The Square: exactly what you would expect

Sometimes a restaurant can be ruined by expectation - Heston's Dinner is a prime example, nothing wrong, just not all that! But sometimes it can go the other way - when the Fashionista first dragged me to Honest Burger in Brixton back before it became the sensation it now is (they are even tying up with television shows these days!), little did I expect that I was about to eat my all time favourite burger. So what was I expecting from The Square - technically excellent cooking, a little flair (but not too much, we were in Mayfair after all), and faultless service. And what did I get? Exactly that - not much to excite, but everything just so.

Phil Howard has been round the block - he knows how to run a restaurant. You don't keep two Michelin Stars for as long as he has if you don't. On the Wednesday night we visited, most guests were brandishing their company cards come payment time. That is not a bad thing, but it is a reality. And it has an impact on the atmosphere of the place - just a little sedate.

But enough of that, on to the food. We started with a wafer cone filled with foie gras and some rice crackers and taramasalata - all spot on. Then another pre-course of "scrambled egg" - I have no idea what was in this, but my it was tasty.

The "scrambled egg"

While others went for the signature crab lasagne with champagne and shellfish foam, I was drawn to the trotters. I always am. There is something about the gelatinous, sticky, loveliness that I keep coming back to.  Served wrapped in Pata Negra ham with peas and a light broth it was excellent.

The trotter

To follow I opted for the Pot au Feu of pigeon with asparagus, morels and barley and hazelnut dumplings.  The pigeon melted, the dumplings like the best ever gnocchi, the morels rich - heavy umami - the broth was just too salty for me though. I ended up battling valiantly to avoid the liquor - I should have been wanting to swim in the stuff.

Moving on to sweeter things, the chocolate souffle looked suitably impressive and was consumed in silence, but for the odd mmm and ahh - the sign of a good dish. Being not much of a desert man I opted for the closest thing to their (very impressive looking) cheese trolley - cheesecake with sheep's milk ice cream. The cheesecake was fine, the sheep's milk ice cream good, but not a patch on Isaac McHale's at The Clove Club. But the dessert had a secret super ninja trick up its sleeve - a small dark blue blob that, when pressed, revealed all - dark blackberry, sweet, delicious, like a Rowentrees' Fruit Pastille (come on, none of us would go for any flavour other than blackberry if we had a choice!), but better - that good! And with that, the dish was pulled to another level - delicious.

There followed many sweets, jellied and choclatey, all very nice (some were struck silent mid sentence by the salted caramel chocolates!) and a good selection of Plantation rums - it would have been rude not to.

So back to that expectation thing. I got what I expected. That is not to say I didn't like it - the place has two stars for goodness sake - I was expecting a lot.  Would I go back?  With a group, with work, unequivocally yes. The food was, in the main, delicious. For a meal for two?  No, it just doesn't strike me as that kind of place.

Dinner: Top Ten, Perhaps Not

The problem with any award is that, while its nice to receive at the time, expectations are elevated.  Dinner is not only Heston Blumenthal's outpost in central London, but it is also now ranked ninth in the world by the San Pellegrino restaurant awards. That is higher even than the Fat Duck. So, with all that in mind, I was expecting a real treat. Frankly I imagined being blown away.

I am never a fan of restaurants in hotels - they always seem a bit like an extension of the lobby. Places that are perfectly fine for waiting, neutral, but not exactly somewhere to thrill. While Dinner does suffer a little from this, the porcelain jelly moulds on the walls bring just enough of a touch of Heston to the proceedings. 

The kitchen is open, allowing you to marvel at their pineapple roasting machine. Necessary for the creation of Tipsy Cake so we were told - a desert you need to order on being seated due to cooking times, we didn't bother.

To start we knew we were going to have the "meat fruit", chicken liver and foie gras parfait dressed up as a mandarin. But Strakattak and I were torn between two of the remaining starters: would it be the "rice and flesh" or the hay-smoked mackerel. We just couldn't decide.  Our waiter came up with a solution: he could do us a platter of all three. Sold!  Sadly, he failed to tell us that we wouldn't be getting three slightly smaller portions as a platter, rather three full size plates, with consequent cost.  Misleading and, if it all hadn't been so darn delicious, I might have complained about it.  As it was they were all wolfed down.

So rarely does a hyped-up dish deliver - the meat fruit does.  Tart "peel", rich chicken liver and foie gras parfait- looked wonderful, tasted better.

The rice and flesh was "aged rice" (to give it a pronounced nutty flavour), served al dente (undercooked?) as a risotto, with soft calf's tail, laden with saffron.  Not something I would rush back to, but nice to try.

 The mackerel came smoked but raw, with an anchovy heavy "Gentlman's relish".  Fresh, punchy, my kind of starter.   

Following the starters was always going to be hard.  I had the collar of pork with spelt, ham hock and Robert sauce.  The pork was incredibly tender, I suspect the use of sous vide, but the Robert sauce (a mustard sauce derived from the classic Espagnole sauce) was just a little too salty for me.  A plate of food I was happy devour, but not something I can say will stick in my mind. 

Strak had the ribeye, well-cooked, fine.  The triple cooked chips were, quite frankly, the best chips I have eaten. Ever.

The pork collar with Robert sauce 

To finish, I had the "brown bread ice cream", salted butter caramel and malted yeast syrup.  Yes it was malty. Yes I could see why it was called "brown bread" ice cream.  Yes it had salted caramel, a food sent from above.  But would I clamour for more?  No.  Remove the reference to brown bread and what you have is a malty ice cream with some salted caramel.  Nothing to get worked up about.  

Strak had the "chocolate bar" with passion fruit jam and ginger ice cream.  The ice cream was mind-blowing,  a hit of spicy ginger, the chocolate bar rich with passion fruit.  Cleverly presented, this was far more exciting than the headline-grabbing "brown bread" ice cream.  

 

Finally we were presented with a small pot of rich chocolate and tea ganache.  Served with a crisp biscuit studded with caraway seeds, I loved it.  It had enough going on to be a desert in its own right.  Caraway and chocolate, a great combination. 

So what to make of Dinner.  Yes there were high points.  The meat fruit lived up to all I had heard, the mackerel was a real treat, and that chocolate bar had a great balance of flavour.  Did I think it was deserving of its title of ninth best restaurant in the world?  No.  In fact I wouldn't even put it in my top ten in London.  Some of the dishes were really quite ordinary, dressed up in Heston hype.  Fun to try, but don't think I'll be back.

North Road: Moving in the Right Direction

We are led to believe that a restaurant is all about the head chef.  That being so, if a head chef who has single handedly built a restaurant, a whole cuisine, leaves, one would think that the restaurant would struggle. Even if the number two is made up, the place would be missing the spark that the genius of the head chef had given.  

I booked North Road because of Christoffer Hruskova's cooking.  Having trained in the same places as Noma's Rene Redzepi, he has built a small corner of Scandinavia in central London.  Shortly after I reserved, he left - having fallen out with his co-owner he is off to set up on his own. Cue concern.  He was replaced by his number two,  Rafael Cagali.  Would he be able to continue the work of his former boss, or has the spark, the flame, that brought the hallowed Michelin star been snuffed out?  In a word, no. Quite simply a spectacular meal.

We went for the seven course tasting menu (there is no a la carte menu on Saturdays). One of the courses to drop out was the venison in ash.  I had heard such good things about this dish but, after initially appearing to be inflexible, our waiter agreed to allow me to swap my hogget for the venison (the Fashionista had the hogget so we got to try both).  The other dish to drop out was the mackerel.

While we were still deliberating between seven or nine courses, along came some amuse bouche.  Some crispy pork, a pickled quail's egg, a crisp bread and some new potatoes stuffed with a cheesy cream. All were delicious.  There was also a sack of little bread rolls, freshly baked.

Next up, dry and raw crab with cucumber. The dried crab was especially good.

Then the sweetest langoustine I had ever had, balanced by kohlrabi and the umami rich trumpet mushroom.  A real delight.

The next dish was described by our waiter as a "garden".  You could see what he meant, a sweet carrot was surrounded by various types of radish and both were sat atop what we were told was "soil" - a great dish visually but the cream cheese at the bottom just didn't work for me.  You could see what was being attempted but it didn't quite come together.

Then followed perfectly cooked monkfish, celeriac puree, sea aster and a seaweed foam.  Sea aster was a new one on me - a plant that thrives on salt marshes in Northern Europe.  It's slightly chewy texture complemented the monkfish. 

Then the meat course- the Fashionista's hogget was tender, served with earthy beets.  The violet flowers, beautiful as they were, didn't add much.  My venison was like an ashtray,  in a good way, like gunpowder tea but gamey. Fantastic.

Then came an additional course, a palate cleanser- wild celery granita with whipped yoghurt.  Weird combination, but it worked.  Like, really worked. Fresh, zingy, a real treat.

Then "hay and sea buckthorn" - I am not sure where the "hay" was but the buckthorn was deliciously sweet, the reindeer shape in the middle was a crisp malted biscuit.

Second last was what was described simply as "Kentish strawberries".  What came was fresh strawberries, a strawberry sorbet, strawberry marshmallows and a buttermilk parfait.  Perfect.

To end were some more marshmallows and sweets.  We were also given fully edible tree, about a foot high, made of biscuit, the leaves made of candy floss, the soil edible too.  Sadly in my excitement at this treat to end all treats I forgot to take any pictures.

So has North Road lost it.  There was some chatter that the people over at Michelin might take away the star until Cagali had proved himself in his own right.  I don't think that will be necessary.  It was by far and away the highlight of my recent Michelin splurge.  L'Autre Pied was too contrived, The River Cafe over-priced, Club Gascon simply solid.  North Road is exciting, fresh.  Its the kind of place you leave smiling from ear to ear - who wouldn't if they hadn't just been given a candy floss tree.  

Club Gascon: A Job Well Done

I grew up in Edinburgh. As far as I am aware there were no Michelin Starred restaurants. Whether that was because the frozen north was just a trip too far for the wine-swilling Michelin controllers, or whether it was because there was no food scene to speak of, I will never know (I suspect the latter though). Now there are 6. Still exclusive nonetheless.  I have not been to any. In London there are over 60. Suddenly one star places almost become everyday, normal. The Great Recession has driven this trend on - whereas before a Starred restaurant would never have dreamt of offering a fixed price menu under 30 quid, now it is the norm (in fact Arbutus goes even further at under 20). Michelin star food has become accessible (albeit at the expense of some of the glam).

But while London as a whole has 60, the richest square mile in Europe has only two - Gary Rhodes at Tower 42 (the less said about that the better) and Club Gascon - perched on the edge of that temple to all things meat, Smithfields.  So with Friday upon us and lunch on the cards we decided to try out some classical French cooking at Club Gascon.

The place is France embodied. French staff, French techniques, even French rabbit - I am not sure how Jean-Paul the rabbit tops Peter but we'll leave that aside for now.

I started with the black pudding which came atop a disc of light pastry with pickled mushrooms and "artichoke crush". The pudding was well-cooked, the mushrooms, lightly pickled, cut through the richness. The artichokes were, unless I am very much mistaken, of the Jerusalem variety, a favourite of mine, but not to everyone's taste - I think this should have been disclosed on the menu!

Next up, rabbit with fennel salad and confit chorizo. The rabbit was juicy, expertly cooked! The two sauces- aniseed from the fennel and squid ink mingled well and the char-grilled fennel was delicious! The confit chorizo was but an afterthought!

Others had the onglet (that cut so in vogue in London right now). Now I love my meat rare - I think its a waste to cook quality meat anywhere more than medium- that said I appreciate that others do not. And I do not think it is a restaurant's place to tell a customer that they are wrong. So when one of my fellow diners was a little uncomfortable with medium-rare, I would have thought a place as esteemed as Club Gascon would have curbed its instincts and veered towards the medium- what came out was rare indeed. A touch of Gallic arrogance creeping through perhaps?

To finish I had the Ossou Iraty (a sheeps' milk cheese from South West France) which came with delicious nut and caramel crusted grapes, thin slices of toast and Verjuice (a juice made from pressing unripe grapes). A good cheese board. The black olive and chocolate desert seemed reasonably well received, as did the Plum Posset.  We finished with some delicious homemade chocolates.

So what to make of Club Gascon. French food, bags of technique, in the City, at reasonable prices. You can't really ask for much more than that, a thoroughly enjoyable lunch!

L'Autre Pied: Food as Art (but unfortunatley not as food)

Food as art.  Art as food,  G-Star recently called this into question.  Had we strayed too far from what a plate of food was meant to be?  Number one, provide sustenance.  Secondly, taste good.  One and two together should bring happiness.  A belly full of tasty food is a wonderful thing.  Only then should we take into consideration how it looked.  I agreed to a point - two dishes, same ingredients and method deployed - one can taste better if it presented in a more appetising way.  But I can see where he is coming from.  First and foremost when I leave a restaurant I want to have enjoyed the taste of the food I have just eaten.  Only then will I revel in the beauty of its presentation and the chefs techniques.

So it is a great shame when an incredibly talented chef focuses too heavily on technique and presentation and forgets to make it taste good.  Andy Macfadden, it seems, has fallen into that trap.  The food at L'Autre Pied is packed full of technique.  His skill is obvious in every dish.  In the main it also looks beautiful.  Each plate a piece of art.  But did I leave with that warm glow you get from eating wonderful food? Sadly not.

Again I was out with work so the meal was gratis and we didn't have access to the full menu - a pared down two choice offering  instead (although I should at this point commend the restaurant for being incredibly accommodating to those whose choice was restricted).

We shared some amouse bouche - goats curd, okay, the highlight a hare samosa.  A real treat.  The accompanying bread was fantastic - in particular the onion brioche.

We were then given an extra course of what appeared to be a pesto mousse with toasted pine-nuts (no dish was explained - a great shame).  This was fine, it did not get me excited though.

I went for the artichoke - fried to a crisp, it came with parsley oil and blobs of a hazelnut.  The oil was bitter, the hazelnut reminded me of Nutella - it didn't do anything for me. Others had the crab garganelli (kind of like penne) - the pasta was just too thick, the crab got lost, the belper knolle cheese was barely evident.  All in all not that impressive.

Next up was cocoa coated venison, beetroot and smoked goats curd.  The venison was perfect.  Soft, moist, moreish.  The beetroot and the sweet onions worked well but the goats curd was a strange addition.  It also needed something more.  Some dauphinoise potatoes perhaps? Something to offset the sweet and sour combination of cocoa and onions.  Unfortunately it left me wanting.

To end I had the yuzu and mandarin parfait, poppy seeds and yoghurt sorbet.  A dish of techniques - beautifully presented. The parfait was a little sour for my liking, the poppy crisps the highlight of the meal.  But it didn't really all come together.  You can see what is being attempted.  There is sweet and sour, crispy and smooth, even a jelly - tastes and textures contrasting everywhere.  And it looked beautiful.  But it didn't make me happy.

So what to make of L'Autre Pied?  Here is a restaurant blessed with an exceptionally talented chef.  There is no doubt Andy Macfadden can cook.  A mountain of effort has been put into each dish.  No one can say the cooking is lazy.  But that breeds problems.  I think that the kitchen is trying so hard to let everyone out front know that they are top of their game, that they have forgotten what it is their are meant to be doing - cooking food that leaves you full and happy.  Sadly L'Autre Pied, despite the obvious talent, falls at the first hurdle.

River Cafe

Value.  What is value?  "The worth of something in terms of the amount or other things for which it can be exchanged".  An inherently subjective concept.  I would not think a five hundred quid  pair of Louboutin's represent value.  Others do.  I thought that four hundred for a meal at Coi in San Francisco (albeit with two hundred of that covered by the restaurant due to the wait) was fair.  It was the best meal I have ever eaten.  By a long way.

Sometimes when I eat out, I wish you didn't see the prices until the end.  But were this to be the case,  the food-loving world would go bankrupt - as it is I am already prone to over-ordering. I just want to try everything.  But prices provide a barometer.  They go up, you expect more. At rock bottom, all you expect is to be fed and watered, preferably without being antagonised in the process.

So when the prices are as high as they are at the River Cafe you're expecting a real treat.  Throw into the mix its Michelin star and a reputation earned over 25 years at the coal face of the London restaurant scene, and the expectations go through the roof.  Perhaps that is unfair.  Perhaps I should have just considered what was on the plate in front of me - but I don't think that is possible.  Value matters.

I was at the River Cafe for a work event -  a closing dinner.  The firm was paying.  So I should have been able to relax - the bill wasn't going to worm its way to me.  But as it was my first time, everything was being judged against a return visit.

To start we shared some antipasti - cold meats, mozzarella and some panzanella.  All excellent - especially the mozzarella, perfect.

We also shared some char grilled squid with chopped chilies.  This was vastly over-seasoned.  Salt, salt and more salt.  Not good at all.

Onto to El Primi.  I went for the wild mushroom ravioli in sage butter sauce.  The pasta was light, well made.  Sage butter (something close to my heart after first encountering it in while stumbling around Eastern Europe as a student in a place called Konoba Mate on Korcula Island - go if you can) worked well with the porcini and girolles.  An accomplished dish.

For el Secondi I had the lamb leg, fresh canellini beans, stuffed yellow peppers pangrattato (or breadcrumbs, for the likes of me) and salsa verde.  Everything was well cooked -  the salsa verde cut through the lamb, the beans were nice.  The peppers didn't add much.

To finish, panacotta with grappa soaked raspberries.  The panacotta was creamy, but lacked flavour. Grappa soaked raspberries, not for me.

And so we come back to "value".  Was the portion of six ravioli worth fifteen pounds?  No.  Was the lamb worth thirty five? Definitely not.  Did I enjoy them both? Yes.  I can see the appeal of River Cafe. Sitting by the river, enjoying a glass of prosecco, feasting on seasonal Italian cuisine.  Could I recommend that you do so?  If money is no option, then yes.  If not, spend your hard-earned coins elsewhere, even taking into account the (almost exclusively) excellent food, it just does not represent value.