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