The story behind Hedone is a rare one, if not completely unique. Swedish-born Mikael Jonsson pursued his “borderline obsession” for ingredients of the highest quality by training as a chef in his early years. But his severe allergies to a variety of food put on hold any dreams of opening his own restaurant and instead, he forged a career as a lawyer.
During this time, Jonsson authored a food blog, Gastroville.com (now closed), demonstrating great understanding and in-depth analysis of food, whilst also advising chefs and restaurateurs where to find the best ingredients. At the age of 44, he discovered a Paleolithic diet which did not aggravate his allergies, and was finally able to make the transition from food critic and blogger to restaurateur. It was the first time the self-taught chef had worked in a commercial kitchen and after just one year, it received a coveted Michelin star.
Jonsson’s brazen confidence to dare even hope for success as an amateur chef in a city that was just starting to then (Hedone opened in 2011) - and is, still now - reeling from a culinary Big Bang, is enough to draw the curious alone. Add to this almost instant recognition and his unfiltered passion for ingredients (but minus the somewhat awkward Chiswick location), and you’re left with an offering that is difficult to ignore.
The menus at Hedone are as fluid as the red the young sommelier poured into our glasses; based on the finest ingredients the kitchen is able to land, they can change from lunch to dinner, and even during service. Because of this, there is no insight into what you might eat there on the website. The intention is to waste little and serve the very best - you see the menu for that service once you’re seated. I’ve always been drawn to a restaurant with the confidence to say ‘get settled, let us pour you some wine, and trust us to feed you well’.
Presentation was sophisticated yet playful with contrasts of colour that hinted towards a fun kitchen; the baby-pink of the beetroot and rhubarb against a wide matt-black bowl rim, the azure background to the limpid green apple sauce on a parfait, the grey-blue macaron with vibrant green filling.
A delicate (in both form and flavour) crimson beetroot cornetto with foam-of-root piped on top of a little smoked eel was a down-in-one affair. Delivered in a wooden box and supported by wild rice which filled it, we were tersely advised by the Maitre’d - as I was taking a photo - that it needed to be eaten quickly. I understand the irritance of us bloody bloggers taking pictures of everything at the detriment of a dish that is going cold / melting / coagulating in the meantime, but please don’t dictate to me when to eat. I’m paying for this meal and I’ll enjoy it how I want (as long as it’s not hanging from a chandelier).
That small niggle aside, the rest of the dining experience was a series of small thrills. Special mention to the gentleman with the glasses and silvering hair who I think was Head Waiter - he had a twinkle in his eye and a wonderful grin and made us laugh a good few times.
A savoury custard umami flan certainly had hints of Japan about it, with a clear bread consommé and crunchy nuggets of bread crumb, the pairing of smooth and savoury on the tongue was very complimentary.
The yolk of a duck egg, slow-poached in a sous vide, was served at the precise moment before setting takes place; a sublime physical state of buttery viscosity. The whites whipped up into a ‘cream of’, firm almost crunchy peas, and a flourish of red pepper reduction. Two cuts from a roasted guinea-fowl had tough exteriors, but pleasantly so, lubricated by a thick sauce (not a jus), with chard leaf separate from stem, and the newest of Jersey royals - an entirely unfussed but well-executed plate.
And there was the bread, of which I’ve heard much about. Mikael honed his bread-making skills whilst training at Alex Croquet boulangerie in Wattignies, France - a school whose teacher is described as a ‘genius’ by Michelin. Mikael makes the batches each morning, some of which make their way to Antidote. Using the almost scientific techniques learnt from Croquet, the result is a glorious chewy and full-flavoured crust to work the jaw, an open crumb, with smooth reflective qualities around the curves of the air gaps. It’s really very good, and served with unpasteurised butter and a little salt, is a dictionary definition of what simple pleasures should be.
Both desserts were our favourite courses. The hazelnut and caramel parfait with kimono silk-thin wafers, tiny cubes of sharp apple with globules of its sauce was as well put together in its presentation as in its flavour combination. All things pink made up the second offering - rose, beetroot and rhubarb to form a floating island of sorbet atop a pearly and soft meringue base. Really well balanced, although the rose was undetectable. Probably a good thing as I’m not a great fan of floral smelling food.
A single additional cheese course we wished to share between two (£14.50) was helpfully split across plates - five unpasteurised, gloriously funky and generous offerings of wonderful Claquebitou, Tomme Brulée, Chablis, farmhouse Camembert, and Fourme d'Ambert with extra slices of raisin bread at our request. A bonbon mound filled with liquid mango and a sesame macaron with a tangy lime and green tea filling rounded the meal off.
The double-fronted interiors give the impression of entering somewhere quite special, exclusive even. The threshold is marked by a heavy curtain once through the door, and windows are frosted to obscure the view out or in. If the intention is for clientèle to forget they’re on Chiswick High Street, it’s quite effective. Once you’ve left, you’re on your own - back through that heavy material and onto an overwhelmingly ordinary high-street, a contrast from what was just experienced.
I do feel we missed out not sitting at the bar of the open kitchen. If it wasn’t for the impish Head Waiter, the place could have felt a little cold compared to other Michelin restaurants. Had I been able to converse with Mikael himself, I expect I would have been directly privy to his - what is on paper - unquestionable passion. It also feels like the sort of place that needs more than one visit to draw an informed conclusion, with the expectation that each meal will be so different to the one before. The three-course lunch deal is a steal at £35 - I plan to return for it and do just that.
Liked lots: bread, umami flan, interiors, Head Waiter, lunch-menu value, desserts
Liked less: out-of-the-way location; being told what to do when I'm eating
Good for: seasonal eating of the very best produce; surprise menus; counter-seating to observe the kitchen
My rating: 4/5
Afiyet olsun.
No neighbourhood can ever have too many good restaurants. When the fridge is bare, when the working day has been too long or when the prospect of facing a pile of washing up makes you wince, the salvation a reliable eatery can provide - a casual jaunt down the road or around the corner - is a cherished convenience.
I am fully aware of the sometimes-forgotten fact that there are countless numbers of off-the-beaten-track, independent, family-run businesses throughout London that serve food people enjoy eating. They need recognition too - it’s not all about the showy, centrally-located openings, with their fanfare, chef pedigree and marketing budgets.
Whilst I do cover the latter (and there are a lot of them), I like to devote some of my time trying out local places about town, such as Bibo in Putney, Sorabol in New Malden and Makiyaki in Wimbledon.
Most recent has been a glorious and unseasonably warm Saturday afternoon spent grazing on tapas and a glass of prickly cava in La Mancha on Chiswick High Road. Whilst Chiswick isn’t my own neighbourhood, I’d heard promising things about this Spanish restaurant and concluded the District line hike would be a fair price to pay for the prospect of a good lunch.
Whilst La Mancha might be a relatively new kid on this particular block, it was previously located on Putney High Street where it fed local patrons for more than 20 years. Proprietor, Mr Salvatore, upped sticks and re-located to this smaller and more manageable (but still substantial) site in the past year.
With a south-facing bi-fold glass shop front allowing the unobstructed flooding of natural light, al fresco seating fully occupied at the first hint of sunshine, gentle Spanish guitars playing in the background and Spanish diners in the full flow of conversation to the right of me, it could almost have been Seville.
Tomatoes, bread, cheese and sweet quince felt like the perfect way to begin a brunch whilst basking in the sun’s warmth - intensified by the glass - like a lizard on a rock. These components form the base of most breakfasts I eat during summertime visits to Turkey, and it’s one of my favourites.
Pan con tomate was generous (three large slices) with soft bread that was crisped on the outside and a superbly seasoned mash-up of fresh tomatoes, garlic and olive oil. They were probably the best I’ve had - a winning balance of texture, flavour and top seasoning, with no way for them to be improved (£3). The cheeses were nutty Manchego and mild Galician tetilla - both as good as you would expect from Spanish queso (£8).
The tortilla was, again, seasoned well with a fabulous concentration of garlic. However, it is served as slices from a bigger pie, the remainder of which I suspect is left in the pan until needed, allowing the cooking process to continue. A desired texture of a runny-centre it had not, but the flavour was certainly not lacking (£5.20).
Padron peppers reached the table direct from the plancha and finger-scalding hot, seasoned with fat flakes of sea salt, lightly blistered from the quick and high heat (£5.50). Soft, steamed octopus (a texture so often not achieved with this meat) with tentacles displaying their handsome suckers, were nestled with potatoes and heavy with olive oil, the whole plate burnished orange from smoked paprika (£9.95). Chicken and Ibérico ham croquetas were little packages of childhood Findas pancake memories - alas, I suspect none will ever match those found in Fino (£5.50).
Fabada asturiana (white bean casserole with pancetta and black pudding) looked a little insipid on receipt, like it needed more cooking or more oomph. It was a look that was entirely beguiling of its flavour - a hearty and savoury plate, sauce thickened from disintegrated pork fat and mashed up pulses - don’t allow a lick of it to remain (£5.95).
The crème caramel wobbled audaciously at every nudge of the table. Smooth and delicate with a hint of orange, I spent a good few minutes attempting to spoon up the final dregs of the deep caramel sauce from a flat plate (£5). The Tarta di Santiago - a traditional Galician almond cake, made here with Amaretto - had a very pleasing open crumble and was a fitting companion to a closing coffee (£5.50).
The quickly-formed impression of La Mancha soon after being seated is one of homely familiarity and ease. Mr. Salvatore makes a point to welcome everyone that walks through the door, new visitors and regulars alike (the majority seemingly the latter), ever-present yet in no way overbearing; I felt as though I'd been coming here for years after just 15 minutes. The offer of a light hazelnut liqueur was made to each table at the end of meals, along with what seemed to be an overdue catch-up with many.
The food here is not revolutionary - don’t expect veloutés or foams or popping candy; what you can expect is good, honest, competent Spanish cooking. When it’s too much effort to replicate at home, let a well-versed local kitchen like La Mancha take the reigns - you’ll be pleased you did.
Liked lots: the menu says their tapas portions are generous - they’re not kidding; pan con tomate; polpo; dessert; Mr Salvatore; staff; the cava - rough and dry; location - it’s a nicer-than-usual-high street with a Franco Manca next door
Liked less: would have liked a runny centre for the tortilla
Good for: whiling away a languorous weekend lunch; private parties - there’s a whole separate area downstairs with its own bar that’s free to hire
My rating: 3.5/5
Afiyet olsun.
NB I was invited as a guest to review this restaurant.
