A New Low - Gauthier Soho: Soho, Wednesday 31st August, 2011

There are times when you feel totally vindicated by what you write. As if the world has listened to, or at least got the gist of, what it is you have to say and all is well and good. I first went to Gauthier Soho with the wife over a year ago and it was one of the highlights of 2010. We enjoyed a terrific lunch (save for a few desserts) and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

Last year, Gauthier Soho was awarded - and then retained - its first Michelin Star. Just reward for such impeccable dishes as their truffle risotto with parmesan, seared foie gras with confit apricot and crispy & soft piglet. There was so much to be happy about, for both the restaurant and for me in that I was unintentionally siding with the Michelin Guide.

I love Soho for many reasons. In one sense, strolling down Old Compton Street or Brewer Street is akin to being on holiday somewhere on the continent. In another, the cobbled yards of Rupert Street seem indelibly old England. It's a district of great contrast and wonder, even in these times of massive redevelopment and corporate adjustment across London. But the restaurants are something else.

Soho is about the most concentrated area of restaurants in London. Chinese, Asian in general, Italian, vegetarian, English and French restaurants are all well represented in the area, and that's excluding all the bars and coffee shops. There is so much to eat and drink and see here that it remains a vital part of London's cultural fabric.

Gauthier Soho was a welcome addition to the area in that it was somewhere you could get genuinely good French cooking at not wholly unreasonable prices. They had the quite sensible idea of allowing you to choose between the options of three or five courses for differing price levels. And their set menu always looks appealing. There was never much to dislike about Gauthier Soho, right from the minute we stepped inside it for the first time. Until we stepped inside for the second time.

In August, Gauthier Soho decided to echo their first year promotion by offering two for one on the tasting menu which we felt was too good an offer to miss. Remembering the quality we had experienced previously, it was a no-brainer, in fact. Unfortunately we could only get a table very late on in the evening, so by the time dinner came around, we were ravenous.

The worst possible start for a late evening meal is to be further delayed. Sadly, we were directed to a bar on the lower ground floor to wait for ten minutes or so before our table was ready. I say "bar", but the reality is it was more of a wine cellar with chairs and a lectern inside. It was rather uncomfortable and dimly lit, probably an attempt to disguise the fact that it was not a bar. A couple was also ushered in with us, which took up all the chairs in the room. Then a guy on his own was told to hover in the corner.

After about ten minutes, two ladies were brought to the cellar holding cups of coffee. This was the first real sign of alarm bells during the evening. These poor people had obviously been asked to leave their table early so it could be prepared for other diners. Shockingly poor for any restaurant, let alone a Michelin-Starred one.

Some fifteen minutes after we had arrived, we were finally shown to our table in less than impressed moods. We were sitting in the topmost room of the place which was a bit cramped, a bit uneven and a bit sluggish, but as we knew from our last visit, that was part of the charm of this place. A few minor hiccups out of the way, this was surely the part where our evening was set to right itself and everything was going to be wonderful.

The food was, to be frank, hideous. The evening was a write-off from the moment our first course came out - an hour after our booking time - and I will attempt to summarise why. Of the eight dishes we ate, only one was of any sort of high quality. That was the truffle risotto which remained from last year's tasting menu, albeit this time with chicken jus on top (left). It was possibly not quite as stunning as the first time around, but that may have only been down to the newness of the experience one year prior. It's still a great dish, happily.

The rest was garbage. Expensive (albeit half-price) French nonsense which was so terrible it made me re-think my love for Gallic food. Compare last year's succulent and smooth sautéed foie gras with this year's Royale. One was a stunning reminder of simplistic French grub, the other a pointless, pathetic attempt at modernising a classic. Insipid, bland and bitter, the tepid foie gras was morphed into some sort of soup, served over raw (supposedly fondant) beans and some sour red wine (right). A waste of time.

Last year's scallop was a thick, rich, stunningly-cooked vision with delicious and flavoursome mushrooms. This year's was one third of a scallop served with red pepper marmalade and parsley jus (left). This was a frustratingly meagre and overcooked piece of flotsam that deserved to be sneered at by hosts of critics. It was an outright disaster compared to the impressive scallop on last year's menu.

It got worse with the fish. Contrast last year's succulent sea trout with this year's rubbery sea bass & squid. Coming in after the outstanding risotto, it had a lot to live up to but I didn't expect much. Mind you, by this point in the meal you could've served me passable food and I would have jumped for joy. It was an appalling dish, possibly the worst of the lot. The fish was overcooked to the point that you'd be embarrassed to serve it in a college canteen, while the squid was an ill-devised and overcooked compliment. The confit tomato and black ink dressing were amusing annoyances to sit alongside.

The meat was, by contrast, fantastic. Though that's not to say it was good if you follow me. The duck breast was well-cooked, prettily sliced and served atop some duck jus (right). Sadly it was as insubstantial as the dross we'd eaten so far and the courgette and baby turnip that were plonked on the plate next to it were as boring as the long delays we continued to suffer. A poor dish for sure, but depressingly one of the best we sampled all night.

Desserts were sadly as disappointing as last year's had been. Even before we could get to them we had to endure cheese. Nothing served at the table this time, only a small, pathetically presented sample trotted out. Sweets were essentially the same - unpleasant cherries and a bunch of nut-ridden dog toys, but they seemed worse because of what had preceded them. It's amazing how you can forgive the odd poor course if something has - in the main - been quite good, but if it's another disappointing course in a sea of rubbish, the knives come out double-quick. Why bother with desserts when they're only going to depress you more? We asked for everything post-cheese to come at once because we were in danger of missing the last tube.

I have one further complaint about Gauthier Soho, and unfortunately it's the most serious one of all. The next day, I did something I've never done before: I complained. I sent an e-mail to the restaurant summarising what I have written above and kindly suggesting to them (really, I was actually quite nice) that they should up their game and return to the place they were in during 2010. Then something really interesting happened: Alexis Gauthier himself sent me an e-mail back. (At least the sender purported to be him. I went with it...)

It was gracious, apologetic and very sincere. I was massively impressed. Even more so as he offered me a complimentary food and wine evening to make up for it. There was certainly no call for this. I was very touched as he wrote "I would like to have the opportunity to restore your faith in my brand". What a guy. What a gent. What a generous, humbling message to receive from a Michelin-Starred chef who has been a guest judge on MasterChef.

The meal has sadly never materialised. I have been in contact with people from Gauthier Soho (though never again has Alexis deigned to e-mail me back) and they have fobbed me off at every opportunity. I wouldn't be as upset as I am if they had not offered in the first place, but now I am highly doubtful I will ever go back. In terms of restaurant shocks, bad meals and sheer daylight robbery, this was the outright winner of last year. I hope I never experience this sort of disappointment again.

Gauthier Soho

The Kensington Crémerie Crêperie

It was a momentous weekend for Out Of The Frying Pan a few days ago. The two main protagonists of this project (myself and the other half) got married on January 14th. Henceforth 'the other half' will now be known as 'the wife', which should save me some typing effort. It also happened to be a supremely wonderful day which we will cherish forever.

Our relationship has more often than not been characterised by food. We love to eat and try new restaurants whenever possible. We also love to go back to our favourite places: Launceston Place, Byron, Le Vacherin (the venue we chose for our wedding lunch incidentally, with a review to follow)... One place that has come up in our travels more than once is the Kensington Crémerie Crêperie.

It's an ultra-relaxed café offering crepes, ice cream, drinks and no frills. The quality is high enough to merit numerous re-visits: whenever I'm in South Kensington I am always tempted (usually temptation leads to greed and greed leads to a quick bite). I've been asked on a few occasions where to eat in South Kensington and my answer is always this place. Rather than the overpriced bakeries and suspect Asian restaurants near the tube station, or the 'just like mama used to make' tourist-traps on the A4, head for the wide pedestrian-filled section of Exhibition Road and relax.

Best enjoyed on a sunny day with an outside seat, you can't beat a good ham, egg & cheese crepe, followed by a banana & chocolate dessert pancake or some ice cream from their gelaterie, which is another matter entirely. A relatively recent addition, they bought out the vacant lot next door and extended their cosy little crepe café to include an ice cream bar as well. I'm very glad they did.

The mango, passion fruit and cheesecake ice creams they offer are worth the visit alone. Proper thick and creamy gelato, there's just no comparison to the rubbish that is on offer in most other stands around the capital. If you're too full or hot to go for a crepe, at least pop in for a cup of ice cream as you stroll about the South Kensington streets.

It's a small and friendly institution, one that should be sampled the second you're next visiting any of the Kensington museums. Crepes and ice cream...what more could one want?

The Kensington Crémerie Crêperie

An Unsurprising Surprise - Launceston Place: Kensington, Sunday August 7th, 2011

Valentines Day does grate on me a bit. Actually, it grates on me a lot. There is much to despise about the day we're supposed to show our appreciation for our loved ones in a highly commercialised way. Not that I'm being miserable: I like to show the other half how much I care, just on my own terms.

An adorable quirk of having a Taiwanese partner is that the pair of us have to endure cherish three Valentines Days. Not only the ridiculous western annoyance, but there is a day specifically for girls and one for boys within the Taiwanese calendar. Due to the nature of eastern calendars shifting around year-by-year, they never fall on the same day, so it's up to her to keep me in check.

It was the boys' day in August and she decided to surprise me by taking me to her favourite restaurant, Launceston Place. It was in no way a selfish act though, since I am very fond of it too. It's becoming the place we love to go together, which is great since it appears to be getting better with age. We walked there on a pleasant afternoon, with me only figuring out where we were going when we got to the neighbourhood. Surprises like this really are fun.

We didn't deviate from what we know and love: we ate ourselves stupid with two helpings of their loveable in-house baked bread with pickled herring and salted butter (left). We both ordered the duck egg with summer truffle because it's one of the best starters I've ever eaten. We both ate beef.

The egg and truffle starter at Launceston Place is fast becoming a cult dish for the two of us. If we were to go there and not eat it, something wouldn't feel right. That really does come down to quality: it's rarely anything other than utterly perfect (right). A smear of the most spicily tangy, ultra-flavoursome truffle purée one could wish for with a perfectly poached egg is visual simplicity but a taste extravaganza. Quite simply unmissable.

The beef was dangerously close to the rib we'd previously enjoyed at the Harwood Arms, but since we hadn't eaten out properly in a month, we weren't too worried. Roast beef for two was the call and by heaven I'm happy we stuck to it. Carved next to the table (similar to Corrigan's Mayfair some time ago), it was given to us rare in two different cuts: thin rump and a juicier middle cut (left).

The Yorkshire puddings were amazing, though not quite touching the Harwood Arms' efforts, with potatoes falling a similar close second. Fresh, al dente broccoli was spot on and some gorgeous soft carrots with a thick butter coating were indulgent and beautiful. It was a great spread and one that we both enjoyed in the most cosy Sunday way you can imagine.

Desserts were an anticlimactic near-accident. Having had two helpings of the bread, a starter which also included bread and a hearty main course which contained potatoes and Yorkshires, we were struggling. I mean really struggling to the point of cramps and slouching. Still, we ordered dessert. Which turned out to be a mistake. The classic pre-dessert lemon posset was lovely but a bit too much by this point (right).

An overdone, almost crunchy treacle tart was another carbohydrate-fest without any charm: utterly joyless (left). It lacked the soft semi-zesty sweetness any decent treacle tart ought to have and was instead a half-burnt, melancholy thing. The gooseberry fool with cobnut financier was an absolute hoot of a name but sadly less of a spectacle in the bowl (below right). Over-sour, muddled and generally unappetising, it was something I couldn't get my head around. Not one for the great Launceston Place dishes scrapbook by any stretch. We didn't manage to finish either dessert.

Despite the lack of a good finisher, I still enjoyed yet another good meal at Launceston Place. I can forgive them the two poor puddings in that the rest of the set was quite wonderful. The right surprise choice for sure, I was happy to be taken there and will be happy to go again any time soon.

Launceston Place

The Harwood Arms: Fulham, Sunday July 10th, 2011

The Harwood Arms impressed me enough in a frenzy of Christmas trees, snowballs and burnt hair to merit a re-visit last summer, as the final act of my birthday celebrations. The night before, a potential club trip had been aborted in favour of a late-night stop at Vingt Quatre, so food had been the theme of the last two weekends through and through.

This was the biggest meal I ate with friends all week, eight around the table overall. The early issue I'd taken with the Harwood Arms on this occasion was that they'd insisted on a reduced a la carte for our booking. It was slightly frustrating since there were only eight of us, but when you're dealing with Michelin stars, I suppose you get what you're given.

This is all well and good as long as what you're given cuts the mustard. We were all expecting a lot, since the Harwood Arms carries a lot of weight and especially since I'd been talking it up for weeks preceding the meal. There's nothing like good pub grub to bring friends together. If you can call this 'pub grub'.

Summer is a great time to be eating light, refined dishes. As much as I love meat (and believe me I do), there are times - particularly in summer - when only a little fish will do. Especially at the start of a meal. Smoked salmon served with beetroot, pink fir apple potatoes, sorrel and laverbread (puréed Welsh seaweed) is one of those dishes you seen on a menu and just have to order (left). Especially on a warm Sunday evening in July. Happily, it was worth it, the salmon shining through the well-judged accompaniments, texturally perfect.

Alongside the salmon, we tried the classic from our last visit; the faggot of rabbit, bacon and prunes with puréed celeriac (right). This is eating. This is modern British with a full-throated shout to anyone brought up eating meat in the midlands. This is just one of the best starters around: perfectly balanced, tender, gamey and simply elegant.

Many of the table came in pairs, so many ordered in pairs. Which means they ordered the rib of beef for two, myself and the other half included. This was a clear stand-out dish, particularly on a reduced menu. Served on a big wooden board, cooked rare, topped with slivers of bone marrow, it was outstanding (left). One of my favourite main courses of recent times, even. There was more on show than the beef though, with a divine Yorkshire pudding, within which lurked some soft confit onion. Add a bowl of greens, crispy roast potatoes and sauces, you had a wholly satisfying and gorgeous main course.

Two of the party opted against gorging on beef, one since he is vegetarian. He had some turnip croquettes with a side of roasted new potatoes in garlic butter. Both were wonderful. He was so moved by the potatoes in particular that he sent his compliments to the chef. Perhaps potatoes that can be openly complimented really is the height of pub food (right). It's a ringing endorsement to the Harwood Arms in my book, anyway.

The final dish on show was a perfect summer main course: a whole mackerel with sea purlsane (salty seaside shrub), tomatoes, horseradish and rocket. It was another expertly-judged and creatively executed dish. An assortment of in-season British-European ingredients that remind one English food is quite on the money when it comes to restaurants such as this.

On to desserts, the choices were a little disappointing. That said, one leapt out at me instantly: the lemon posset with blackberries and warm Parkin (left). I'd never eaten Parkin before but the idea of a rustic northern sponge cake sounded too good to miss. The first mouthful of the dessert was impressive: a sharp burst of smooth lemon cutting through the cake and the fruit. Sadly, it kept on cutting and by the end of the dish I felt as if I'd been eating pure lemon zest: it was too strong. I also think the Parkin was a touch overdone, leaving little in the way of rich flavour (or maybe the lemon overwhelmed it all.)

The other half's Camp Coffee ice cream with biscuits was a more pleasant surprise (right). Having endured the predictable laughter at the name of it, Camp Coffee turned out to be a very mild and sweet flavour when used in ice cream. It sat very well between the thin home-made biscuits it was served with. The other dessert worth a mention was the trifle, served with a divine mild buttermilk custard and sherry sponge.

I really enjoyed my second visit to the Harwood Arms. It remains a beacon in a sea of semi-average Brit pub-grub places in west London, with a pleasant enough atmosphere and a sensational grasp of flavours to keep attracting customers back. I'm sure I will be again soon.

The dessert may have let me down, but the starters and that ridiculous roast rib of beef remain some of the best dishes I ate all last year. If you care about modern British cuisine in the slightest, you really ought to have a look at this place. It is without a doubt some of the best pub food I've eaten and it doesn't break the bank. I also now know this place is suited to all seasons; warm summer and freezing winter. I loved it in both.

The Harwood Arms

Mitsukoshi: Soho, Friday 8th July, 2011

Good day and a happy new year! I've had a few posts put up on the website already this year, but this is the first I've actually started writing in 2012 so it will do as a way of wishing a great 2012 to all. Plenty on the cards (including the rest of 2011 still) for this year, plus the usual slew of whatever I'm going to get up to in the coming twelve months.

Back in July last year, the other half had been nagging me for some time to eat 'shabu-shabu'. I had refused for as long as humanly possible (on monetary grounds) before the constant asking, hunger and inquisitiveness got the better of me. Friday came around and we went to Mitsukoshi, a restaurant held in pretty high esteem amongst London's Japanese places.

'Shabu-shabu' is basically a Japanese table-top hot pot in which you cook fresh food. The name comes from the motion of swishing the food around in the hot water to cook it through. It's a name I find typically cute and matter-of-fact in the way that Japanese things tend to be. It's also an exciting prospect as a diner: something a bit different, a bit of adventure in your food.

The shabu-shabu came as a set meal for the table, so the two of us sampled all the contents on offer. We started with sashimi and tempura: two parts of Japanese food I love to the point that they make me want to forgive sushi. Both were rather nice. The sashimi was slimy, fresh and had just enough bite the way most fresh raw fish should (left). The sea bass was a particular highlight. The tempura was great because tempura usually is (below right). Only rubbish tempura is bad. This was nicely crispy with enough taste and texture inside to identify the food. The prawns, pepper and squid were lovely, with only the aubergine leaving me a little cold.

Those were the sideshows, but the main event was definitely the big copper-coloured receptacle of water heating up on the table in front of us. I was a little confused though: water? Just water? Are you sure..? I went along with it for as long as I could, much like I have with this review, but I must disclose the truth: it was awful.

There was little flavour or merit in anything. We ended up dumping a sumptuous-looking tray of meat and vegetables in our hot water just to get the lot cooked and eaten as quickly as we could. The meat was bland, the vegetables also, the whole thing a write-off. This was my first shabu-shabu experience but I am left wondering whether or not I want another one.

The most galling thing about all this was the price. As we walked out, it hit me that we'd just wasted £90 - ninety pounds - on this tosh. It was not worth it in just about every way. I would have happily cut the evening after the tempura, but we live and learn... I doubt I'll eat shabu shabu again unless I'm in Japan.

Mitsukoshi

Afternoon Tea at The Dorchester: Mayfair, Sunday July 3rd, 2011

Birthday surprises can be a wonderful thing. I am part of that interestingly large group of people who say "I don't like surprises", in that I like to be prepared for things most of the time. Given how the other half and I roll, we do our fair share of surprises for each other, sometimes to a restaurant. As nice as this is, I know we're both worried when we hear of a surprise trip to eat out. 'Am I dressed correctly?' 'What's the menu like?' 'Would I have picked somewhere else, given the choice?'

Fortunately, we know each other well. Thanks to a failed attempt to disguise the venue's identity from me, I knew we were having tea at The Dorchester long before the day came around. I certainly wasn't unhappy at the prospect. The night before, we'd enjoyed a lovely meal in my favourite restaurant, with these two events kick-starting some extended birthday celebrations for me, all of which involved food in some way.

As per usual with the Sunday nearest my birthday, it was men's final day at Wimbledon. I am not a huge tennis fan but I do love a good match. As it turned out, I missed one of the great matches in the modern era, Novak Djokovic establishing himself as the pre-eminent force of modern tennis. There was certainly pressure on The Dorchester this particular Sunday afternoon.

They had decided to embrace the spectacle with Wimbledon-themed decorations and a menu to match for the duration of the tournament. Perusing the card, we both opted for the lawn tennis afternoon tea, which might have felt a bit ridiculous if we had been anywhere other than the Promenade at The Dorchester.

The Promenade itself is basically the lobby. It's a seemingly endless passageway of flowers, low lights, tables, aching furniture and subdued buzz. It's not wholly welcoming to be honest, but that does often happen with top-end hotels wherever you're eating. We sat at our table and quite reasonably expected to be impressed.

The lawn tennis menu was essentially their usual tea set with an added course of strawberries and cream. I found this out after I ordered, which was a bit of a mistake on my part since I'm not fond of strawberries (or much fruit). Mind you, if anywhere is supposed to have good strawberries, this is probably the next best bet after Wimbledon itself.

We got things going (as ever) with sandwiches. Finger sandwiches with afternoon tea are so exquisitely old-fashioned and ridiculous that you can't help but love them. So nonsensically cut, trimmed and laid out, they represent the upper class societal tradition of England's heritage, as opposed to the 'waste not, want not' that many of us are familiar with.

Of course, along with all this poncery, they ought to be bloody good sandwiches. Anything else and you're in a world of trouble. Particularly at Mayfair hotel prices. These were good enough (left). The classics - smoked salmon, egg & cress, cream cheese & cucumber - were all thinly refined yet flavoursome. The components were all there, nothing was overwhelmed and they slipped down rather comfortably.

The sandwich course was dominated by two meat sandwiches which weren't quite so typically afternoon tea: a roast beef, horseradish & rocket and a chicken with mustard mayonnaise on basil bread. The first was a proper English sandwich: cold meat, minimal fuss with a classic combination tying it all in. Rare beef too which is a must. The latter was a divine treat. The idea of basil bread was exceptional, making the whole thing slightly peppery and fruity, a sudden treat for all the senses.

As with most good afternoon teas (and all expensive ones), they offered us a second round of sandwiches which we selectively accepted. (Another round of all of them would have been too much by half.) One thing that surprised me about afternoon tea at the Promenade was that they didn't stack the tea in the traditional way: it was served as a meal. At first I was a little suspicious but it does make sense: if people are paying to enjoy excellent sandwiches and fresh pastries and cakes, why let their food go stale or force them to rush through the meal?

Before we moved to the 'dessert' section of the menu - I don't truly believe you can separate afternoon tea courses as rigidly as with normal food - we were given a little pre-dessert of vanilla panna cotta with hibiscus jelly (right). The jelly was divine: a sweet delight on top of a pretty ordinary pudding. I'm afraid this was a let-down. Bad panna cotta is awful - there is no halfway house here - and I didn't much enjoy it.

Then came our strawberries and cream (left). Fortunately I could tolerate these for the most part. They were soft and sweet, rather than the usual hard tarteness I associate with fresh strawberries. I couldn't quite get through my bowl but I was content that these were clearly above average. The other half is far more into strawberries than I and she loved them. Maybe pay attention to her at this point: "very fresh and sweet".

Scones next and this was where I got rather excited. I have an unhealthy obsession with scones and these were predictably excellent (right). Even though I like my scones chunky and substantial, I had to marvel at the miniature delights that were put in front of us. It was real king and country tradition here: one plain, one raisin, strawberry jam and cream. They weren't the best scones I've ever eaten but they fit perfectly and precisely into what was fast becoming an outstanding tea.

On to pastries. They had continued the tennis theme with their sweet stuff by making a financier in the shape of a tennis ball and a brownie in the shape of a tennis court. It was a very nice touch, especially as people expect a bit of a show when they're paying serious money for food. I was more concerned about the taste, and I can tell you that the cakes were worth the fuss (left).

The vanilla mousse financier with raspberry jam was light, yet packed a thick, full-flavoured punch. The brownie, coloured green with white tramlines, was moist and rich. Elsewhere, the raspberry macaroon had that amazing ethereal quality that great macaroons have: crunch giving way to meringue-esque dissolution, finally resolving with a heavenly chewiness. A choux pastry bun with cream was as it should be: sweet and rich. A frangipane tart with berries added some lively red colour and was tasty enough to merit its place.

That, I thought, was that. But there was a small surprise in store as the live pianist broke into a round of Happy Birthday and I was presented with a delightful little square chocolate cake with candles (right). It was a touching gesture from the other half and a great representation of tea at The Dorchester: classy, understated, special and enjoyable.

It is probably the best afternoon tea you can eat in London. It won't cost you the moon. It is perfect for a special occasion (so well done the other half and yes, if you're wondering, it was a fine - if botched - surprise) and I would recommend it to anyone who loves a decent afternoon tea next to Hyde Park.

Afternoon tea at The Dorchester

My Favourite Restaurant - Le Vacherin: Chiswick, Saturday July 2nd, 2011

The question of favourites when it comes to food is a loaded one. If someone asks me what my favourite meal is, I'm torn between the eight-year-old me saying spaghetti bolognaise, the eighteen-year-old me saying a bacon double cheeseburger from my university burger shack and the modern-day idealistic me saying a Rossini steak with a lethal injection on standby. It's nearly impossible to answer.

The same can often be said for restaurants. When people ask me what my favourite restaurant is, I'm also torn between a number of places I used to go when I was young, some of the best meals I've ever had (Royal Hospital Road in 2010 being the number one) and common sense. Common sense prevails, which is why I am happy to call Chiswick's Le Vacherin my favourite restaurant.

To me, one's favourite restaurant should be somewhere which is above average to the extent that you can have a birthday meal or a special event there. It should be somewhere that makes you want to put on your gladrags but not overdo it. It should be somewhere you feel you could eat a couple of times a month and you wouldn't get tired of. For these reasons, Le Vacherin is absolutely my favourite place to eat.

A special occasion this was: the other half and I dragged my parents, my brother and his wife to Chiswick (they don't like to come much further into London than zone five) to celebrate my birthday. We took a deep breath and sat down...

There was one blemish on the evening. My brother's main course of lamb was served lukewarm at best. It was a shame since the lamb itself was wonderfully coloured and beautifully served, even if the dish was insubstantially small. It was a real shame, especially since he (and everyone else) enjoyed the rest of the spread.

My family can be a fussy bunch, none more so than my mother, who baulks at the idea of eating anything from the sea unless it's been battered and avoids any sort of meat with any colour left on it. I was slightly concerned that a French restaurant might not agree with her, but I needn't have worried as she enjoyed a rich pea velouté with a quail's egg nestling within to start (left). It was deliciously sweet, locally-flavoured Frenchishness in a dish.

With Le Vacherin comes a certain admission that you have a weakness for the classics, so my brother, his wife and I all opted for tried and tested dishes. He went for a fried duck egg on top of potato salad and gruyere cheese (right). It was as warm, soft and comfortingly fatty as one could hope for. My sister-in-law went for the chicken liver and foie gras parfait which was one of the first things I tried at Le Vacherin and it is still great. I went for the very first thing I ever tried here - the scallops with black pudding and bacon with apple sauce - which will always have a special place in my heart. The scallops were cooked to perfection, the bacon thin and crisp, the dish a winner as it always was (above left).

The two bolters on the table for starters were my father's choice of a Bayonne ham salad and the other half's marinated octopus and razor clams. I don't mean that they were incongruous on a French brasserie's menu, but I'd never seen them on Le Vacherin's menu before and they weren't dishes I'd usually try. The ham was a bright and airy mixture of pink (from the meat), red (from the cherry tomatoes) and green (from the leaves) with some darker balsamic dressing. It was a great summer starter. The other half's octopus dish was amongst the prettiest I saw all last year (right). The octopus and clams were outstandingly fresh and had a brilliantly sharp yet subtle flavour to them. It was a dish that delivered on every front in a lasting way.

The one thing I could always say for Le Vacherin is that they do beef expertly. The other half and I shared a chateaubriand with proper thin frites, roast bone marrow, green beans and field mushroom (left). It was rare as requested, and tasted as good as the description. Absolutely outstanding stuff. My dad went for the similar choice of aged rib-eye which came with frites and béarnaise sauce. It was not quite in the same league as the chateaubriand but was a pretty good cheaper option.

My brother's lousy lamb choice was the low point, as already mentioned, but there were two other decent courses on the table to distract from it (or at least try to). A half lobster with chips was broken down with relative ease by my sister-in-law and enjoyed with gusto. Similarly, my mother's fear of having to experience a dish too racy for her tastes was rescued with a thick and creamy tagliatele with mushrooms, asparagus and parmesan. A perfect vegetarian option, even if parmesan isn't technically a vegetarian food.

By the time desserts came around, five of us were looking for something to see us off after a great meal, where my brother was looking for something to salvage the evening for him. I stepped in and advised on sharing the apple tarte tatin for two (right). It was the right decision, in that the tarte was not at all bad, meaning it was great. That is the relationship I have with French apple tarts (the pastry, not women), as you may know if you've read my work before.

Only three further desserts were eaten: a classic strawberry cheesecake, an interesting vanilla panna cotta and a bizarre carpaccio of pineapple with coconut sorbet. The first was a simply done comfort pudding which completed a relieving and satisfying three courses for my dear mother. The second was a favourite of the other half's which she put away with relish. It was presented exquisitely as is the case with most of Le Vacherin's fare and was a quirky take on a panna cotta, being far softer than some of the too-gelatinous stuff that comes up in many other places (left). The last was ordered by my brother's wife for the simple reason that it contained sorbet which I didn't really understand. Plus it came with chilli and ginger, which ended up proving a travesty to the name dessert. Still, she enjoyed it.

I don't have to say anything more, do I? I love this place, it was my family birthday meal, we all enjoyed it and it was nearly perfect. I'll be back again and again.

Le Vacherin