Top 100 UK Restaurants 2012

A little later than usual (why break the habit of a blogging lifetime?), I've got my hands on the London venues featured in the National Restaurant Awards' top 100 UK restaurants for 2012. It seems London grows ever more prominent in the country's top 100, with 59 in this year's list. For the third year in a row, The Ledbury holds on to its top spot; a remarkable feat.

The notable entries begin with Quo Vadis, which is now astonishingly one of the ten best places to eat in the UK. The second outing I had there last year was nothing to write home about and I was surprised to see it so high. 10 Greek Street is the highest new London entry, with much buzz being generated around its modern, simple menus.

Elsewhere there is a general slide outside of the top 10, where Pollen Street Social and The Square maintained their high rankings. The excellent Polpo falls over 60 places, with a similar decline for Koffman's. Most other restaurants experience a slide of a few places here and there, with Texture and Koya two of the biggest climbers.

Other unsurprising new entries are Dabbous and Medlar who have both earned their first Michelin Stars to top off a fantastic year. Alyn Williams takes the highest new entry for London outside of 10 Greek Street to go along with the award of a first star also. José Pizarro endured an interesting year, with his tapas bar José dropping out of the list completely but his restaurant Pizarro shooting in at 28.

Once again, the moral of the story is that London really is the place to be when it comes to eating out in the UK. There are so many amazing restaurants that aren't on this list, but it's usually a good barometer of how a restaurant is faring. With over half the best restaurants in the UK, London is doing very well indeed.

1 The Ledbury

2 Pollen Street Social

7 The Square

9 Quo Vadis

10 Dinner by Heston Blumenthal

12 10 Greek Street

14 Zuma

15 Alyn Williams

18 Galvin La Chapelle

21 Roganic

22 St John

23 Bocca Di Lupo

25 L'Anima

26 Hibiscus

27 Zucca

28 Pizarro

30 Chez Bruce

31 Dabbous

32 Brawn

33 Texture

35 Koya

37 The River Café

38 Yauatcha

39 Medlar

43 Viajante

45 Hawksmoor Seven Dials

46 Arbutus

47 Marcus Wareing at The Berkeley

48 Hakkasan Mayfair

50 Upstairs at The Ten Bells

51 The Dock Kitchen

52 Hedone

54 St John Hotel

55 Burger and Lobster

56 Corrigan's Mayfair

58 Galvin at Windows

59 La Petite Maison

61 Theo Randall at the Intercontinental

62 The Delaunay

63 Le Gavroche

65 Bar Boulud

67 Hix Soho

69 Restaurant Gordon Ramsay

71 The Wolesley

73 Roka

74 Koffmann's

75 MeatLiquor

76 Galvin Bistrot De Luxe

77 Bistrot Bruno Loubet

80 Barrafina

81 Moro

82 CUT at 45 Park Lane

83 Umu

86 Pitt Cue

88 Polpo

92 Racine

93 Helene Darroze at The Connaught

95 Brasserie Zedel

96 Goodman Mayfair

Toku - St. James, Saturday May 12th, 2012

Whilst I'd never profess to wholly enjoy racing into a restaurant to whiz through a quick lunch, it's a damn good test of how any decent restaurant copes under pressure. Not that I'm some kind of mystery customer - or am I..? - but observing this often becomes an interesting sideshow to a speedy restaurant lunch.

A mid-May afternoon was the day for a working lunch at Toku, part of the huge and impressive Japan Centre on south Regent Street. The great thing about Japanese food for lunch is that it lends itself to speedy, efficient and clean portions of food. If there's any kind of restaurant one can get a good feeding in half an hour, Japanese should be it.

We both had relatively straightforward don meals - rice with assorted toppings - which are a great test of any Japanese restaurant's standards. I went for a Japanese tradition close to my heart (and one day I'm sure it will eventually be the undoing of my heart): tempura. You cannot really go wrong with decent Japanese tempura and this was happily satisfactory. A mixture of sweet potato, asparagus, squid, potato and prawns was a hearty but not overly filling lunch combination.

The wife went for the chicken don, another substantial and simple Japanese standard. It was well-cooked: moist, succulent and just what one needs to get going for the afternoon. It was a little stodgy for me with the rice to chicken ratio too high on the filler, but generally very good.

There's not a lot to say about Toku other than the fact that it's just what you need and expect from a quick Japanese lunch. It's not as cheap as I'd like but then it is right next to Piccadilly Circus, making it super-convenient. Plus, given where it is, there's usually enough time for a quick browse around the supermarket in the Japan Centre for a basketful of sauces, meats, seafood and sweets to take home. Well, that might just be me...

Toku

Michelin Guide 2013 - London Restaurants

It's barely October and yet we appear to have been given a list of new Michelin-Starred restaurants. Well, not given... Apparently results have been leaked and as such I'm obliged to summarise what this means for eating out in London.

There are a couple of big moves, the most notable being the elevation of Sketch's restaurant from one to two stars. The excessive gaudiness of Sketch seems to be doing the trick, making it the eighth London restaurant to currently hold two stars. The rest of the elite group of two- and three-star restaurants remains unchanged.

More good news abounds for the eight new star recipients which I've highlighted below. Tom Aikens' refurbishment finished and the star duly came back with the re-opening. One of my favourites - Launceston Place - finally got the star it has deserved for some time. The restaurant everyone seems to be going to right now - Dabbous - continues its meteoric rise and the least surprising new star of all goes to Medlar of Chelsea.

The two casualties of the 2013 guide are Gauthier Soho and Zafferano. The latter represents another dent in A to Z restaurants' reputation, given that they closed the former Michelin-Starred Aubergine a few years back. The latter vindicates me slightly for this piece I wrote on Gauthier Soho, though having been back (with a review to come), I'm slightly conflicted since the more recent visit wasn't too bad.

There are now 62 restaurants in London with at least one Michelin Star. Whatever you think about the guide itself, this shows an impressive recognition of just how stocked we now are with amazing restaurants. With a new Top 100 UK Restaurants to come by the end of the year, there is a good chance over half the UK's best could now be in London.

Three Stars:
Alain Ducasse at The Dorchester, Mayfair

Restaurant Gordon Ramsay, Chelsea

Two Stars:

Hélène Darroze at The Connaught, Mayfair

Hibiscus, Mayfair

L'Atelier de Joël Robuchon, Strand & Covent Garden

Le Gavroche, Mayfair

Marcus Wareing at The Berkeley, Belgravia
Sketch (The Lecture Room & Library), Mayfair - One to Two Stars

The Ledbury, North Kensington

The Square, Mayfair

One Star:

Alyn Williams at the Westbury, Mayfair - New Star
Amaya, Belgravia

Apsleys, A Heinz Beck Restaurant, Belgravia

Arbutus, Soho

Benares, Mayfair

Chez Bruce, Wandsworth

Club Gascon, City of London

Dabbous,Fitzrovia - New Star

Dinner by Heston Blumenthal, Hyde Park & Knightsbridge

Galvin at Windows, Mayfair

Galvin La Chapelle, Spitalfields

Greenhouse, Mayfair

Hakkasan Hanway Place, Bloomsbury

Hakkasan Mayfair, Mayfair

Harwood Arms, Fulham

Hedone, Chiswick - New Star

Kai, Mayfair

Kitchen W8, Kensington

L'Autre Pied, Regent's Park & Marylebone

La Trompette, Chiswick
Launceston Place, Kensington - New Star

Locanda Locatelli, Regent's Park & Marylebone

Maze, Mayfair
Medlar, Chelsea - New Star

Murano, Mayfair

Nobu, Mayfair

Nobu Berkeley St, Mayfair

North Road, Clerkenwell

Petersham Nurseries Café, Richmond

Pétrus, Belgravia

Pied à Terre, Bloomsbury

Pollen Street Social, Mayfair

Quilon, Victoria

Rasoi, Chelsea

Rhodes Twenty Four, City of London

Rhodes W1 (Restaurant), Regent's Park & Marylebone

Semplice, Mayfair

Seven Park Place, St James's

St John, Clerkenwell
St John Hotel Restaurant, Soho - New Star

Tamarind, Mayfair

Texture, Regent's  Park & Marylebone

The Glasshouse, Kew

The River Café, Hammersmith
Tom Aikens, Chelsea - New Star

Trishna, Marylebone - New Star

Umu, Mayfair

Viajante, Bethnal Green

Wild Honey, Mayfair

Yauatcha, Soho

Imperial China - Chinatown, Sunday April 22nd, 2012

There is something so unutterably reassuring about Chinese teatime. It's one of those meals that you know is a bad idea for both money and cholesterol levels, it's a relatively unnecessary meal and if you eat it you most probably won't need dinner. Having said that, what makes it such a familiar comfort is that - most of the time - you will feel satisfied with what you got.

Imperial China is an old favourite and it was on a quiet Sunday with not much to do that we decided to enjoy our afternoon with a few dishes. What I like about this place, aside from the food, is that it remains one of the truly elegant restaurants in Chinatown. Its gateway through the small garden-like entrance becomes something resembling a properly upmarket eatery, all within the scummy throes of one of the busiest parts of west end London.

We went for some beef cheung-fun to get things started, being that the long, thin dumplings are a mainstay of dim sum for the wife and I (left). These were lovely in texture, but lacking in taste. The beef was lost in the skin, meaning the hint of flavour we were anticipating never came. Pretty disappointing, given the quality one expects here.

Next up were some chicken feet, which the wife had insisted on (right.) This really is one of those Asian dishes you have to give it your all for and despite the wife's affirmations, these are not for me. Whilst the meat and skin is actually soft and rather pleasant, the amount of small bones you have to spit back out leave a lot to be desired.

Egg tarts were predictably fantastic; a reminder of just about the best thing ever to come out of Hong Kong (left). Warm, flaky pastry surrounding a delicious egg cream with a slightly gelatinous sheen - perfection. I could eat these for way longer than is healthy.

We departed from our usual dim sum themes to try some spring rolls (right). These were a nice surprise - hot, soft and just about as tangy as you want your spring rolls to be. Slightly Vietnamese in style, they were packed full of vegetables, herbs and dainty flavour.

Next up was some pork rib (left). When this came to the table, it looked more like pork knuckle. Similar to the chicken feet, there was some pretty enjoyable meat here, but the amount of cartilage destruction and bone separation didn't really merit the eventual pay-off. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't a top one for me. The wife, however, really enjoyed these.

Finally, no dim sum outing of mine would be complete without some char siu bao, the fluffy barbecue pork buns (right). These were hot, steamy but sadly a little too thick. The meat inside was great, which is not always a given with these in dim sum places, but the bun slightly overwhelmed the filling. Not bad but not quite up to scratch.

There were a few highs and a few middles (no real lows to speak of) from our tea time at Imperial China, but it remains a favourite of the area. Its tea and lunch time appeal is just about as good as anything else you will find in Chinatown and it's more or less always the restaurant I'd recommend to anyone if they are in the area.

So, note it down: next time you feel like something worth your money in Chinatown, head off the bustle of Gerrard Street and onto the quiet sleaze of Lisle Street. Imperial China is waiting.

Imperial China

Union Jack's - Wednesday April 4th & Thursday May 10th

There are parts of modern-day celebrity cheffery that make the stomach curdle with discontent. Often the ill-feeling is based on nothing more than first impression and hearsay but that's what happens when cooks put themselves in the public eye. For instance, when Marco Pierre White teamed up with Frankie Dettori to create the Frankie's chain, it was a real head in hands moment. (Mind you, anything White puts his name to these days seems to be doomed.)

There is surely nothing worse than a celebrity chef cookware range. If that isn't pandering to the most money-grubbing low-end of kitchen fame then I don't know what is. The chef I associate with this most is the now outrageously successful Jamie Oliver. The guy has a finger in every piece of pie out there. If it isn't customising dried herbs and risotto spatulas, it's with one of his many, many television shows telling people that there is joy to be had in creating three courses at breakneck speed (and shopping at Sainsbury's.)

But, as Marco himself says: you've got to make a living. Maybe there is nothing wrong with a bit of slumming it at the low end. After all, that's how most chefs are going to make a big difference in modern society. And fair enough, Marco's Knorr recipes are pretty excellent home-cooked meals. Heck, some of Jamie's 30-minute meals are fair cop too.

Back on topic though, as soon as I found out Jamie Oliver was opening a chain called 'Union Jacks' I groaned. Then I found out that the chain would specialise in something called an 'English flatbread'. I was sort of intrigued. These flatbreads sound like sandwiches, I thought. Why have I never had one? Then I found out that they are essentially pizzas. Oh no, I thought. Everything about this sounds like a disaster. Jamie Oliver makes faux pizzas... Head in hands time.

All that said, when I read the menu online (a new branch was about to be opened in Chiswick), I was mildly intrigued. The tacky, type-written appearance of the menu aside, it didn't look too bad. The pizzas (I refuse to call them 'flatbreads' any longer) sounded appetising and the philosophy of using British-only suppliers and produce all sounded rather pleasant.

And so it came to pass that the wife and had two lunches there not long after it opened. Both were on the fly, hastily decided affairs and both were extremely enjoyable. Once you get past the oi-oi-saveloy outlook that this is indeed a Jamie Oliver restaurant, the substance underneath the at-first worrisome crust is actually worth it. On our first visit, we were in something of a rush so we ordered two sides and one pizza to come simultaneously. The sides were exactly what you want from British-only small plates: garlic mushrooms & mayonnaise and chicken liver with pickled onion & parsley salad.

Both of these are classic-sounding plates which could easily go quite wrong unless the restaurant is acutely aware of the importance of delivering on trend-of-the moment dishes. The mushrooms were a nicely varied field assortment with a properly rustic mayo. It was exactly the sort of thing we were looking for in a lunchtime small plate. Similarly, the chicken liver was a dismissive smear of grey which delivered in a most satisfying way, reminiscent of St John with the dressing on the side.

Given that we were only ordering one pizza, we just had to go for the 'Red Ox', a pizza promising beef braised in Worcester Sauce with Red Leicester, horseradish and watercress. This is certainly food which bangs the drum for home-famed foodstuffs and the result was even better than the description suggested. A delightfully balanced pizza with a perfectly thin base was rich and satisfyingly topped with a combination of punch from the beef, saltiness from the cheese, spice from the horseradish and a wonderful juiciness in the watercress.

I was astonished at how much I had enjoyed the lunch. So much so that a few weeks later we were back there again. This time we decided it was pizzas only and we went for the Red Ox again, this time with the 'Old Spot', with shoulder of pork, a sauce of quince and bramley apple, Stilton, crackling and watercress. This was another expertly-combined pizza but for me it wasn't quite as exceptional as the Red Ox. The Stilton was a little too pungent for me but the idea was great.

Without wanting to put too fine a point on it, I had been bowled over by Union Jacks. I had been turned off from the start but was quickly proved wrong. The pizzas are exceptional and the prices aren't too high either. Interesting side note - they appear to have changed the description from 'flatbreads' to 'pizzas' on their website - a welcome change for me at least.

Whatever you think of celebrity chefs, Union Jacks is definitely worth a visit if you're near one of their venues. More appear to be on the way and they have already started expanding out of London. The food is great, the atmosphere surprisingly apt and even if there is a strange aura of Oliver-ness in the air, the pizzas are so good it can be easily forgiven.

Union Jacks

The Rough With the Smooth - Texture: Marylebone, Thursday March 14th & Wednesday 9th May, 2012

Never has such an obvious pun-title been so relevant. I'm combining two reviews into one here with some mini-drama in between to illustrate how important context(ure) is when eating at a restaurant. One meal can be a disaster, whilst a similar one can be a different kettle of fish, meat, veg or petit fours. Or all four.

White Valentines Day is a celebration from my wife's home (and my second home) of Taiwan. Traditionally the guys take the girls out, so I booked an afternoon off work and planned a few little treats. The second was stopping off at Ladurée in Harrods to pick up an insanely decadent macaroon cake of rose and raspberry. I would recommend the surprisingly reasonable cost to anyone with a tooth as sweet as mine. We also had youghurt milkshakes at Yoo Moo, which topped off a decent afternoon of future work for the dentist.

What preceded it was the day's main talking point. Texture had been in the ether of my outlook for some time and I thought the lunch menu would suffice as a decent midweek gift for the wife: affordable but exceptional. Chef Aggi Sverrisson has been pulling in the plaudits for his great Icelandic cuisine for some time, staying true to his roots with the concepts and ingredients in his dishes. Plus he almost never uses butter.

Lunch at Texture was an interesting affair. The layout of the restaurant is one of classical modern warmth and glassy smoothness. It's not intimidating in the least (which many high end hotel restaurants can be), though the light which is seemingly funneled onto the ceiling from every angle is slightly off-putting. We ate some rather interesting crisps, flavoured with parmesan, seaweed and bready elements before enjoying some warm brown bread with their home-churned skyr butter. Skyr, it turns out, is Icelandic yoghurt and a mainstay ingredient in Texture's menu. Quite rightly so, too: the butter had a beautiful lightness to it, with notes of sourness sitting perfectly with the sweet, warm bread.

Our pre-starter was a distressing cold broth of cucumber, celery, apple and champagne (left). It was thin, insipid, uninspiring and poorly-flavoured. The ingredients read as a baffling mixture of disparate sweet blandness and the slop in the bowls was testament to something which did not work at all. I was more than a little apprehensive as we awaited our starters.

I opted for the lunch set menu whilst the wife went a la carte. My starter was Texture's slant on a prawn cocktail, something I figured would be minimalistic and have very little sauce. It was a quirky, vibrant plate of food which I was excited to have put in front of me (right). The flavours were more on the mark than the pre-starter had been, but the whole thing was slightly too cold and unwelcoming. The prawns were well-cooked but a trifle small and ineffective to register fully. The hints of lemon and the lettuce were high, fresh points in the dish but the crisp bread wafer and the notes of dill didn't do much for me.

The wife's choice of ordering off the a la carte looked to be an instant hit on descriptions alone: Anjou pigeon with bacon popcorn, sweetcorn and shallots is something that sounded both appealing and interesting. It looked fantastic as well (left). A sumptuous combination of deep purple-red pigeon and green, flowery accompaniments produced a fantastic natural and peaceful arrangement on the plate. It was certainly a nice break from the kinds of bog-standard plates one tends to find in modern European restaurants these days. The pigeon was cooked perfectly but the sides suffered from being too numerous. The bacon popcorn was nice but unnecessary whilst the sweetcorn was lost in the mix.

Main courses were more exciting, with the wife opting for the beef, which was rib-eye and ox cheek (right). The rib-eye was grilled to a perfect medium rare whilst the ox cheek was dense and musky. The olive oil bearnaise on the plate was clearly a tribute to the Sverrisson 'no butter' regime but I have to say; if you're going to serve bearnaise (and so you should), then butter is pretty essential to getting any flavour into it. This olive oil concoction didn't really hit home. The horseradish was a better-judged accompaniment. The onions with red wine on top of the ox cheek were marginally under-cooked, but the big chips on the side were lovely.

The only main course I was interested in from the set menu was the Elwy Valley lamb with swede and herbs (left). It was a great mix of shoulder and loin (I think), served with a beautiful swathe of green and orange in the herbs and vegetables. The meat was again cooked wonderfully well and the sides - for the first time - were all in place and perfectly justified. The warmth of the swede and the variety in the small carrots gave balance and comfortable subtlety to the dish.

Before puddings were ordered, we were treated to a pre-dessert of blood orange granité with spiced sabayon, lemon and cinnamon. It was a slightly strange and sharp mixture of flavours, not dissimilar to our pre-starter. And, like our pre-starter, it wasn't that good. Desserts were easy picks for both of us. Mine was a mixture of rhubarb, cold skyr and granola. The idea was lovely: mix a wonderfully vibrant, colourful dessert ingredient with the natural yoghurt they are so fond of and throw in some grains for variation. Unfortunately the whole lot was just too chilly and crunchy in the end to be any good. There are many prerequisites to a good dessert and one of them certainly is comfort. This was slightly too abrasive in the event.

The wife went for an interesting-sounding mixture of white chocolate mousse, milk ice cream, cucumber and dill (right). They really do love dill and cucumber at Texture (neither of which I like) but to put them on a dessert? Well, I suppose it has to be tasted to be believed... The mousse was a delectably sweet and light thing with the milk ice cream lending a nice contrast to the dish. However, as I had worried, the cucumber and dill worked only when the sweetest parts of the mousse were combined with them: another idea that was half-finished for me.

And that was that. But then came the real downer. We had forgotten to pick up the wife's scarf from the cloakroom and only realised when we got home. This then prompted a rather extended and unpleasant to-ing and fro-ing between the restaurant who would not claim any responsibility for the loss and us who were hoping for some sort of compensation. Eventually - with the help of a very friendly and professional gentleman from Texture's management - we negotiated a free dinner for ourselves which would effectively pay back the cost of the scarf.

Now, the lunch had been decent, there is no doubt, but it had not been as good as we had hoped for. On almost every dish, some small imperfection or misconception had rendered the meal an agonising 'nearly'. Though I must say the service (during the meal at least) was lovely and the place itself is every inch a Michelin-starred dining room.

So, to dinner. Aggi himself had offered to tailor a distinct menu of signature dishes for us, which we were more than happy to try. Dinner is of course the time to really rate a Michelin-starred restaurant. It's when they are pulling out all the stops, showing all the finesse they are renowned for. Having said that, it's not necessarily fair to rate a restaurant on a free meal but they had a lot to do in terms of making up a debt to us.

We again started with the same crackers, butter and brown bread which yet again disappeared with little fuss. This time there was no irritating pre-starter to get annoyed about; we were about to get fed impressively. The first course was Texture's take on salmon gravadlax. It came with preparations of cucumber and some horseradish cream (left). This was a long way away from a cold and unappetising broth. It was delicately moist and mild salmon, brought to life by the light cucumber and smooth horseradish. Dishes like this are hard to get right because there is little margin for error. However, when they're done like this, there is nothing to worry about. Things were already looking good.

Next up was asparagus. I do love a good serving of the stuff but again, restaurants have to work hard to get the most English of delicacies up to an exciting and memorable standard. Aggi's menu served it on the side of parmesan snow (right). This was without question the most unique and exciting serving of asparagus I have ever eaten. It was barely-cooked but had a deliciously light crunch to it. The parmesan snow had been made in a way I can't imagine and won't try to explain here. Put simply, it was as if you were actually eating freshly-fallen snow, but which tasted so perfectly complimentary.

The plate itself was impressive as a whole and it was this sense of completeness which made me realise what Texture is all about. It looked as if someone had taken a photo from the forest floor and recreated it on our plates with wonderful food. It's not the kind of fireworks one would describe as 'molecular gastronomy' - it's simpler and classier than that. This is food which merits eating in the most awe-inspired way. I had a huge grin on my face as we ate.

Following up such a perfect course was going to be difficult, but as the next arrived at our table, we were instantly galvanised once again. This was another picture on a plate, centred around a beautiful Scottish scallop (left). Served with sea fennel, citrus fregola, wasabi sauce and caviar, I was intrigued to get stuck into it. This was another exquisitely constructed dish, but in a less extraordinary way than the asparagus. This was a plate of food which danced around delivering a full hit of flavour and texture combinations until you finally had all the elements on one forkful. A breathtaking creaminess from the scallop, complimented by the delicious, mild sea fennel (why does anyone use the regular stuff?) and the carefully applied stronger elements made for a sensational wave of satisfying flavour.

Next up was steak. And it turned out to be essentially the same grilled rib-eye the wife had eaten on her first visit (right). Only this time, everything on the plate was better. The steak was again firmly medium rare and succulent, the onions were spot on, the veal cheek and tongue cooked to a turn... Hell, even the olive oil bearnaise was worth its inclusion this time. The big chips were again delicious and the whole thing was an interesting reminder that, when they want to, Texture are capable of delivering comforting modern classics in an innovative way.

The steak took care of main courses and frankly, I was blown away by this point. This did not appear to be the same restaurant we'd lunched in almost two months earlier. The food had been exceptional and every part of what we'd eaten had been better than what we'd had before. I felt sure there was going to be a spanner in the works come desserts, and when our pre-pudding came out, I knew we'd found that spanner. Granité of sorrel with spiced sabayon sounded like the same thing we'd had previously, only worse (above left). I was wrong - it was sublime. The ice had a distinctive mild flavour which was superbly countered by the sabayon. Small notes of cinnamon were perfectly judged with a near-creaminess of the sorrel flavour. I couldn't believe how exciting a bowl of ice and cream could be.

Our dessert was the same white chocolate mousse the wife had tried previously which filled me with slight apprehension, but yet again it surpassed expectations effortlessly (right). Somehow the combination had been adjusted to work in a harmoniously simple way for dinner which just hadn't been there for lunch. The idea of pairing white chocolate, milk, cucumber and dill seemed ludicrous the first time, but it made sense this. A fine, thick but light mousse was brought to life with the same naturally appealing presentation of the dishes before it. Superb stuff which I truly had not expected.

The only thing left was petit fours. These again were presented in a rather interesting way, scattered atop a pile of grey stones to give the impression they had just been washed ashore (left). That said, they were far from flotsam in their appearance. Delicious warm pistachio Madelines were soft and comforting, whilst Texture's take on a Fisherman's Friend (the white lollipops) were refreshing and strong. The chocolate truffles had a hint of pine which kept them true to the natural-centric theme of the menu, with the coffee macaroons giving a bold, memorable finish.

Breathlessly, we surveyed the remains of what was a frankly exceptional meal. The wife's only complaint was that the final morsels had been a little too much for her. I didn't really mind since I got to finish them off. However, the meal in its entirety was wonderful - brilliantly constructed courses containing impressive and genuinely surprising combinations. This is exactly what Michelin-starred dining should be all about.

That said, this meal was a freebie. And it was a freebie compensating for the loss of an expensive scarf which the restaurant themselves lost. As my wife said halfway through the meal: "I'll forgive them for it, but I'm still not happy about it." That pretty much sums this whole episode up. The experience at Texture can be incredible, but do keep an eye out for the cloakroom.

Incidentally, we were eating a version of their Scandinavian tasting menu, I later found out. So my recommendation is to sample this menu should you be at Texture. It won't be cheap, but there is a lot to be said for dishes that can make anyone expound their virtues as extensively as I just have.

Texture

Chez Bruce - Wandsworth, Sunday March 11th, 2012

Another offer from Toptable, another one off the list. Chez Bruce had been on my 'to visit' list probably the longest of any London restaurant, so when they were offering half price on the a la carte menu on Sunday nights we jumped at the chance. Having enjoyed visits to La Trompette and The Glasshouse in years gone by, the crown jewel in Bruce Poole's impressive repertoire was always a long-term target.

Chez Bruce has been one of the most popular London restaurants for years. Consistently named by Harden's as one of the very best (and often the very best) place to eat in town, it has held a remarkable popularity and reputation in the capital for an admirably long time - the place opened in 1995. On the site of Marco Pierre White's legendary Harvey's, no less. A big act to follow, but the proof is in the pudding, and some seventeen years after Chez Bruce started, I was about to find out if all the popularity and acclaim was justified.

The first thing that struck me about the menu was its confused nature. The restaurant is branded as French but it has that typically modern knack of being kind-of-French with bits of Europe thrown in, leaning heavily on British food. Too many dishes looked over-complicated by one or two ingredients, hinting at a place that has hit its ceiling and is needlessly trying to push boundaries.

As much as I enjoy judging restaurants without eating in them, it really is all about the food and whether or not Chez Bruce can justify the hype. My starter was a messy-looking thing, with colours, textures and levels of food all over the place. The description suggested it might not be the most elegant thing going - pig's head salad with beetroot, mustard, comté and crackling - and it certainly was a bit of a pile (left).

That said, the taste was rather pleasant. The pig's head was a soft and majestic meaty base with the crackling sitting on top as an enjoyable variation. The salad part of the dish was light, refreshing and well-complimented by the mustard. the mild cheese was somewhat lost in the mix though, which was a shame. Parmesan may have been a better bet overall. The main problem I had with this dish was the stifling inelegance of it all. The food was slightly drowned by the lettuce and it looked a mess.

The second starter had all the parts the first did not. A seemingly baffling ingredients list - braised oxtail, crisp garlic bread, mushroom duxelle, fried egg & red wine - actually translated into a very pretty plate of food (right). It was elegant, attractive and lively in all the ways the salad had not been. The taste was excellent as well. Chunky but flaky oxtail was a delicious base to the more delicate ingredients sitting atop. Great stuff, and what people expect when dining at Chez Bruce.

Main courses differed from the starters by being a lot more basic and far more in line with the kind of clinical dishes I was expecting from Chez Bruce. The first - veal rump with morels, gnocchi and wild garlic - was a perfect-sounding dish, replete with simple ideas and great-sounding produce (left). The veal was moist, well-cooked and tender, with the creamed morels the absolute highlight. Sadly, the mushroom sauce was so good it nearly overwhelmed the dish. The elements were all well-executed but none apart from the mushrooms to warrant serious praise. And none which made the whole thing excellent.

The wife went for pot au feu duck with foie gras, tarragon jus and a brioche dumpling (right). A strange-sounding mixture at first, but when you think about it, one that should work perfectly. Pot au feu is a traditional French stew, usually made with beef. The addition of foie gras ties the duck in, with the brioche and broth bringing the whole dish together. In the event, it was another slight misfire with the broth literally and figuratively dampening the dish. The meat was well-cooked again but the whole thing ended up being a surprisingly uninspiring plate of food by the end.

Our first dessert was a chocolate pudding with praline parfait. This was ordered by the wife since I don't believe I could tolerate that many nuts in any dessert. It was rich, homely and comforting as you would expect a melting chocolate pud to be (left). However, once again it was a sad story of poor presentation; looking a right mess. The theme of the evening was a sorry state of bad-looking dishes and this was perhaps the messiest of the lot. You just expect that little bit of precision when eating somewhere like this.

My dessert was a mille-feuille of chocolate, vanilla and chestnut, with a sauce of caramel and poached pear (right). Again, an interesting and appetising combination in prospect but one which again fell short. The pastry was not soft enough, the chestnut was not distinct enough and the sauce was completely overwhelmed by the chocolate.

At the end of the meal, we had different reactions. The wife was actually quite satisfied with her lot. This needs to be mentioned in the interest of fairness, but for me it was a restaurant quaking under the weight of historical expectation. There is something extremely frustrating about a place spinning its wheels as much as this and whilst I'd never go as far as saying it was bad, I expected a lot more. For the kind of experience Chez Bruce is aiming for, go to Kitchen W8.

Chez Bruce

Kitchen W8: Kensington, Saturday March 3rd, 2012

This was an entirely frivolous outing. Not concerned with any special occasion or carefully-organised discount meal, the wife and I decided we wanted to have a nice dinner and so we chose a restaurant not far from home which we had wanted to try for some time. Kitchen W8 is the venture between Phil Howard of The Square and Rebecca Mascarenhas, veteran of neighbourhood restaurant success with Sonny's in Barnes.

The concept behind Kitchen W8 is an admirable one: to create a venue which is a step down from the sort of upper-class fare on display at The Square but maintain a comfortably high level of cuisine. The partnership has certainly been set up with big things in mind. Howard, with his considerable stake in The Square and a lesser share in The Ledbury, is certainly a man with massive London pedigree (another who trained under Marco Pierre White back in the day). Mascarenhas is not from the higher echelons of the London food world but clearly knows a thing or two about decent, mid-price cuisine. She has a stake in Sam's Brasserie in Chiswick, plus a couple of other suburban places about town. It's a pairing that should equal big success.

From the outset, there is little to dislike about a restaurant with such an impressively simple ambition. I had certainly wandered past on several occasions, wishing for a chance to go there. With no good reason for doing so outside curiosity and greed, we booked and prepared ourselves for an evening for which we held high hopes.

The décor of the restaurant is a symbol for the halfway house that it is. There is a lot to be said for affordable, good quality food but when you open a restaurant in Kensington with Phil Howard as part of it, there is something that is lost in translation. Nowhere is this more immediately apparent than in the simple, hotel-style beige of the place, dotted with paintings for sale at eyebrow-raising prices.

I'm not saying the place is badly decorated but it does not have the simple, welcoming air of a neighbourhood kitchen where a reasonably-priced meal is the order of the day. Similarly, the menu is not especially universal either. It is not cheap to eat a la carte here. But then, what should one expect from a restaurant just off High Street Kensington? We knew the price situation before we decided to visit and it was a hit we were prepared to take. So, with all our cards on the table and all the restaurant's on the wall, it was time to see what all the Michelin-starred local down-to-earth appeal was all about.

Some delicious crusty bread and salted butter got things started before an indulgent pre-starter of salted cod beignets (left). These were light but flavoursome, deep-fried breadcrumbed morsels which hit the spot instantly. If you're going to serve something as formal as pre-starters in an apparently informal setting, these are the sort of pre-starters you want to be serving. Never dry, nor too heavy either, these were precisely what you'd order to get yourself in gear for a meal.

The menu itself read like a dream. The wife and I were promptly quibbling about who should order what and if an extra course or two might be appropriate. Of course, extra dishes would have been sheer greed (and yet more money) so I'm happy I talked the wife out of it, but what we did order filled us up with ease.

My starter was a raviolo of Oxtail with onions, mushrooms, bone marrow and vegetables (right). It was a picture to look at, the Oxtail parcel flanked by a twirling skirt of pasta, around which sat the mushrooms and a rich jus. The marrow perched proudly on top whilst the sweet, caramelised onions resided beneath. It was quite frankly heaven on a plate. The beef was cooked perfectly, retaining an enjoyable density which contrasted with the silky pasta and sweet, soft onion. Frankly, this is one of the best starters in recent memory. Simplicity in terms of the combination, elevated to the level of near-perfection with a few smart touches.

The wife was instantly drawn to the word "truffle" on the menu, as often happens. Her choice of crispy hen's egg with Jerusalem artichoke purée, pancetta, potatoes and truffle was predictable yet excellent (left). It was a simply-presented delight, with the perfectly-cooked egg halved and sitting proudly on top of the piece. The purée lent a smooth coating to the breadcrumbed egg but the little accompaniments were the show-stealers. Crisped pink fir apple potato halves with crunchy pancetta, between which sat the slivers of Perigord black truffle: stunning. Dishes like this deserve to be on menus everywhere and damn the expense.

Starters having blown our socks clean off, I was hoping for main courses to continue things in a similar vein. One dish I was intent on ordering with no second thoughts was some pot roast poussin. The small fillets of bird came with a pie made of the leg meat, crushed artichokes and creamed & truffled potatoes (right). It was every bit as divine as it sounds. Soft, succulent cuts of intensely flavoursome meat (which is why restaurants bother with poussin over chicken - that and the higher price) were centred around a stunning, buttery and flaky pastry pie. The hint of gaminess in the bird was accentuated here with a rich white sauce, yet the whole thing was tied together in the small details as with all great dishes. Artichokes for colour and texture, truffled mash for a rich finish. Why can't more main courses be like this?

The wife went for a special dish of the day: Pata Negra pork. We didn't know what the significance of the name was but the waiter assured us it was just about the best pork to be found anywhere. That was enough of an endorsement for us and it turns out that it roughly translates as "black hoof", or another name for Iberian ham. The pork came sliced, served with bacon gnocchi, fried onions and some purée that was hard to pick out but for texture alone was worth the inclusion (left). Outrageously moist, succulent pork was clearly the highlight here and the waiter's testimony was pretty accurate.

My mind was already blown by the time it came to dessert choices. The four dishes we'd sampled so far were as good as anything I could remember eating for quite some time. It was practically up there with Pollen Street Social for sheer quality. Our pudding selections were fruity rather than heavy, my choice being the rhubarb. It came poached, with rhubarb jelly, almond biscuits and vanilla ice cream (right).

It was worth going for, with the vibrant and fresh rhubarb cooked seconds on the right side of firm, whilst the jelly brought out the sweetness of the plant. The ice cream was a necessary difference of texture and temperature and the biscuits effectively filled in the role of crumble. Lovely, but not as amazing as the preceding courses had been. The wife went for a passion fruit posset, which sounded divine. It came with lime ice cream, orange, kiwi & thyme jelly (left). The combinations were startling, strong and well-balanced. The dish was a clever blend of bold flavours, tempered by the thyme jelly and the passion fruit in the posset - a much more sensible choice than the more common lemon.

After three courses at Kitchen W8, I was almost annoyed at how hard everywhere else was going to have to work to match this. Every dish we had eaten had ticked most, if not all, boxes and the exceptional meal we were hoping for had been delivered with style. The sticking point I had was with the price: it was about £100 for the two of us. Now, for a Michelin-starred Saturday night out in Kensington that's about right, but I would expect it to be less for a place which brands itself as a neighbourhood haunt.

Maybe I'm being stingy though. It's hard for a restaurant to deliver as fully as this without having to pay a bit of a premium. Rather than an 'every month' kind of place, I'll leave Kitchen W8 in my 'special occasion' list. It has all the right attributes to be a continued success and, as long as you've got the spare funds, I cannot recommend a visit highly enough.

Kitchen W8

Athenaeum Re-visited: Mayfair, Monday February 20th, 2012

There's nothing quite like justifying spending money you shouldn't really be spending. The excuses we use to justify the outgoings can get so ridiculous: "I didn't have three courses last week so I can have dessert now", "The saving means the cost is worth it", "This week is the anniversary of when we first went to the cinema together". Whatever spin we try to put on it, the ends are rarely justified and we end up spending money we shouldn't have for no good reason at all.

In a classic episode of unaffordable spending, the wife and I chalked this one up to a half-price deal and a friend leaving the country. Putting two together like that was just about enough reason to go for it, so we went back to a restaurant that had surprised us some years ago.

A table for five was booked and we perused a fairly extensive menu, happy in the knowledge that we'd get half off at the end of it all. Three of the table started with scallops served with crispy pancetta and regretted it pretty quickly. It was a badly executed dish in all sorts of ways, the worst being that the whole lot was dry. The scallops didn't taste at all fresh and none of the ingredients combined with any sort of coherence.

The wife went for a duck egg served with cured ham and a sauce of celeriac & apple. It was a well thought-out dish but one that wasn't presented with panache. It was the sort of springy starter you'd love to eat as the weather warms but in this case it was a fairly iffy plate of food that occasionally hit the spot.

My starter was a smoked haddock and chervil soufflé with chive & saffron cream. It was by far the best starter on the table and one that instantly caused much jealousy amongst the others. A fine, light but punchy soufflé combined the salty haddock with the more delicate hint of the herbs. The cream sat thickly coating the coarser flavours from the fish which made for a beautiful starter.

Steak & chips was a classic from our first visit and two of the party went for it here. Again it proved to be a relative success: triple-cooked chips which were rather fine with some properly-cooked steak. Not the kind of dish you'd want to pay the normal asking price of £37 for by any means, but for £18.50 it was about right. We decorated the table with various sides also, the pick of which were some simple field mushrooms.

The fish dish sampled with the main courses was some pan-fried halibut. It was a plate of food which confused on first inspection because it was unfortunately overfull and a bit sloppy. A good piece of fish should need little in the way of support if it has been cooked to a succulent turn but this came with a terrine of cod & potato, carrots, cabbage and spinach foam. All of which added up to an unsurprisingly addled, dry and overcooked main event. The terrine was the highlight but that's not good enough when the central part of the dish is under-delivering.

Continuing the theme of under-deliverance, the wife chose our main course as the pot-roast black-leg chicken for two. It might sound a slightly strange choice but when I read that it came studded with truffle, I could see where her mind had been unshakeably made up. It wasn't a bad choice, reading the accompaniments: roasted root vegetables, bread pudding, truffle jus and dauphinoise potatoes. One thing was for sure: we weren't going to be hungry at the end of it.

Sadly, the whole thing was a botched effort in that it was more or less a standard roast bird which they'd tried to dress up. There was no taste of truffle anywhere in the chicken or the gravy. A huge disappointment for sure. Sadly, the dauphinoise potatoes were as bad, given that they were practically uncooked. A real shame since the sauce was lovely. The whole thing was a stodgy, misjudged, poorly-developed dish.

The wife and I risked desserts in the hope that we'd salvage a halfway decent meal out of this. It was, predictably, a mistake and we were left ruing our decision. The white chocolate cheesecake the wife ordered was a predictably haphazard rendition of a startlingly standard pudding, where my "lemon plate", a mixture of tart, panna cotta and sorbet was a dull trot-out of yet more uninteresting dishes.

So clearly Athenaeum has let its standards slip since our first visit. Or perhaps it was never that good in the first place. Either way, we did not enjoy ourselves as much the second time around. The fact that they seem to have a never-ending 50% off deal on Toptable is testament to the fact that this place is just spinning its wheels. There are some good things about this place, but as far as generic hotel eating goes, it's more or less what you expect for a place that's merely knocking on the door of exclusivity and prestige.

Athenaeum

Bistrot Bruno Loubet & Spuntino: Clerkenwell & Soho, Saturday February 11th, 2012

MasterChef remains just about my favourite show when it's on. (Narrowly ahead of The Apprentice if you're interested.) Aside from the forced drama, the boisterous shouting and the increasingly over-wrought personal stories, the evolution of the contestants and the cooking skill on show remain wonderful entertainment. The most recent series was great fun, containing a bit of everything: great cooking, terrible dishes, excellent professional guests, worthy finalists and a deserved winner. What more could one want?

One of my favourite features was a day out learning to cook popular European cuisine at a prominent restaurant: French, Italian or Spanish. All three looked massively appealing and this was one of the more attractive challenges in the series: learning how to cook great quality European food at the hands of a top chef is something anyone with a fleeting interest in food would envy.

The French element of the show was where I was most intrigued. (Give over John Torode: "I admire French food but I think it's very rich...") The restaurant was Bistrot Bruno Loubet and the chef was the man himself. He showed the contestants how to make his boeuf bourguignon which interested me greatly. What I find fascinating about watching chefs describe their dishes is the amount of control and calmness with which the best ones do it. Bruno was replete with a well-worn assuredness as he showcased his skills and style.

Bistrot has been just about the most evenly-enjoyed new restaurant in London since it opened a couple of years ago. At first I was somewhat bemused: 'who is this Loubet?' I asked myself. I was most out of touch with the culinary pulse of the city because this guy has serious London pedigree. Having worked with Pierre Koffman and been head chef of Raymond Blanc's Manoir Au Quat Saisons, he has had just about the best experience of working under the great UK-based French chefs as anyone.

Bistrot was the first time he'd put his name on a London restaurant in a long time. It was the first time he'd struck out on his own in the UK for almost ten years. The decision to return and try again after an abrupt departure to Australia was a big one, so the fact that the place was adored by all was most probably a big relief. In the week that we watched Bruno prepare some stewed beef for three contestants on MasterChef, we spent Saturday lunch there. And guess what I was after?

The restaurant itself is part of the uber-trendy Zetter Townhouse, a hotel which oozes modern chic like nowhere else I can think of in London. It's close to the east end but not so deep in to be kitsch, it's easy to get to but not by tube, it's light and airy but sniffily exclusive in terms of price. Perfect, essentially.

The restaurant doesn't really have the same scruffy rich elegance as the building does. It's not particularly cool-looking or well designed. It suffers from the god-awful cliché of filling empty spaces with random objects and ugly furniture. The bar is long, curved and a scene-dominating eyesore. The kitchen is exposed but only through a big window, so it looks like the pass has been made too big by accident rather than design. It's a pretty horribly thought-out space.

All that said: to food. We were hungry, chilled to the bone and eager to have a great meal to match all the good press I'd seen about the place. Our starters set the tone in the best way: beetroot ravioli and snails. What is great about Bistrot is its embracing of French food as nourishing and fulfilling plates. They don't mess about here and the starters were a perfect fit. The ravioli was a stunning mixture of firm pasta, delicate filling and bullish rocket salad (left). It was a great combination of ingredients that would trick you into feeling healthy, but the small touches such as fried breadcrumbs and parmesan put paid to any chance of that.

The wife's snail dish was something of a masterpiece (right). The combination of snails and meatballs was a strange-sounding one but when they were put together on the plate, served with a sumptuous mousse of mushrooms in the middle, it made perfect sense. The whole thing was tied together with a tomato sauce which on the surface looked like too many big flavours to work on the same plate, but the balance in the dish was exquisite.

When I'd looked at the main courses, I was disappointed to see no bourguignon. Happily, this was a special they were offering. It made sense, since I'm sure many others like me had arrived looking for 'that MasterChef dish' in the same week. It was served at the table in a metal oven dish on the side of a plate of mashed potato (left).

The result was as good as I had hoped for. A perfectly succulent daube of beef, meltingly soft and rich as you like, was surrounded with a luxurious braising stock. Mushrooms, carrots, lardons, onions; all the little ingredients that make French food special when they're done perfectly. This was indeed just about perfect. The sauce was so exquisite I had to tip the remaining drips from the dish.

The wife's main course was another exercise in simply executed, well thought-out combinations. Grilled quail  with lemon, thyme, rocket and mushrooms is a delightful mix of flavours, which means the kitchen is duty-bound to deliver them properly (right). This was another winning plate of food in that each mouthful was perfectly balanced. The salty game bird was complimented by the peppery rocket and the soft, sweeter mushrooms which made for another brilliantly unpretentious and lovably humble dish.

We went for another special when it came to dessert. What was pitched to the wife as some sweet French toast turned out to be a pain perdu with sliced pear and ice cream (left).The bread had been cut in the shape of a pear and the whole thing tasted as imaginative as it looked. The wife adored it and was seriously impressed that anything with a hint of cinnamon could be so good. It's a spice she usually cannot stand but this was testament to the inch-perfect balance of sweet and not-so-sweet on the plate. The toast was slightly crisp which sat beautifully with the soft pear and chill of the ice cream.

I chose the bitter chocolate délice, which essentially means 'delight', the same sort of way that parfait means 'perfect'. When choosing a pudding like this, all you need is the confidence that the restaurant will execute it properly. I was pretty high on confidence at this point, so the délice was most certainly a winning prospect. It turned out to be excellent too: like a thick mousse topped with a rich and strong sheet of chocolate (right). The final touch was a splurge of coffee sabayon. The rich dessert cream was a softer compliment to the chocolate which made for a bitter-sweet dessert that I greatly enjoyed.

Bistrot Bruno Loubet was a lovely lunch out and it has a perfect menu for a special occasion. It is in no way pretentious or showy but it delivers in such a satisfying, fulfilling French way that it's hard not to be drawn to it. We did spend around £80 but that included two specials and there's no obligation to order three a la carte courses at lunch as we did.

We wandered around the east-central areas of London, taking in the beautifully eerie sights of a deserted Smithfield Market and the hulking Barbican. The weather was searingly cold so we decided to go somewhere warm to complete our day. That turned out to be Spuntino, the trendiest jewel in Russell Norman's crown.

I had read a few promising things about this place so I thought I would surprise the wife by taking her there as part of a day of food visits. (It was more or less my Valentines Day gift to her a little early.) It is basically the next step in Norman's bid to informalise Soho eating to the point of ridiculous hipster-minimalism. Taking things one step further from the Italian places he owns (both Polpo and da Polpo have my stamp of approval), Spuntino is essentially the kind of place Norman would have wanted to own if he was living in 19th century Brooklyn.

It is a bar which serves food, going for light bites and snacks whilst customers sit at the counter, struggling to see anything in a carefully crafted boozy haze. It's a remarkable place in that it does make you feel like you're in some sleazy side street bar in New York, albeit with the colours of Soho passing by the window. The surly charm of the place won me over pretty quickly since they were playing The White Stripes' cover of St James' Infirmary Blues as we arrived.

After a few minutes' wait, we shuffled along the back wall to two bar-side stools, in front of which were empty enamel plates and menus. As with the other places in the Norman canon, it is a simply-put list of fun foods, laid out in an easy to read way with maximum potential to over-order. It's a very clever formula, littering the menu with morsels that look so inviting and easy that punters will be spending £30 a head before they know it.

We went for a small selection of dishes, still feeling rather full from lunch. The first was something I'd read about and was champing at the bit to taste: truffled egg toast (left). This had been whispered about in all corners of London as something worth trying and it looked like a real picture when it was presented to us. Deep yellow yolk speckled with truffle on top of melted cheese, sunken into a well in the centre of a thick slice of white bread toast. Heaven on a plate, surely? Sadly not quite. The cheese was too thick, the toast slightly burnt and the truffle too fleeting.

The menu also featured one of those oh-so-American titbits one sees on trendy menus and Hell's Kitchen re-vamps: sliders. The little burger snacks that - if done well - can make you wish all burgers were such tasty morsels, but when done badly can make you wish for finger sandwiches. We picked the beef & bone marrow mini-burger and were unfortunately regretting it after a bite (right). The texture was too stodgy and it was impossible to pick out the bone marrow from the too-thick bun.

Our last choice was a bowl of macaroni cheese which cost £9 (left). It was a little pricey but was also the best thing we ate at Spuntino. The small pan was brimful of beautifully gratinated pasta swirls with an outrageously rich sauce. It was too much for us at this stage of the day after our big lunch but it was damned tasty. I'm not entirely sure it was worth £9 but it was a cosy dish of pasta which encapsulated Spuntino's appeal quite well.

I don't know if I'd go back to Spuntino any time soon. It's certainly a very cool place but the prices are at a point where you need to know exactly what you're ordering to make it a worthwhile outing. Playing roulette with the menu here might end up costing you way more than you intended and give you a meal you weren't too happy with. As a novelty though, it's right up there with just about any eating experience in Soho. Just make sure you can get in.

It was an indulgent, expensive and freezing cold Saturday but it was a lovely day out. Bistrot Bruno Loubet unsurprisingly took the plaudits and it was there that I am happiest to have gone. After a few years of hearing about how terrific the place is, I'll say it was worth the wait.

Bistrot Bruno Loubet

Spuntino

Hereford Road: Bayswater, Saturday 4th February, 2012

Fergus Henderson is a man whom I have lauded many times in my short tenure as a critic. His simplistic approach to British food and the translation of tradition into modern mainstream is peerless. It's a wonder more restaurants aren't doing things in the same way: get good quality local produce, dress it up in the simplest way possible and sell it at fair prices.

Maybe it isn't a wonder, because it relies on two things: faith in your customer base and absolute conviction in your own ability to execute dishes where there is no margin for error. Whilst there are few finer things in life than excellent British cooking, there are few worse than lousy food that makes one ashamed of one's culinary heritage. And as for the first point: regrettably there's no-one like the English when it comes to fussy eating.

Hereford Road is one of those places one would expect to see popping up all over the place given the trend in recent years to celebrate what's on our doorstep. Unsurprisingly, the man behind it is Tom Pemberton, once head chef of St John Bread & Wine. That was enough of an endorsement for me, so I booked a group meal there as a last-night hurrah to conclude the visit of one of my best friends, who had spent a week with us whilst visiting from overseas.

Six of us took to the Bayswater streets after watching a nailbiting start to the 2012 Six Nations and the winter snowfall having just about hit. We slipped and struggled through the exquisite Notting Hill residential streets with the snow coming down harder and practically fell inside the restaurant, so keen were we to be somewhere warm and comforting.

The place was once a Victorian butchers shop - not that surprising considering Pemberton's early career - and it has a slightly retro-fitted charm to it. The colours and interior design are rather seventies-themed in their panels of simple colour and the furniture feels like it was ordered a season or so late. I quite liked it in a way, even though it felt like the meal was an exhibition as much as dinner with friends.

The menu reads like something that you'd see at St John Bread & Wine which I suppose it should. The descriptions are simple and unassuming, allowing the main ingredients to stand out. The best thing about reading a menu like this is it never looks overfull. With nine main courses and eight starters on the menu, the page of A4 in front of us was a long list of dishes that didn't daunt in any way. It looks and feels right when food is put so matter-of-factly on a menu.

Starters were something of a mixed bag, at the better side of which was kale & potato soup (left). Thick, almost broth-like soup was perfectly formed, with the kale a delightful note of semi-sourness. The texture was perfect and for £5.20 it was the cheapest dish on the menu. Here's to cheap starters I say. This was delicious soup.

The wife went for potted crab with toast (right). This was primarily quite good in terms of the freshness and taste of the crab meat, but disappointingly let down by bits of shell in the mix. My brother went for braised cuttlefish served with red onion and aioli. A strange choice in that he doesn't like much seafood at all. There was sadly no revelation or epiphany when it came to the taste of the dish. I have to say it was a rather different take on a seafood salad to start but it was too dependent on the garlic mayonnaise to be a winner.

The two remaining starters featured no meat; both were centred around cheese. One was a rather fruitier mix of pear, chicory and Cashel Blue. It was not a cheese I'd heard of before, but investigation revealed it to be a rather unique and relatively recently developed Irish cheese. It wasn't too strong, and the combination of pear and chicory had hints of expertise within, just not quite enough to win me over. This was a big contrast to the goats curd, sorrel and beetroot we also sampled. The notes of bold beetroot were tempered exceptionally by the mild green leaves of sorrel and the smooth curds. It was a wonderfully executed dish, one that quite proudly emphasised all the good things about modern British food.

Main courses promised a hell of a lot. Everything we ordered sounded delicious and with the form of some of the starters, I expected us all to be happy with our lot. Let's start with those who weren't. Two at the table ordered braised veal breast with fennel & green sauce. An interesting description which I think was the main factor in ordering the dish.

In the event, the combination was a strange but fleetingly impressive one (left). I'd never eaten veal breast and I can understand why it is not the most popular cut of the meat. It's quite chunky, but at times stringy and tough to get through. It might be nice if sliced but as a piece of meat it is too much. The fennel was stewed and the whole lot was served with a thin broth which I assume it had been cooked in. There were hints of a fine combination with the parsley-riddled green sauce but overall it didn't work.

I went for a faggot of Middelwhite pork with mashed potato and its humble glory was as rewarding as my first course had been. A delicious and tender-moist meatball with some divinely creamy mash was a wonderful and basic combination made to be brilliant by the quality of ingredients (right). Similarly, the Middlewhite shoulder with red cabbage was another dish which showed off the quality of the meat with one well-executed accompaniment.

The wife's pheasant with lentils and wild mushrooms was rich and gamy but suffered from the lentils overwhelming the bird slightly (left). They along with the sauce went unfinished, but the meat was devoured with relish. The final main course was a saddle of lamb with anchovy & celeriac. The combination sounded fantastic and Mike, who had braved no meat with his starter, went for this one in a shot. It was a delicious piece of meat but the anchovy was somehow lost in the mix with the celeriac supporting well. It was decent but we expected more.

Desserts were all priced at £5.50 which seemed very reasonable. Three went for a melting chocolate pudding with vanilla ice cream which was as stickily delicious as we expected it to be (right). Perhaps not as fine as a chocolate fondant, this was a more honest, thickly spongy pudding deserving of a place on any English menu. The sticky date pudding (AKA sticky toffee pudding anywhere else) was a delicious reminder of how wonderful English desserts can be too: a syrupy, sweet and not-too-thick sponge ticked all the boxes.

My effort was a classic apple crumble with vanilla ice cream (left). It was on the menu as being served with cinnamon ice cream and when I asked to change it, the waitress said it might not be possible since they weren't serving vanilla. We wondered how that was possible since vanilla was coming with the chocolate, but happily the kitchen weren't as confused as our server. It was pretty nice: not too sweet and a properly soft texture. There wasn't a lot else to say since it was not fantastic and they did their best to ruin it with a flaking of nuts on top of the crumble.

Lastly, there was a gorgeous surprise in store with a rice pudding, served with cranberry jam. This was a new one on me, partly because I don't especially enjoy rice pudding and I'd never heard of cranberry used as a jam to sweeten a dessert. It worked fantastically well in that the pudding itself was slightly sweetened and creamy, with the jam cutting through it with a pleasant note of acidity. I was shocked at how good it tasted.

As we left the restaurant, we found we'd eaten through a full-blown snowstorm from the looks of things. There was a good inch of snow all over the streets, giving the meal we'd just eaten a romantic wintry glow. It is with a great fondness that I look back on the meal at Hereford Road because it reminded me that there is a great deal of local quality to be found in London's restaurants.

Not every dish was great, or even particularly good in some cases, but the philosophy behind the restaurant is so staggeringly simple I don't know why more aren't subscribing. There is just so much to like about a place like this, from the ingredients down to the reasonable pricing (no main course cost more than £15). It might take a go or two to find the dishes you're going to love, but Hereford Road is worth a visit.

Hereford Road