The Dorchester Grill and Club Gascon

[Steve Plotnicki]

After the Wednesday night eGullet dinner at La Trouvaille, along with a small after-dinner dinner a few of us had at Maroush on the Edgeware Road, Thursday lunch came around pretty quickly and there I was in a cab going from Fitzrovia to Smithfield's Market. I was going to be the lunch guest of a wine dealer who had taken the train in from Suffolk or Norfolk or one of those English counties. A few days earlier when he asked me where I wanted to lunch, I thought it through for a bit, and having failed miserably at getting a reservation at Club Gascon for dinner that night (it was Valentine’s Day,) asked about lunch. A few minutes later I received an email confirming lunch. I guess Londoners aren’t so romantic at lunchtime.

My host was waiting for me when I arrived and was seated at the front table. Club Gascon was different than I imagined. In London, I’m so used to seeing Conranesque restaurant installations everywhere. But Club Gascon was more in the style of French hip/moderne wine bar. A slightly different look that was as refreshing to the eye as the food we were about to eat would be to the palate. Ah here is the new London.

For those who haven’t been, Club Gascon serves food from the Gascogne region of France. But the twist is that it is served in tapas size portions. I believe there are 40 different dishes on the carte. And to go with the extensive selection of dishes they have a wine list with a stunning array of small producer wines from the southwest regions of France. Clearly a place to find that odd bottle of Cahors you’ve been looking for. But the highlight of the restaurant is their list of foie gras dishes. They offer 6-8 cold choices and another 6-8 hot ones. If I have the story straight, our waiter told us that the secret to the place is that the chefs father is a foie gras producer in Gascony and he will only use Papa’s foie. We ate the following,

Gascon Ham

Celeriac puree with truffled vinaigrette

Pipperade de Basquaise avec Jambon

Foie Gras Terrine with Dates

Foie Gras Chaud avec Granite Citron

Zander avec Tomates Confite

Cassoulet

Sweet Caramelized Foie Gras under a sheet of Chocolate

Eating an entire meal in bite size portions was a new one for me. I quite liked it. Having just a taste of cassoulet was sufficient. I have long held that the entrees in top places are boring. I mean what can you do with a hunk of meat? No matter what, it’s meat. And this was different than your basic assortment of tapas which I find to be nothing more than a bunch of hors d’oeuvres. These were laid out to be courses.

By far the foie gras courses were the best. The cold terrine had small bits of fruit laid between the strips of foie and a little squoosh came with each bite. Then the hot foie gras came with a small dish of lemon ices and a tiny spoon so you could put a bit atop the foie. Hot foie, cold ice, sounds more like sex than food eh? But it was a super combo that was spectacularly modern and made me think of my meal at The Fat Duck more than anything else. And bravo Papa for that smooth as silk foie. And it isn’t that the other courses weren’t good, with the Zander (a fish related to Sandre?) being especially good. It’s just that without the foie, they would be just another neo/modern/wine bar/sort of trendy contender.

A few additional things stuck out to me. The style, tempo and portion size compared to principal ingredient in a dish really made me evaluate what I was eating. Suddenly I realized that Gascogne is just a region away from the Basque country and then it made a bit more sense. Gee how many hundreds of years has it taken someone in France to figure out that Gascon cuisine can be deconstructed and reconstituted in this format? But the other thing that struck me, and it is going to make certain people laugh, is that this was the truly ala carte experience that a place like Craft strives for. What ala carte really means isn’t that everything can be ordered separately, the contemporary meaning of ala carte is that the menu is constructed in such a way that everything gets ordered so you can taste it all. Including the entrees. And let’s not discount the wine we drank. For a white, we ordered a half bottle of 1999 Domaine Castera which was refreshing and sort of spritzy. But my host brought a bottle of 1978 Jasmin Cote Rotie that was really special. The only non-Guigal single vineyard Cote Rotie I’ve had that is that old that has had any real life to it. And this bottle was vibrant. A few bravos for creativity and give Club Gascon a rating of [b++]

Fast forward to Sunday 10 days later. I had just finished a five-day eating binge in France, which included a few days acting as a human repository for the local trifalao (sp?) in the Southern Rhone, as well as the Guy Savoy meal in Paris (all to be written up in a separate thread.) But when I arrived in London it was cold and rainy. I went out for a while to see the Paris, Center of the Arts 1900-1968 exhibit (poor) at the Royal Academy and it was cold down to the bone. I was having dinner with someone who works for me and I called him and said to come to the hotel at 7:30. “If it’s really bad out we are just going to eat in.”  He showed up on time, said it was really bad out, and we walked a few steps into The Grill Room.

Does anyone eat Sunday dinner in London or do they only eat lunch? When I was checking in, in anticipation of possibly having dinner there that night I poked my head into the place and it was packed. Not more than six tables had diners at it on Sunday night. But the room was sparkling, with tall silver candelabras and servers in tails. And there was even a guy a few tables away who was regaling his dinner guests with stories about his conversations with Churchill. Now here is the other London. As far away from Club Gascon as one could possibly imagine. And it wasn’t just the style or the décor that was different.  For my first course I ordered the Grilled Scallops served with a Brandade de Morue and a Tomato Concasse. It arrived a while later composed into a round. The tomatoes on the bottom, then a layer of brandade with the scallops laid across the top. I took a bite and I found that I had before me, all in a single dish, the perfect example of the difference between a French kitchen and an English one.

Coarse. That’s the right word for it. The dish was coarse. Everything about it. The tomatoes were chopped up coarsely and the brandade wasn’t smooth. And the scallops? Well they were scallops. But they were placed atop the dish in a sort of, let’s just pile the scallops on until the brandade is covered way. They sort of overlapped each other. If the same dish came out of a French kitchen it would have been the model of smoothness, especially the brandade. And somehow the kitchen would have gone to the trouble of trimming the edges of the scallops in order to get a better fit. And don’t take any of this to mean that it was bad or that I didn’t like it. It was quite good. But it was so masculine in style. And compared to my prior weeks dining experiences was a little shocking. My dinner companion had the Potted Prawns. He said it was tough to get good ones these days. I didn’t taste his. But they were small and brown. I hope that means something to those of you who like potted prawns.

We moved onto our mains. My guest had the Calves Liver. It looked nice and caramelized and was covered with caramelized onions. Too bad I don’t like the stuff. But it looked good. I decided to go traditional and I ordered the roast beef. Actually, I wanted to have something that is served from the trolley. I’m a sucker for trolley service. I’m convinced that things that come from the trolley taste better. In fact I would be happy if they just used the trolley as a way to deliver and serve me food that came from the kitchen. The captain would lift the cover of the trolley and out would jump a waiter holding my entrée who would say “Your food sir.” I used to have someone who worked for me who would always order whatever was on the trolley. The waiter would ask him what he wanted for his main course and he would say, “I’ll take whatever you have under there.”

The thing about trolleys is that they usually have lots of stuff under those heavy lids. This one had a leg of lamb, a large sirloin steak, and a standing rib roast that must have been at least 6 or 7 ribs long. I hate to admit this because I don’t want to sound foolish, but I had never seen a standing rib roast that was actually standing before. I mean my father was a butcher and he used to bring rib roasts home all of the time. We had them most Fridays. But a standing rib roast was really special and was what he brought home for a holiday. It was a much larger roast. But when my mother served it, it was lying down. And so were all the other versions I had ever seen regardless of who prepared it. I guess they couldn’t call it Lying Rib Roast. I mean who would buy it with that name? But the most ridiculous part was yet to come because the waiter had to cut it in that position. Leave it to the English to come up with a way to make their servant’s lives more difficult. The guy looked so silly cutting it that way. I mean try and turn your hand palm up, hold a large knife tightly and cut in a line straight across while holding the roast still with a long fork in your other hand. And thin slices too. He asked me how rare I would like it. I asked him how he intended to find rarer slices since he was near the beginning of the roast and he told me that he would keep cutting until it was rare enough. I just couldn’t let him go on, having visions of a sprained, maybe broken wrist and I told him it was rare enough.

But aside from the good fun because of the service, the roast was delicious. And after they set my plate down, another waiter appeared with a tray of different vegetables. And another waiter came along with condiments. There was Tout-Mange, Savoy Cabbage, Green Beans and two types of potatoes. French Mustard, English mustard and Horseradish Sauce. And they were all on my plate along with three succulent slices of roast Aberdeen beef. And so the riddle caused by the scallop first course, and the difference in style between French and English kitchens was solved. What the English lack in finesse, they make up through largesse.  Dessert was Rice Pudding and Strawberrys that were surrounded by a ring of heavy cream. And not to forget the wine. A half bottle of 1995 Chateau les Ormes de Pez was drinking fabulously. Ripe and concentrated and similar to my experience with other Bordeaux from 1995, drinking extremely well right now. All in all it was a fun and delicious evening [b+].

I love the contrast of these experiences. It’s one of the things that makes London a good town to eat in. If you add a curry, mezze, posh modern British joint as well as a perfectly done Dover Sole at the right place to the mix, you have a week of it. And not a bad week at that. And I have to admit that this meal was homey in a way I could relate to. It reminded me of what dining used to be like when I was growing up. Not the opulence of the surroundings. You can strip that away. It was the style of the dining experience. And it was a good reminder that in the States, our food culture was originally based on the Anglo experience. An experience I still enjoy every now and then.

[A Balic]

Steve - that was a terrific description of two very different meals, I thoughly enjoyed reading it. Club Gascon sounds great, I guess its the logical extention of a tasting menu. If it isn't to rude to ask, how much does an average meal cost at Club Gascon? Sandre and Zander are the same fish (or a least very closely related fish), Pike-perchs (I think they are called 'Walleyes" in the states). On of those bony-fresh-water fish that tastes boring to everybody except the french.

[Simon Majumdar]

Steve - A thoroughly enjoyable post on two very different but very London experiences.

My tuppenceworth

1) The potted prawns - if the were small and brown they were proably spot on.  A great dish if done well and a trad starter if one is having a roast.  Rules does the best.

2) My favourite place for roasts was Claridges, cosseting and superb.  I think the loss of that haven has tainted my views of GR'S@ Claridges

3) I want to hear more about the foie with chocolate.  Texture taste etc.

Mr Balic - I don't think they let australians in, but if you were to really scrub up and put on clean skivvies, a meal for two would be c£130, but worth it.  They have a wine bar next door, Cellar Gascon which I am not fond of but it serves a great list by the glass.  The also have a deli around the corner, Comptoir Gascon which has great produce at extra ordinary prices ( I mean that in a bad way )

[Steve Plotnicki]

Adam-Can't help you with the cost because I didn't

pay. But I emailed the host and asked him to dig up the receipt. So hold on. As for it being the logical extension of a tasting menu, what makes this different is that tasting menus are usually reserved for haute cuisine. What they have done here is to serve peasant food like cassoulet in tasting size portions. I can't think of anyone else who does that.

Simon-The caramelized foie gras with chocolate was good if not invariably gimmicky like all those "off" dishes are. But it allowed them to cook the foie to a firmer texture. Almost to the point where it was like the texture of a soft chocolate itself. I think that top quality foie was imperative for that dish so that it became firm, yet stayed creamy with the extra cooking time it needed to become that consistancy. And the sheet of chocolate atop was somewhat more brittle than the foie and created a good balance.

[Wilfrid]

I too expect potted shrimp to be small and brown, and can I just put in a vote for the version at J Sheekey, just off the Charing Cross Road.

Appetizing post, Mr Plotnicki.  I must go eat something.

[Steve Plotnicki]

Wilfrid-Actually I had dinner at J. Sheekey's on the Tuesday night before I went to CG. No Potted Prawns but I did have a rather large Dover Sole avec accoutrements. It was good but I have to admit that the Sole I get at Le Suquet is usually firmer and I find it more enjoyable. The quality and qualities of Sole seem to be a function of where the fish swim in the channel. In fact the sole you get at Le Dome in Paris, which comes from the Ile d'Yeaux, is firmer than any other version I ever had. This fish was very soft and was a bit more similar to what we can get in the states. But I will try the potted prawns next time.

[A Balic]

Mr Balic - I don't think they let australians in, but if you were to really scrub up and put on clean skivvies, a meal for two would be c£130, but worth it.  They have a wine bar next door, Cellar Gascon which I am not fond of but it serves a great list by the glass.  The also have a deli around the corner, Comptoir Gascon which has great produce at extra ordinary prices ( I mean that in a bad way )

Oh, its one of those "Sir, you must wear shoes in the restaurant!" places. Pity, sounded interesting. And that's Dr. Balic to you Simon.  

Steve - thank you for correcting me, I sometimes get haute cuisine and peasant food confused when there is a large sellection of foie gras to be had.

[cabrales]

Steve -- Your "Sweet Caramelized Foie Gras under a sheet of Chocolate" at Club Gascon sounds good. A dessert the restaurant has offered in the past is foie gras in a lavender sauce. The sauce was blue-ish in color, and more interesting than the somewhat artificial lavender taste one can find in certain bottled syrup offered in Southern France.

[Simon Majumdar]

Adam ( Dr Balic - I didn't know they gave that title for those who did a PHD in Cheerleading and drinking Fosters - who knew ) - I know that most Aussies find it hard if it is a "you must wear trousers to eat here Sir" type of place, but Club Gascon would be worth you shaving your knuckles for.  Steve's description is spot on ( things you thought you would never hear me say.  Like Andy saying, "I insist on paying, Bruce" )

The chance to have what are otherwise rustic dishes in smaller portions gives you the chance ( and indeed the restaurant the chance ) to experiment.  I am not sure if the foie with chocolate works, but if I am paying £8 for it, I might give it a go.  There are some hugely expensive wines on the list.  I wouldn't claim to know if they are over priced.  I have no expertise in that matter, but they also have some bargains and a very good list by the glass.  So, while it is possible to spend a horrible amount there,  it is also possible to have a well valued meal of great quality.  The sign of a great restaurant.

S

[A Balic]

It does sound great, and I will go there next time I am in London.

Fosters is not drunk by any Australians I know. It is horrid chemical crap that only the British would drink (Possibly Americans too). If I could have done my Ph.D. on cheerleading I would have. I'm sure Andy often says "I insist on paying Bruce", slightly before Bah-hahahaha.

[Tonyfinch]

Steve,two good accounts.So there are people who eat in the Dorchester Grill Room.Still think your little B plusses at the end are redundant though.

[Steve Plotnicki]

Tony - Thanks alot for the compliment. But I disagree with you about the ratings at the end. From reading the reviews, there is no way of knowing that I rate CG higher than the Grill Room. I actually thought long and hard about that one before doing it. And I would have put CG in the A catagory if the place and the food were slightly more formal. If there is any difference between a tasting menu and tapas, these guys have gone to the edge. But still, I would say they are still on the tapas side. So the ratings do have some importance. I also think there are lots of people who think of things as numbers and not through words. Maybe the Brits are  bunch of orators but the French are a bunch of mathematicians.  

As for The Grill Room, it has the worst decor in the world. And the chairs are so uncomfortable. Everytime I go in there (almost always for breakfast,) it's like I want to give them some hip interior designers business card. But you would be surprised how many people eat dinner there each night. But I still think lunch is their bigger meal. even on weekdays.

Adam & Simon - How dare you speak of something as brutish as beer in such a sophisticated post. Where do you guys think you are, England?

[macrosan]

I had pre-theatre dinner at the Savoy Grill last summer, in a party of 6. I recall the food as being generally unexceptional, but also uncomplainable. My greatest memory is that when one of the party started to take off his jacket (it was VERY hot in the restaurant) he got no further than one arm out before he was accosted by a waiter AND the maitre d' who helped his arm back into the sleeve and told him firmly that jacketlessness was a mortal sin in the Savoy Grill.

It's a shame the quality of thier air-conditioning and their food didn't live up to their self-image.

[Steve Plotnicki]

Macrosan-First of all I must say that your ten pounds is firmly in my pocket due to Cabrales paying your bets off last Saturday night at Guy Savoy. It appears I am better suited than you are to assess certain egos.

But you said the following,

"I recall the food as being generally unexceptional, but also uncomplainable."

Are you describing the food or life in England (rim shot please.)

At The Dorchester I took my jacket off mid dinner and nobody said boo. In fact, my dinner guest wasn't wearing a jacket.

[macrosan]

Steve, you're right, I reckon you must be a world expert on egos   I am certainly content to rely upon Cabrales' adjudication on the result, that's why I lodged the money with Cabrales at La Trouvaille  

As for jackets at the Dorchester, I've just done a duhhhhh  :confused: I misread your post, and thought you'd been to the Savoy Grill (got confused by your reference to Guy Savoy, you see....) I blame jet lag and a dissipation of certain essential brain cells.... :wow:

[Wilfrid]

The wrestling move is alive and well at Wilton's.  A friend of mine barely shrugged his jacket from his shoulders before he was held down and popped back into it again.  Highly amusing restaurant Wilton's, and I save a lot of money by not being able to go there too often.