Trattoria Sorrento: Teddington, December 24th, 2011

I am prompted to reach for a quote from the inimitable Frasier. In episode 23 of season 2, the Crane boys visited a restaurant on the verge of closure, a place their family had quite a history. As they entered, it became clear the restaurant was a shell of what they remembered. Niles observed...

It's like running into a movie star you worshipped as a child, only time has left her hair brittle, her eyes sunken and dull, her skin waxy and sallow...

The delivery and dialogue (as ever) are impeccable. However, the point - whilst merely amusing on first viewing - has come to resonate quite extensively with me this year. Let me explain why.

For many years growing up, a restaurant at the end of the road was my favourite. A local, friendly, family-run Italian restaurant, serving perfect traditional treats such as rack of lamb, beef medallions, king prawns with garlic, all manner of pasta and a wonderfully quaint dessert trolley to finish. It was by some distance the best restaurant in Teddington and one that, on reflection, was serving up fine Italian fare to a neighbourhood willing to pay for quality.

The years took their toll on Sorrento. The declining television industry took away much of the traffic they accrued through post-show audiences (and even celebrities: Michael Winner's visit is an infamous tale from way back in the day) and mismanagement in general caused the place to close down. Many years passed, various other franchises came and went and nothing was quite right. It seemed that nothing could fill the Sorrento void.

Out of nowhere, a sign appeared on the long-vacant premises that Sorrento would be re-opening towards the end of the year. Local die-hards (and this includes me) celebrated, happy our favourite haunt was soon going to be back. My parents went in the autumn and declared the re-launch a big success. I was champing at the bit to sample it for myself.

My brother and his wife kindly offered to pay for me and the wife's meal there on a lovely Christmas Eve get together with parents. (Paying us back in kind for the birthday meal we'd treated them to earlier in the year.) The restaurant was packed, the holiday was upon us and we were all desperate for the kind of food that made this place one of those neighbourhood restaurants you really did believe in.

Back to my Frasier quote. This is one of the saddest meals I can remember eating. It wasn't the company (naturally) or the atmosphere, but the memories and the feelings I felt crumbling around me. It started with a lasagne (left). This was one of the worst excuses for genuine Italian I've ever had. It wasn't heated through properly which ruined it completely on every level. It tasted like microwaved slop. And the worst part is, I've had better microwaved and home-made lasagne than this.

The wife had some squid with tomato sauce (right). It was not as horrendous as my lasagne by any means but it still was not great. The sauce was acceptable enough but the squid was not worth any price outside of supermarket value. Forgettable and no more than functional.

The rest of the table were more complimentary about their starters. I don't know if it was that we were unlucky, but my father's sardines in particular were rather reasonable. The soft saltiness from the flesh was right on the money. As long as you've got the time to separate bones out from fish like this, it's worth it.

Main courses were where I truly hoped for a return to form. I went for beef medallions with Barolo red wine sauce (left). This was a dish which, many years ago, got me into eating red meat the way I do now. It has always had a special place in my heart (probably in the arteries). This was not what I remember. I asked for rare and I got the well-done side of medium. The sauce was embarrassingly thick and heavy. It was a deeply depressing plate of food.

The wife went for a steak and with pepper sauce and got more or less what you'd expect (right). It was rather nice in places. The meat quality was not the best as I had come to expect by the halfway point of the evening, but the sauce was excellent and merited seconds. Maybe things were looking up...

Desserts were as cute as ever, from the trolley and served at the table. I had a sliced apple tart which was reminiscent of something you might find in a canteen. A good canteen, I suppose, but I think by this point my morale was so low I would've been relatively unmoved by almost anything. The wife's chocolate cake was too airy for me but tasted alright.

I had had enough by this point. I felt fond memories of my youth dissolving in a sea of disastrous food and poor service. Oh, the service! A young man bringing food to the table announced each plate he brought to the table by practically shouting "watch out!" as he approached. It was a painfully amusing side note to a terrible evening's eating.

I must clarify that I don't feel particularly good writing this review. I actually feel pretty horrible, as if I'm hurting my home community, betraying myself and my family in the process. Maybe it's having moved away that makes me think of this restaurant in the same way the Crane boys thought of theirs. I am not technically a local these days. Maybe being local is what attracted me to this place originally? What have I become?

Well, maybe it's not as melodramatic as all that. I suppose if people want to eat the food and there are tables free, no-one goes home unhappy. Unless they keep the food at the standard I experienced on Christmas Eve. For their sake, I hope they fix it. This isn't somewhere I want to see fail - not again - and I still feel nostalgically attached to the place, even if they did their best to ruin my memory of it during this meal. There were times I felt like I was featuring on an episode of Kitchen Nightmares, so if I'm to go back here some time, I hope I don't feel like it again.

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

Archipelago – Fitzrovia, Wednesday 21st July, 2010

In the name of self-effacing self-promotion, I was recently on a couple of episodes of Market Kitchen, a show on the Good Food Channel. I talked about food from Cheshire with studio guests and it was a lot of fun. Unfortunately I have not yet seen the footage since I don't subscribe to the channel and a friend's Sky+ box broke down. Sufficed to say I was fantastic, delivering sharp and pithy comments with a grace belying my relative broadcasting inexperience. Well, I enjoyed it anyway.

The producer of the show asked me a few questions so they could set up a profile about me before I went on the show. One of the questions asked was about the strangest food I'd eaten. Without hesitation I answered "locusts and grasshoppers." Definitely bizarre foods that I wouldn't have expected to eat a few years ago. But I have now. And I ate them at Archipelago in the west end. I even talked to the show's host Penny Smith about this between takes. Another day in the life of a critic…

A friend hosted a dual-birthday meal at Archipelago back in July, so Mike, the other half and I all attended, desperate to see what the relative fuss about this place was, and if they could justify the hype they've managed to generate through serving things like insects and other whacky foreign fare.

I will start with the good things about the place. It's in a lovely area – just south of Warren Street station which is a gorgeous mix of expensive flats, proper pubs and charismatic media offices. It was also a lovely summery evening which is a great time to be out and eating with friends. It's a friendly place – sort of like an outrageously over-the-top nautical shop by the sea feel to it – which makes you feel very relaxed and carefree.

Good things out of the way, I have to say Archipelago let me (and, I get the feeling, not just me) down. It is supremely tacky. That's the problem with the nautical shop: whilst it's relaxing on the one hand, it's also horrendously cheap-looking. I can live with cheap-looking if it's cheap pricing: Archipelago has one but not the other. The food is massively overpriced. They will probably say this is a result of huge importing costs incurred through shipping crocodile, kangaroo and suchlike into their kitchen, which is fine… if it is worth it.

And here is my real beef with Archipelago. I could tolerate the décor, the prices and the frankly inattentive staff if the food on the table was up to the mark. Canapés were fun bits of splodge on dry bread which weren't unnecessary and actually promised much, but things quickly snapped into focus with the starters. Some duck salad was so blandly uninspiring that it didn't deserve to be on any menu, let alone an exotic one. Vine leaf-wrapped crocodile meat was interesting, I'll say that much (left). Not necessarily good or bad, it was a bit fatty and chewy, whilst never delivering the sort of flavoursome punch I would expect of such a meat. Very meaty shellfish is what I got from it.

On to main courses, the marquee dish was clearly the marsupial which they had added a £5 supplement to for some reason or another, none of which I could pick out from the dish itself (right). Half grilled and half slathered in sauce, the complete flavour of the meat itself was reduced to something close to chicken with a fruitier aftertaste. Overall, not really worth it.

The second main course was laughable in having any pretensions to being special, fresh or exotic. Branded as essentially a posh chicken curry with rice, it was essentially an average chicken curry with rice. I don't really understand what this mildly sauced, uninteresting pile of (allegedly) Indonesian food was doing on the menu, on my plate or in this restaurant.

Possibly the most over-priced thing on the menu was the Love-Bug Salad, which is where my grasshoppers and whatnot came from. I suppose you do expect to pay a bit more for such outlandish fare, but when you try it and it tastes of burn corn husks with chilli and garlic, you feel as if you've fallen for a scam and a half.

Not content with copping out for just about the whole of the meal so far, Archipelago decided to let us down with desserts too. The Colombian Fix sounded interesting. It was billed as 'serious therapy for the chocoholic'; also interesting. It was a chocolate fondant which contained nothing special or different, bar the bitter cocoa flavourings they had overdone the (chocolate) sauce with. It seems that Archipelago divide their time between ruining classics, bumbling their way through anything remotely unique and charging whatever they can get away with.

The other two dessert events were a chocolate-covered scorpion, which would have actually looked impressive enough but for their small size (left). Mike ranted for a good while about the size of scorpion he expected for £6.50. A Visit From The Doctor was something we ordered for the birthday boys, and it turned out to be a couple of shots of deathly strong, absurdly flavoured liqueurs. Lots of fun, and even the non-alcoholic that I am could see the point in this one.

Not content with taking us to the cleaners on the final bill (crocodile, kangaroo and scorpion would cost you £40 before service or drinks), Archipelago obviously felt one last squeeze was in order. At the bottom of the menu, they write 'Many items in the restaurant are for sale'. You're not kidding: I can practically feel the careers of everyone at Archipelago aching to be bought up and sold off.

Archipelago