Rian

I agree, Hallie, the menu looks fantastic. Morels galore. This sounds great: "Rib of Beef with New Season’s Onions and a Persillade of Sweetbreads, Tongue and Morels" It would be good to hear what you had, Andy.

Has anyone managed to have a look at The Square's new menu? Andy, how was your meal the other night?

Yauatcha fulfils almost all of your criteria, if you stick to dim sum. Depends how many cocktails you're going to tot up though! Also worth noting that they'll want the table back after about 90 minutes. I find that this is usually enough time unless you want to linger over dessert.

Thanks for the review, Alex, sounds like you very much enjoyed it. Actually I think the lambs he showed us were about 6 weeks old. The only reason I remember is that at Aikens last week the lambs were even younger and the staff there revealed that Aikens' used 2-week old animals. I'm glad you liked this, Alex. I loved it. And it was even better as I'd been talking to Andy about how I'd been uniformly unimpressed by a number of recent scallop treatments. Can't agree with you more - this mammoth souffle was also the end of me. I'd like to return for another tasting session, since I'm sure they'd be willing to construct an entirely different version. And only £10 more than the ALC, too.

Great review Gareth - thanks for going back to do a recce for us. I'm glad you had such an impressive lunch. I think it would be useful to go back and take ALC - the dishes you describe certainly sound a lot more interesting than those we had on the menu prestige. In fact, many of them sound new. Interesting that you feel RHR to be way ahead of anything else in the UK. I ate the tasting menu at Aikens last week (report to follow!) and it totally outstripped RHR. That said, historically you have a lot more experience of RHR than I do: I have only taken prestige. An ALC trip is in order. Incidentally, a note on the cheese. Both RHR and Aikens now share the same cheese supplier, Premier cheese. I've had the cheese at both in the past few weeks and was largely unimpressed by both (a truffled brillat savarin excepted). Has Aikens changed its supplier fairly recently? I've read a couple of posts referring to their 'historic' cheeseboard in the past. Personally I love both the Capital and Gavroche boards and am consistently informed that the Greenhouse has something special going on. At last! When we went into the kitchen a couple of weeks ago I spotted a container labelled 'jacket potato consomme'. Now I know what that was for! Your pork belly sounds fantastic. One question: did anything blow you away at RHR today?

The prix fixe menu is fantastic value, I agree. I was just a little irritated by the service, though I admit that this was largely a function of how busy the place was when we sat down. How busy was it yesterday lunchtime? There is also the newly opened Royal China Club just up the road. It looked more civilised (lots of black wood, fish tank) when I walked past last night, but it also looked devoid of customers. A quick glance at the menu showed the dim sum to be in the region of £4.50 and up. That explains the empty tables, then.

The Starwich sandwich chain in NY have been churning out something similar for a while. There is also a thread on it. Tallying up, I reckon that a similar sandwich would set you back around $40-45. Steal. When in season, they'll shave black truffles onto your chosen sarnie for a supplement of $15. Menu doesn't list foie gras, though. Weasels.

OK all, here are the photograph's of last week's tasting menu, as promised. Thanks to tomcbell for the heads up on compressing them. I've reposted my comments, this time with pictures alongside, to avoid having to scroll back up for descriptions. Since I was one of Andy’s companions on this visit, the photographs (should he get succeed in getting them up) in his post are of the same meal I had. I’ll forgo any comments about the room and the service, since these have been adequately covered previously. To the food… Thursday was my first visit to RHR. We booked a month in advanced. We trained hard, slogging through 1 and 2 star spots to prepare ourselves for Gordon’s golden goose. I took the day off work. This should have been big. This should have been something. This could have been a contender. I digress. Despite the flippancy of our coin toss, it was time to get serious. An amuse bouche of pumpkin and parmesan soup arrived with a cute spoon-shaped biscuit. The soup was, well, pumpkin and parmesan soup – no more, no less. A swirl of truffle oil. A smattering of soggy mushrooms. Truffled butter. I forwent the long-standing mosaique of foie gras for a pressed terrine of pig’s trotter and ham hock. The terrine was moist and delicate, with the smoky backdrop of pork. The ubiquitous streaks of which Andy spoke were hollandaise and balsamic vinegar reductions, both of which were sharp enough to lend structure to the softness of the terrine. The accompanying croque was unremarkable, for two reasons. Firstly, despite the vividness of the photograph, the yolk was a little bland, not the liquid sunshine I was expecting. Secondly, a slice of unadvertised black truffle was rubbery and virtually tasteless. I also sampled the foie gras, which I felt was unsuccessful. I see the point – the hoi sin accompaniment taking the place of the usual sweetness in a foie preparation. But the whole slab was slick and wet, glistening to the extent that I thought it might slide off the plate into our companion’s lap. I like my foie gras served with relative simplicity. As Keller says, the great thing about foie gras is that it’s foie gras. If it’s good, then there should be no messing around: ‘your job is to try to make it show what it really is’. Here, the foie gras was given no chance to shine. I swapped out again here in order to try the signature dish of langoustine ravioli. Technically faultless, I felt it lacked a little punch. The centre of the ravioli was almost too delicate – the texture of the crustaceans was there, but I wanted to taste the sweetness of their shells and the clean saltiness of the sea. Casing was textbook – perfectly al dente. Lobster bisque was reduced to the extent that I almost had to peel it off the plate, a recurring theme. Perhaps a result of too much time at the pass? Nonetheless, this had the intensity of flavour missing from the ravioli itself. Scallops w/smoked salmon and horseradish Next was fillet of turbot with tagliatelle, coriander and citrus veloute. The outstanding dish of the afternoon, and the only one that added up to more than the sum of its parts. Turbot was moist, delicate, and punchy at the same time, the surface of the slick, bright flesh burnished to the colour of buttered toast. Atop this rested a few crunchy juliennes of mange tout. The base of the dish was a coil of coriander tagliatelle and sweet strands of carrot. The pasta resisted the tooth and was lightly fragranced with coriander. Veloute, poured at the table, elevated the dish: smooth in texture, sharp in taste, and lingering with candied citrus fruit, it harmonised the disparate tones of the dish. All of us plumped for the fillet of Angus beef with braised cheeks and Barolo sauce. Another signature dish, I was eager for it to justify its long-standing inclusion on the menu prestige. The pictures you see are of my beef, which I ordered blue, and felt was a hair overdone, but no more. The flesh was tasty enough, but would have been unremarkable in the absence of a bed of treacle-sweet confit onions muddled with spinach. Braised cheeks were as rich and soft as expected, but their fragrance had been overplayed by too much star anise. Mash was, well, mash. This accompanying tower carried a lid of further unadvertised slices of black truffle, as redundant as those thrown in with the terrine. As with the veloute, stocky gravy was poured at the table, spiced with Barolo. Creme Brulee Pre-dessert At this stage Andy and I opted for cheese in place of a pre-dessert of crème brulee. Cheeses were from Premier Cheese. Our server was excellent – knowledgeable, and with decent recommendations. Although, when I quizzed her about the age of the Comte, she informed me that ‘you can’t really say’. It’s true, you can’t say if you don’t know. Our palate cleansing first dessert was chanterais melon with fromage frais and mint, served in a champagne flute with a cute glass straw. This was a Ronseal dish – it did exactly what it said on the tin, and was all the better for it. The essence of melon was there; the taste of the sun. My excitement was piqued by the offer of tarte tatin as an alternative dessert, to be shared amongst 3 of us. It was served with the requisite theatre, entering on a trolley and sliced at the table. The moment of slicing sowed the seeds of suspicion – the pastry crumbled too easily and hunks of fruit dismounted from their base. In addition we each received a scoop of vanilla ice cream peppered with black dust. As I’ve said before, I’m a sucker for hot and cold combinations in desserts, so this appealed to me. But the tart was simply disappointing. Chunks of apple lacked caramelisation and texture, and the pastry collapsed, dry and chalky. Vanilla ice cream was ok, but missing a depth of vanilla flavour. By this time the staff were beginning to iron the tablecloths for dinner service, so we moved to the seating area to take coffee. Andy’s aforementioned ‘orgasm balls’ were indeed quite moreish, though I was more turned on by the light discs of chocolate laced with passion fruit from L’Artisan. The pics are also saved in my albums. Hope this illuminates my comments.

Ok, will give that a try later today, since I don't have the photographs on this computer. Hopefully will have them up later this evening.

Thanks for suffering for us all, Gareth. I look forward to your thoughts. Are you planning on going Lunch, ALC, or Prestige?

Might this happen any time soon? ← I keep encountering problems with this. The pictures were taken with an 8MP camera and I think the files may be too big to upload. Very irritating, since we got some good shots. Will keep trying. Does anyone know whether there is a maximum file upload size?

Dinner at Galvin last night. Got lucky with the lead time - I called mid-afternoon yesterday and was told they'd just had a cancellation for a table for 2 at 7pm. Snapped it up. I’ll start with the food, then move on to service (cue ominous chords). We both opened with lasagne of Dorset crab, pale and quivering. Lasagne itself was pretty good – delicate discs of pasta, almost translucent. Light, crustaceous flavour. The surrounding veloute tasted a little too much of Noilly Prat. Main courses: for me, daube of venison with celeriac puree. The meat was delicious – dark, rich, and sticky. I think its tendency to ‘stewiness’ is a function of the quantity of sauce they serve, which is substantial. The dish suffers from an overbearing sweetness, I think. The confluence of slow-cooked meat and onions, rich sauce, and butter-laden celeriac bordered on sickliness. There were a few slivers of bacon thrown in, but even these were cured, serving to exacerbate the problem. Dad had the fricassee of lamb with white bean cassoulet and thyme. I didn’t get at chance to try this, but the lamb was cooked nicely pink and served in a generous portion. I got a decent waft of thyme as it flew past my head. We split a plate of cheese for dessert, weighing in at £6.50. 6-7 slivers served, including a flavourless Tomme de Savoie. I am unable to list the rest: the waiter was so hasty I though he was going to feed me all 7 pieces at once. Since the restaurant was busy we had difficulty making out the names of the cheeses from behind the waiter’s wayward moustache. When asked for clarification, he became openly irritated and swiftly rushed off. I’d agree with Matt that the food was satisfactory. However, service was wanting. The first words uttered to us were ‘name?’: no ‘welcome’, no ‘good evening’, not even a ‘please’. The big cheese floor manager led us to our table as though he was doing us a favour by seating us. The actual cheese guy got cheesed off. We were billed twice. I have the feeling that the popularity of the place is engendering complacency amongst the crew. This, and the fact that they are understaffed, significantly detracts from the dining experience. There were a few niggles with the service the first time I visited, but I put these down to teething problems, a defense unavailable to them this time around. One aperitif, 2 courses each, a force-feeding of cheese, decent bottle of Gewurtztraminer, glass of Banyuls: £100. I do like Galvin, but with the price creeping up to £50 a head, there are better, more polite options around.

I am also surprised, and sorry, to hear about your disappointing experience. I took matching food and wines on a Friday night and was treated like royalty. The food was beautiful and I loved the atmosphere. I was eyed with some suspicion by one of the twins as I removed my jacket so that I could take off the jumper I had on underneath, though.

Since I was one of Andy’s companions on this visit, the photographs (should he get succeed in getting them up) in his post are of the same meal I had. I’ll forgo any comments about the room and the service, since these have been adequately covered previously. To the food… Thursday was my first visit to RHR. We booked a month in advanced. We trained hard, slogging through 1 and 2 star spots to prepare ourselves for Gordon’s golden goose. I took the day off work. This should have been big. This should have been something. This could have been a contender. I digress. Despite the flippancy of our coin toss, it was time to get serious. An amuse bouche of pumpkin and parmesan soup arrived with a cute spoon-shaped biscuit. The soup was, well, pumpkin and parmesan soup – no more, no less. A swirl of truffle oil. A smattering of soggy mushrooms. Truffled butter. I forwent the long-standing mosaique of foie gras for a pressed terrine of pig’s trotter and ham hock. The terrine was moist and delicate, with the smoky backdrop of pork. The ubiquitous streaks of which Andy spoke were hollandaise and balsamic vinegar reductions, both of which were sharp enough to lend structure to the softness of the terrine. The accompanying croque was unremarkable, for two reasons. Firstly, despite the vividness of the photograph, the yolk was a little bland, not the liquid sunshine I was expecting. Secondly, a slice of unadvertised black truffle was rubbery and virtually tasteless. I also sampled the foie gras, which I felt was unsuccessful. I see the point – the hoi sin accompaniment taking the place of the usual sweetness in a foie preparation. But the whole slab was slick and wet, glistening to the extent that I thought it might slide off the plate into our companion’s lap. I like my foie gras served with relative simplicity. As Keller says, the great thing about foie gras is that it’s foie gras. If it’s good, then there should be no messing around: ‘your job is to try to make it show what it really is’. Here, the foie gras was given no chance to shine. I swapped out again here in order to try the signature dish of langoustine ravioli. Technically faultless, I felt it lacked a little punch. The centre of the ravioli was almost too delicate – the texture of the crustaceans was there, but I wanted to taste the sweetness of their shells and the clean saltiness of the sea. Casing was textbook – perfectly al dente. Lobster bisque was reduced to the extent that I almost had to peel it off the plate, a recurring theme. Perhaps a result of too much time at the pass? Nonetheless, this had the intensity of flavour missing from the ravioli itself. Next was fillet of turbot with tagliatelle, coriander and citrus veloute. The outstanding dish of the afternoon, and the only one that added up to more than the sum of its parts. Turbot was moist, delicate, and punchy at the same time, the surface of the slick, bright flesh burnished to the colour of buttered toast. Atop this rested a few crunchy juliennes of mange tout. The base of the dish was a coil of coriander tagliatelle and sweet strands of carrot. The pasta resisted the tooth and was lightly fragranced with coriander. Veloute, poured at the table, elevated the dish: smooth in texture, sharp in taste, and lingering with candied citrus fruit, it harmonised the disparate tones of the dish. All of us plumped for the fillet of Angus beef with braised cheeks and Barolo sauce. Another signature dish, I was eager for it to justify its long-standing inclusion on the menu prestige. The pictures you see are of my beef, which I ordered blue, and felt was a hair overdone, but no more. The flesh was tasty enough, but would have been unremarkable in the absence of a bed of treacle-sweet confit onions muddled with spinach. Braised cheeks were as rich and soft as expected, but their fragrance had been overplayed by too much star anise. Mash was, well, mash. This accompanying tower carried a lid of further unadvertised slices of black truffle, as redundant as those thrown in with the terrine. As with the veloute, stocky gravy was poured at the table, spiced with Barolo. At this stage Andy and I opted for cheese in place of a pre-dessert of crème brulee. Cheeses were from Premier Cheese. Our server was excellent – knowledgeable, and with decent recommendations. Although, when I quizzed her about the age of the Comte, she informed me that ‘you can’t really say’. It’s true, you can’t say if you don’t know. Our palate cleansing first dessert was chanterais melon with fromage frais and mint, served in a champagne flute with a cute glass straw. This was a Ronseal dish – it did exactly what it said on the tin, and was all the better for it. The essence of melon was there; the taste of the sun. My excitement was piqued by the offer of tarte tatin as an alternative dessert, to be shared amongst 3 of us. It was served with the requisite theatre, entering on a trolley and sliced at the table. The moment of slicing sowed the seeds of suspicion – the pastry crumbled too easily and hunks of fruit dismounted from their base. In addition we each received a scoop of vanilla ice cream peppered with black dust. As I’ve said before, I’m a sucker for hot and cold combinations in desserts, so this appealed to me. But the tart was simply disappointing. Chunks of apple lacked caramelisation and texture, and the pastry collapsed, dry and chalky. Vanilla ice cream was ok, but missing a depth of vanilla flavour. By this time the staff were beginning to iron the tablecloths for dinner service, so we moved to the seating area to take coffee. Andy’s aforementioned ‘orgasm balls’ were indeed quite moreish, though I was more turned on by the light discs of chocolate laced with passion fruit from L’Artisan. My overriding emotion since last Thursday’s visit has been disappointment. Almost everything we ate worked, but none of it worked miracles. Service was impeccable, ingredients amongst the very best, and technique largely flawless. But it wasn’t enough; it didn’t come together in the symphony I was expecting. Perhaps I didn’t have a right to such expectations – but I was £100 lighter when I left, without wine. I know that Ramsay’s cuisine is not about fireworks. What it is about, as I gather, is hitting the target, bang on, without exception, every single time. It’s about consistency, technique, delicacy. When these fail, what remains? As I write I realise that I am in danger of opening up a discussion many of you have already had (re: Chez Bruce) on the subjectivities of the restaurant experience. Whilst I followed that thread closely (more as an English graduate than anything else), I failed to relate it to my own experience until Thursday. Did I want too much from RHR? Why was my meal at the Ledbury the next day so much better? Was it because it didn’t have to carry the huge weight of expectation nurtured by branding, Michelin, et cetera? In comparing RHR to The Fat Duck, my only other 3* experience, am I being unfair? That said, when I step back, these things in mind, I still believe the meal should have been better than it was. At the least, everything should have been technically spot-on. This is a menu prestige that the kitchen has been fine-tuning for years; this should have been 7 courses of pure Ramsay. Is it the case that his cuisine doesn’t lend itself well to a tasting menu format? I concur with Andy’s observations about Tom Aikens: it isn’t always on the money, but I still want to go back there more than anywhere else in London right now. I didn’t want Ramsay’s cooking to be something else, to be like someone else’s, to be crazy or innovative. I just wanted it to be Ramsay, all present and correct. It wasn’t.

indeed. on Tuesday night it was historic. the 2002 comte was spot on ← I have to agree - I had the same 4 year old Bernard Antony comte at The Capital 3 weeks ago. It was a highly pleasurable experience. Gavin - thanks for the heads up about cheese at the Greenhouse. Who supplies them?

Although has been almost a month since I visited Pied a Terre, it seems no one has passed comment for a while, so I do my best to cobble together a review. We sat in the smaller room, at the front of the restaurant. The atmosphere is buzzy, but this is a product of the tables being slightly too close together, I feel. We took the tasting menu, whose shape appears to have changed little for some time, going on previous posts. It went something like this… Bread was competent, with an excellent walnut variety but an indifferent tomato. Good, unsalted butter only. An array of canapés arrived on a raised plinth. A soft, thin slice of foie gras sandwiched between two crunchy shards of filo pastry was probably the best of the lot. A wild mushroom beignet with plenty of woody crunch also stood out. There was one with fondant potato that I remember as fairly bland. Next we had an amuse which incorporated a beetroot foam, though I struggle to recall little else. Pepper Seared Tuna, Caper and Green Bean Salad, Parsley Oil and Soft Poached Quail Eggs - a warm, rich yolk against the cold minerality of the tuna lifted this above many (increasingly common) tuna first courses. Since I remember hardly tasting parsley, this suggests that the oil was redundant. Pan-fried Scallops with Carrot and Star Anise Puree, White Grape and Lemon emulsion – whilst I cannot fault the cooking of the scallops, there was too much sweetness in the dish for my taste, with the carrot, grape, and scallops themselves all contributing. The emulsion lacked sufficient sharpness to counterbalance this. Seared and Poached Foie Gras with Fresh Pasta and Sauternes Consommé – the consommé was poured around the dish at the table, and left a wonderfully heady, sweet aroma in the room. The bite failed to live up to the bark, however, since the broth was under-seasoned. Seared foie gras was textbook: gloriously rich and fatty. Poached foie gras was less successful. Encased in tissue-thin pasta, the liver had hardened almost to a pulse, and lost its characteristic sticky indulgence. Roasted Cod with a Ragout of Lentils and Root Vegetables, Celery Puree, Oxtail, and Red Wine Sauce – unfortunately, I remember little about this dish apart from the small beignet of braised oxtail, which was fantastic, with the salty crunch of the casing melting into soft, sweet meat. Best end of Salt Marsh Lamb with Turnip Gratin, Honey Glazed Turnip, Garlic Cream and Pommery Mustard Sauce – lamb was perfectly seasoned, though a little overdone. It had retained sufficient sweetness to spar well with the treatments of turnip, of which the gratin was beautifully sticky and honey-sweet. Tomme d’Abondance with a Pear and Walnut Chutney – the cheese arrived pre-sliced, with a cute little jar of chutney, sporting a hand-written label. A separate platter of crisp date bread arrived. The cheese itself was ok, nicely nutty but with a little too much waxiness. Now I am a very greedy boy, and was disappointed by this composed cheese course. The size of the slice itself notwithstanding, I love to choose from a cheese trolley groaning under the weight of fromages, and enjoy discussing the cheeses with the server. A couple of nights later I ate the Tasting Menu at Le Gavroche and the generosity of their cheese course was astonishing – I must have had 8 cheeses from a huge trolley. Rhubarb Crumble with Rhubarb Sorbet – a deconstructed crumble, with biscuity crumbs smuggled beneath a quenelle of sorbet. More of a pre-dessert than a course proper, this was very refreshing. I find that good rhubarb sorbet tends towards a fizziness on the tongue, which I like. Bitter Sweet Chocolate Tart, Macadamia Nut Mousse and Stout Ice Cream – my memory of this course is hazy to say the least, though I recall a fantastically rich sliver of tart. Service throughout was attentive and the staff were keen to engage in dialogue. I suspect that this may have been a product of a paucity of tasting menus that evening – we were seated next to a couple who chatted incessantly about money and wolfed down their meal in 40 minutes, tops. I was not over-awed by the experience. Unfortunately, I am unable to compare it to its pre-fire days, since this was my first visit. But there is little to really excite going on here, with the exception of solid ingredients, solidly cooked. At this cost (£55.50 3 courses, £75 tasting) I really was expecting a little more than that. Since I was neither blown away by the food, nor particularly pampered, I felt I had a competent 1-star meal, and no more. Apologies for the cloudiness of some of my descriptions, but perhaps the vagueness of my recollections is telling. Has anyone else been in recently? I would be interested to hear more thoughts.

The current (or should that be currant?) a la carte is as follows, with parentheses as they appear on the menu: Starters Creamy carrot soup, 'Fruit and Nut', Granny Smith Apple Puree, Truffle Oil Warm Scallops, Welsh Rarebit, Prunes, Curried Cream, Yoghurt Creamy Gruyere Cheese Risotto, Chilled Avruga Caviar, Mushroom Parchment, Pimento (Simple Flavours) Butter Baked Trout Fillet, Smoked Salmon Beignet, Saffron Soaked Apricot, Smoked Almonds, Shellfish Butter (Spring Flavours) Gateau of Haggis, Swede Brunoise, Drambuie Soaked Sultanas, Oatmeal, Toasted Buttered Crumpet, Horseradish Cream ('Scotland the Brave') 'Boudin Blanc', Black Pudding Crisps, Blue Cheese Biscuit, Smokey Bacon, Black Olive Gateau, Yeast Cream (£5 supp.) Mains Baked Fillets of Turbot, Savoy Cabbage, Lemon Tart, Olive and Onion 'Gateau', Red Barley, Kipper Glaze (£5 supp.) Seabass 'Battenburg' (sic.), Green Olives, Peas, Fig Puree, Sweet Mint Glaze (A Spring Dish) Slow Roasted Fillet of Local Pork cooked through, Wild Rice, Saffron Aubergine Chunks, Feta Cheese, Garlic Beignet, Earl Grey Glaze Tender Cooked Beef Fillet, Assiette of Mushrooms, Custard Tart, New Potato, Truffle and Madeira Glaze Best end of Lamb, Saffron Noodles, Tomato and Pimento Gateau, Brazil Nut Shortbread, Rosemary and White Chocolate Drops Glaze (£5 supp.) Desserts French Cheese from Jeraboams (£5 supp.) Juniper Specialty Individual Classical Glazed Lemon Tart Milk Chocolate Tart, Salty Chocolate, Mango Creme Brulee, White Chocolate Cookie Ice-Cream Crushed Hob Nob Creme Brulee, Classical Tiramisu, English Trifle, Oatmeal Ice Cream 'Grand Assiette of Juniper Desserts' - Selection of 7 Desserts (£7 supp.) Coffee & PF £3.75 or Warm Creme Anglaise, Vanilla, Chocolate Drops £6 3 courses, £40 A fair few tarts and gateaux in the mix, even on the a la carte. The mind boggles. Hardly less scary than the tasting menu, Bapi, as you can see. I hope this helps.

I agree wholeheartedly with Bapi. I've been at Sketch (Gallery) and Le Gavroche in the last month, and the former was largely forgettable. We took the 'Matching food and wine' menu at Le Gavroche and it was a great evening. Classic combinations, impeccably prepared. As many have mentioned, the service is flawless: involved, intimate, but not intrusive. Generous, too: they must have topped up my wine glass at least 5 times, despite the fact that this was a 'glass per course' tasting menu. And yes, be sure not to go crazy with the layers: it can get a little stuffy down there.

A second meal at The Ledbury this week, following Tuesday evening’s tasting menu. The team greeted us enthusiastically and led us to a table with a great view of the whole dining space. We started with a gin and tonic and took our time over the menu. I was assured that I could construct a new tasting menu, given my recent visit, but one of us was entertaining that evening and was keen to maintain an appetite. Canapes were the same as Tuesday. The amuse of truffled artichoke soup with salt cod arrived. Unlike Tuesday evening, black truffle shavings appeared this time. This addition served only to accentuate the superfluity of the cod, which was over-seasoned this time and detracted from the sweet elegance of the soup. On Tuesday night the lasagne of rabbit had been my favourite dish, and I was disappointed to learn from the chef that it was due to be replaced. I debated over the new lasagne or the terrine of veal cheek, but was persuaded by the prospect of the morels Andy and I had seen in the kitchen a few days earlier. The updated lasagne is with confit chicken, and arrived with two large morels, two pieces of caramelised chicken, and a foam of arbois and thyme. Lasagne mk. II is an improvement. Again, the pasta was sleek and light, with sufficient bite. There is a subtle pungency to the filling that suggests a cheese, but I have yet to confirm this. However, the new lasagne wins out thanks to the introduction of diverse textures. The accompanying chicken had its skin crisped, and the morels were fat, firm, and toothsome. I must admit that my judgement is in part motivated by my excitement over the new season’s morels, but I still expect the kitchen to shift a lot of lasagne. Main course was a fillet and daube of beef with a croustillant of celeriac and cepes. Fillet was dense and nicely underdone, with deep scarlet interior. The smaller piece of daube was spectacular: dark, glossy, with the deep red colour of port. As I flaked into it with a fork (knife not required), the melting strands of fat revealed themselves before sinking back into the rich flesh. The daube sat atop a mound of spinach, which was tasty, if not remarkable. The croustillant revealed the chef’s love of seasonal ingredients, and particularly his judicious use of wild mushrooms, which appear heavily on the menu. As such, the filling was the sort of jazzed-up mash the dish required, with the light, crunchy casing providing a nice crispy contrast to the soft meat. Having washed the sticky beef down with an equally sticky red, at this point my concentration erred slightly from dessert. The yuzu parfait I had was light and sunny, with excellent tuiles. My only frustration was that the kitchen kept us waiting some time for this, by which time I needed another glass of the excellent dessert wine. Coffee and petits fours are nothing to write home about, thankfully, since they were accompanied by a glass of amaretto. A second visit reveals the a la carte to be as distinguished as the tasting menu. My first two courses were largely faultless, and I reserve judgement of dessert for my next visit, which is on Friday (lucky, I know). It is worth noting that Brett was not in the kitchen (though he did come over and say hello when he dropped by), yet the quality remains exceptionally high. Apologies of the lack of photographs, but this was a business lunch. Ditto lack of ballpark cost.

On the spur of the moment, called The Ledbury on Tuesday night and booked a table for 9.15pm. Ended up taking what transpired to be a great value tasting menu with Andy (Fenn). I hope that he is able to upload the pictures, since I am currently having trouble doing so. We were soon treated to a tasty canapé, of an ultra-light wafer with foie gras parfait and ground cayenne pepper. Salty, crunchy, and appetising, I’m sure this would have been well-matched to a decent champagne had our budgets stretched that far. Our amuse was miniature bowl of Jerusalem artichoke soup, in which sat a sphere of salt cod. The cod was hot, crisp, and well-seasoned, but actually drew attention away from the sweet, fragrant pale liquid. The soup itself was truffled, but with a lightness of touch that allured rather than overwhelmed. Loin of Tuna wrapped in Basil with a Salad of Radish and Soy Having experienced a number of oriental-inspired tuna amuses/starters recently (most notably at Pied a Terre and Le Gavroche), the fish here stood out amongst the competition. The tuna itself was clean and fresh and rested on a wafer-thin slice of pickled daikon, which provided a touch of citrus sweetness. Deep-fried shallots lifted the accompanying salad, which impressed Andy no end, as I’m sure he will confirm. A few streaks of oyster mayonnaise lent a background of minerality, and the streak of basil a sweet fragrance. A lip-smacking, cleansing dish. Lasagne of Rabbit and Chanterelles with a Veloute of Thyme This was my favourite dish of the evening, and it is easy to see why it has been on the menu from day one. We were later informed that this was to be it’s last night in its current form. I could have eaten this a million times over. The pasta was slippery and dense, and I sensed a light cheese flavour, though I may be wrong. Graham’s love of mushrooms is clear and there were some unadvertised cepes in the dish, in addition to a deep, rich mushroom puree. The accompanying veloute was light and frothy, with the subtlest sniff of thyme, a sprig of which topped the dish (which I ate). The rabbit was moist and gamey, and this adds up to an exceptional seasonal dish. Seabass with Pumpkin Gnocchi, Pumpkin Puree, and Ginger Andy will wax lyrical about this dish, since it was by far his favourite of the evening. I did suggest that was in part motivated by the slightly disappointing fish preparations he had during our lunch at Tom Aikens the Friday before, since the sea bass here was an essay in texture: chunky, moist flesh fused to a salty, crispy skin. Pumpkin gnocchi were sweet and bouncy, with a crisp edge, having been finished off in the pan. These were topped by a smattering of trompettes de la mort, which provided a nice nutty contrast to the sweet gnocchi. A smear of pumpkin puree was similarly sweet next to half a tiger prawn. Warmth and spice fizzed lightly across the plate in the form of a pumpkin foam touched with ginger. Another impressive dish. Roast Foie Gras with Port Glazed Pear, Fig Puree, and Grue de Cocoa This dish commands a £5 supplement on the a la carte, giving an indication of the value represented by the tasting menu. Overall, I think this is a dish that will polarise judgment. Whilst I thought that bitterness of the grue (the husk of the cocoa bean) prevented the potential sickliness of a foie gras preparation, Andy disagreed. In the least, the layer of grue had been caramelised so as to give a crisp edge to the soft foie, which I liked. Poached pear was a nice, sharp twist on the (infuriatingly common) fruit/foie combo. A light foam of cocoa also had a light touch of coffee flavour, which married well with the grue. There was a light sprinkling of (I think) five-spice to finish off the dish. The liver itself was melthingly soft: Andy and I saved the kitchen a job my mopping up the unctuous fat with good rye bread. Budget-conscious, the sommelier was more than happy to split a glass of sweet wine for us here. Incidentally, it is worth noting at this point that whilst the service was largely fantastic, it lacked the telepathic quality of the best 2 and 3-star venues: a number of times we had to ask for bread, and even then it often took its time to arrive. Even so, this was a very minor flaw on what was otherwise wonderfully attentive treatment. Assiette of Pyrnenean Milk-Fed Lamb with Creamed potatoes, Truffle, and Celery 3 treatments of lamb here: braised shoulder, rump, and a beignet, which also contained the braised shoulder meat. Andy quickly identified a smoky edge to the rump. Brett later informed us that this is a result of baking the lamb in hay for a short time. The rump was very pink and sweet, which bespoke youth: these were 2-month old animals. Unfortunately this delicate cut didn’t quite stand up to the truffled mash, which had a more natural truffle flavour thanks to the incorporation of truffle juice. The gamier, meatier shoulder cut fared much better in this regard, as did the crisp, salty beignet. Thinking back, a second minor gripe – our lamb arrived almost immediately after they had cleared out foie gras, to the extent that we had not had time to order a glass of red to accompany this course. Cheese Having eyed the trolley on a trip to the bathroom, we decided to split a cheese course. Again, the staff were very accommodating, and allowed us a very generous portion of cheese, served with knowledge and interest. I struggle to remember the names, but we had a wonderfully soft Italian cheese (at 3 o’clock on the plate) which really stood out. A pre-dessert of sauternes jelly with apricot and vanilla arrived before cheese, but we held off until afterwards. This was perfectly pleasant: subtly sweet, and lightly perfumed with vanilla. Chocolate soufflé with honeycomb and banana As this arrived at the table, the surface was pierced and a quenelle of banana ice cream dropped in, followed by a beautiful sauce of dark chocolate. The soufflé itself was fantastic – feather-light, it frothed and evaporated on the tongue. I am a huge fan of hot and cold dessert combinations, and loved the contrast of temperatures and textures here. This said, I did feel that the honeycomb was a texture too far: the coarse edges jarred a little in the soft, frothy surroundings. We both enjoyed this, but, having both been to Aubergine recently, couldn’t help but compare it to the phenomenal banana crumble variety there. By this time it was close to 1am and we shared the room with only one other table. Andy and I went down to the kitchen, which is compact, to say the least. Brett Graham showed us the tiny lambs (£65 each) and the new morels for use in the updated lasagne. The youth and enthusiasm displayed by the front of house is clearly reflective of the chef himself, who chatted to us for a good 20 minutes about the atmosphere in the kitchen and the logic behind the tasting menu. Refreshingly, he asked us for our thoughts on the meal and listened intently to the few minor criticisms we had. It was a great way to end the evening. Graham’s cooking is commendable given the number of covers the restaurant does. The menu bespeaks a passion for quality, seasonal native produce. This was also clear from talking to Brett, who continues to offer the lamb despite making a loss on the dish. Two tasting menus with 4 glasses of wine and a split cheese course came to just over £150, which we agreed was a steal both for the level of cooking and the value of the experience. Future visits are guaranteed (see below).

Bapi, thanks for your compliments, an encouraging response to my first real post. If you have never visited before then I would always urge you to give it a try at least, simply to expand one's horizon of experiences. That said, it probably speaks volumes that (my London location notwithstanding) I couldn't see myself returning in the near future. The Gourmet Surprise menu assimilates many elements of the a la carte, and, as I said, there were few dishes which had me yearning for a 'full-size' portion. The turbot, though, was one of these. I have a copy of the A La Carte if you'd like an indication of that, Bapi. Thanks also to Winot and muichoi for your positive responses. I was rather proud of 'pearlescent'.

Ate at Juniper for a joint celebration last Saturday evening. We arrived on time for a 7.30 table and were immediately led downstairs to the bar area to peruse the menu. The bar itself was cosy enough. I had a glass of the house champagne with the Japanese rice crackers on offer. The waitress forgot to put gin in my brother’s gin and tonic, but she was nice about it, so we’ll let her off. Having swiftly decided on the Gourmet Surprise menu, we had a brief discussion with the same waitress regarding wine (there seems to be no real sommelier here) and settled for a Gewürztraminer on the basis that there would be only a single red meat course. The dining room itself is intimate, but there were enough occupied tables to give the place some vibrancy. This is no place for hushed tones. A platter of bread arrived which the staff struggled to manoeuvre onto the table, nervously. The front of house is young, and the service throughout was a little jittery. Bread itself was ok, uniform slices of soft brown. Good butter. First dish: red pepper gazpacho with a white chocolate biscuit To kick-off, a pairing of savoury and sweet which was to pervade the whole meal. The gazpacho was sharp and sweet, seasoned in part by a floating caper. Accompanying biscuits were nice enough – chewy in a flapjack kind of way – though we were puzzled as to what they added to the dish as a whole. Almost immediately we had a ‘gift from the chef’. ‘Gift’ is dubious: dried banana with dried mushroom and blackberry. Now, I’m a fan of dried fruits (and ‘shrooms) but these were sliced so thinly that they had taken on the feel of stale fruit n’ fibre (don’t ask). It seems that Kitching has not lost his taste for dehydration since adt visited last year. Cottage cheese, tomato jelly, avruga caviar and cheese foam: possibly my favourite dish of the evening, this was the second of 6 shot-glasses we received. I think it was the friction of textures that did it for me – the frothiness of the foam, the creamy cottage cheese, sweet, thick jelly, and the soft saline burst of caviar. This was the first demonstration of Kitching’s ability to give a real depth of flavour to the fashionable foam. Grape juice with yeast foam: another course, another shot glass. Again the foam was very good, threatening to taste of marmite but pulling back at the last minute. Strong, stocky flavour. In combination with the light sweetness of the juice, an accomplished dish. Gruyere risotto with cardamom and salted chocolate: the first real course of the evening, thankfully, since at this point my siblings wondered whether they were going to have to neck their 12 course meal from shot glasses. The surface had been caramelised, and they’d thrown in a couple of dried blueberries, natch. That said, the risotto was perfectly cooked and the cardamom added a subtle fragrance. I love salted chocolate, but this piece was a. very small, b. irrelevant, and c. milk chocolate. Carrot soup with black truffle: a surprisingly pedestrian effort at this stage, but one that had us all smiling and scraping the insides of our teacups. The truffle lifted the vegetable from the earthy to the ethereal without dominating it. I think they had used a combination of truffle oil and truffle juice. Trout with barley, mint, prune and dried fruits: a collective sigh of relief when they removed our spoons and set down knives and forks. Even I was beginning to tire a little of the sweet/savoury malarkey, but an ancillary advantage was that a couple of bottles of the gewurtz. carried us through the whole meal. The red barley was underseasoned and added little more than a textural interest. The mint leaf had been deep fried, I think, and it crackled against the soft prune. Trout was perfectly cooked – moist and pearlescent. Turbot with apricot puree, caramelised almond, parsley oil, and smoked salmon: turbot is a strong fish, robust enough to hold its own with a number of combinations. Even so, this dish only just came together satisfactorily. Once more, the fish had been perfectly cooked, and I could happily haven eaten the fillet unaccompanied. A cube of salmon added the oily flavour of the sea that the turbot lacked, and I think that the former lent itself better to the juxtaposition of sweet flavours. Chicken boudin blanc with white cookie and curry sauce: another example of Kitching’s ability to extract and distil flavour, this boudin blanc tasted more of chicken than a lot of chicken I’ve had recently. The foaming curry sauce was light and fragrant, spiked with a little asafoetida. In this case, the presence of the cookie was less jarring. This was in part because the softness of the boudin required some textural friction, and also because the cookie had been laced with ginger, providing a common theme. Fillet of beef with custard tart, button mushrooms, fondant potato, mushroom parchment, and a balsamic sauce: fondant potato was perfectly cooked (though I find in general in tends towards blandness) and provided a nice, firm contrast to the soft mushrooms. Perhaps I have a philistine palate, but the ‘parchment’ tasted of rice paper and little else. I love mushrooms, and here they were soft, woody, and well seasoned. The meat itself was fantastic: rich, tender, perfectly cooked, and lifted by the sticky balsamic reduction. Finally, the sweet, eggy custard tart was tasty enough in itself, but failed to assimilate itself successfully into the dish as a whole. I need to give more though to this combination – has anyone else had this dish? Cheese from Jeraboams: disappointing, though not unexpected - I live about 10 minutes walk from Jeraboams and have not once been in to buy cheese. We were more excited about the fig rolls in the biscuit tin. Butterscotch milk: the thin consistency of cold milk with the thick, teeth sticking taste of caramel. Reminded me a little of a condensed milk dessert we used to have on trips to Bangladesh. Buck’s fizz sorbet arrived mounted by a swirling layer of yoghurt, as adt described. It was the best of the final three sweet dishes, the tartness of the sorbet cutting through the cream. Lemon tart inspired no complaints, but no sighs of pleasure, either. It was a solid dish, with a light and crisp base, but no more than that. Mango crème brulee was light and creamy, and riddled with fragments of mango. The surface gave a satisfying crackle. One criticism was that the tart and the brule were too similar – they slightly sharp, sweet body beneath a caramel crust. In fact, we felt a little citrus overload towards the end of the meal. Desserts were a disappointment, especially given a. the obvious skill of the pastry chef and b. the interest in sweet flavours throughout the meal. Petits fours of truffles and mini chocolate tarts were nice enough, and the kitchen clearly has a pastry chef of some skill. The wine list is a decent size and offers a number of half-bottles, decently priced. For a real celebration, Krug ’88 is on the list at a remarkable £115. As a point of comparison, on Monday it was on The Ledbury’s list at £270. Ouch. Overall, this was a frustrating a slightly disappointing meal. I am very much of the mind that one visits a restaurant for an experience, not simply for 12 plates of sustenance. Juniper is fun, and laid-back (the diners seem to take the food more seriously than the restaurant), and serves up many playful combinations. Some work, many don’t, but there is intelligence in the cooking, and it’s liberating to take the ride. On the other hand, I would be more inclined to revisit this ‘destination’ restaurant if more of the dishes were coherent. The Fat Duck is similarly playful and theatrical, but serves up far more hits than misses (granted, at a much higher cost). The experience resonated with something I read in The French Laundry Cookbook a couple of days ago. Keller says that he serves 'five to ten small courses, each meant to satisfy your appetite and pique your curiosity. I want you to say, "God, I wish I had just one more bite of that".' At best, only 2 or 3 of Kitching's dishes inspired such a response. The Gourmet Surprise menu is £65 for 12 courses, with a few ‘gifts’ thrown in. Our dinner for 5 with aperitifs, 2 bottles of wine, a couple of glasses of port, and some Italian dessert wine for me, came to about £450.