Brasserie St. Jacques – Mayfair, Thursday 28th January, 2010

I hadn't planned to visit Brasserie St Jacques. I didn’t even know it existed to be honest. A friend invited me and I accepted. As it turned out, they were running a half-price offer on their set menu, which happened to be a tasting menu.

Now, before you get really excited, I should point out that said tasting menu was a meal made up of some basic French standards. It wasn’t exceptional or spectacular the way a tasting menu at the Fat Duck might be, and it wasn’t bizarre or mind-boggling. No, this was a menu that reverted to the simple things in France. And it was seven courses long: I was excited.

The first ‘course’ was a kir royale, which my companion drank both of and we promptly got down to food. After bread and butter, the first course was a small bowl of French onion soup with the usual gruyere-drenched bread (left). I was at first disappointed in the size of the thing, but it turned out to be well-placed with the rest of the meal. Whilst not the best onion soup I’ve eaten, it was a good start.

Between courses my eyes roved around the restaurant, observing how flamboyant it had been made to look. Rather than simple French cuisine, the décor and colour scheme made me think of vibrant Spanish tapas. The place is a little lopsided but it’s not unpleasant. I would say that it’s quite cold though, with very little atmospheric variation and many shiny, resounding surfaces.

Before I could delve any deeper into why I did or did not like the decorations of the place, our second course arrived; a terrine of foie gras (yawn). Despite my obvious and boorish disinterest with yet more liver paté-like stuff, I was impressed sufficiently to finish and enjoy it (right).

The next course had my full attention from the second I saw it on the menu. I have never been a big fan of mussels after a rotten experience the first time I tried them, but I was determined to give it a go here. (Partly because I wanted to enjoy them and partly because I had no choice anyway.) I must say that the moules mariniere we were served were excellent: cooked to something like perfection, with a gorgeous not-too-thin garlic sauce and bread to mop up. Yes, it was standard, but I got a lot out of this one (left).

The centrepiece of the menu was the partridge with a gorgeous slice of dauphinoise potato and red cabbage (below right). There’s nothing like the rich, varied tastes and textures of game in the winter to warm the soul and this was a beautiful course. The potatoes were predictably excellent, and sweet red cabbage is a dressing that I find myself relishing every time it is put in front of me.

Unfortunately they decided to throw a cheese course in between the meat dish and the dessert. This might be traditional (though I always thought cheese came last), and it might’ve worked on another night, but it was a bit of a non-starter with me. Some sort of creamy stuff from Munster reminded me that I’m not much of a cheese eater. It was too strong, ridiculously pungent and served only to irritate the palette as opposed to enriching it.

Dessert was a standard crème brulee. Entirely edible if not spectacular, I was reminded of Mike’s oft-spun wonderings on these vanilla puddings: why would you order one? As much as they can be great, it’s not often you find a great one. More to the point, if you mess a crème brulee up you’re doing something seriously wrong. Fortunately, this one was decent: sweet, light, creamy and not too heavily sugared. I ate and enjoyed.

I did enjoy Brasserie St Jacques. I suggest you give it a go too, particularly if there is a half-price set menu in the offing. Despite the glitzy postcode, the summery décor, a rain-soaked evening and a bad cheese course, it was really good, and one day I’m sure I’ll go back and try the a la carte menu too.

Brasserie St Jacques