quattro passi, mayfair - review

Should you, dear reader, happen to be a Russian oligarch, Middle Eastern oil baron or a member of an acutely irritating, internationally worshiped teenage boy band, then allow me to assist with your New Year’s Eve plans.

Quattro Passi on Dover Street in Mayfair launched in September this year. At the helm, two Michelin-starred executive chef Antonio Mellino, heralding from the original restaurant on the Amalfi Coast which boasts the glittering accolade. 

On the menu, Amalfi delicacies, from the region of Campania in Southern Italy, with ingredients flown in three times a week. And in the L-shaped dining room, hand-carved leather wall panels, French silk wallpaper, and diners who aren’t shy of a few bob.

They are offering a New Year’s Eve menu of seven courses with a glass of champagne on arrival for £222 (before service, I presume). There is the promise of a DJ below deck in the private lounge area, with the chance to dance the night away as you bid farewell to 2014 and what could have been the deposit on a new car, should you succumb to its bar loaded with fine cognacs, brandies and whiskies.

Unashamedly, this restaurant is tailored to the well-lined pockets of the affluent and uninhibited business accounts. Outside the New Year’s Eve offering and on a normal day, antipasta dishes are between £18 - £40, intermediate courses £16 - £42, mains around £28 - £50 and desserts £18 - £22. You won’t find a bottle of wine for less than £50, and a lot of them are over £100. 

As the old adage goes, “something is only worth what someone is willing to pay for it”, and it seems there are quite a lot of people willing to pay these prices.

It’s also a place for celebrities. It’s polished and dimly lit, and has a chandelier made from a thousand silk petals (celebs - they love that sort of thing). In the short time it’s been open, clients have included Lindsay Lohan having lunch, Valentino hosting his book launch dinner there with Kylie, Hugh Grant and Anne Hathaway, not to mention a host of royalty from far off lands.

I am that person that gets excited when the slip of paper that comes out of the Sainsbury’s till tells me I’ve got £0.72 off my next shop. Therefore, I can safely assume I don’t fall into Quattro Passi’s target market. But I was invited to a trial run of this New Year’s dinner, and I will write about the menu objectively, with my money-is-no-object hat on, my favourite of the imaginary hats.

Marinated carpaccio of Sicilian red prawns in a blueberry sauce

Probably best I couldn’t detect the blueberry in this. Otherwise, very well seasoned raw prawn, somehow fashioned into a square sheet on the plate, with a couple of quenelles of what I think were soured cream. Perhaps a little too prawn-y for some (as my companions mentioned), but it was good for me.

Potato veloute, poached quails egg, white truffle from Alba

A shallow bowl of an interestingly textured velouté, a little gelatinous, but with good flavour and a generous shaving of punchy funghi.

Signature risotto with Sorrento lemon zest

I very much liked the look of this - a piatto bianco - white risotto on a white plate, with strands of zest within the mass that would have been easier to spot had the lighting been brighter. It looked like it had great texture, the plate given a good shake to spread the rice. And the grains were beautifully cooked - fantastic bite. 

But the flavours did not work for me. It seemed too sweet, more like a rice pudding, with medicinal tasting lemon. It was as if it had been grated from a waxed fruit, which I’m pretty certain was not the case.

Interestingly, it was the favourite dish of some of my fellow diners. Which just goes to show how subjective food and eating it is.

Oven-baked daily catch fish fillet with potatoes mille feuille

The catch that day being sea bream, and a very nice plate it was. A well seasoned, well cooked bit of fish - although it could have had a crispier skin - with good potatoes and crisp pak choi nicely dressed with lemon. Nothing too spectacular, just solid.

Fassone beef Fillet with Barbaresco wine Jus de Viande with broccoli flan and porcini mushrooms

The meat here was spot on - succulent and pink. The flan was an interesting take on the vegetable - never before have I had my broccoli wobble. Porcini mushrooms were a good call, the jus tying it all together nicely.

Tagliolini pasta with artichoke hearts and lobster

This pasta shape was a new one to me. It’s a variety of tagliatelle - the classic noodle from the Emilia-Romagna region of Italy - and is long, paper-thin, and cylindrical in shape.

This was a very good dish, wonderfully savoury, with delicate slithers of artichoke hearts and the occasional presence of crustacean. My only gripe being there wasn’t more of it.

Soft sponge roll with chantilly, raspberry coulis and pistachios crumble

A sponge roll, how retro. Like something from the birthday parties of my childhood, it evoked the associated memories. Which are all good. Sharp coulis filled the roll, as well as there being a blobbed crescent of it, along with a small quenelle of tart sorbet. A tangy plate to end on.

Accessories

Bread was very good and made on site, stacked on a small set of portable shelves, a range of rolls, flatbreads and grissini. A little olive oil for glugging would have been good with it. Expect a wooden box of assorted petit fours to wrap up.

We were very generously treated to a wine flight to accompany the meal, each tasting swirled in burgundy glasses big enough to house a goldfish or two (even for the non-burgundy wines).

With alcohol, service and a drink or two at the bar, expect to pay around £350 pp for this New Year’s evening. But the burning question is of course, is it worth it? 

For me - who falls squarely into the ‘mere mortal’ category - no meal is worth £350, whether New Year’s Eve in Mayfair or not. But for many, these sorts of figures are lost down the back of Karelian birch, gilded brass, Kremlin-inspired sofas all the time, without being missed. 

And for those people, this would likely be a very pleasant evening indeed.

Liked lots: service was wonderful, particularly from the exuberant restaurant manager (I forget his name, sorry)

Liked less: the dining table was too high for wee me, sat against the wall on the banquettes. So much so that for the first time in my dining life, I had to sit on a cushion to eat. I'm not even that short (5'3.5 - that half makes all the difference)

Good for: laughing in the face of financial restraint

My rating: 3.5/5

Find the menu on Zomato.

Afiyet olsun.

Note: I was invited as a guest to this restaurant.

frescobaldi, mayfair - review

Swing a right down an alleyway opposite Hamley’s on Regent Street, and you’ll find yourself on a quiet and short strip of road called New Burlington Place. The only people that seem to know about it are the cabbies that turn into it from adjoining Saville Row for a three-point-turn, and to drop off the well-suited elite; there’s little else there. 

Except, that is, for new Italian fine dining restaurant and wine bar, Frescobaldi. Despite an almost complete lack of passing footfall, little launch fanfare, and having only being open for two weeks, it was almost full late Saturday lunch time. 

People knew it was on this invisible road, and were coming for it specifically.

If the name rings a bell, you may have seen their restaurant on the lower ground floor of Harrods, their branded Laudemio olive oil sold at Fortnum & Mason, or come across their outposts in Florence and at Rome’s Fiumicino airport.

Their major claim to fame though, and the focus around which this new restaurant is based, is that the Frescobaldi family produce wine, and have done for a very long time indeed (more information on that in this recent Independent article). 

It’s an involvement that dates back centuries. During the renaissance, we’re told they traded bottles with Michelangelo for works of art, and they were major financiers to the kings of England, with receipts signed personally by that great wine-quaffer, Henry VIII. 

Most of their nine estates can be found in the hills around Florence and Siena, and a range of wines from the likes of Mormoreto (a single-vineyard cru of Castello di Nipozzano) to the flagship Frescobaldi cuvée (Brunello di Montalcino Castelgiocondo Riserva) take pride of place on the new restaurant’s menu.

To launch this first independent site in the UK, the Frescobaldis have partnered with Good Food Society, a new hospitality venture promoted by fellow Turk, Levent Büyükuğur (also founder of Istanbul Doors, an international restaurant group with over 40 venues).

They’ve done very well with the interiors. A great wall of glass for the frontage, striking frescos of Italian renaissance characters painted onto the tiled walls, a great central column with shelves housing Tuscan paraphernalia and bottles of wine poured by the glass - it’s a handsome space.

At Frescobaldi, you’ll find the largest menu you’ve ever seen, in size rather than content - open, it’s almost as wide as the wingspan of an albatross. The extra maneuverability the broad and comfortable chairs provide are as good for big bottoms as they are for accommodating the perusal of the massive things; best to read them turned sideways for the sake of a smashed wine glass.

In it, a confident and concise menu with less than a handful of entries under each section: antipasti, carpacci, tartare, primi piatti (pasta), to share (salads, cheese and charcuterie), secondi di pesce (fish mains), seconde di cane (meat mains), contorni (sides).

Bread was great and made on site, the soft and salty focaccia still warm from the oven, crisp Sardinian flatbread entirely void of moisture, and the basket comes with a bottle of that Laudemio olive oil to glug at your pleasure. 

There were rippled sheets of seabass carpaccio with pink peppers, soy sauce and fresh curly celery strips, that could have done with a touch of astringency (£16). The lactating Puglian burrata, with rocket pesto and ripe tomatoes, was just about the creamiest I’ve encountered (£12.50). 

I thought the marinated black Angus beef with lentils and courgettes would come as a salad with cooked slices of steak, and I expected it to be dull. It was actually like a plate of joyous lemony bresaola, with a little gathering of fantastically dressed firm green lentils and tiny cubes of courgette (£15).

The wide ribbons of pappardelle with the veal cheek ragu were gorgeous - great bite and deep yellow from yolk. The pappy but pleasing sauce, quite sweet from the meat, needed the contrasting texture it got from a flourish of small crisp rosemary croutons scattered before serving - very good (£15).

There were small and soft dimpled gnocchi with porcini mushrooms and an earthy umami sauce, although I do like my dumplings sporting the marks of a longer fry (£15). The ossobucco was a loaded plate of flaking veal, flanked by a barrier of unctuous white polenta, and with a great slug of marrow that slipped out of the bone after just a little persuasion (£23).

Tiramisu came in an unusual format, a mound of yellow sponge, coloured from extra yolk I presume, with a moat of coffee sauce and bitter toasted beans. It was cleared in the same amount of time it took me to register it had arrived (£9).

They've been smart in making more of their wines accessible to diners, by offering small and reasonably priced pre-grouped wine flights. You get a taste of three glasses (125ml each), and there are different groups of three to choose from, ranging from £16 - £68. I had the Red Flight “Sangiovese” at £21.

Two female maître d's were wearing the same sophisticated monochrome dress that wouldn’t have looked out of place at a cocktail bar, and service was charming and very attentive, if a little too enthusiastic at the beginning of our early lunch reservation, when we were the only occupied table.
  
Fellow diners ranged from groups of American visitors, to distinguished and impeccably dressed Italian matriarchs enjoying a girly lunch, to young couples, to a Turkish family, which may have been a Mr Büyükuğur influence.

Like I said, I don’t know how these people knew it was there. I did, because my visit was in the capacity of critiquing it for the consumer publication for British Turks & Turkophiles, T-Vine (thanks to Mr Büyükuğur’s involvement).

But know about it, people seem to. And now you do too. 

Liked lots: accessible and reasonably priced wine flights, interiors, there’s also a very becoming bar below deck to enjoy both wines and spirits in

Liked less: Frescobaldi won’t win any prizes for ‘bargain restaurant of the week’, but considering the location and setting, it’s not trying to. That in mind, with a bit of considered ordering, you can keep a reign on the bill and enjoy a very good meal

Good for: respite from the hectic shopping streets of the West End, impressing a date

4/5

Find the menu on Zomato.

Afiyet olsun

Note: I was invited as a guest to this restaurant.

brasserie chavot, mayfair - review

I love a good brasserie. Particularly the ones of my mind, which play to the romantic idyll of how I envisage dining in France to be everywhere, all of the time.

In them, waiting staff in white shirts and black waistcoats glide around guests taking languorous lunches longer than the morning they spent in the office. The evenings host a convivial atmosphere with rotund diners wallowing in the digestive juices that follow rich French classics, lots of vin rouge and not quite enough l’eu du minerale. 

There should be a lot of French gesticulating and arm throwing, along with great gorgeous bowls and plates piled high with all the things you would expect to find in a good brasserie. And let’s throw in a bit of Édith Piaf on the wireless for good measure.

We’re lucky to have some good brasseries in London. Bistrot Bruno Loubet I’m yet to try, but I hear good things. Brasserie Zedel ticks a lot of the above, although I suspect it’s the very splendid setting (typical to a Corbin and King enterprise) and the competitive double-take prices that draw in the clientele more than the food. 

A great leap up from this and you’ll find Brasserie Chavot, a Mayfair restaurant only recently wandering into my London dining periphery, despite being open since March 2013 and gaining a Michelin star just a few months later.

The classic interiors are chic and elegant without feeling dated; how you might have expected Coco Chanel to design a commercial dining space if doing so were part of her repertoire. Glinting tear-drop chandeliers and intricate coving adorn the high ceilings. There’s red leather, dark wood, stately structural columns, and an open kitchen. The whole room is adjoined to the Westbury Hotel, whilst maintaining its own street entrance.

Eric Chavot – the gregarious Executive Chef with his name above the door – hails from Bordeaux in France. The back catalogue of his culinary career include stints with a host of highly acclaimed kitchens including Le Manoir au Quat’ Saisons, Michelin star-studded London-based solo ventures, and holding two stars as Head Chef of The Capital Restaurant for a laudable ten years. 

He is a chef to the core, with unbridled passion for his craft. Eric revelled in the opportunity to cook a group of us some dishes off menu, landing heavily laden wooden boards and brimming steel pots at the centre of our tables with the flamboyant gesture of a showman proud of his work. And rightly so.

The heirloom tomato salad with Parmesan and pesto was as fragrant as it was a pure pleasure to eat. There was a zippy Strasbourgeoise salad with soft potatoes, the heat of mustard and slices of sausage, as well as a dish of flaking sea bream fillets with raita. Tender octopus with the last of the summer pea and broad bean bounty was especially wonderful with the glass of Portuguese Vinho Verde "Mica". As was the acclaimed signature dish of deep fried soft shell crab with whipped aioli, the crisp and light white cutting through the fattiness of the crab; a continuation of the superb starter theme.

Then there was a fish soup with crab claws, octopus, olives, a deep burnt-orange bisque, hunks of chorizo with smoky heat, and saturated but still well textured crusts of bread. Lamb cutlets with Merguez sausages were unveiled from under the cone lid of a tagine, whilst tender pork and duck arrived with fat and creamy butter beans and exceptionally garlicky - and therefore fantastic - bread.

It all wrapped up with an impeccably boozy rum baba with chantilly cream, a lemon tart and Eric’s take on an Eton mess. And a glass of Pink Moscato; like drinking fizzy fresh raspberries. 

“This one is only 5%” Head Sommelier, Andreas, informed us as he filled our flutes with a knowing smile. It takes one of experience to recognise that dessert for this lot requires a toned down alcohol content, considering the copious glasses of Torrontéz, Crozes-Hermitage and more that went before it.

The dishes seemed to taste elevated from what you would expect based on the look and descriptions alone, which meant a stream of coo-ing from one to the next. The whole meal – food, wine and service - was a series of small thrills, which together made for a fabulous experience. And despite some dishes often associated with the heaviness of rich French food and the onset of gout, there was a lightness running throughout.

Eric and his kitchen are turning out refined yet generous and hearty plates of French abundance that feel like a glimpse into what his mamma might have cooked him. It’s not prissy and doesn’t feel contrived, yet is set in impressive surroundings at a very reasonable price point for this part of town. 

Despite the accolade, this isn’t typical Michelin fine-dining. That expression ‘cooked with love’ seems to fit here; there’s a side of Eric’s personality with every plate. And a combination like that in London feels quite special.

Liked lots: Eric's showmanship and love for his trade, opulent interiors with accessible and beautiful food, appealing price point for this part of town
Liked less: I'll get back to you..
Good for: impressing dining companions without the need to break the bank; French food that doesn't require a digestion nap after

My rating: 4.5/5

Find the menu on Zomato.

Afiyet olsun.

Note: I was invited as a guest to this restaurant.

hibiscus, mayfair - review

I have a long list of Michelin-starred restaurants I’m yet to visit. Within London and beyond, the order of priority is a fickle science loosely based on what recent dishes catch my eye, and recommendations. The third very influential factor is the availability and value of set menus. 

A set menu in a Michelin restaurant allows mere mortals (like me) to visit them a little more frequently than we could afford to if we had to fork out for a la carte each time. The accessibility of their prices allow a greater number of people to sample some of the best cooking in the industry, without needing to remortgage the house to do so. If you’re not a fussy eater and your time is flexible, there are a number of Michelin establishments that have some great-value deals.

The Saturday brunch at 2-star Hélène Darroze at The Connaught is one of the best - three courses of exceptional ingredients and cooking, with course one and two being buffet. That's right, 2-star Michelin buffet. As much tea and coffee and juice served in stunning Hermes crockery as you can handle, and all for £55. You’ll be in there for three hours and won’t eat again for twelve.

Hot Dinners recently published a handy guide to the best London restaurants with set lunch deals, my first port of call when searching for somewhere to accommodate two ladies for a long, posh (and preferably boozy) lunch. The Hibiscus entry grabbed me by the shoulders screaming, “PICK ME". Three courses of sublime 2 Michelin star French cooking, half a bottle of wine, petit fours and coffee for £49.50? Well shut the back door and call me Mary, you've got yourself a deal.

The fact around a third of the tables remained unoccupied during the Tuesday lunch service we visited is beyond me - business folk, tourists, and people who never seem to work alike, get yourself a table. With an unassuming frontage that would beguile the misinformed of the kitchen-workings within, you'll find Hibiscus neatly tucked away on Maddox Street in the heart of Mayfair (I walked past it twice before realising where it was).

Following its revamp in early 2013, the dining room is now one of understated elegance and sophistication, without being stuffy - a pale wood floor, white walls with contemporary art, upholstered blue chairs, and a playful and brightly coloured theme found in the knife holders and water glasses.

It also acquired a new bells-and-whistles development kitchen where Head Chef Claude Bossi and team unleash their creative juices on new menus. Not to mention front-of-house were a complete joy; when my companion lamented over wine being the first thing she would consume that day after a stressful morning, our waiter quipped with a smirk, “Wine is better than orange juice anyway”. Good point.

On our table soon after ordering, an egg box with two pale blue shells filled with mushroom royale, frothy coconut foam, a touch of cheese somewhere, the surface speckled with curry powder. It was still early enough for brunch and these felt like a splendid start to one.

The rabbit and foie gras terrine with apple, elegantly arranged radicchio and a pea-green dollop of hot lovage mustard had all the pleasure of a slab of cold-cut enjoyed on a picnic blanket amongst overgrown grass.

A jug of vichyssoise (a soup of leeks, onions, potatoes, cream, and chicken stock) poured at the table, created an island of black truffle topped with ornate parmesan crisps in a grass-green sea. Light and earthy.

Scottish beef bavette (from the sirloin, between the porterhouse and the hind leg), with its crusted exterior, deep pink middle, rich jus, sweet barbecued Spanish calcot onions, and horse-fat pommes hollowed out like puris, was a triumph. The sort of soft and yielding meat you cut tiny amounts from at a time in an attempt to make the dish last longer.

Choux farci is the French term for stuffed cooked cabbage leaves, like one massive, glorious dolma. In this instance, concealing a mound of flaky slow-cooked ox-cheek, seasoned with anchovy, sitting on a velvety parsley root purée, doused in cooking juices and diced apricot for a touch of sweet. Hugely inviting, with the breach of the cabbage casing imparting a lot of pleasure and table-cooing.

Towers of piped coffee sorbet sandwiched between two halves of choux pastry were model profiteroles by which all others should be measured. Two flanked each side of a pretty whisky crème Anglaise pattern on the plate, and were smothered with melted dark chocolate. On the menu, it read so well. It tasted better.

A drift of sweet potato and clementine hillocks with a single cheesecake-mix quenelle, topped with speckled meringue shards, was an ingredient combination I wish I could come up with. 

There seems to be a current trend of petit fours invoking childhood Cadbury-related memories of late - the delightful dark chocolate Crunchy bites at The Quality Chop House and now the wonderful minty Aero-esque mouthfuls at Hibiscus. Restaurants, please continue with this theme - I’m really enjoying it. Batons of blanched rhubarb that were tart and juicy came with a pot of vanilla sugar in which to dunk them. Mini madeleines reached the table still warm, pistachio, orange and oats and raisins, light and buttery. 

Claude Bossi’s cooking is assured yet playful, seemingly effortless yet expertly constructed, and he creates menus of things you want to eat. There is no pomp and circumstance and it’s not in the slightest bit intimidating. There’s just a lot of wonderful, accessible cooking with flare, enjoyed in rested and accommodating surroundings. Lunch there felt like a mini-holiday - I left revived, happy and entirely satisfied. I will be back, and back. 

Liked lots: incredible lunch set-menu value; amount of wine included (we didn't even finish it); Bossi himself coming out of the kitchen and saying hello to each table - a warm touch I've not experienced in another Michelin restaurant; exemplary cooking; they were entirely accommodating about my big SLR
Likes less: we were charged £5 for table water, which was from a jug. If they charge for water from the tap, that's annoying and they shouldn't
Good for: an accessible introduction into Michelin-standard cooking; a nice chat with front-of-house; some great eating

My rating: 4.5/5

Afiyet olsun.

 

gymkhana, mayfair - review

There has already been much said about Gymkhana, the Indian restaurant in Mayfair decked out to transport guests to the high-society social sports clubs (gymkhanas) of British Raj India. Most of it, if not perhaps all, consist of glowing testimonials: Jay Rayner advises getting ‘armpit deep in a menu which is not afraid to make a mark’; Grace Dent hails it as ‘one of the greatest restaurant openings London has seen in 2013’; and Fay Maschler gave it a rare 5 stars, describing the Muntjac biriyani as the best she’s had outside Hyderabad.  

The nature of my interests (food and eating it) have me devouring as many restaurant reviews as I can cast my eyes over - they greatly influence the order in which I intend to visit my ever-growing list of venues. 

Whilst I respect the opinions made by the industry stalwarts, I don’t always agree with them: Dent is in love with Casse-Croute - I thought it was marginally better than ok; I couldn’t get past the overriding flavour of ‘bland’ at Mishkin’s whereas Rayner loved the place despite acknowledging the shortfalls; not a lot of people like the filth-fest burgers from Shake Shack, however I think they are supreme. 

But when it comes to Gymkhana, it seems those who enjoy good food are uniting in a collective gush of, ‘yep, this place is pretty great’ - me included.

Opened in September by Karam Sethi of Michelin starred Trishna fame, Gymkhana serves modern Indian food showcasing British ingredients, with a focus on the tandoor oven and sigri charcoal grill. 

The restaurant is split across two levels. The lacquered dark chocolate oak floor on entrance is mirrored by the wood ceiling. The room is flanked by a handsome marble bar, furniture and booths are more heavy wood and leather, ceiling fans and wall lamps are cut glass from Jaipur, and faded sporting photographs and stuffed animal head trophies adorn the walls. Even the front door is an imposing and colossal thing of beauty. 

If the interiors were designed to make guests feel like members of an exclusive club, the service and atmosphere is well matched. Whilst inside is saturated with classy grandeur and sophistication (even the kama sutra coat tags manage this), it is an exceedingly welcoming and comfortable place to enjoy a meal.

Any intention to stick to the value early evening menu that accompanied our 17.30 reservation was forgone once we caught sight of the a la carte entries all sounding too glorious to ignore. 

Cassava, lentil and potato papads were light and crisp, tasting of their respective primary ingredients and served with a fresh and sweet mango and a spicy shrimp chutney delivered in brass pots. A venison keema (minced) naan flirting from the page is not something that can be easily overlooked - quartered and laced with fine strips of fiery green chilli it was very good for mopping up other delights on the table, but to stand on its own needed a greater presence of meat.

The butter chicken was very hot with chilli but lacked in depth to compete with the rest of what we engulfed, which were really very good indeed. Minced kid goat with methi (fenugreek) was a kadhai full of the sort of saucy deep rich minced magnificence you could easily fall face first into, topped with crisp fried potato matchsticks (salli), and served with warm and glossy soft buns to assist the scooping and devouring.

A small aromatic pile of minced duck hidden like treasure beneath a conical kimono silk thin dosa was just about as glorious in its existence as I suspect duck could ever be - heavy with a host of determined flavours jostling each other on the tongue for attention, utterly satisfying and my second favourite dish of the evening.

The number one spot was filled by the Gilafi pheasant seekh kebab - cooked to an unrivalled perfection rendering the texture of the skewed meat softer on the palate than I’ve ever experienced. Arrestingly aromatic and complex with such a well executed combination of flavours, it was simply divine. The vibrant pickled green chilli chutney it came with provided a much needed slap around my otherwise stunned face.

Sides and condiments consisted of small and perfectly round blushed pink discs of slightly sweet pickled radishes, creamy pomegranate and mint raita, red onion and chilli salad, and a metal basket of three quality flavoured naans (although one was crisp rather than soft which was a bit upsetting). 

Dessert was a heavily perfumed carrot halva tart with crisp pastry and a cardamom cream that tasted like the smell of the liquid freshener doused onto your hands during long coach journeys in Turkey - a bit too much like eating an Interflora delivery but still enjoyable.

I made an odd observation considering the favourable and recent press: there weren’t that many other diners. We left at 7.45 on a Saturday night with the ground floor area not even half full and the downstairs completely empty apart from a couple of tables. 

Perhaps my weekend dining hours are distorted and no one in their right mind eats out before 8pm. Either way, I noticed in the following couple of days Gymkhana welcomed Nigella Lawson dining with Salman Rushdie, and Yotam Ottolenghi. It’s clearly the place to eat at right now, and rightly so. With a menu as enticing as theirs, subsequent visits to work through the whole offering are imminent.

Liked lots: service, quality of design and interiors, welcoming and accommodating atmosphere, duck dosa, kid goat mehti, pheasant sheekh kebab, condiments, serving vessels

Liked less: butter chicken

Good for: higher-end Indian dining, a special occasion (or not - as Dent says in her review ‘Life is too damn short for special occasions’), interesting choices of meat for the cuisine (i.e. pheasant, muntjac, guinea fowl, partridge, duck), a really great meal

My rating: 4.5/5

Afiyet olsun.