020 7386 4200

Food_Snob said
The River Café, 20 October 2008
Illustrated Critique:

http://foodsnobblog.wordpress.com/2008/10/20/the-river-cafe-london/

Text-only Critique:

Asked to name London’s top Italian restaurant and general consensus would suggest either Locanda Locatelli, Zafferano or the River Café. Regular readers might have already read my reviews of the first two and have probably been waiting some time, as have I, for that inevitable visit to the River Café. Well, after many months - six to be certain - I am able to finally fulfil my gastronomic responsibility and complete my Grand Tour of London’s la Santissima Trinità.

Why the wait? A fatty steak. During dinner service on Saturday, 5 April, when cooking bistecca alla Fiorentina, ‘some flaring vapours got caught in the flue,’ causing the open grill to ‘explode like a jet plane.’ The forced shutting required for repair was viewed a good excuse for a refit and thus the River Café remained closed until a couple of weeks ago when, like a phoenix, it arose from its own ashes. The owners decided to take advantage of the interval and insurance money - used to cover staff salaries - spending the summer in Italy with their chefs, mastering new recipes, and sending people to work with suppliers and other restaurants - some, for example, worked at La Fromagerie, being taught how to look after cheese; others went to Specogna, a family-run winery in Northern Italy; whilst a few were sent to San Daniele near Venice to learn about prosciutto. A series of charitable projects were undertaken too: disabled kids helped build a vegetable garden in the former-dining-room-cum-greenhouse, later cooking with the very legumes of their labours; while a group of female chefs visited a women’s refuge.

The Café’s closure was a big deal. Many see the iconic Italian, first opened in 1987 by New Yorker Ruth Rogers (Lady Rogers of Riverside) and English Rose Gray, as revolutionary to British culinary culture. The two women, both without professional experience and first friends through Richard Rogers, well actually, Richard’s first wife, learnt their love of cucina rustica from Richard’s mother, Dada, who fed Rose when at art college with Richard in Guildford and Ruth, whilst living with her husband in Paris. London, before the advent of these girls, was bereft of such staples as extra virgin olive oil, sun-dried tomatoes, bruschetta and polenta and the use of fresh, seasonal ingredients, as rudimentary as it may be now, was radical twenty years ago. Menus that changed with the seasons, let alone twice a day, were unheard of; in Rose’s own words, ‘I know it’s become very fashionable now, but to us, it just made sense.’

The restaurant, which has spawned ten cookbooks and numerous TV shows, is also a breeding ground for some of Britain’s most recognisable chefs: Jamie Oliver, Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall - the first and last person to be fired from here (having filled the kitchen with chocolate mess) - Theo Randall, Samantha and Samuel Clark (Moro), Ed Baines (Randall & Aubin) plus April Bloomfield (of NYC’s Spotted Pig). The eatery also earned notoriety as the ‘government canteen’ of the Blair years, with the former PM, Brown and Mandelson all regulars. This deep-rooted relationship even saw Blair courier lunch from the Café to No. 10 on the day of Labour’s 1997 victory and Peter Lilley to complain at the following Tory conference that Britain was ‘now all about Britpop and the River Café.’ A year before, the New Yorker hailed it as the best Italian in Europe, Italy included, and a year later, Michelin awarded it its first star…Times have changed, but the restaurant’s reputation for quality or popularity has not - it still rakes in over £10,000 a day, no doubt helped by the famously premium prices paid for the ironically peasant-style provender at this ironically christened café.

The River Café almost does not want to be found, hidden in a former Duckhams Oil storage facility on an industrial estate off the A219 in Hammersmith - probably part of the attraction for celebs keen to avoid the paparazzi. Though to be fair, location (location, location) was not a key consideration in 1987, as the Café was initially an informal venture, created as a canteen for Lord Roger’s architectural practice, RSH+P, sited on the same estate.

Arriving via the riverside promenade, this piece of Tuscany-on-the-Thames is housed in a brown-brick, what-was-warehouse. A large green terrace - the to-be-seen spot each summer - and small garden separate it from the river; this garden, Rose’s baby, though nowhere near sufficiently fruitful to feed the restaurant, serves to top up supplies when especially busy and as a testing ground for new seeds brought back from the owners’ adventures abroad. Originally, obviously designed by the Lord himself and since updated in conjunction with Stuart Forbes Associates, the interior is understated, unassuming and structured simply: the space is a bright, vast, modern mixture of glass and metal, blue and white. The post-blaze redesign involved only minor modification: the same long room now has a new colourful, yellow reception, whilst the opposite end has had its wall pushed back behind the now open-plan kitchen, whose custom-built wood-fired oven complete with attention-grabbing, flaming maw is its most eye-catching aspect. That old clock is still there, projected upon a baby blue, back-lit plane. The deli-like counter, with its reflective mirror face, also still runs across the restaurant and staff still lay out cakes, tarts, cheeses and breads along its top. New additions, however, include an 18-person private dining room, fully equipped with walk-in cheese cupboard plus conference facilities for the more business-inclined clientele.

The floor is carpeted in royal blue, whilst the ceiling is composed of concave, perforated white steel; one wall is laced with large, latticed French windows, the other with overhanging, semi-transparent, turquoise panelling; the rest of the restaurant is clean alabaster. Squared tables are close together, but not disturbingly so. They are bounded with bouncy, meshed chrome chairs and plainly decked with tissue-paper tablecloth whose austerity raised an eyebrow. The tabletops are similarly stark: two, tiny bowls of salt and pepper; a practical glass; Georg Jensen stainless steel cutlery; and paper-printed menu and laminated wine-list. There are nice cloth napkins, at least. The crockery that comes later is Churchill.

The whole place has a nice and comforting vibrancy: there is a pleasing hustle bustle from the restaurant and clitter clatter from the kitchen. The active, young, mostly female staff hover and float gracefully between tables, emanating energy and enthusiasm. The glowing roar from the beehive furnace, steam from the stove and sizzle from the saucepans all add to the atmosphere.

I was warmly welcomed and seated by my ever-smiling, charming cameriera. However, I was unsure what to order - the menu is dynamic yet full - so the manager, Lolo, offered to show me around whilst I thought it over. After a thorough nose about, I enlisted her help, together deciding on an appetising assortment of the Café’s finest fare.

Il Pane: Ciabatta and Sourdough. Il granaio was a rustic offering of only two types, both brought in. Of equally good quality, the ciabatta was open, light with a crisp floury crust and subtle olive oil savour while the sourdough, wholesome, thick and with a tearable exterior. If one is disappointed that the bread is not homemade (a tragedy given that grand oven), they should feel more than compensated by the olive oil, which the River Café does produce itself. This Felsina 2006, made with olives from a single Tuscan estate, had a mild, ripe, peppery flavour.

Antipasto: Carne Crudo. Finely chopped fillet of raw beef was purely presented with parmigiano reggiano shards, mâche leaves and gentle dressing of 12 year old aged balsamic vinegar. The soft manzo melted in the mouth leaving a surprisingly clean, fresh finish: the mild meat had none of the crudeness common to uncooked carne improperly prepared. The tender mâche - lambs’ lettuce - added a crunch and mild nuttiness that matched well with the parmesan, itself adding creamy consistency. Together with a little lemon, the vinegar, slightly syrupy and sweetly sour, cut through the flavours on the plate. In an unpretentious twist to conventional carpaccio, these basic accompaniments served to simply showcase the quality meat.

Primo: Ravioli di Ricotta. Another straightforward serving, this of three thin, handmade pasta parcels packed with ricotta and cima di rape with I Cannonici extra virgin olive oil and aged pecorino stagionato. The ravioli were very well made, dissolving on the tongue to reveal a pleasantly grainy and coarse, moist middle of rich ricotta and barely bitter rape that balanced each other nicely. Decorating the dish were more rape and shavings of pecorino with just a dribble of house, I Cannonici, olive oil, sufficient to grease the dainty packages’ effortless glide down one’s gullet. The whole dish, though unexpectedly light and delicate, I did think needed a little more salt, but I was easily able to remedy this myself with the salt already at the table.

Tartufo: Taglierini alla Piemontese con Tartufi Bianchi. Freshly made taglierini came with 2.5 grand grams of the first of the season’s Tuscan white truffles. The treasured tartufi were the deserving centrepiece, delivering a woody, mildly earthy, garlic aroma and taste, which delightfully dominated the dish. The Piedmontese pasta was the ideal transport for its paesano fungi’s flavour, absorbing the light butter and parmesan sauce until nicely tender. Apparently, this recipe is a speciality of Al Moro, a small restaurant in Tuscany, where regular, Ruth, often finds creative stimulation.

Pesce: Sogliola al Forno. A dazzling dish of Dover Sole, whole, wood-roasted on the bone with rosemary branches was teamed with fresh borlotti beans and large leaf rocket. The brown-grey speckled Sole was superbly cooked and simply dressed in light lemon and olive oil while seasoned with well-matching and strikingly strong infusions of lemony-pine rosemary and deft woodiness from the oven. The buttery sweet, bouncy, firm flesh of the fish fell off the bone in succulent, steaky slivers. Peppery, crunchy rocket - the perfect piscine partner - and warm, creamy borlotti completed the course. A good fillet of fish, rocket, a big squeeze of lemon (and some onion wedges) is enough to have me as happy as Larry, so this was right up my road - and a Wow!

Carne: Gallo Cedrone al Forno. An autumnal special of Yorkshire grouse stuffed with sage and thyme, wood-roasted in Cortegiaga Amarone, and roasted Violini pumpkin and fennel (Speck della Val d’Aosta is also normally included) was next. Initial surprise at being served an entire gallo was soon replaced by greedy delight. That fierce furnace had once again been put to good effect: crispy skin wrapped moist and juicy flesh. The bird was buzzing with flavour and flushed with deep purple amarone. This wine, spicy, fruity, but noted especially for its bitterness - Italians call it ‘the big bitter’ - imparted an intense, almighty alcoholic wallop that enhanced the gaminess already inherent. Pungent, robust sage and thyme complemented the soused grouse whilst the seductively caramelised vegetables almost stole the show themselves; their subtle sweetness helping balance the dish.

Dolci e Gelati: Pear & Almond Tart; Polenta Cake with Lemon Sorbet; Lemon Tart; Chocolate Nemeis; and Caramel Ice Cream. So far, Lolo’s suggestions had proved spot-on, so for dessert, I left it to her. She did not disappoint. A selezione of four cakes/tarts, a sorbet and ice cream, which would have made any over-nosy, fellow diner green with envy, arrived. I took my time, slowly savouring a bite of each, trying to decide on a favourite. Once more I was surprised: I had been sure I wouldn’t, couldn’t like each, that a dud was surely there. I was wrong. All were great. Melt-in-the-mouth almond and pear was sweet, soft and covered in a delightful macaron crust. The polenta cake, an authentic Sicilian delicacy, was dense, moist and super-crumbly with a lemony-nut finish, accentuated by the intense lemon sorbet, dotted with lime zest. A well-judged, cleansing lemon tart had thick, sour, creamy crème and crunchy biscuit base. The chocolate nemesis, a River Café classic, lived up to its reputation: made, for the record, with eight different cocoa beans and no flour, this treat had the softness of a soufflé, but full, gorgeous hit of cocoa - Yum. Caramel ice cream was toffee-rich and almost bitter with slightly burnt sugar flavour. Ribadisco, dolci erano deliziosi!

I must admit, the first few dishes, though well-prepared and pleasant enough, did not wow me, but with the arrival of the Dover Sole, the meal tore straight through first into fifth gear and never slowed down. I left thinking the cooking a master-class in ‘how to leave things alone’, keep plates simple and uncluttered and flavours clean. In classic Mediterranean tradition, ingredients are the focus and the chef’s role is to help emphasise these, not to complicate them - foams, pastes, rich sauces, emulsions are not in the kitchen’s repertoire. This takes skill, but it is a job made easier by having the best raw materials to work with - something the Café properly prides itself on: ‘sourcing, sourcing, sourcing’ is Ruth and Rose’s motto. Head Chef, Joseph, who very kindly took the time to have a few words with me, on his day off no less, summed their supplier strategy succinctly: ‘where ever it’s fresh, where ever it’s best, that’s where we get it.’ So expect to find, this time of year, Yorkshire grouse, Welsh lamb, Italian tomatoes (sicuramente), Tuscan olive oil, French fennel, herbs from, umm, the garden outside, and more. Indeed, the menu is so responsive to the market, it is amended twice a day - something unmatched by any other Michelin starred restaurant in London.

Service is very lovely too; this was my first visit to the River Café, but I felt right at home. My waitress took diligent care of me, refilling my glass with chilled tap water, replenishing my bread, replying to my many questions with a constant patience and smile. She was great, but mademoiselle-manager, Lolo was la star; her menu choices were spot on; dessert selection pressed all the right buttons; she showed off the new interior; took me on a guided tour of the exterior; and even organised a one-to-one between Chef Joseph and myself. I repeat, elle était l’étoile. Such considerable care seems only natural and so it should given that everyone looks like they are enjoying their work; are clearly taken care of by Ruth and Rose; and the restaurant is essentially a family operation - Rose’s daughter is a chef, her husband, Charles Pullan, the manager (and a winning one, well almost, according to Michael Winner), Lucy’s daughter waitresses and Rose’s son, Ossian, runs the finances. Actually, I even noticed on my way out a couple of the staff lunching at one of the tables: something extraordinary considering that even McDonald’s employees must enjoy their meals out of sight.

A final note on those spine-stiffening tissue-paper tablecloths is warranted. It was only after tiffin that their use and necessity were appreciated: puddles of olive oil, bloody bits of grouse carcass, drips of the red stuff, fish bones and breadcrumbs were all evidence of my embarrassingly messy eating (or of me thoroughly enjoying my meal maybe?).

‘It’s Mecca, basically. I really think the Café laid the foundation for sexy, simple, cool food in this country,’ lisps old boy Jamie Oliver. He has a point, the quality of produce and preparation makes the food here easy to eat: dishes like Dover Sole can be devoured thoughtlessly; grouse, relished; and chocolate nemesis, indolently indulged in. The cooking cheers. The River Café comforts.

• Added: 20th of October 2008
• Area: Hoxton
• Category: Restaurants

London N1 1AD
020 7354 4777

Food_Snob said
Almeida, 16 October 2008
Illustrated Critique:

http://foodsnobblog.wordpress.com/2008/10/16/almeida-london/

Text-only Critique:

October 13th-19th is chocolate week. Paul A. Young is a chocolatier. Alan Jones is a chef. Together, they have created a special chocolate menu at Almeida restaurant. I love chocolate. I will eat this chocolate menu.

Logical, succinct and simple, my sentences have never been so short, nor so selfish. And it only gets worse. This is probably also my most indulgent, most useless greedy adventure yet: this carte chocolat is only on for one week - chocolate week (surprise, surprise). But chocolate week was last week.

Upper Street, Islington, dating from at least the 12th century, has had a long if not spectacular history. It has always been part of one of England’s greatest roads - the Great North Road, successor to the Roman Ermine Road and itself precursor to the present A1 - and also a stopping place for hungry farmers from the surrounding fertile fields en route to the Royal Agricultural Hall. It was this thoroughfare of tradesman that first attracted many pubs and inns to the area and although Islington has since become a trendy, modern North London enclave, it is still characterised by the extensive array of eateries that exist there.

Today, 580 yards of high street gastro heaven separate two more-ambitious foodie establishments: Almeida, part of the 20-restaurant-strong D&D chain (formerly Terence Conran’s eating-empire), and the original Paul A. Young’s Fine Chocolates Camden Passage boutique.

Almeida is the newly refurbished French restaurant serving contemporary Bourgeois cuisine. Chef Alan Jones, who joined in June 2007 after stints at Foliage and as sous chef at Bath-based Relais & Chateaux hotel, Lucknam Park (1*), has introduced a more refined and lighter menu which focuses on using seasonal produce simply; ‘my food is very fresh and inspired by the seasons, using clean flavours and combining colour and texture.’

Yorkshire man, Young, after attending Durham and Leeds Metropolitan Universities, spent his early career working in some of Northern England’s best restaurants before being poached by Marco Pierre White (how does this fellow get his name into every other review I write?). Starting as a pastry chef at The Criterion Brasserie, then Titanic, he finally began earning recognition as Head Pastry Chef at Quo Vadis. Then, in a change of direction he became a desserts consultant for M&S and Sainsbury’s, during which time the success of a promotion he had made some chocolates for inspired him to go coco fulltime. One can now find him in a Georgian house in Islington crafting and creating confection in the basement; selling them on the ground floor; and living on the first.

The duo share more than just a postcode though; besides the fact that Young is an Almeida regular and that he and Jones have become friends, the two men share a common past, having both at some time worked under Marco Pierre White. Together, they have spent the last six months testing and tasting different coco combinations, to construct a seven course seasonal chocolate carte. With Jones’ expressed intention ‘to show people that chocolate is a lot more than just a dessert component; it has a complexity and depth of flavour that enhances a menu at every turn,’ and Young’s bold assertion that ‘there’s nothing you cannot mix with chocolate,’ one is sure to expect something special.

It was Wednesday afternoon I first saw the Menu’s advertisement on London Eating and my interest was immediately piqued, I admit, more by the mention of Young’s chocolates than Almeida’s association; in my more mischievous moments, I have often made the short stroll to the chocolatier’s tiny Royal Exchange outpost to indulge in some of his fine handmade choc, especially, the award-winning salted caramel truffles and yummy brownies. D&D restaurants, on the other hand, are an unknown quantity to me. Anyway, it was a one-off occasion and good chocolate is worth the risk…

Opposite the Almeida Theatre, upon the eponymous side street is the eponymous eatery. Exposed corn-coloured brickwork encloses tall, white-latticed windows and the restaurant’s arched entrance. The inside space is considerable, 98 cover considerable. One side of the vast room is lined by felt burgundy banquette, the opposite side by a bar, where one hundred wineglasses dangle upside down in flawless formation. Across from the large glass front that allows the lovely sunlight in is a semi-open kitchen from which copper pots glisten and stainless steel saucepans shine. The oak dining room floor is partially covered by slate gray carpet and broken up by columns of Carolina blue. The centre space is filled with circle linen-covered tables, whilst bare, light-oak, square ones skirt the long settee; bentwood chairs abut both. Wooden salt and pepper shakers, plain glassware and cutlery and simple, white custom Conran crockery adorns tabletops. The openness is busied by hustle and bustle from the kitchen and diner; the room has the relaxed class of a classic bistro.

Amuse Bouche: Butternut squash velouté, chocolate and cumin stirrer. A cup of amber butternut squash soup was served with a baton of 72% Venezuelan chocolate studded with toasted cumin seeds. Hot, creamy and smooth, the squash set free a subtle, sweet aftertaste whilst the spice’s earthy sharpness and natural sourness of Venezuelan choc worked well together. When the cumin-cocoa club was stirred through, little by little, as instructed, the seed’s warmth and bitterness balanced nicely with the sweeter soup, but in the end, the blend was a little too rich.

Les Pains: Focaccia, brown, poppy seed and baguette. The baguette was crackly crisp; brown buns were thick, wholesome and made great sauce soppers; focaccia was fluffy and pleasantly greaseless; whilst, my preference, poppy, was so soft with a crunchy seedy crust. Rock salt sprinkled English butter accompanied. Although not baked onsite, the bread is at least delivered daily from the French Bakery and served, generally, warm.

Entrée: Salad of smoked eel, oysters and watercress, chocolate vinaigrette. A circular conga line of carved eel, shucked oysters and potato pieces came garnished with watercress leaf and syrupy spirals of chocolate vinaigrette. Both bivalves and fish were surprisingly mild with soft baked potato adding substance. The fresh, peppery cress was a good counterpoint to the briny seafood whilst the balsamic-sherry vinegar cut through the oily eel. The 64% Dominican chocolate was another gentle addition, whose nutty-smokiness linked the different elements nicely.

Plat Principal 1: Brill with hazelnut and cocoa crust, fricassee of wild mushrooms. Upon a verdant island of spinach, surrounded by a sea of creamy golden brown girolle and cèpe fricassee, a pan fried fillet of brill, encrusted with hazelnut, spinach and Venezuelan cracked cocoa nibs, sat. The fish was cooked delicately whilst the meaty mushrooms brought with them different texture, floating in a flavourful, earthy consommé. The spinach was well prepared and though not crunchy, had nice bite. The veggy-nutty-coco coating was a splendid and interesting addition that complemented the whole dish: hazelnuts, a natural partner to chocolate enhanced the nuttiness of the mushrooms; a hint of choc came through the cocoa nibs - roasted cocoa beans separated from their husks and broken into small bits - that picked up on the fish’s soft sweetness whilst adding crunch; and the spinach provided warm mushiness.

‘Palate Refresher’: Cucumber and lime chocolate. Next, ‘to refresh and invigorate’ came a pair of truffles or more precisely, Venezuelan 70% Amedei chuao blended in water-based ganache with fresh cucumber and lime zest. The fruity and citrusy Amedei chocolate, which synchronised with its citrus lime contents, was pleasingly light with a clean, dry finish. However, the cucumber was rather overpowered by the lime.

Plat Principal 2: Pot roast Barbary duck, candied carrots, Madeira and chocolate jus. Delightfully dark pink Barbary duck slices were delivered fanned over Savoy cabbage and candied carrots; alongside a baked fondant potato carrying confit duck breast roll; and mizzled with Madeira and chocolate gravy. Initially, the cabbage-carrot commixture came with lardons of pancetta, which also cased the confit; only after tucking into the duck did I notice this and upon confirming the pork’s presence, the dish was immediately whisked away and a brand new one soon arrived. On both occasions the delicious duck, roasted in sealed pot, was tender and full-flavoured; the peppered flesh was coated with just enough succulent fat to moisten it without making one feel guilty. The vegetables, creamed with crème fraiche, which countered the candied carrot, consisted also of crunchy cabbage; and smooth potato boasted the richest, most sensuous, slow-cooked duck breast. The Madeira, mixed with 66% Amedei Toscano black - a versatile chocolate tasting of subtle tobacco, liquorice with caramelised sweetness and definite, aromatic aftertaste - sumptuously super-glued all the elements together. This was warm, hearty and fulfilling food.

Pre-Dessert: Milk and white Chocolate ice cream. This pre-dessert differed from standard sorbet: a multi-layered milk and white chocolate shot topped with hundreds-and-thousands arrived accompanied by a pick’n'mix platter of vanilla and strawberry marshmallow, roasted almond flakes, cocoa nibs and tiny dies of truffle: essentially a tongue-in-cheek, make-your-own sundae. The Ecuadorian 55% pure Arriba bean (from small producer Lourdes Delgado, exclusively for Paul A. Young) and 35% cocoa butter white chocolate was well balanced, mildly bitter and sweet in turn. The hundreds-and-thousands and almonds added crunch, as did the cocoa nibs - sometimes described as the essence of chocolate - which imparted a delicate, unsweetened touch of choc. The marshmallow was nice and light, whilst the truffles, gorgeous; melting in the mouth, airy and with an unusual grainy, crumbly consistency.

Dessert 1: Dark chocolate, prune and Armagnac. A simply presented trio of coco fondant; Armagnac-soaked, pitted prune festooned with julienne orange zest; and Armagnac ice cream atop an almond-hazelnut crumb base came with an artistic application of dark chocolate. The prune was sticky and serious; the fabulous fondant, the best example I have had in a long, long time: warm, crispy crust of moist, rich sponge served to suppress a lush lake of hot, liquid cocoa that ran like molten magma. The cool ice cream supplied a smooth, refreshing, real fruity spirit slap without which it would not have been able to stand up to the unusually yet not unpleasantly strong 68% Ghanaian dark coco.

Dessert 2: Passion fruit soufflé, yoghurt sorbet. So impressive was the first dessert, I was worried that any that followed would undoubtedly disappoint; however after some stern supplication from my serveur, Giancarlo, I could not snub the offer of a sugar-dusted, rustic passion fruit soufflé and liberal scoop of yoghurt sorbet. Lighter-than-air, I was able to almost breathe in the treat, but contrary to its good texture, I found the passion fruit’s tart-sweetness quite overpowered by the sour sorbet.

Chocolat chaud et Petit Fours: Hot ganache. To complete this celebration of chocolate came strong and spicy hot chocolate made with spring water and 85% African cocoa and a pinch of black cardamom. The thick brew was lovely and rich, thoroughly warming one’s cockles. In addition, petit fours of the same choc were crafted three ways - thins, ganache and crème demi-truffle. These were well made with intense, tannic African chocolate and floral, smoky flavour from the spice.

First, a quick comment on the service is warranted. It was very friendly, warm and thoughtful. The aforesaid Giancarlo was talkative, attentive and clearly enjoyed his job. He possessed a good knowledge of the food and was willing to go into as much detail as was desired. After learning that the soufflé, a personal favourite of his, did not match the fondant, he even offered not to charge me for it. The fussiness with which the duck dish was replaced was also notable.

As regards the food, as mentioned already, I was unsure what to expect. I am glad to say though, I was pleasantly surprised: the cooking was difficult to fault; the produce, good quality; and presentation, professional. One could maybe make the comment that there is an absence of some of the finer ingredients of haute cuisine, but that is not what Almeida is trying to be and at the prices charged, there can be no complaint. Plus, it is not as if any corners are carelessly cut: brill is a good alternative to turbot, Maldon oysters can be obtained fresher than Cancale ones, etc. I also felt that the special menu itself was successful; Jones and Young’s aim to show how coco ‘is such a versatile and creative ingredient’ definitely came off. Never did I get the impression that chocolate was forced upon or thrown onto a plate, instead it was worked in gently, softly into each course in a carefully considered and fully thought-out manner. The chocolate was not the dish’s focus and I do not think it was ever meant to be; my impression was that it was to be seen as any other element and not designed to distract or shock, but simply enhance the accompanying parts. After all, let us not forget, as if Young would let us, ‘chocolate is supposed to be fun and quite naughty.’ This meal proved just that and more; good food with an interesting twist.

In post-meal conversation, Chef Jones himself admitted, ‘I’m not trying to change the world.’ Maybe not Alan, but you have made it a little sweeter.



Almeida:
30 Almeida Street, Islington, N1 1AD
tel: 020 7354 4777
nearest tube: Angel, Highbury & Islington
www.almeida-restaurant.co.uk


Paul A. Young:
33 Camden Passage, Islington, N1 8EA
tel. 020 7424 5750
nearest tube: Angel
www.paulayoung.co.uk

• Added: 15th of October 2008
• Area: Brompton
• Category: Restaurants

London SW1W 8PE
020 7730 5550

Food_Snob said
Roussillon, 09 Oct 2008
Illustrated Critique:

http://foodsnobblog.wordpress.com/2008/10/09/roussillon-london/

Text-only Critique:

I almost embarrassed myself. Roussillon - a name which instantly invokes images of wine and warfare - had my mind motoring through elaborate metaphors and playful puns, probably involving Food Snob fighting les Français. It may not sound li