Helene Darroze: Le Salle a Manger, Paris

Helene Darroze: Le Salle a Manger

The Dining Room

Just before leaving home for St. Pancras and the Paris-bound Eurostar we read that Helene Darroze has been awarded a 2nd Michelin star - and though we later discover it's for her restaurant at The Connaught in London and not the one in Paris, we still bask in the warm glow of reflected glory - how clever of us to have made reservations at her particular restaurant on this particular day.  So smug are we, that we mis-remember the name of the street (that should be rue d'Assas, not rue d'Arras!) and only make it to the right address by the skin of our teeth, moments before the kitchen closes at 2.30pm.  Phew, that was a close one. 





Stripped of our heavy winter coats and overnight bags, we are whisked upstairs to the dining room - there's a more casual dining option on the ground floor - and, with a sense of urgency, the Maitre d' recites the fixed price menu choices.  The 4-course 54 euro menu keeps it simple with just 2 choices in each category, so it's easy to make a quick selection, and we both go for the same: scallop tartare followed by lamb.  The wine list next and something I've never seen before: wines are divided into 4 price groups - the cheapest band being 80 euros and I think 360 euros was the top bracket.  Eye-watering.  So much so that I have erased the finer details from memory already.  We ask for the by-the-glass list and choose glasses of a dry Vouvray and a Condrieu to start with. 



Scallop Tartare



Thin morsels of cured prosciutto-style ham are presented to graze on while we wait for the scallop dishes to arrive, which are so silky they melt in the mouth.  Another interesting quirk is the use of the spork, though these must be the fanciest versions I've ever seen, and for the most part they do the job, if a little awkward with the slender discs of scallop.  These are gently bathed in an oyster sauce and sprinkled with tiny caviar - such lovely fresh, briny flavors we have to remind ourselves that we are in Paris and not sitting by a rock pool. 

Farmhouse Egg

Next up is a surprise dish - I suppose because there was no choice to be made, the Maitre d' failed to mention it - a perfectly poached organic egg atop finely diced  potatoes and jerusalem artichokes, garnished with a crouton and flakes that taste of parmesan, but look like little coconut flakes.  It's simple and delicious and quite filling.  


Lamb Rack & Rolled Breast



We just have time to order a couple of glasses of red before the entrees arrive - a St. Joseph 'Offerus' and a Nuits St. Georges - to accompany a mini rack of lamb with a piece of rolled stuffed breast, button mushrooms and a puree of celeriac.  Thankfully the sporks have now been replaced with forks and knives - the knives are stamped with the Darroze name and we're told they are a specialty of the Landes area, home of Chef Darroze.  However the meat is so tender and perfectly cooked that even the sporks might have managed. 



Dessert



We've both chosen the chocolate dessert and are not disappointed - milky chocolate mousse sitting on top of a skinny chocolate financier with a slice of pink grapefruit and a dark chocolate sauce.  The pink grapefruit is gatecrashing the party and is totally out of place, but otherwise all the right buttons are pushed. 

By now the restaurant is emptying out - though one party is on to the Armagnac stage, at lunch! Only in France!  We order coffee and it arrives with a dish of chestnut and cassis macaroons.  Intense cassis masks the rich chestnut cream, our stomachs are groaning but we leave nothing but crumbs.

Service has been impeccable, if a little hasty, but then we were up against the clock from the moment we arrived so it's forgivable. 



Macaroons



This restaurant still has a way to go before it gets 2 stars, but it's making all the right noises. As we leave we run into a consultant who works with Chef Darroze in London as well as in Paris - there's clearly a connective tissue between the two venues which is borne out by the authenticity in the food.  We've eaten better, and for less, at one Star restaurants in London, but there was a certain frisson to being here on the day that the Michelin Guide (in its 100th year) recognised Ms Darroze in both cities.

















London Restaurant Festival: L'Autre Pied

 L'Autre Pied

It's Sunday night and we're on the last leg of our LRF marathon.  How appropriate that it's at l'Autre Pied (the other foot, literally), sister restaurant to 2 Michelin starred Pied a Terre.  Marylebone is one of central London's most central neighbourhoods, with a high street full of high end stores.  We even spot 'Ortigia' a retailer of our new favourite Sicilian soaps and make a mental note to come back here for some Christmas shopping. 

As we're a little early having scheduled this dinner to dovetail with one of our other passions - the London Film Festival - we hit the local bar for an aperitif.  Two martinis later we stroll to the restaurant with a nice little glow going to counter the cold evening air.

We're still almost the first diners despite the detour but we can live with that.  The restaurant is warm and inviting and we are promptly seated and start reviewing the Festival menu which is a bargain £20.75 for 4 courses.  We also decide, after conferrng with the Sommelier, to take the suggested wine addition which is £18 for three wines - we are promised that our preferences will be taken under advisement which is another reason for taking that option. 



Jerusalem artichoke veloute



There are just two choices per course and we chose one of each to start: poached and roasted breast of quail in a consomme of aromatic vegetables and a veloute of jerusalem artichoke with chanterelles.  Followed by slow cooked ox cheek with parsnips, potato puree and puy lentils for both of us - it's just the night for something that sounds so comforting.  The veloute is served with haricot beans and a delicate square of pasta hides under the mushrooms - the whole dish is full of contrasting textures and flavours and is delicious.  The quail is swimming in the most wonderful broth with the addition of pearl barley - brimful of the taste of autumn.  The wines chosen are a Roussane/Chardonnay blend from the Pays d'Oc for the veloute which turns out to be the right foil for those creamy, earthy notes, and a Verdicchio for the quail - an interesting choice this, given the meaty flavours but in the end it pairs well.   



Braised ox cheeks



The ox cheeks are fork tender and almost melt in the mouth, while the potato puree is what mashed potato longs to be - rich and ultra smooth, it's the James Bond of the humble spud.  Roasted parsnips are perfectly cooked - tender and with a crisp outer.  We drink a 2009 Barbera d'Alba which has good balance and works well with this comfort food dish.



Vanilla pannacotta



A pre-dessert of vanilla pannacotta with blackberry puree and pear arrives and carries through the autumn theme perfectly.

For dessert we both opt for caramel parfait with chocolate streusel and black treacle ice cream - this last ingredient intriguing us both.  It tastes like caramel on steroids, deep and intense but not over sweet, and marries the flavours of the parfait beautifully.    I opt for a second glass of the Barbera instead of a dessert wine, preferring to save my sweet tooth for the pudding alone, but a Rivesaltes pairing prompts plenty of discussion as to what the grape varietal is - it turns out to be Grenache - as the wine is dark for its relative youth.  It is an unusual wine from the Roussillon area of southern France which is made using the solera system - young wines are blended with older ones in a series of barrels - leading to non-vintage wines of great cnsistency.   



Caramel parfait



We call for the bill; the restaurant has filled up and we are ready to head home.  Our last stop on the LRF tour has been a fine restaurant without pretensions, leaving that to its sibling, so it's no grand finale, just a gentle good night. 

http://www.lautrepied.co.uk/

London Restaurant Festival: Petrus

Petrus


When Gordon Ramsay and Marcus Wareing parted ways at the first Petrus (at the Berkeley Hotel, where Wareing has his current eponymous restaurant), Ramsay kept the name as part of the divorce settlement and earlier this year opened Petrus Mark II, almost within spitting distance of Wareing.  Given the very public and acrimonious nature of their split, spitting is probably an appropriate word to use.  From the off, not many critics have been kind to GR, painting the restaurant, and more importantly its food, as beige and bland.  Which is not a great endorsement, however when the everyday lunch deal is a bargain £30 for 3 courses we reckon it's worth taking a chance. 




We walk in to a setting that oozes luxe, with expanses of cream, oyster and silver offset by dark wood accents.  The circular restaurant has at its core a modernist glass rotunda housing the wine cellar and I keep feeling like I'm in the tardis waiting for it to jump the space-time continuum.  Our table backs up to this cellar, and we look out over a quadrant of the dining room where the tables are laid out to look back at us. The rotunda is the only distraction for them, so we feel a little like we're in a goldfish bowl even if it's not us our fellow diners are looking at.  There's no art on the walls, but we do face a carpeted wall with a design of an abstract woodland scene (I think) in moody shades of claret and burgundy. 



We choose easily from the daily lunch menu, and then spend a little longer discussing the wine before deciding on two half-bottles: a Chablis and a Qupe Syrah.  The wine list is extensive and of course there is an entire page of Petrus to choose from - the cheapest being £1150 for the 1981 vintage, obviously not that highly rated.  We'll leave those to the hedge fund managers.




Foie gras and duck confit terrine

 An amuse bouche of a beetroot mousse with goat cheese curd and toasted pine nuts arrives - the colour of crushed raspberries, the mousse is silky smooth and as our spoons reach the bottom we find a layer of tiny diced beetroot.  Next up are our appetizers - a foie gras and pressed duck confit terrine, and shellfish linguine.  I am beginning to dislike the current obsession of plating dishes on slate or wooden boards - I just don't get it.  Ok, ok, it's a visual thing, but really, why not just put it on a plate?  Yes, you guessed right, my terrine arrives on a piece of slate and whenever my knife slips it's like fingernails on a chalkboard - argghhhh!  The terrine itself is sublime: melt-in-the-mouth foie gras layered with finely shredded duck confit and served with paper thin slices of toasted sourdough. 


Linguine with shellfish

 The pasta is twirled and prettily surrounded by its component shellfish and some wood ear mushrooms and a lobster bisque is added tableside. It too is delicious, the bisque not overwhelming the perfectly cooked mussels, clams and scallops.  We're beginning to wonder whether the first critics got it wrong or maybe the chefs listened and made appropriate changes?  The food so far is impressive.



Bream with apple and fennel

On to the main courses: guinea fowl with puy lentils and a foie gras sauce and sea bream with apple and fennel and an apple veloute.  The latter is an unusual pairing, but the thin slices of apple and fennel add an extra texture to the dish while the veloute is not overly sweet and manages to bring the dish together well.  The fish is perfectly cooked and tender.  Both leg and breast of guinea fowl are presented in a generous serving and the sauce only subtly hints at foie gras.  Small cocottes of pommes dauphinoise and broccoli are shared between us and we finish every last mouthful. 

If we have a complaint at this point it is that the service has been a little rushed, and we'd rather take our time over a meal this good so we ask for a brief pause before dessert.   This gives us the chance to tune into what is becoming an increasingly merry party at a neighbouring table:  having started with Champagne, then at least one bottle of white, the quartet are on their second bottle of claret when the ringleader gets a call on his phone.  Apparently his horse (or the horse of which he is part-owner) has won a race, which calls for more celebrations.  As they are now on the dessert course he insists on Ch. d'Yquem which when we check the wine list is a cool £990 for the bottle.  And, oh Lord, they are drinking it with the chocolate sphere.  All four of them.  I want to wrest the bottle from them and save it from such Philistines - they could have paired it with the spiced toffee apple with a sage yoghurt parfait, or even the roasted fennel creme brulee with mango.  But chocolate??  I mourn for the layers of toffee, orange peel and honeyed pears that will never be tasted on their chocolate covered palates.  Oh well.

Chocolate sphere (imploded)

In due course we are presented with small ginger snap cones filled with lemon cream and topped with lemon zest - this is known as the pre dessert in a world where the dessert course is sub divided into three stages.  Next up are the desserts: hazelnut parfait with a chocolate centre and a praline crust and a chocolate sphere with milk cream, ice cream and honeycomb.  The frozen parfait is lovely, but the sphere is a diva demanding centre stage: the hard chocolate shell sphere melts dramatically when a warm sauce is added, revealing its inner core of ice cream and chocolate.  Oohh, and those lovely crunchy bits of honeycomb.  Yum.  It is a winning dessert that I suspect will be a menu staple if it isn't already. 



Now for the post dessert - I warned you - which is another dramatic presentation: a silver bowl which smokes liquid nitro when its lid is lifted to reveal skewered bonbons of Amaretto icecream covered in white chocolate.  Fabulous.  An order of espresso arrives with yet more nibbles - chocolate covered almonds and small slabs of extra dark chocolate, as much as you can eat.  Which, to be honest, isn't much at this point!



Coffee service

We leave the racing fans to their celebrations - they are calling for a vintage port - that horse must have won at long odds. They will probably still be there when dinner service starts and I would not like to see the size of the check.   Petrus may not be what it was when Gordon and Marcus were still together at the helm, but it's definitely on the way there and I don't think it will be long before it gets its first Michelin star.



www.gordonramsay.com/petrus





London Restaurant Festival: Bistrot Bruno Loubet

Bistrot Bruno Loubet

 

On our way to the über-chic Zetter Hotel in trendy, arty Clerkenwell we pass a retro '20s Hendrick's Gin pop-up cocktail emporium that's occupying the space of a former petrol station - proof we've landed in the heart of hipness.  While Clerkenwell is close to being upstaged by Shoreditch as the art crowd move ever east, for now it still has the edge. 



Although Bistrot Bruno Loubet is connected to the hotel, it has the feel of an independent restaurant, important when it's your name above the door. For 20 years Chef Loubet cooked in restaurants in and around London, before leaving for an 8 year stint in Brisbane, Australia. Since his return, he's been feted with the kind of critical acclaim that greets a rock star coming out of retirement, and as we missed his first incarnation we are happy to have the chance to see what all the fuss is about.



Seated at a table facing on to St. John's Square, we are opposite the lovely Tudor entrance to the Museum of the Order of St. John and the original grounds of the Priory of the Knight's Hospitalier established in the 12th century.  The restaurant has an inner core housing a curved bar and a semi-open kitchen and the dining room follows the same arc, with a lot of wood and a touch of shabby chic - antique stripped down armoires and decorations of early 20th century desk lights. 



There's a misunderstanding regarding the festival participation - it turns out BBL only offer a festival menu for dinner, not lunch as we had thought - which throws us initially.  However, looking at the everyday menu, it seems we can stay within our budget if we stick to 2 courses only so we decide to stay rather than walk to nearby St. John (Fergus Henderson's nose-to-tail eating) on the chance they a) are participating in the festival and b) have a table. 



In the end, I'm glad we did stay, but it's touch and go there for a moment especially as management don't handle the situation as well as they could.  The menu is certainly intriguing in its lack of cookie cutter dishes, and we choose boudin of guinea fowl in pea soup 'a la francaise' and Mauricette snails and meatballs with a royale of mushrooms to start with.  Good crusty bread is brought - why no side plates we wonder, when it's so messy dealing with crumbs and butter and still juggling a menu?  I get the fact that we're in a bistro rather than a restaurant - the paper top over the tablecloths are a giveaway - but please, give me a plate for my bread.   For entrees we decide on a herb stuffed rabbit leg with carrot purée and baby vegetables and a trio of lamb with smoked aubergines.  And a small carafe of Cotes de Roussillon - a Rhone syle red blend that should pair well with both dishes.





Boudin of guinea fowl in pea soup



The boudin is light, velvety and subtle and floats on a pond of partly crushed peas and pea soup, with lardons providing the counterfoil.  There's a pronounced flavour of nutmeg in the boudin, and a few too many scallions in the 'soup' for my liking, but overall the dish is a success.   The crowning glory in the snail dish is the quivering royale of mushrooms - a warm souffle of earthy flavours (some truffle oil too, I think?) that is a meal on its own.  Here it competes with a smoky tomato sauce that naps the snails and meatballs, and the dish is a sum of its parts rather than a medley. 



Trio of lamb

Stuffed leg of rabbit

My trio of lamb is a loin chop garnished with a tomato and fennel salad, a rolled breast which has been lightly breaded and deep fried and sits on a disc of crushed peas, and an 'osso buco' of the loin which is paired with the smoked aubergines.  The chop is a bit humdrum, but the other two pairings are delicious, especially the osso buco with the creamy aubergines.  The leg of rabbit has a herby stuffing and sits happily in a bed of baby vegetables as though it had never left Mr. MacGregor's garden.  Sweet carrot puree works well with the herbs and the rabbit is perfectly cooked, as well as being a healthy size.  Indeed both dishes are generously portioned so we do not feel too bad about passing on dessert. 

 

 

Henrick's Gin Pop-Up



A small gesture of apology comes in the form of a pair of cocoa dusted chocolate truffles which are presented along with the bill, though it might have been more generous to offer to comp a dessert.  There's a touch of preciousness about this bistro that belies its suggestion of a humble cafe and there's also a hefty dose of Michelin ambition without all the little touches that brings   (amuse bouches, mignardises etc.), and although we've enjoyed the food we feel a touch disappointed.  Lucky for us the Hendrick's bar is still serving its distinctive cucumber gin and tonics when we head back to our parking spot so we stop and try one.  Oh yes, that's what that meal needed, a touch of spontaneity and fun.





www.bistrotbrunoloubet.com





London Restaurant Festival: Apsley's

Apsleys at The Lanesborough    

Quail with dried fruit

From his 3-star restaurant La Pergola in Rome, Heinz Beck has dived into the crowded waters of the London dining scene. Like so many new openings lately - Bistro Bouloud and the soon-to-open Blumenthal restaurant both at the Mandarin Oriental, Pierre Koffman at The Berkeley, and Alain Ducasse at The Dorchester to name just three - Beck has chosen to swim in the safe confines of a luxury hotel. This is no kiddie’s pool though – with one star already under his wing despite being open for only a year, Beck has his sights firmly set on achieving 3 Michelin stars here too. His long-term associate, Executive Chef Massimilliano Blasone (most recently at Castello Banfi in Tuscany), is heading the day-to-day operations, executing Beck’s “light cuisine of Mediterranean flavours” and laying the groundwork for those extra two stars.

For the time being the Festival lunch deal price of £21 for 2 courses or £28 for 3, is the everyday lunch deal and I can only say “why aren’t you there”? In fact, while there was a decent number of occupied tables when we were there, it staggers me that more people aren’t taking advantage of this blinding bargain.

The restaurant is an atrium, with a glass barrel-vaulted roof, so at lunch it is full of light and for dinner presumably those 3 giant chandeliers make up for the lack of natural light. The decor is muted tones of champagne and claret, and the tables are set at a comfortable distance allowing for privacy.

Halibut with tomato panzanella

Shortly after being seated we are presented with menus and that’s when we discover the daily menu deal. There are lots of staff and suddenly one appears with a presentation of a glorious white truffle – safely ensconced under a glass dome, the truffle is offered up for our admiration and titillation: should we want, this can arrive in a dish of our choosing. Ok. Thanks. We’re here for the cheap seats deal, and daren’t even ask how much this might be, shaved to an inch of its life, over a steaming plate of pasta. Best not to be tempted, really. We thank the waiter for sharing this with us, but no, thanks. Instead we turn back to the menu and choose: tagliolini with cacio, pepe and something that’s almost impossible to describe but turns out to be fried breadcrumbs infused with tomato, and a warm seafood salad. Followed by halibut with tomato bread and yellow peppers – intriguing – and roast quail with dried fruit and wild mushrooms. First, though, an amuse bouche arrives: a trio of a deep-fried ball of shredded veal confit resting on a cheese fondue, a shot glass of parmesan soup (with an impossibly tiny brunoise of carrot and celery) and a ‘sandwich’ of cod. Each small tidbit is simply delicious. Then our appetizers arrive and the pasta is a comforting skein, cheesy and with those delicious breadcrumbs but the seafood salad wins points for prettiness. Slices of scallop, perfectly tender octopus and plump shrimp are artfully scattered on the plate among salad leaves, slivers of papaya, cubes of new potato and tomato concassé that I think has also been confit’d such is its intensity. We’ve also ordered a half bottle of Pouilly Fuisse which is wonderful with the salad and manages to stand up to the tagliolini. It is a tough assignment when it comes to the halibut dish however as the yellow peppers are a very spicy ragout. Overall the halibut is a disappointment: the fish has been sliced and stuffed with what is essentially panzanella (a rustic bread and tomato salad) so that it’s sort of an inside out sandwich. This has resulted in somewhat dry fish as well as the panzanella being the dominant taste. The quail wins hands, no sorry, legs down. In fact the legs and the breast have been separated – the breast stuffed with apricot and plum and served rare, the legs treated to a sweet glaze and then roasted and laid on a bed of pureéd potato. Again the plate itself is a work of art, and pleases the eye as much as the palate. A glass of Seresin New Zealand Pinot Noir is right on, picking up both the fruit notes and the earthy mushroom flavours.

 

My note-taking has attracted the attention of one of the Maitre d’s, and we engage in a conversation about food and fine dining. Daniel has been here for 6 months and, coincidentally, worked previously at La Pergola for a short time. He is an enthusiastic foodie, and we share restaurant recommendations. It’s a very pleasant interlude – very often staff at this level are courteous but aloof, especially in a hotel restaurant situation where they will rarely run into a customer twice so where’s the incentive to befriend anyone?

Double Chocolate Brownie with Zabaglione

I had decided to forgo dessert, so we order a relatively low-cal sounding milk cremoso with polenta cake and raspberry sorbet, to share. It arrives, however, with an ‘on-the-house’ companion – the double chocolate brownie with zabaglione and custard gelato – how can I resist? The milk cremoso is a creamier version of panna cotta, and the sorbet is the very essence of frozen raspberries, but again, it’s the chocolate that wins out: a delicate sliver of dark chocolate mousse topped with a cigarillo of white chocolate mousse and a shot glass of the frothy zabaglione. Mmmm, thank you Daniel.

A seductive assortment of mignardises accompanies the inevitable coffee order: a square of chocolate with honey, a lemon curd shortbread, a small coffin of gianduja, a disc of sugared raspberry, a chocolate coffee bean and an almond cream nougat. Thank goodness these are all minute or we’d be in serious danger of belt busting.

These are the kind of touches that raise a restaurant like Apsleys above the crowd, and that are certain to bring those extra stars. That they do this on a cut-price lunch deal is even more impressive. I’m sure the next time we come the dining room will be full as it deserves to be and we'll be fighting for a table.

http://www.lanesborough/ .com

London Restaurant Festival: The Square

The Square

It's not often one gets to eat lunch at a 2-Star Michelin restaurant for a mere £25 for 3 courses, so we are eagerly anticipating this treat. Thanks to the LRF, The Square (Chef Phillip Howard) and a good number of other great restaurants are peeling back their prices so that we foodies-on-a-budget can see how the other half eat. A tube-strike Monday leads us to leave extra time for the journey up to Mayfair, but luckily we aren't troubled by anything like the total gridlock of a few days before, and actually arrive early. The restaurant is a short walk from Bond Street so we enjoy a little gawp at the flagship Louis Vuitton store - its windows filled with magical and whimsical ostriches and ostrich eggs are enough to brighten even the grayest day.


The Square is a large open restaurant, with floor-to-ceiling windows onto Bruton Street filling the space with light - a sculptural glass screen provides just enough privacy - and we are quickly and efficiently seated at a nice large table for 2 with a view towards the windows. The Festival menu offers 3 choices for starters and entrees, and 2 for dessert, so we choose without too much discussion or horse-trading. I choose a half bottle of a Rosé Champagne to pair with my dishes – I am a firm believer that bubbles are made to go with food - and a glass of Mt. Difficulty Pinot Gris for the tortellini then a Barbera d’Alba for the hare. 2 dishes of butter arrive: a tiny sculptured pine cone of unsalted that's too precious to spoil, and a much plainer slab of salted sprinkled with more sel de mer. Swiftly followed by a lovely selection of house-made breads. While I am admiring the silver Christofle salt and pepper mills, an unexpected amuse bouche is placed in front of us - a sample of what's to come, it’s a shot glass containing a layer of creamy onion mousse, a wild mushroom gelée and topped with a pumpkin foam and a handy parmesan tuile for stirring. Each individual flavour has a voice but the whole sings like a well honed choir.


Our two starters next: tortellini of langoustine claws and salmon, a carpaccio of shellfish and a Champagne foam, and a mousseline of grouse with pearl barley and lardo. The pasta is perfectly cooked, and resonates with an intensity of the seafood flavours while the sauce is more of a gentle bubble than a full-on foam. The grouse mousse is silky smooth and subtle and there are hints of wild mushrooms in the sauce – a lovely rendition of autumn flavours.


The seasonal theme is carried through to the entrees: saddle of hare with tarte fine of pear and celeriac, and fillet of cod with pumpkin purée, wild mushroom and sage. I’ve always thought of hare as being fairly game-y, but this one is tender and not at all strong flavoured, and the delicate tarte is another taste of autumn that’s a well balanced counterpoint. Sweet pumpkin and wild mushrooms echo that in the cod dish – both are perfect examples of balancing the yin and yang of contrasting flavours and textures.


Dessert choices are a Brillat-Savarin cheesecake with currants, and a chocolate ‘mess’. The mess is a chocolate lovers delight – a treasure trove of unsweetened cocoa mousse, milk ice-cream and warm chocolate sauce with some lovely chocolate crunchy bits – it’s a substantial dessert but we somehow manage to scoop out every last mouthful. The cheesecake is light and airy but it’s fighting a losing battle against the chocolate.


Finally, a tray of house-made nougat pieces with our coffee. Soft and chewy, the nougat is something of a signature of Chef Howard, as we recall from our previous encounter (see ‘The Square pops up in Putney').


The great thing about lunch is you have the rest of the day to recover from your excesses especially if you don’t have to go back to work afterwards, the other advantage is that many of London’s top restaurants offer a much better value at lunch so even without the LRF it’s possible to satisfy a Champagne taste on a beer budget.


We both feel decidedly like spheres rather than squares as we head back out to the street, but it is worth it: The Square lived up to our expectations in every way and in some cases, exceeded them.  Now, let's see how the ostriches are doing.

Sue's London Goes To Sicily

Siracusa/Ortygia


Before memories of our dining experiences in Sicily fade as quickly as my tan, it's time to reflect on some of the highs (and a few lows). Siracusa is on the southeast coast of Sicily and Ortygia, an islet connected so firmly to the mainlaind that it's almost inseparable, is full of nightlife with bars, restaurants and cafes around almost every corner. It's also a maze of narrow streets and alleys, and impossible to truly get lost for long. A bit wary to start with, we set off on the 15-minute walk from our beach-side hotel as dusk descended, and tried to ignore the slightly dodgy area we seemed to be passing through - later, as we grew more familiar with the route we lost our initial nervousness and each sighting of other, lone strollers emboldened us. Once on the island, swept up by the crowds out for the nightly 'passegiata' (the traditional meet-and-greet nightly stroll that is such a part of the culture in Italy and Spain), we feel completely safe and start to enjoy the spectacle. Minimal research has resulted in a few possible restaurant options for the week ahead, but this first night, failing to find any of them, we dive into the best looking option, the aptly named Dionysius (the Greek God of Wine). It's 8pm, but the place is empty save for the Chef, a waiter and, presumably, the owner/investor - though within an hour the place is heaving, and it's clearly a neighbourhood place as most of the clientele are greeted like old friends. Oddly, for a restaurant trading on its association with wine, there's no wine list, and we're invited to simply choose something off the shelf. Well, that's a bit of a dare, isn't it? Thank goodness I know a thing or two about Sicilian wine and carefully negotiate our way into what should be a moderately priced white - Cusamano Insolia - as we will almost certainly be eating a fishy meal. Coastal Sicily makes the most of the bounty of the seas, and we've already encountered a distinct lack of meat during our time in Siracuse. Local specialties include sea urchin, tuna and swordfish along with some unidentifiable small fish that are larger than anchovies and smaller (and less bony than) sardines. Unfortunately the meal turns out to be largely unmemorable, save for the feeling that we've walked into a scene reminiscent of The Godfather, without the guns thankfully!


Our next venture into Ortygia is more successful, as we've done more thorough research this time and booked at a restaurant specializing in 'modern' Sicilian - Oinos. Weaving our way through the alleys we stop for a glass of Prosecco at an outdoor cafe in the Piazza del Duomo (great people watching) before moving on to the restaurant. Again we are the first diners, unable to hit the right timing on Sicilian dining. An empty dining room means a lack of atmosphere, so we opt for an outdoor table where we can enjoy the neighbourhood comings and goings. That Oinos is several levels above Dionysius is clear from the start: friendly and efficient staff bring menus and, yes, a wine list, and we are soon immersed in the series of eliminations that are needed for the final line-up.


An amuse-bouche of mussels in a tomato broth is presented shortly after we place our order – the mussels are tender and obviously very fresh, a good sign. We’ve ordered a layered dish of goat cheese and figs (millefoglie dei fichi e caprino con miele) and duck breast with foie gras,figs and pears. The local honey makes a spectacular appearance in both dishes, the sweetness working really well with the saltiness in each case. The duck comes with a generous slice of foie gras that is perfectly cooked: caramelized on the outside and melting in the middle. The goat cheese is salty, soft and fresh and is lifted by the figs and honey. A crisp Vermentino, ‘Grillo’ makes a good pairing to the latter, while Cusamano Buana, a blend of Nero d’Avola and Syrah handles the duck rather well. It’s also a good match with the next two dishes: guinea fowl with a foie gras, rice and spinach stuffing, and ‘bocconcini’ of Argentine beef – large cubes of beer-marinated, grilled steak – on a bed of baby spinach. Both are delicious, and in the case of the beef, simply and lovingly prepared. The chef clearly has a confident hand, and in an homage to Sicilian cuisine, uses local ingredients as often as possible and, by pairing them with more exotic foods, elevates them above the mundane. We are simply too full to find room for dessert and instead waddle slowly back to the hotel. Oinos has lived up to the magazine hype and if we were there for longer we’d have gone back – high praise indeed.


For our final foray into Ortygia we’ve chosen a restaurant that has just celebrated 25 years in business – Don Camillo. The Chef here is also a keen advocate of the Slow Food movement. We are seated in the busy front room where we can also admire the wine collection – there are plenty of Sicilian wines to choose from here which is great because they are my new favourite wines. A couple of glasses of prosecco arrive to tide us over while we look over the menu. There’s a stuffy formality to this restaurant, which makes us roll our eyes a bit (in a ‘get over yourselves’ way), and though the service can’t really be faulted it is not friendly.  The menu is extensive, with a lot of seafood and ‘signature’ dishes, but when it comes it’s apparent that this restaurant is living on its laurels, and the style of cooking is very 1980’s: we have a tired veal scallopine dish, and an uninspired pasta dish. In direct contrast to Oinos, it has not changed with the times and as such is a disappointment.


For the most part, we’ve been very impressed by the freshness of the local food, and only disappointed when it was clear that the food wasn’t either fresh or local. We also ate at our hotel a couple of nights, where Mama was in the kitchen and produced the most delicious simple meals in the local style. Home cooking at its best – maybe the chef at Don Camillo needs to come here and get a refresher course on how to produce dishes that celebrate your ingredients, even if they are humble and few.