Number One: The Ledbury – Notting Hill, Monday 18th October, 2010

And so it came to pass. If spring and summer's ventures to unchartered and glorious culinary waters were the proverbial cake and St John and The Square contributed the icing, then going to The Ledbury was the cherry on top. A fortnight after it was named best restaurant in the UK, I was taken for dinner there. That's right: taken. A very good friend of mine was generous enough to offer a meal out for the two of us and made the mistake of saying "wherever you like".

When I reported on The Ledbury's promotion to the top of the UK list, I made the foolish assertion that I would report back before the end of 2010. Of course this did not come to pass and once again I humbly apologise. However, one excuse worth throwing out there is that I did have some un-planned ankle surgery in November which somewhat curtailed my writing progress.

Again, I will start by saying that the tone I have set out with is one I will most probably finish with: The Ledbury is a wonderful restaurant. Not perfect but wonderful all the same. It's one of a fairly exclusive group of restaurants in London with two Michelin stars and its popularity soared in the wake of the press it gained from being declared best restaurant in the United Kingdom. Evidence of this was that we could only get a table on a windy Monday night in October. This place ain't easy to get into these days.

There is a lot to admire about the Ledbury, right down to its uncomplicated and unpretentious head chef Brett Graham. An Australian with three years at The Square behind him, he opened The Ledbury under owner Philip Howard's supervision. The place itself is pure class: delicately lit, comfortably-sized tables, unobtrusive spatial apportionment and lovely staff.

On to the matter of food, there was heaven on a plate and there were touches of showy pretence which I could've done without but overall I really enjoyed myself. The foie gras tartlets to kick things off were just what I wanted after stepping inside after a walk from Ladbroke Grove: fatty, smooth and satisfying.

My starter was a raviolo (big ravioli to you and me) of calf sweetbread, which came with a velouté of toasted hay (left). Anything that contains toasted hay is fine by me because let's face it; toasted hay?! It was creamy, rich and almost imperceptibly fresh. It wasn't that you had to look for the freshness per se, more that you had to take a moment to fully register the amount of joy you could get from offal inside pasta. It was impeccably constructed and, whilst failing to soar to the heights of the seafood ravioli (should that have also been raviolo?) at Gordon Ramsay the month before, it was lovely.

My (very generous) companion had not been as exposed as I to high end restaurants like this before and was determined to throw himself in and enjoy it as much as possible. It seemed appropriate therefore that he had a go at foie gras for the first time in his life (after the tartlets that is) and ordered the terrine with cooked and raw apple in Sake (right). The Japanese liqueur didn't really register with me but the paté was spot on, combined with the sharpness and contrasting textures of apple. I suppose if you're going to serve something as predictable as liver paté in a posh London restaurant, you darn well better find a way to make it interesting. Top marks on that front.

My main course was something that would drag you in off the street if you were walking past and happened to spot it on the menu. During autumn in England, one should be eating game. Venison surely fits the bill. But at The Ledbury they're making it look uber-trendy by calling it roe deer - after all, that is what it is. They're also serving it with bone marrow, beetroot and malt. And they're baking it in Douglas Fir (left).

Being a huge Twin Peaks fan, I was pretty convinced by the fact that they were baking anything in Douglas Fir, but given that they were essentially throwing in a load of well-suited bits and pieces with the deer, my mind was made up. The meat was, predictably, fabulous. Smoky, rich and a divine deep red. Strangely though, as great as all the combinations were together, the dish looked slightly haphazard and rough, which disappointed me a bit.

My friend chose some lamb. And this really was 'some' lamb. Best end (what else?) and shoulder, served with - wait for it - "an aubergine glazed with black sugar and garlic". Crazy. But tasty, as we soon discovered. With combinations as laughably pretentious-sounding as this, one ought to be wowed. Fortunately we were. He described it as the best lamb he'd ever eaten and upon tasting it, I was nearly as bowled over. Not quite dish of the year material, but worth trying.

The desserts were a really interesting part of the evening. I had hoped to be utterly blown away by pudding, but I wasn't. Having said that, there was certainly something in the dessert to be impressed by, because the memory and taste of it remains vividly imprinted in my mind. You might say I have been haunted by it. In a good way. Maybe...

It was a spiced bread and eucalyptus honey soufflé with thyme ice cream (right). Now that really is getting a bit ridiculous in terms of posh-o nonsense and whilst I was quite right to expect the moon from this one, I assuredly did not get it. The texture of the soufflé was perfect but the taste was so biting and unnecessarily bold that I lost a lot of the light joy one desires when eating a well-formed pudding such as this. The taste, however, was quite extraordinary. I still can't quite shake it from my taste buds to the day, which has to count for something. Despite it being overly sharp and excessive, the originality of the dessert was worth it in itself.

My friend went for the slightly less risqué choice of a brown sugar tart with some ginger ice cream. We were both a little underwhelmed by this one, since it didn't deliver any sort of fireworks, good or bad, in the taste or presentation. Not unpleasant of course, but not quite worth the price of the a la carte.

So there we are. The Ledbury is apparently the best restaurant in the country, but I have to say I believe that is more down to the philosophy and general fashionable nature of the restaurant above anything else. Not for one second am I suggesting the food is bad or even average, but it is a little below what one expects from the number one venue in the UK.

I would definitely go back to The Ledbury. Graham clearly knows his ingredients and has the right uncompromising approach to good food. This may all depend on when can I next afford to go (or if my friend is feeling generous enough again), but it's somewhere worth a place on anyone's shortlist.

The Ledbury

London Restaurant Festival: 4th-18th October, 2010

I cannot pass up an event. If some sort of promotion is going on in the capital I have to partake. A swathe of restaurants offering up cheap set menus is one such event. I've done it before in 2009's inaugural event and I bet that I'll do it again in the future. 2010 saw a less vigorous set of meals than in days gone by but that was due to the the sheer amount of amazing food I'd eaten in the year so far.

Only four restaurants this time, and two of those I'd been to before. Still, it all counts and in these times of financial hardship we mustn't quibble. I was excited by the prospect of one, enthused by another and happily looking forward to visiting one old favourite and a one-time winner from a couple of years back.


Le Vacherin: Chiswick, Friday 8th October

I've written about Le Vacherin before. I've eaten here some four or five times now and it's close to being my favourite restaurant in London. Never letting me or my fellow diners down, it's always delivered in so many ways, but particularly on the food which is always what matters most to me.

Mike, a good friend of mine and the other half all joined me for a Friday night feast which was prompted by our interest at their latest menu (it's changed fairly frequently and something always looks tantalising enough to suggest a visit). The place was pretty packed which wasn't surprising. What we went on to discover was that this hamstrung the evening somewhat.

We tried a variety of classics: scallops with black pudding to start were as glorious as ever and the chocolate fondant was lovely for dessert. However, the evening did leave me a little cold after all was said and done. The partridge I ordered was nowhere near the succulent gaminess I would've expected and there was no real sense of truffle on the plate, which there was apparently supposed to be. Steak, as ever, was delicious.

There needn't be more written about Le Vacherin on this visit, primarily because I don't want to write any more about how one of my favourite restaurants slightly let me down. I haven't been back since but I will do, there's no doubt about it. Somewhere as good as this deserves another couple of chances for sure.


Le Vacherin


The Square: Mayfair, Monday 11th October

As always with these kinds of event, there was one place I had earmarked from the beginning of the piece as a must-try venue. The Square is one of only a handful of London restaurants to hold two Michelin stars and as such I felt it was worth a day off work to go there.

The Square is every precise inch a modern Michelin-starred restaurant. Shiny but soft, welcoming but formal. I suppose you want a bit of intimidatory sheen when you take a day off work for a restaurant. One might wonder what the point was if it was just another badly decorated pretender to modern comfort.

There is much to admire about the food at The Square. Philip Howard is the main man behind the venture and he deserves all the respect coming his way. There are three London restaurants in his portfolio. Along with The Square, he holds a stake in both The Ledbury and Kitchen W8. Put simply, that's five Michelin stars across three restaurants: some rate of return.

Howard still cooks and oversees the kitchen at The Square, but the head chef is now Robert Weston, who appears to have been given the instruction to maintain the high standards of years gone by. A tall order, but for a Mayfair-situated, Philip Howard-run French institution, not an impossible one.

We ate six dishes - a proper two-person lunch - and generally speaking, expectations were met. I always feel a bit cheap and cheerful ordering from a set menu - event or no event - at a high end restaurant, but money talks as ever...

The first starter was a juicy and well-formed rich game terrine. Including duck, foie gras and grouse, it had most of the bases covered and the flavours were as bold as you want. The capers which seasoned the terrine were sometimes a bit too punchy though, but this was a little offset by the sweet damson chutney on the side. I'd always take a paté over a terrine (and always take a parfait over a paté), but this stuff was decent enough.

Our second starter leapt off the page as soon as I read it. A velouté of girolle mushrooms with truffle chantilly cream (the finest sweet, whipped cream) and something called Vacherin gougères on the side. Now, I know Vacherin is a cheese but I was interested to see what these gougères were. As it turns out, they are little pastry puffs with the cheese inside them. So, back to the dish... it was good but not amazing. I expected better to be honest - the soup was a little thin for me and the in-season girolles weren't quite as rich and satisfying as I thought they would be. Hints of truffles were all we got, but I like my truffles suggestively dancing on the tongue, not just hinting.

Main courses were where the fun got started. We opted for one meat and one fish and we enjoyed both. The meat was a cut of suckling pig - in a good restaurant you can't really go wrong with this - along with a crisped flake of shoulder, stuffing and assorted vegetables, jus and some quince acting as a chutney / apple sauce substitute (left). Perfectly cooked, it was tender, moist and salty-soft. Delicious stuff, even if it wasn't perhaps as stunning as the whole swine we put away at St John a few weeks prior.

Surprisingly, it was the fish which was the real star of the show for me. A fillet of halibut served with pumpkin purée, parmesan gnocchi and chanterelle mushrooms turned out to be delicate, flavoursome and beautifully combined. The issue I usually have with dishes like this is that they have never been particularly well thought through and the ingredients are too distinct from each other to make it a genuine 'dish'. In this case however, the fish was perfectly cooked: sweet, soft and wonderfully presented (right).

Dessert was a tale of one outstanding pudding and one that was also on the table. I'm not suggesting the chocolate mess with ice cream, coco cream and hundreds and thousands was not pleasant, sweet and quite lovely (left), but the show stealer was the cheesecake (right). Brillat-Savarin was the name attached to it and I'm pretty sure the great chef himself wouldn't be disappointed if he had made this cheesecake. Wonderfully soft, deliciously glazed with strawberry and outstandingly accompanied with ice cream and fruit. Most probably the best cheesecake I have eaten.

So The Square might not have been perfect throughout, but it certainly showed enough flashes of brilliance to suggest it has earned its stripes as a two Michelin-starred restaurant. I'd love to go back for the a la carte when I can afford it and I would suggest you do too if you are able.


The Square


The Mercer: City Of London, Tuesday 12th October

After the heights scaled at The Square, we decided to have a go at somewhere I'd never heard of on the Tuesday: The Mercer. Situated in what may well be an old trader building on Cheapside, it's not doing much to stand out from the crowd in the area, because most restaurants in this area are exactly like that.

The food on the set menu - and on the menu in general, actually - is a summary of everything that's fashionable to eat in the city: pies, faggots, offal, game... Nothing to complain about but everything to be suspicious about. If anywhere in EC1 can do this sort of stuff well it's worth finding out about. I used to think 1 Lombard Street was the best thing on offer in the city before a re-visit left me irritated and cold, so maybe The Mercer could fill the hole?

Unfortunately no, but that's not to say the meal was a total let-down. Certain areas were indeed rather pleasant. The partridge as a main course was most enjoyable: served draped in bacon, topped with sage, above some turnips and some creamy sauce to finish... I put it away with gusto. The venison and ale stew was also pretty decent but I couldn't say as much for the rabbit pie, which was disappointingly bland.

Parts of the starters were respectable but for the most part they didn't wow any of us. Crispy oyster salad with ox tongue should be electrifying during autumn but was more a side event to something that never came. Devilled chicken livers on sourdough with girolles were okay but nothing more and the braised calf's liver faggot with bubble 'n squeak was the best of an average bunch. Very rich, slathered in gravy and dying to be eaten, it wasn't comfort food at its best, more high city fashion executed satisfactorily.

Dessert was a matter of one decent and two indifferent shrugs from the kitchen. The steamed sponge passed the first test of being better than something you get out of an upside-down pot in the supermarket but failed the second in that it wasn't as properly sweet and joyous as a sponge pud should be. Elsewhere, the trinity burnt cream with Baileys was in fact a lousy crème brûlée further ruined by the addition of Bailey's. The baked apple pie was so nondescript it fit right in with most of the rest of the fare on offer.

There isn't a lot to say about The Mercer because The Mercer isn't really trying to say an awful lot. I'd love to have said this restaurant is the future of the City with its bold British cuisine and strong flavours and ideas but alas... It turned out to be just another place where the best way to enjoy it is to order enough red wine that the food gets comped and you can have an indirect shouting match with the post work boys at the next table.


The Mercer


Roast: London Bridge, Friday 15th October

This was a re-enactment of sorts, given that I'd been here on the London Restaurant Week of 2009 and loved every bit of it. The other half had not been here previously so we thought it a good opportunity to sample.

We could only secure a late night booking on the Friday which was a trifle inconvenient. What it meant was that the place was seriously rammed and the atmosphere was a heady and heated scrum of post-work, pre-weekend diners.

The Festival was clearly good news for the restaurant because plenty of patrons were enjoying the event's set menu, augmented by a bustling and bright kitchen. So bright, in fact, that the heat lamps from it were illuminating our table.

Unfortunately, Roast was really rubbish in comparison to the meal I'd had there before. It was pretty poor on all fronts and much of it could unfortunately be compared to what I had back then. The first point is the pork belly, which I fawned over a couple of years ago. This time around it was crusty, hard and unpleasant. Where I couldn't finish it first time around through sheer indulgence, the second time it was through relentless monotony.

Also, the rhubarb crumble I tried on my first visit to Roast lingers long in the memory as one of my favourite versions of one of my favourite puddings. Alas, this time around the blackberry, apple and almond effort they threw in ramekins and doled out was way short of any such praise.

Elsewhere, the trout mousse to start was nice enough but ruined by burnt-to-a-crisp toast and the Gressingham duck breast was nothing to write home about. It's hard to mess up a duck breast (though it can be done) and whilst they didn't ruin it as such, I expect a hell of a lot finer than average when it comes to English food in season at Roast.

The other two dishes we tried were a chicken (also from Goosnargh) with lemon and thyme and a caramel pot for dessert. The latter was okay; good for a few spoonfuls before you started wondering if the effort and calories were worth it on your palate and figure. The chicken was - and I say this very truthfully - worse that I make at home. Dry, lifeless and exceptionally dull, we didn't bother finishing it.

Some years back, I lauded Roast as the ultimate in modern British eating, and the ingredients of a great eatery are still there. The location, image and philosophy of the place is top-notch. However, the food has clearly take a turn for the worst. That or my standards have sharply risen in the past year or so. It is probably a bit of both to be honest, but one thing I will say is this: I might have flown through the review but it shows just how much of a pain it is to revisit it after so many months, rather than the pleasure it might've been.


Roast


So, another event gone, another set sampled. Roast is clearly dead, dying or had a monumental off day. I hope for their sake it's the latter. Le Vacherin remains one of my favourite restaurants yet they were also clearly not at their best back in October. I will brave it again soon but I haven't since that fateful night. The Mercer should buck its ideas up if it wants to be relevant and add something to London's cuisine, whilst The Square is, simply put, a very fine two Michelin-starred restaurant.

It's easy to look back on all this with a dismissive wave of the hand some seven - seven! - months on, but I still remember all the food, the memories, the smells and sounds... It is enduring, rich and vital: the reason I eat, review and keep writing this damnable blog, even if nobody reads it. Roll on the next seven months.