Thursday 8th: The Albemarle at Brown’s Hotel, Mayfair
Ah, Mayfair. How I belong here. Buzzing streets full of well-dressed people, council tax rates through the roof, the most exclusive clubs in town and some great restaurants to boot. Yes, I feel I could certainly carve a niche for myself out here. (Probably sweeping streets.)
The minute you step into Brown’s, you feel as if you’ve been swept into some parallel universe where you have a lot more money than you do in reality, where everyone is nice and polite to each other and where you can walk into a hotel restaurant, point at three or four things and say “bring me these”. Unfortunately, my friend and I were brought back to earth with a thud as our (two drink) bill at the bar came to £22. Given that this included a non-alcoholic juice thing, it gives you an idea of how upmarket this place is.
I felt a bit hollow perusing the cheap set menu after browsing the wondrous lists of a la carte glory on offer, although my spirits perked up when I saw that I could have duck to start, pork belly for main course and probably then pick a dessert from the a la carte to finish. And wouldn’t you know it, that’s just what I did.
Duck on some burnt toast cake to start was better than I’ve just made it sound. I’ve pretty much described my first impression of it, but when I got into it, things improved. Very smooth pieces of duck with little bits of wild boar bacon (really?) did the job early doors. The pork belly was predictably brilliant. Since it’s becoming so popular, it’s important that you don’t present some slab of toughness when you do this dish. This was practically – as my companion described – melt in the mouth. The vegetables they gave me with it were surprisingly edible too. A sweet potato and some sort of green thing that might or might not have been an avocado that had been lightly fried… I think. Whatever they’d done to these vegetables made them taste brilliant.
Dessert was super-special. We got the Cox’s apple crumble to share, which looked a little small at first. It turned out to be excellent though. Perfect texture, not a shard of apple skin in sight, and the light, glorious crumble topping you visualise when you picture apple crumble. (I know you’ve pictured it.) Add a little jug of custard to go with it: wonderful stuff. My friend informed me that the £30 bottle of white wine he ordered was excellent too, for what that’s worth.
If you can afford it, check out the a la carte at this place (and pay for my meal while you’re at it too). Otherwise, the set menu is nothing to sniff at. Very nice surroundings, excellent service and top notch nosh. A bit too dark for me in the restaurant though. Still, serve me up apple crumble like this and you could do it blindfolded in the rain without many complaints.
Browns
Friday 9th: Pied A Terre: Soho
This is a place that I’d heard enough about previously to leap at the chance as soon as I saw it was participating in the Festival. The problem with their participation in the scheme is that it must have taken some serious arm-twisting from the organisers. We were greeted with a “you’re having the set menu? Lucky you!” that was either patronising or sarcastic.
The table wasn’t up to much either – a separated affair which set my mind to thinking of cheap seats and pretence. Perhaps I was in a bad mood. I suppose people tend to approach anywhere with pedigree and good press with an “impress me” attitude, so I wasn’t making it easy for them.
Then I found out that the festival menu was pre-starter, starter and main, with no actual choice. Thank heaven they were giving us scallops followed by venison. The pre-course was a pretty awesome mix of some tomato tart, a tiny onion tartlet, some foie gras between two filo snaps and a baffling watermelon foam thing mixed with cubes of ricotta. The first three were lovely. The last one was something of a joke.
The starter was amazing. Very fresh and smooth scallops with slightly tart reduction, along with some sprouting broccoli – enough to keep me happy. There were some nuts with it (I think they were nuts) which didn’t do anything. Following this was rare venison. I don’t think I need to say much more than that, because it was properly cooked. It had a decent dark chocolate crust thing around it and came with beetroot, spinach (tolerable!) and some potato puffs. Now, there may be another name for these, but that’s what they were. Anyway, this was a lovely dish.
Desserts were not included in the deal, so we had to cough up the £13.50 for a pudding that you usually would. Reluctantly we gave it a go because there wasn’t much on there that we particularly fancied. Fortunately we were surprised. (Maybe because we didn’t hold out much hope.) I was stunned by the pre-dessert. I don’t particularly like mango or coconut, so when we were presented by a mango and lime consommé with coconut foam and crumble, my heart, stomach and face fell. It was amazing. How they did it I do not know, but that, dear friends, is how a great restaurant can make you rethink your prejudices.
Desserts themselves were worth the punt. A sweet and bitter chocolate tart came with stout ice cream and some nut cream, which made me hold my breath ever so slightly... Neither appealed on the surface. However, this dish carried on the trend of me rethinking desserts as the pre-course had. Nut cream, alcohol ice cream… and it was good? Great result. The lime mousse was also delicious – sharp and sweet.
So Pied A Terre did alright. I’d like to go there on the usual menu, but the food on the night was worth it. I may return one day, but that might be when I have the money to live in Mayfair.
Pied A Terre
Saturday 10th: Hélène Darroze at the Connaught, Mayfair
Can’t beat a spot of lunch on a sunny Saturday. Continuing the theme of the wonderful late summer we’ve been having, I donned a cream jacket and a pair of sunglasses to wander deeper into Mayfair – and I swear this area just gets better the more you see of it – to dine at a place that came ringing with endorsements (including a recent Michelin star).
Now before I move on to the food (which was predictably excellent), I must talk of the atmosphere in there. It’s safe to say that for the first five minutes of this meal, I was the most nervous and intimidated I’ve ever been in a restaurant. I felt like every table was watching us, every staff member scrutinising us. It was uncomfortable. I don’t quite know why this was. Maybe the setting was so upmarket it threw me – the room really was beautiful. It also might have been the buffet starter procedure. I wasn’t really sure where to go or when to go there.
After the early nerves had been calmed, we’d selected our main choice courses and I was half way into my starter, I began to relax and enjoy myself. The buffet to begin was a delight: a bowl of scrambled eggs with any sides you want. I went for cured ham and smoked salmon. The eggs themselves were superbly French. Thick, creamy, not even close to dry and tasted as if they’d been made with cream. With the salmon they were particularly delightful.
One main course was scallops with tandoori spices. These were very nice with a dash of carrot puree (an oft-used accompaniment recently, I’ve noticed) and some jus. The problem was the spices nearly offset the scallops’ flavour. This is a bit of a no-no if you ask me, but they weren’t bad. Another was a burger. Now, as I’ve recently been wondering what goes in a good burger, this was something of a schooling for me. Ox cheek angus beef, gently knitted together, served with a slab of foie gras from Les Landes (Mme. Darroze’s home town). Just wonderful with home made wedge chips and ketchup.
As stuffed as I was after the impressive food so far, it was time to hit the dessert buffet. Attractively laid out were fruit salads, fresh tarts, yoghurt, pastries and suchlike… We tried some freshly made waffles (exquisitely light), a lemon turnover (tangy and smooth) and a chocolate fondant cake (I needn’t say more than that). Pudding was bloody great.
Given the price we paid (£30 for three courses) here, I cannot recommend Hélène Darroze at the Connaught highly enough. It was a pleasurable lunch in a superb surrounding, with attentive and helpful (if initially aloof) staff. The hotel is beautiful, the area superb, but the food… I could wax lyrical for a while longer, but it’d be easier if you just try it yourself.
Hélène Darroze at the Connaught
Sunday 11th: The Big Roast, City Of London
This one was the centrepiece. The one I’d earmarked as soon as London Restaurant Festival was announced. The food tours they’d organised looked good, but I read ‘top chefs’, ‘roast’ and ‘Leadenhall Market’ and was snared instantly. The set up sounded glorious: a selection of premier cooks from across the capital make their favourite roast dishes, sides are as you need them and you have 90 minutes to eat what you like. Despite the Sunday rain, I was excited.
We were directed to the pre-roast meeting place, the Prism Brasserie, where we were offered a complimentary Gin & Tonic which we weren’t allowed to substitute for something non-alcoholic, then told that the schedule was running late. Something close to half an hour later, we were sat on a long bench that made me feel a bit like I was back in school waiting for my canteen dinner. There was an unsettling feel to what was about to happen. As if the roof of the market would collapse or the floor might give way… It’s hard to explain, but something was definitely off.
After about ten minutes, I realised what it was. The Big Roast was a logistical nightmare. I’m not sure what I was expecting to be honest. Maybe I’d been blinded by the keywords that had captivated me so to begin with. The organisers had made the mistake of thinking they could get a variety of meats to 800-plus customers in 90 minute blocks. What had I done..?
We were given some acceptable broccoli and carrots, then some potatoes and parsnips… “But where”, spoke my mind, “is the meat?” If we were to get through eight chefs’ roast choices in time they were cutting it fine. Eventually, some beef was brought to the table, certainly well-cooked but a little fatty, and not a particularly generous serving for 8-10 people. There were plenty of sauces at the table, but barely any gravy in sight. The main course highlight of the event was some lamb (and we were given no indication who cooked it as it was presented) that came in a variety of cuts: chop, saddle, cutlet… Delicious. We were also given a small skewered quail, which was nice but looked and tasted like it had come from a barbecue.
Post-quail, we eagerly awaited some more game (there was a mention of deer) and the pork that we felt certain was on its way (three chefs were listed as preparing pig). Nothing came. This is where the difficulty of the task in hand hit home. We waited for our desserts for about 20 minutes (the standard wait seemed to have been far less than that) and the group next to us sat with their dirty plates in front of them for about half an hour. They asked various suited officials what was going on, none of whom seemed to know what they were doing in Leadenhall Market. The waiters and waitresses weren’t much better. When a lady next to me asked for some spoons (they hadn’t been given any) to eat their dessert with, she remarked to the waiter “we asked ages ago”, to which he replied “well you didn’t ask me” in the surliest manner possible. I’d have choked on my food if only I had some.
After asking twice to have our puddings, we finally got them and they were lovely. Small pots of rhubarb crumble with very hearty warm custard. They didn’t save the day (nothing could really), but they pulled it up enough to make me think it hadn’t been a total bust.
So here is my tip: if they ever try to pull a ‘Big Roast’ style stunt again, you either prove you’re far braver than I and cough up an extra tenner (that’d be a £50 ticket then) to have priority seating at the event, you attend one of the many ‘in-house’ Big Roast meals that restaurants all over were offering, or you don’t go. Alternatively, you could eat dinner at The Ledbury, which I certainly wish I’d done.
Monday 12th: Bibendum, Fulham
Sometimes life will present you with the odd perk. Totally unexpected, a little stroke of luck can cast a bright golden haze over anything. Monday of Restaurant Festival was one such night. Various restaurants participated in a “lucky roll” scheme where if you rolled a certain number on a die after your meal, you get your meal paid for. Guess what happened..?
Bibendum is a cool place to go, if only for the building and décor. It’s situated in the old Michelin building on the Fulham Road, which makes the whole place seem instantly old-worldly and nostalgic. Very modern inside, pretty much as you’d expect from contemporary French cuisine.
The food was good for the most part. A decent combination of red mullet (which I’m pretty sure I don’t like now) and some pastry and other seafood bits ‘n pieces was richly sea-fruity and a brilliant mix of textures. The deep fried chicken livers with béarnaise was far more up my street. Very strong, very well prepared. Main courses weren’t too bad. The duck was presented impeccably – sliced red breast, a leg joint and liver atop a potato croquette. The latter was gorgeous, but the others were overwhelmed by a very fumy and rich red wine sauce. The show-stealer was a perfectly-formed breast of chicken atop a thick and creamy pancake with cream sauce and mushrooms.
Desserts were a relatively uninspiring chocolate and prune cake and a pretty rustic lemon tart. Of course, after we’d finished, the whole thing seemed like an absolute steal for the £20 we paid in drinks and tip.
Bibendum is somewhere I would eat again, though not in a hurry. It’s a little generic for my liking, lacking the sheer class of somewhere like Pied A Terre, but not as rustic as Le Saint Julien. I could, on the other hand, be being needlessly picky. Perhaps it’s just a very pleasant place to eat some decent French cuisine on a week night without much front or fuss.
One thing that did stick in my mind after this meal was that the London Restaurant Festival had redeemed itself after the horror of The Big Roast. A free meal? Huzzah!
Bibendum
Tuesday 13th – Launceston Place, Kensington
And so the week came to a close in bizarre fashion. The three of us attended a meal at Launceston Place which we approached full of confidence and hope, and it did deliver. Or to put it another way, it was one of the worst meals I’ve had for some time. Herein lies the trouble with set menus…
Launceston Place is a lovely restaurant. I think it’s a converted pub. If it isn't, they should certainly have planned it differently, because that’s exactly what it looks like. Dark walls and vivid prints give it the necessary veneer it needs to pass off as a top restaurant, but they do have one problem, and it is the lack of space. As capacious as it looks, Launceston Place is not quite roomy enough. You’re constantly on the lookout for a stray elbow, the corner of a table or some such obstacle. The seating was strange too: they put three of us on an oval table in a corner: Tom and I sat on a bench and Mike sat opposite on a chair in a slipstream of waiters and staff. Nevertheless, there is an inherent quirkiness in the building which I like.
On to the food. None of us could complain. A sumptuous set of starters came first in the form of some partridge with brandy and wild heather – strong enough to make your head spin, soothing enough to reset it. The star starter (I should copyright that) though, was a quite brilliant goose egg risotto. Served still in the shell and topped with truffles and some soldiers (that’s right, soldiers. It is the classiest dippy egg you’ve ever seen) on the side, I was bowled over at how intensely flavoursome this was. Pockets of yolk adding a smoothness to the bold risotto, and topped with truffles. Truffles! (That’s three times I’ve mentioned truffles now, but I don’t care.)
Main courses weren’t far worse. Tom went for a very light and fine spinach and ricotta tortellini affair. Certainly not one for me, but the noises from its direction were positive ones. Perfect if you’re not looking for a heavy meal was the general agreement on this. Mike opted for some braised hare with a herb crust, on the side of which was a pear, chicory and pistachio salad. It had too much of a beery aftertaste for me, but Mike was as full of praise as I’ve seen him for some time. The combinations evidently worked a treat. I plumped (and that really is the word after this week) for the suckling pig. It was great: three different cuts, all excellent with some crushed parsnips and dressing as appropriate.
…Which brings us to the turning point in the evening. The service had been good all night. Our waiter was a softly spoken gentleman with a descriptive manner. The sommelier was a very enthusiastic and friendly American chap. And come dessert, we found ourselves faced with an extremely rude man (I think he was French, but I’m making a guess based on his accent.) We were given the main a la carte menus – perfect, we thought, a chance to order from a wider range, we’ll just pay full whack for dessert – which were promptly and literally snatched from our hands a few seconds later. “These aren’t for you”, our waiter snapped. After much to-ing and fro-ing with the staff, we discovered we weren’t eligible for a dessert unless we were going to fork out £20 for it. We didn’t and left a very small tip.
Launceston Place left us with a bitter taste in the mouth after what had been a pretty enjoyable week for me. There will be more to follow…
Launceston Place
Well, that was the six-day week that was. I may have only scratched the surface of London Restaurant Festival, but it was a lot of fun. The highlight was probably Hélène Darroze at the Connaught, whilst the low was jointly shared by the treatment at Launceston Place and the Big Roast. Still, if nothing else, the festival has certainly affirmed to me just how brilliant a place London is to live. And that can’t be a bad thing, can it?
So Pied A Terre did alright. I’d like to go there on the usual menu, but the food on the night was worth it. I may return one day, but that might be when I have the money to live in Mayfair.
Pied A Terre
Saturday 10th: Hélène Darroze at the Connaught, Mayfair
Can’t beat a spot of lunch on a sunny Saturday. Continuing the theme of the wonderful late summer we’ve been having, I donned a cream jacket and a pair of sunglasses to wander deeper into Mayfair – and I swear this area just gets better the more you see of it – to dine at a place that came ringing with endorsements (including a recent Michelin star).
Now before I move on to the food (which was predictably excellent), I must talk of the atmosphere in there. It’s safe to say that for the first five minutes of this meal, I was the most nervous and intimidated I’ve ever been in a restaurant. I felt like every table was watching us, every staff member scrutinising us. It was uncomfortable. I don’t quite know why this was. Maybe the setting was so upmarket it threw me – the room really was beautiful. It also might have been the buffet starter procedure. I wasn’t really sure where to go or when to go there.
After the early nerves had been calmed, we’d selected our main choice courses and I was half way into my starter, I began to relax and enjoy myself. The buffet to begin was a delight: a bowl of scrambled eggs with any sides you want. I went for cured ham and smoked salmon. The eggs themselves were superbly French. Thick, creamy, not even close to dry and tasted as if they’d been made with cream. With the salmon they were particularly delightful.
One main course was scallops with tandoori spices. These were very nice with a dash of carrot puree (an oft-used accompaniment recently, I’ve noticed) and some jus. The problem was the spices nearly offset the scallops’ flavour. This is a bit of a no-no if you ask me, but they weren’t bad. Another was a burger. Now, as I’ve recently been wondering what goes in a good burger, this was something of a schooling for me. Ox cheek angus beef, gently knitted together, served with a slab of foie gras from Les Landes (Mme. Darroze’s home town). Just wonderful with home made wedge chips and ketchup.
As stuffed as I was after the impressive food so far, it was time to hit the dessert buffet. Attractively laid out were fruit salads, fresh tarts, yoghurt, pastries and suchlike… We tried some freshly made waffles (exquisitely light), a lemon turnover (tangy and smooth) and a chocolate fondant cake (I needn’t say more than that). Pudding was bloody great.
Given the price we paid (£30 for three courses) here, I cannot recommend Hélène Darroze at the Connaught highly enough. It was a pleasurable lunch in a superb surrounding, with attentive and helpful (if initially aloof) staff. The hotel is beautiful, the area superb, but the food… I could wax lyrical for a while longer, but it’d be easier if you just try it yourself.
Hélène Darroze at the Connaught
Sunday 11th: The Big Roast, City Of London
This one was the centrepiece. The one I’d earmarked as soon as London Restaurant Festival was announced. The food tours they’d organised looked good, but I read ‘top chefs’, ‘roast’ and ‘Leadenhall Market’ and was snared instantly. The set up sounded glorious: a selection of premier cooks from across the capital make their favourite roast dishes, sides are as you need them and you have 90 minutes to eat what you like. Despite the Sunday rain, I was excited.
We were directed to the pre-roast meeting place, the Prism Brasserie, where we were offered a complimentary Gin & Tonic which we weren’t allowed to substitute for something non-alcoholic, then told that the schedule was running late. Something close to half an hour later, we were sat on a long bench that made me feel a bit like I was back in school waiting for my canteen dinner. There was an unsettling feel to what was about to happen. As if the roof of the market would collapse or the floor might give way… It’s hard to explain, but something was definitely off.
After about ten minutes, I realised what it was. The Big Roast was a logistical nightmare. I’m not sure what I was expecting to be honest. Maybe I’d been blinded by the keywords that had captivated me so to begin with. The organisers had made the mistake of thinking they could get a variety of meats to 800-plus customers in 90 minute blocks. What had I done..?
We were given some acceptable broccoli and carrots, then some potatoes and parsnips… “But where”, spoke my mind, “is the meat?” If we were to get through eight chefs’ roast choices in time they were cutting it fine. Eventually, some beef was brought to the table, certainly well-cooked but a little fatty, and not a particularly generous serving for 8-10 people. There were plenty of sauces at the table, but barely any gravy in sight. The main course highlight of the event was some lamb (and we were given no indication who cooked it as it was presented) that came in a variety of cuts: chop, saddle, cutlet… Delicious. We were also given a small skewered quail, which was nice but looked and tasted like it had come from a barbecue.
Post-quail, we eagerly awaited some more game (there was a mention of deer) and the pork that we felt certain was on its way (three chefs were listed as preparing pig). Nothing came. This is where the difficulty of the task in hand hit home. We waited for our desserts for about 20 minutes (the standard wait seemed to have been far less than that) and the group next to us sat with their dirty plates in front of them for about half an hour. They asked various suited officials what was going on, none of whom seemed to know what they were doing in Leadenhall Market. The waiters and waitresses weren’t much better. When a lady next to me asked for some spoons (they hadn’t been given any) to eat their dessert with, she remarked to the waiter “we asked ages ago”, to which he replied “well you didn’t ask me” in the surliest manner possible. I’d have choked on my food if only I had some.
After asking twice to have our puddings, we finally got them and they were lovely. Small pots of rhubarb crumble with very hearty warm custard. They didn’t save the day (nothing could really), but they pulled it up enough to make me think it hadn’t been a total bust.
So here is my tip: if they ever try to pull a ‘Big Roast’ style stunt again, you either prove you’re far braver than I and cough up an extra tenner (that’d be a £50 ticket then) to have priority seating at the event, you attend one of the many ‘in-house’ Big Roast meals that restaurants all over were offering, or you don’t go. Alternatively, you could eat dinner at The Ledbury, which I certainly wish I’d done.
Monday 12th: Bibendum, Fulham
Sometimes life will present you with the odd perk. Totally unexpected, a little stroke of luck can cast a bright golden haze over anything. Monday of Restaurant Festival was one such night. Various restaurants participated in a “lucky roll” scheme where if you rolled a certain number on a die after your meal, you get your meal paid for. Guess what happened..?
Bibendum is a cool place to go, if only for the building and décor. It’s situated in the old Michelin building on the Fulham Road, which makes the whole place seem instantly old-worldly and nostalgic. Very modern inside, pretty much as you’d expect from contemporary French cuisine.
The food was good for the most part. A decent combination of red mullet (which I’m pretty sure I don’t like now) and some pastry and other seafood bits ‘n pieces was richly sea-fruity and a brilliant mix of textures. The deep fried chicken livers with béarnaise was far more up my street. Very strong, very well prepared. Main courses weren’t too bad. The duck was presented impeccably – sliced red breast, a leg joint and liver atop a potato croquette. The latter was gorgeous, but the others were overwhelmed by a very fumy and rich red wine sauce. The show-stealer was a perfectly-formed breast of chicken atop a thick and creamy pancake with cream sauce and mushrooms.
Desserts were a relatively uninspiring chocolate and prune cake and a pretty rustic lemon tart. Of course, after we’d finished, the whole thing seemed like an absolute steal for the £20 we paid in drinks and tip.
Bibendum is somewhere I would eat again, though not in a hurry. It’s a little generic for my liking, lacking the sheer class of somewhere like Pied A Terre, but not as rustic as Le Saint Julien. I could, on the other hand, be being needlessly picky. Perhaps it’s just a very pleasant place to eat some decent French cuisine on a week night without much front or fuss.
One thing that did stick in my mind after this meal was that the London Restaurant Festival had redeemed itself after the horror of The Big Roast. A free meal? Huzzah!
Bibendum
Tuesday 13th – Launceston Place, Kensington
And so the week came to a close in bizarre fashion. The three of us attended a meal at Launceston Place which we approached full of confidence and hope, and it did deliver. Or to put it another way, it was one of the worst meals I’ve had for some time. Herein lies the trouble with set menus…
Launceston Place is a lovely restaurant. I think it’s a converted pub. If it isn't, they should certainly have planned it differently, because that’s exactly what it looks like. Dark walls and vivid prints give it the necessary veneer it needs to pass off as a top restaurant, but they do have one problem, and it is the lack of space. As capacious as it looks, Launceston Place is not quite roomy enough. You’re constantly on the lookout for a stray elbow, the corner of a table or some such obstacle. The seating was strange too: they put three of us on an oval table in a corner: Tom and I sat on a bench and Mike sat opposite on a chair in a slipstream of waiters and staff. Nevertheless, there is an inherent quirkiness in the building which I like.
On to the food. None of us could complain. A sumptuous set of starters came first in the form of some partridge with brandy and wild heather – strong enough to make your head spin, soothing enough to reset it. The star starter (I should copyright that) though, was a quite brilliant goose egg risotto. Served still in the shell and topped with truffles and some soldiers (that’s right, soldiers. It is the classiest dippy egg you’ve ever seen) on the side, I was bowled over at how intensely flavoursome this was. Pockets of yolk adding a smoothness to the bold risotto, and topped with truffles. Truffles! (That’s three times I’ve mentioned truffles now, but I don’t care.)
Main courses weren’t far worse. Tom went for a very light and fine spinach and ricotta tortellini affair. Certainly not one for me, but the noises from its direction were positive ones. Perfect if you’re not looking for a heavy meal was the general agreement on this. Mike opted for some braised hare with a herb crust, on the side of which was a pear, chicory and pistachio salad. It had too much of a beery aftertaste for me, but Mike was as full of praise as I’ve seen him for some time. The combinations evidently worked a treat. I plumped (and that really is the word after this week) for the suckling pig. It was great: three different cuts, all excellent with some crushed parsnips and dressing as appropriate.
…Which brings us to the turning point in the evening. The service had been good all night. Our waiter was a softly spoken gentleman with a descriptive manner. The sommelier was a very enthusiastic and friendly American chap. And come dessert, we found ourselves faced with an extremely rude man (I think he was French, but I’m making a guess based on his accent.) We were given the main a la carte menus – perfect, we thought, a chance to order from a wider range, we’ll just pay full whack for dessert – which were promptly and literally snatched from our hands a few seconds later. “These aren’t for you”, our waiter snapped. After much to-ing and fro-ing with the staff, we discovered we weren’t eligible for a dessert unless we were going to fork out £20 for it. We didn’t and left a very small tip.
Launceston Place left us with a bitter taste in the mouth after what had been a pretty enjoyable week for me. There will be more to follow…
Launceston Place
Well, that was the six-day week that was. I may have only scratched the surface of London Restaurant Festival, but it was a lot of fun. The highlight was probably Hélène Darroze at the Connaught, whilst the low was jointly shared by the treatment at Launceston Place and the Big Roast. Still, if nothing else, the festival has certainly affirmed to me just how brilliant a place London is to live. And that can’t be a bad thing, can it?
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