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
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