Rhodes Restaurant W1

[Kropotkin]

Paradoxically, given his considerable media profile, the latest restaurant venture of Gary Rhodes seemed to be deliberately demure and inconspicuous. My concierge struggled to locate its number and reach them on the ‘phone. The entrance is also surprisingly discreet: the closed, black, glossy door being secreted away on the North-West corner of the Cumberland Hotel, with the restaurant’s name only evident if you peer closely. Further, the sprawling (and well-signed) Rhodes Brasserie W1 occupies much of the same side of the hotel – to draw the casual or the unwary into what looked a rather brutalist interior. I scurried past and when I pushed at the heavy door, the charming receptionist instantly knew my name. Spookier still, I thought, until I realised I was the last person booked for dinner…

Once within, the bar area (or more specifically, the chairs inscribed with Rhodes’ recipes) looked a little kitsch. But I rather liked the dining area beyond with its faux-gothic, New-Orleans boudoir chic (which, of course, would be kitsch to others). The room isn’t large and the noise from a table of braying young fellows carried a little too easily into my opposite corner, but otherwise, this is a fine spot for dinner (although breaking a sunny day with lunch in this sepulchral gloom might be a little odd).

After the surprise of the retrained exterior and the idiosyncratic décor within, the food is more straight-forwardly classical than I expected. Yet it was also impressive and very accessible thanks to the flexibility built into the menus that allows one to supplement the reasonable £45 dinner option by nudging in a couple of extra courses from a parallel taster menu. Alternatively, one could construct an individual tasting menu from the latter offerings (but note that the individual prices for this DIY option might accelerate your spending appreciably). After much indecision, I ordered an excellent salmon soup (as an extra dish) in which the fish finished poaching at the table as the soup was poured over it. Then came a refined sweetbreads and langoustine salad before a very satisfying beef dish with a watercress puree and a rich faggot sitting on a bed of caramelised onions. While the cherry trifle to conclude didn’t sparkle at the same level, overall this was serious cooking and very enjoyable.

To my mind, this was splendid and there’s little to quibble about. The service was attentive but also smily throughout; the sommelier was very helpful and pretty canny when posed with my selection (although beware: there’s not much available below £45). The cheeses also looked decent as they wheeled past on an Art Nouveau silver trolley. The choice of breads was limited; I’m sure that the simplicity of white or brown was a conscious decision, but some might prefer more variety. The bill was presented in an envelope marked ‘the damage’: an easy gag, but I liked it. Gary's still a cheeky chappy, after all…

I visited because I recalled a good review from Jay Rayner (see here), and I’d concur with his positive noises. But in contrast to the virtually empty restaurant that Jay encountered, the word is now out and all but one table was full on a Thursday evening. You should get there before the prices creep upwards (and, obviously, a year hence, take the opportunity to pontificate about how the place has dumbed-down, lost its early edge since the price hike etc etc etc…)