MobyP

That's very good. I think any truly creative personality has a curve over which that creativity communicates itself with its audience to a lesser, and then increasingly greater, finally peaking, and then once again on the downhill slope to a lesser degree. I think MPW - who might have been a genius, to hear others speak - burned himself out trying to reach 3 stars; and whereas he himself predicted a revolution in his own cooking during his late 30's and early 40's, he found himself - having attained his superficial goal of 3 stars - and much to his own surprise - with nothing else to say with food; and only the knowledge that it hadn't brought him the 2 other things that he most wanted - money, and happiness. I think he looked around, and being a rampant narcissist, began to believe that if it was true for him, it must be true for all others. For him to maintain his 3 stars, he would have to, from then on, play a defensive game. And Nico Ladenis proved conclusively to the world that you don't need to be a genius to get 3 stars - there are other personality traits that will substitute, if you find yourself fortunate enough to be in possession of them. He knew without a doubt that, having waited for so long - i.e. that his determination and arrogance hadn't made his attainment of 3 stars a certainty, but the latter had been contingent on the former - the sustaining of that ranking would have to be a defensive game. His 'returning' of his stars was as preposterous as his attainment of them had been. I think Alain Ducasse - who to my knowledge hasn't cooked in years - may be unique in being both kinds of genius, but was fortunate enough to realise the ultimate truth - that there were perhaps only a dozen or so people in the world, finally, who were actually qualified to say whether he was or not on his terms. And with the exception of a few gourmands, the sort of bloated, hyper-wealthy, coked-up-escort accompanying uber-class who mistake their association with objects d'art as signifying their higher aesthetic attainment in the world, would never know whether he was or not. But, then, that was never important to them to begin with. What was and is important is his status. His 1st category of genius has been to transmogrify his worker bees - through a vast and brutal pedagogical system - into the kinds of 1st category genii themselves that will allow him to keep his 6, or 9 stars. I think the predicates that Ramsay started with were different to all of the above. I think with help but also impressively on his own, he synthesised the obsessiveness of MPW, the refinement of the Roux, the striving for perfection of Savoy into a pedagogy of his own. Whether this pedagogy is communicable, as it has been for Ducasse, is something we're all waiting to see. I believe that Gagnaire, as I mentioned before, is definitely in the 2nd category of genius. The magician. I don't know enough about him to know if he also possesses the pedagogical gift - although several eG members and reviewers have had extraordinary meals in London - where I understand he commutes to. Probably I should shut up now.....

I think we can know he's not a genius, precisely because we're talking about what would be on the plate. I'm not sure who said it, but I heard once, and agree with: there are two kinds of genius. The first is someone who does exactly what you do, only much, much, much better. And the second is a magician. You could live your entire life, and never know how he/she did what they did. And of course, the first is a misnomer, and not a genius at all. I think Gordon Ramsay is in this category. I think he has the ability to work ten times as hard as anyone he knows; and of course he has the according capacity for that work, as well as a palette to know the difference. I think if something is pointed out to him as a qualitative 'good' or sign of 'excellence,' then he'll work at it over and over until he can execute that skill, or achieve that end product, better than anyone in the vicinity. Ramsay has to win, at all costs, whether it's the perfect quenelle, or three stars. I think MPW said: "perfection, it turns out, is merely doing lots of small things extremely well." I think GR took this to heart, and I think it's earned him his stars, and career, deservedly. His food is, for the most part, immaculate. On a side note, it struck me during the meal that the room at RHR is completely emblematic of his food - warped glass sculptures, perhaps pretty on their own, but completely clashing with the striped wall paper, which clashed horribly with the spotted, speckled mirror, which had nothing to do with the shaved glass wall. Individually, these things were of very high quality, but placing them together - well it looks exactly how it is - someone who doesn't realise why these things weren't meant to be together, picking them up magpie-like, and placing them there 'for your delectation,' so to speak. On a side-side note, and as someone with not much class myself, I didn't notice any of the above unaided. My far classier better-half gave our table a deconstruction of the room that would've embarrassed a mid-coital elephant. (And I don't think we can blame it on the designer - what Gordon wants, Gordon gets. I think the last time he said the words: "oh I don't know, I'll leave it up to you." was during a dream he had when Pele turned to him and asked if he should take the penalty with his left or right foot.) I think Pierre Gagnaire is a genius, as in a magician. When I finished the meal there and walked away, I realised that almost none of my memories of the lunch had to do with the quality of produce, or the execution of a sauce - but rather with emotions, or memories. How something made me laugh, or feel ridiculous, or moved, or touched, or bemused, or revolted, or timid, or leonine. All in the course of one meal. And if I live to be a hundred, I'll never know how he did what he did.

"Have discovered a marvelous proof for the lack of Ramsay's genius, but alas, not enough room in this margin to demonstrate..." Moby's last theorem.

Yes yes - responsibility and all that. There I was, dealing with the trauma of being a Russian Stooge, but no, a fat lot you care. Details, he says. What make of brassiere, he says. And was it really an allegorical chihuahua, or were you just making it up? Ah, it was a great lunch. As for the road - well, Royal Hospital (french pronunciation), obviously, as is cunningly disguised in the title. We were there (3 of us), as I mentioned, for my wife's b-day. The Maitre d' kept throwing different menus at us - Lunch specials - Prestige - a la carte - but he said to my wife that if she wanted to mix and match, they were sure they could work something out. She said "no thanks very much, I'll just have the three courses." I said "thanks very much, I'll have the 7 course Prestige and can I substitute just about everything?" Very graciously, after some tantric yoga involving his generosity and the chef, he agreed. So: Amuse of Pumpkin Soup with truffle oil, and small dice of melting parmagiano. As good as you would expect. Cheese dissolved on the tongue in a manner reminiscent of Spasky's opening gambit against Karpov in '73. Roasted Foie Gras with caramelised endive, and something else - as we can see - entirely forgettable, with a sauterne sauce. Two large, thick slices of foie gras, crispy on the outside, pure custardy pleasure in the middle. It was like the best creme brulee you've ever had - except it wasn't. Not in the slightest. Every creme brulee is complete rubbish compared to this, and I'd suggest we throw them all away, and spend the rest of our lives committing atrocities to ducks, and sending the resulting livers to Gordon so he can fry us up some lunch. Raviolo of wild mushrooms with perigord truffle and a light veloute/vinagrette sauce. This was superb. I had this instead of the Langoustine raviolo - and was right to do so. The langoustine raviolo was merely very, very good, but to its detriment tasted nothing like a mushroom. This however, and in what can only be described as in 'stark contrast,' tasted exactly like a mushroom. Left me smiling like a goat who's exceptionally happy, for whatever reasons goats have. Which of course, no one has any idea about. Roasted Veal Sweetbreads Had this instead of roasted Baby Turbot. The great advantage of the sweetbreads was that everyone else at the table hated them. They were perfectly cooked, of course, and it left me free to castigate loudly the terrible devastation done to Turbot stocks when the little fishies are torn away from their mums, all for the insensitive bastards who demand their roasting, and then stuff themselves at haute cuisine restaurants. Unlike the baby veals, who frankly have no idea what their sweetbreads are actually for, and frankly can't get rid of them quick enough - so long as you offer enough dosh. [Edit to add - my roast sweetbreads had a fried quail's egg on them (I think it was quail), and I was amazed at how the yolk of the egg blended with the meat of the sweetbreads. Great dish. Shame about the poor baby turbots.] Roasted Cannon of Cornish lamb with confit shoulder, Provencal vegetables, and thyme juice. This was very good, and so the let down of the entire meal. The restaurant staff were quite excited however, because it was actually on the menu, which as far as they were concerned, was a big improvement. Selection of cheeses A fantastic old farmer's bike of a cheese trolley, arranged very clearly. Cheeses were wonderful, right temp and ripe as ripe can be. Pineapple Granita on yoghurt with (I think) some compote on the bottom. And a crumpled, frozen coriander leaf on top that would have had Loufood roll her eyes, and then kick her sofa through a window. Tarte Tatin (for 2) Ordered this after Tarka gave it a rough 17,000 out of ten (insisting to me that she smelled truffle in the pastry), instead of a Parfait of something with something poured over something else in the menu. Oh - and here I should mention wine. With this course we ordered a Bulgarian Tokaji (a classic sweet dessert wine, for those not in the know). The two together - half a pound of butter, half a pound of sugar, burned to a tongue-singeing caramelised perfection, a few apples, and a glass of this Bulgarian nectar - well, I think one would have to consider removing ones clothes, and swan-diving Tarzan-like naked into a three ton tank of melted vanilla ice cream with several similarly dis-robed members of Olympic Swedish massage team (middle weight ranking - opposite sex, preferred), in order to experience the savage hit on the pleasure centres that this gives you. After-bits Chocolate truffles filled with liquid caramel - These were - Moriarty-like - fiendishly clever. I must have shoved 48 of them in my mouth before I realised they might have the unforeseen side-effect of killing me stone dead from the 18-wheel truck of sugar heading for my adrenal glands. Pulled back just in time for the: White chocolate truffles, filled with Strawberry ice cream. Which were jolly nice too. We could have left there for under 100 quid a head, I promise (if only I'd managed to suck the moisture out of my napkin). (Un)Fortunately, we were with someone who knew their wines, and has a much, much better job than I do. Anyway, the joys of being a debt-slave are few - but this was one of them. Not including my substitutions, or the wine, the Prestige (lunch) menu comes out at 80 smackers. On a personal note, I’d just like to add: Will now sing Christmas carols for money....

I've decided, of late, that I know two things to be true. Firstly, that the pop band Boney M were without doubt secretly being run by the politburo, through the KGB, as a means of controlling the fragile yet impressionable minds of the decedent West's young. They wanted us all to be anarchists. They wanted assassins. And Boney M is how they did it. The second, is that Gordon Ramsay is not a genius. Although I could be wrong about Ramsay. See, when I was eight years old, and one day walking down the street, change jangling in pocket, my feet metronomically dividing four into four and then eight into eight, a series of words flew at me, as from nowhere, which were so calamitous, so devestating, that I'm haunted to this day. "Ra- Ra- Rasputin, Russia's greatest Love Machine!" I stopped, and so did the words. I resumed, and like someone plugging in a juke box, so did they. I tried running, but the words just sped up (rararasbuttonrussiasgreydestluvmunchin), chasing after me like an insane chihuahua trying to hump my leg. It took me years to get over it. Although Boney M split up, they had completed their mission. They returned to their Soviet handlers, were rolled up in afghany carpets and smuggled out of the country in the back of a transit van. But ever after I had that Ra-ra-Rastputin hole. My monkey. I was a plant, a mole, ready to be reactivated by the KGB at any moment. If ever I heard that song again, I was ready to kill someone - and surely this was the point. Of course, the KGB don't let you go that easy. They tested me every now and then, just to make sure - C'est Chic! - anything by Lionel Ritchie - even the Police, occasionally - and then one day it was gone. Years under the yolk, and then freedom. Ah, I almost wept. Until now. On Tuesday, I was walking down the street, and it came to me: "Gordon Ramsay is not a genius." I tried to throw it away, or scrape it off my boots, but it just stuck. It kept repeating, over and over. I'd had lunch there the day before. It was good. It was really, really good. But it wasn't that good. So - either it's true, and Ramsay's not a genius, or the KGB wants me to kill someone, and it's all because of Boney M. I know where I'm placing my money.

Thanks, everyone. (And 'echire' - thanks arty) I recently brought half a pound of interesting looking butter back from france and used it last night in a tarte tatin - the richness was unbelievable. The problems here are, I imagine, the problems everywhere. The supermarkets all stock the same 'French' brands, which tend to be decent but lowest common denominator, and of course their own brands, which are all (as we say over here) much of a muchness. If anyone knows a great supply in the London area, obviously I'd pay vast amounts for the information.

Club Gascon has been receiving a lot of mixed reviews. It just won that award, though obviously whether you're going to listen to a bunch of professional food critics is entirely up to you. I wonder if Monsieur 'sight-challenged' Higgins has been - I have the feeling he has - and he might have an opinion or two. I hear Hakkasan is unbeatable, but the service is apparently extremely poor, so I don't know how romantic you impaling the waiter with a chop-stick would be (unless you and your girlfriend are both members of the Klingon appreciation society). I have to say - I just took my wife to GR-RHR for her birthday lunch, and it was pretty unbeatable - except for the price (GR-GBH), which with some very nice wine, said 'bye-bye' to 100 quid a head. That said, you could do it for much less. Anyway - you're in the right place. Welcome! And let us know what you chose, how good it was, and how many years you expect to serve in Brixton for attacking that waiter!

very nice report. How does your experience go up against previous egulleteers? Do you think the place has progressed? Is Wareing getting what he wants? And what about them stars?

I've been baking semi-seriously for a couple of years now, and it only recently occured to me that other than on a rather superficial level (salted/unsalted, 82/83% fat etc) I haven't really thought about the differences between butters. So what are the major differences? What does it mean to have a higher water, or fat content? What do the professional pastry chefs in the UK use? Is it different in the US? (I remember there was an article in the dGullet which mentioned plugra - which I've never seen.) What's available if you're willing to go a bit further? Which are the larger brands that people find acceptable? And the smaller brands that no one knows about? Are there any pastry chefs in the UK that can help us out?

A classic of our time.

Ah, but arancini are a reason to live, in my book. And I never seem to have any left over, no matter how much I cook!

I should say also - The Sugar Club (which is a restaurant) has Peter Gordon in the kitchen, a well known New Zealnd chef - so that must've helped for financing. Here's a link if anyone else is interested. It's just off ladbroke grove, near portobello. [edt to add link]

I've been there several times. The most important thing about the operation is that all of the food, to my understanding, comes from the kitchen of The Sugar Club near by - so it's a matter of an already existing operation working up to its capacity, rather than a shop having to lay out for a kitchen plus staff. The food looks great, though I haven't tasted much. Very simple packaging, simple logo, and generally big pot food that you could do relatively simply in bulk, and then sell - so, duck confit, braised lamb shanks etc. They also have some interesting deserts. Beyond that, they have deals with pasta firms, risotto rice etc, to repackage the stuff under the 'Grocer' label - which again is done very attractively. You know the 'generic' section in US supermarkets - like that - one or two words, monochromatic, but much more stylish. The prices are not cheap, though I couldn't place them accurately. Essentially, it's restaurant food, repackaged simply, cheaply, for the deli and take home market. I think it would be well worth looking into duplicating the general ideas elsewhere. Best of luck.

From someone over the seas, who never expects to be able to eat there, your report has been invaluable. Thanks for taking the time. Amazing photographs too.

That's a great review at the top. Are you planing to go back? And if so, could we get a report if you do? And do you know- did they steam the partridge, or roast it? Cheers.

Tarka - can I sign on for your Fat Duck/Waterside Inn voyage? I thought I had dreams of my own - turns out they were yours.

Forty minutes by: 1. Walking 2. Car. 3. Train. 4. Concord 5. Tied to an ICBM? Options 4 and 5 I can help you with. 1-3, I think you might need to take a bunch of us and show us what's good. Andy might know... (I'll see if I can get him down here...)

There's still a bit room at the top: Get a Molteni: Molteni G140 G160 G230 or a Bonnet: Bonnet Maestro I'm so in love I'm in pain.

Have you been to Buyers and Sellers in Ladbroke Grove? They often have high range gear on display - if not quite hooked up to the gas mains. They gave me a fantastic deal on a showroom Viking. Also, there's a pretty good shop in Reigate - opposite the cinema - exit 7 on the M25. They have lacanches, mercury's, Britannias and Smegs on display. Wolf - as you mentioned - split their franchise in two - the home range went to Sub-Zero, and I hear the quality has suffered. On the catering side, they gave it in this country to Hobart. I haven't heard anything about prices though, or ventilation requirements, given how powerful they probably are. Has anyone looked at Mercury (I think that's the name). They're made by Falcon, who do catering pieces, and seem well constructed.

Tarka - without doubt you have to do both. Then you'll have Wd-50, Gagnaire, Bulli, Savoy and RHR in the same year. And then you have to write a compare and contrast, 5,000 words, with no adverbs.

Please note : some of these links may require free or paid registration to view. This week's selection comes from: The Times The Independent The Guardian The Observer This is London And the new Observer Food Monthly. Restaurants Matthew Fort The Anchor & Hope. Marina O'Laughlin at The Wolseley Of course, Jan Moir and Fay Maschler might have also been there - I wouldn't hazard a guess. Marina O'Laughlin shows you where to find a bit of turkey, this Thanksgiving. Jay Rayner in Birmingham - at Jessica's. The continuing adventures of Morgan M. Siobhan Murphy goes to Solyluna, London's first Venezuelan restaurant. A A Gill returns from America, having failed to discover the purpose of life, or get a job as an escort at the new Trotter place, instead decides, after his usual prevarication, to review Shumi. And yet more Shumi... Matthew Norman at Julien in Paris. Fay Maschler - with Fish-man Rick Stein at Rhodes 24 Features Truffles in Croatia? Rosanna de Lisle goes digging. Tim Atkin on the retirement of Spain's greatest winemaker. Food Heston Blumenthal with an extremely impressive recipe for Oxtail. Gordon Ramsey on Snack food. Richard Ehrlich on Lardons. Mark Hix - the perfect Christmas feast. Mutton dressed as Lamb. Rowley Leigh - goes in for chunky winter Soups. Nigel Slater on Sausages. Tamasin Day-Lewis prepares Autumnal dishes. As does Jill Dupleix Wine and Spirits Super plonk. Cellar notes #7: The Shiraz Showdown. Tamasin Day-Lewis - Sloe Gin. Joanna Simon - California Sauce.

Robyn - imagine being in the UK and trying to get a French Laundry reservation. Either you could fax GR now for a date at least one month in the future, or fax them one month from the date, explaining the difficulty - or maybe someone here could call for you. What else are borderline monomaniacs good for? I got a lunch reservation there about ten days ahead with little difficulty. And don't go to Sketch. If you have 500 Euros, go to Paris and have lunch at Gagnaire's place. You'll save hundreds, and it will be the meal of a lifetime.

Tarka - the californians break open a vit C tablet into it - helps the basil stay fresh and green. A good squeeze of lemon juice also helps. Apart from freezing, you can always pour a good layer of olive oil to cover. That should keep you, just about, till Saturday. Also - whadaya taking advice about food storage from a man who puts avocado on his burger for? He should've scraped that thing off before he starts abusing your pesto. Face it - the guy lives dangerously.

Hi el nino - and welcome. Yes I am in fact the Moby. But I thought life as a rock star was a bit 2001, and the career opportunities as a host on eGullet were simply too good to pass up.

Other options: here for basic cookers, hobs etc, And here for something bespoke. Or here for the best of the best. Alternatively, there's a good smeg hob available in the 700 quid range with five or six burners, two of which are (I think) in the 3.5-4.5kw range (I found it on the first link, can't remember the details at the minute), and it means you would have more control over which ovens you pair up with it.